Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train Your Dragon or derivatives thereof.
This is Berk. It's twelve days North of Hopeless, and a few degrees South of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.
Sure, some people hear these directions and cower for fear of their lives, but not the people of Berk. One, it's because we were the ones that came up with those names. Two, Berkians are strong and relentless, perhaps stubborn.
We're Vikings.
We're self-sustainable and efficient-we fish for our seafood, grow our own vegetables, and build our own houses. All of us are skilled in a wide range of arts and crafts, such as the Art of Beheading a Dragon.
Oh-I forgot to mention one tiny little detail: Dragons are our sworn enemies.
And my name is Toothless.
The worst time of day to be woken up would be an hour or so before daybreak, just before the birds start chirping and the coolness of the night disappears. The worst way to be woken up is by a screaming horde of Vikings armed with spears and axes running around outside your house, followed by having your house set on fire by a raging Deadly Nadder. Both happening at the same time would surely result in a disastrous early morning.
Sadly, this lovely day started out this way for Toothless.
If his house wasn't on fire, the young lad would've grunted, turned over, and continued his perfect dream of peace. He didn't care that he might die-he was moody and tired.
"Dragons!" Toothless heard his neighbor scream.
It was a beautiful wake-up call.
The teen promptly jumped out of bed and grabbed his helmet and axe, ready for battle (not that he would fight dragons-he was still on fire duty, but an axe could come in handy). He ran out the door, ducking a Gronkle that flew by (along with a fellow Viking clinging onto its face) and headed straight for the water reservoir located at the center of town.
"Mornin'!"
"Nice to see you out and ready!"
"Not being a lazy bum this time, are ye?"
Toothless awkwardly smiled. Even though sometimes his attitude could frustrate the entire village and he wasn't exactly thrilled to run around with a bucket-full of water, he was still the pride of Berk. He was, after all, the son of the mighty chief, Stoick the Vast. Toothless might be skinny, sure, but he was lean and strong. He didn't look exactly like a Viking, but he had more than proved himself over the past decade (giving Snotlout a black eye for picking on him probably helped his reputation as this no-bullshit type of child).
He ran past the forge while saluting Gobber, who was tirelessly working to meet the many Berkians' demands. That man definitely needed a helper one of these days. Taking a right turn, the teen arrived at the reservoir, and didn't wait a moment before throwing his axe onto the ground (it was made of wood and metal-it'll survive), grabbing a bucket, and dunking it into the water. It took a certain amount of strength to be able to haul a gallon or so of liquid around, and even more determination to drag this load several more yards to a burning building. He would complain, but Astrid would probably roll her eyes and punch him into moving faster.
"Don't you dare escape your duty this time," Toothless heard a hiss from behind.
"Hello to you too," he replied as snarkily as possible.
She glared at him.
"I'm already here," he sighed. "With a bucket. Does it look like I'm avoiding anything?"
"There is such a thing as 'false hope'." Did Astrid really have no faith in him? "You could be pretending to do your job for now, but then hide in one of those thick bushes for the rest of the morning." The answer was yes.
"That's a great idea!" He could always roll in dirt and run around to make himself look scorched and exhausted. "Thank you, Astrid." And with that said, Toothless ran off with his bucket of water, ignoring the young girl's commands to "get back there" or something.
Toothless silently cackled.
He'd probably receive a new bruise within the next hour or so, but it was well worth it.
Meanwhile, the dragons continued their raid on the isolated village. They took fish that were salted and hung out the dry, while some dug their claws into a sheep, and all of them deadly and an enemy to humans. Toothless had barely managed to put out the fire that was starting in the chicken stable, but a rogue fireball destroyed the roof and rendered his efforts futile.
"Are you serious?!" The chickens were now panicking, chaos running amok. A second fire blast crashed through one of the wooden walls, and now those pesky birds were free to run however and to wherever they wanted. Sadly, they all chose different directions. And now Toothless was on chicken-catching duty.
"Ugh!" Toothless grunted as he dove for one chicken. "Stupid bird!" He was met with a face-full of dirt and a handful of white feathers, but no chicken.
Well, Toothless shouldn't really worry about a lack of eggs. Honestly, he hasn't seen one chicken taken during the dragon raids. Perhaps it was due to the fact that these birds were too fast and too small for an overgrown lizard to capture? Besides, after a day or two outside, these farm animals usually came back on their own-the stable was a great place to stay, after all. It was just a difficult feat to explain to the rest of the village how he, Toothless, managed to set loose all of their chickens (it wasn't his fault). Too bad, so sad; the teen had to move on.
"Night fury!" Toothless heard some weird whistling noise and someone yell from a distance. It was soon followed by a stream of, "Get down," and "Aaaaaaah!"
The boy looked up at the sky, holding onto his bucket as though it was an indestructible shield. He's heard stories about night furies, the so-called "Unholy Offspring of Lighting and Death Itself". Nobody knew what they looked like, and nobody knew what they were capable of. What's worse, night furies were disgustingly accurate with their shots.
As though the Gods wanted to prove Toothless' point, the tower on which his father and other men currently stood exploded in a blue-ish purple blast. The night fury got them. Oh no. Toothless was sure that such a blast couldn't have done any damage to anyone, since the tower took the brunt of it, but still, he worried.
The teen ducked behind bushes and scorched houses, making his way to the tower that the dragon had just destroyed (he luckily passed by the water reservoir, so he made sure to grab his axe). But then, he heard the whistling noise again. The night fury.
Toothless stood still amidst the deserted town (people were running away from where the night fury struck) and observed the night sky. The noise stopped, but he could see something blocking the stars in the distance. The shape was constantly moving, but it circled around in a predictable pattern. So, like any stupid teenagers would do, Toothless aimed the axe in his hand toward the dark mass.
He leaned back, eyes locked on his target, and launched his weapon upward.
That's it for this chapter!
I have no idea where this idea came from, but I thought: Hey, wouldn't it be fun if I wrote an au in which Toothless the Viking had to drag around Hiccup the (runt) Dragon? Just imagine the shenanigans that might take place!
Nobody said "no don't do that" so... huehuehue. :D
Please review and tell me if you would like to see more!