No clouds were visible, nor did the wind blow; But, however, on that night, the night air was exceptionally cold and its temperatures reached far below zero. Inside a warm and cozy Viking hut a new mother, Valka, swaddled her newborn child and hugged him as tightly as she dared to herself. His cheeks were rosy, and his eyes were wide and alert, the deep green of the sea reflected in them.
Valka looked at her son, eyes full of concern. He was a frail thing. Then again, all children are, but this one was born early. Too early. He weighed only 3 lbs and 7 oz. Such a wee little thing he was.
"Oh, Stoick, I'm afraid that he wont make it," a panicked Valka faced her husband. The child began to cry now, his shrieks pierced the serene cabin and sliced through the peaceful night. For such a small thing, his lungs sure were big.
Stoick slowly approached Valka and his son. He smiled and took the baby from her, holding him up so that they were face to face, "Oh, my dear Valka. Our son will be the greatest of them all. Hiccup, our Hiccup, will make a great chief someday. He will be he strongest of us all."
Hiccup continued to cry for a moment, watching the eyes that admired his. He soon calmed. The sound of his father's voice washed over him, and his eyes become heavy.
Valka looked at her husband in wonder and she saw the determination and spark that riddled his eyes. Her lips danced from a look of worry into a smile of hope. Stoick nestled a sleeping Hiccup against his chest with one arm. The other he snaked around his wife's neck.
"I believe in him," he said at las as he kissed his son atop his head. Now he turned his attention back to his wife, and gave her a soft, lingering kiss.
She sighed, but not the bad kind of sigh, the content kind of sigh. "I believe in him too," she said.
Their Hiccup was going to be the best Viking the world had ever known.