He came in for regular checkups still. Having your stomach torn open by an alien parasite did cause some long-term concerns; he sometimes had very bad muscle spasms in his abdomen that needed some relief in the form of muscle relaxants. He'd also been stabbed, shot, conked on the head, and generally knocked around much more than he should have been, and that wasn't even counting the fact he'd lost his leg before he'd even been picked up by the ship.

Lately, Hiccup had been feeling...off. Not entirely with it. His concentration was utterly shot, and he'd been having trouble sleeping and staying asleep. Occasionally his hands shook--which was a major problem where his blacksmithing was concerned--and it was starting to leave him a little worried about his health.

Altogether, it was too overwhelming to really deal with on top of all his responsibilities, which was why he'd quietly tendered his resignation from the Council and withdrawn from most of the things he was usually involved in other than the forge.

After everything that had happened, he just hoped that this whole shaky hands, insomniacal, foggy-headed thing wasn't something serious--he'd had enough seriousness for a whole lifetime, at this point.