The Little Valkyrie

Hiccup Haddock was pretty much the opposite of a light sleeper, but even he could not sleep through this dragon raid. It was well past midnight, and his tiny, scrawny five-year-old frame was shivering from a combination of exhaustion and fear. He had been dragged outside by his father mere minutes ago and shoved into a circle of other children, who were guarded by a few adults in full armor. Being outside during a raid was somewhat less dangerous, because it gave the Vikings room to maneuver and no roofs could collapse into burning rubble on their heads.

Hiccup strained and squirmed his way to the edge of the tightly packed gang of kids who were all under the age of eleven and too small to help in the fighting. He wanted to see what kind of dragons were attacking, and how his dad was crushing them. His dad always beat the invading creatures. It was a large part of what made him Hiccup's hero.

"Watch the spines! He's outta fire!" came the bull-like bellow from his huge father as he swung his heavy warhammer at a Nadder's head. Calmly, he swatted aside a poisoned spine with his wrist bracer and repeated the blow, dazing the dragon until someone - Hiccup thought it might be his uncle Spitelout - plunged a sword into the dragon's neck and ended that threat.

"Stoick! Zipplebacks 'ave got into the chickens!" a man cried out from the bottom of the hill on which the village was built.

The chief grunted in response. "Come on! Protect the foodstores!" Rallying everyone around him that he could, he led the charge down the hill towards the rising cloud of noxious green gas.

Hiccup was frightened by dragons, of course, but never when his father was around. And now his father was gone. He began shaking like a leaf at the edge of the herd of children. He tried to tell himself to stop, that his father would be ashamed of a scared Viking, but he couldn't help it. At last, on instinct, he threw himself between two of the guards and followed his father's path into the thick of battle. It was just bad luck that he was so small none of the guards noticed.

It took him a lot of terrified stumbling, but he made it down the path into the village square. He still couldn't see his father in all the gas and smoke, but he could hear him barking out commands and grunting as a few particularly vicious dragons landed hits. Hiccup coughed as he caught a whiff of the acrid Zippleback gas and instinctively put his left arm and sleeve over his mouth. Somewhere close, a menacing hiss went unnoticed. "Dad! Where are you?" Hiccup called in as manly a shriek as possible. He had to get back to his dad. He would be safe there. He was always safe there.

From his blind side where his arm obscured his vision, a brown and green Terrible Terror suddenly sprung out of the shadows and sunk its sharp teeth into his left leg. Hiccup screamed in fright and pain, trying to shake it off and only making it latch on harder. The wicked creature practically grinned at him as the little boy's eyes filled with tears.

"Get off!" came a sharp feminine shriek. Small but capable hands swung the broken handle of a spear at the head of the Terror and hit it dead between the eyes. As the horrible burning teeth pulled out of his leg to attack this new threat, Hiccup fell to the ground and looked up at his rescuer. It was Astrid Hofferson, an almost-grownup at six years old - he was barely five - and she was now facing down the Terror with her eyes blazing and her tongue sticking out of her mouth in determination. She was too small to carry a shield, but she used the broken oak shaft to great advantage. When the Terror tried to bite her ankle too, she clubbed it in the eye, making it hiss in pain. It changed tactics and spat a short burst of sparking flames at her, but she spun around the shot like she was dancing. She jabbed the creature in the side of the stomach while it was breathing in for another try and the Terror hissed in pain. After four more tries at breaking through the nimble girl's defenses, it gave up and flew away towards the main fighting.

Astrid crowed in triumph and spun in a circle, holding her makeshift weapon high. Hiccup, still in pain and lying on the ground clutching his leg, had barely registered her victory, but he still managed to look up as her short blonde hair caught the light of the fires and made a golden halo around her freckled face. He still hurt, but he wasn't afraid anymore. If he couldn't find his father, at least he was safe with Astrid.

She paused in her dance when she saw him and her blue-grey eyes softened. She dropped to her knees next to him and enveloped him in a hug. "Shh, shh; it's okay," she said in a soothing imitation of a grownup. "It's okay, Hiccup. I got you." Gently, she lifted the hurt leg into her lap and slid the pant leg up to his knee, revealing the toothmarks. Her little brow furrowed in intense concentration and she stuck her tongue out again. "I'll be right back, okay?" she told him, sliding his leg to the ground.

Hiccup whimpered an incoherent protest. If she left, he would be scared again, would feel alone again. That, and the pain was growing worse every second.

She shook her finger scoldingly. "I promise I'll be right back. Be brave." She leaped to her feet and ran off into the blinding mix of flickering light and shadow.

The minutes without her were agony. He was alone in the street and the fighting seemed to have moved towards the docks, but there were still people rushing back and forth with buckets to put out fires and fight the odd dragon straggler. No one noticed him, tucked against the side of a partially-crushed house, trying his best to be brave and not cry. For a long, terrible moment, he was sure she was not coming back. She had gone forever and he couldn't find his father, he was going to die from this awful pain, and no one cared.

"Alright, I got a bandage for it, but first we have to wash it out."

He looked up through blurry tears to see her kneeling next to him again, looking very solid and real and matter-of-fact, as if she patched up little boys every day. She squeezed his hand in sympathy. "It'll hurt a little, but I promise it's okay." She dumped the contents of a waterskin over his leg and the fiery pain increased tenfold. He gripped her hand like a vice and ground his teeth, desperate to keep his shriek inside. If she could be brave he would be too.

When the liquid had mostly dripped away, Astrid began rolling clean white fabric around the bite until it was all covered in the soothing bandage. "There, see?" she smiled brightly at him. "I told you it's okay."

He nodded slowly. He wanted another hug, but he wasn't sure if it was babyish to ask for one when he was clearly fine, and not dying anymore. He wanted more than anything not to look babyish in front of Astrid.

Fortunately, she did something better. Bending down like it was a ritual, she kissed the outside of the bandage. "Now you can get up. Come on." She practically pulled him to his feet, but he did not resist. Standing hurt, but she slipped his left arm over her shoulder, stooping to match his height, and helped him limp away.

When the raid was over and his father came looking for him, Stoick found Hiccup propped against the wheel of a cart nursing his dressed wound while a proud little Valkyrie stood watch over him. Some claimed that it was mere luck that she had poured ale over his leg instead of water and burned the infection away, but Hiccup always knew that Astrid had known exactly what she was doing. And from that day on, there were two people on the island of Berk that could make him feel safe.