Another young Hiccup fic! I strongly recommend you read another fic of mine 'When is Mummy coming back?' before you read this one.

If you don't want to, then just know in my head cannon, they believe Valhallarama is dead.

Gobber bent down to try and start the fire in the forge. He got up early, even for a Viking. The sun could only just be seen above the horizon like a dried blood stain. He rubbed his hands together, trying to get some warmth back into them. The cold Berk mornings, even in summer, could numb a man's fingers in mere minutes. Hell, he was close to losing a few toes to frostbite when he lost the entire foot to that dragon. He gave his fingers a blow, and then resumed starting the fire. It was being particularly stubborn that day.

As he worked, he heard some little footsteps, squelching in the heavy mud.

"You're early Hiccup."

The little boy grinned. He was clutching a sketchbook. "Hello Gobber, what are you making today?"

"Still repairing from last week's dragon raid." He wiped some sweat off his brow. "If I can ever get this fire started."

Usually once every week, when Stoick was incredibly busy with the most important of his chiefly duties, Gobber would watch over Hiccup at the forge. That was, providing Hiccup didn't touch anything, which he sometimes did. He was certainly very curious, even for a six year old. Gobber, in truth did not mind too much. In fact, he rather enjoyed the boy's company.

He glanced out at the horizon once more. "You're very early. Does your Dad even know you've gone?"

"He was still asleep," said Hiccup, as he sat down on a chair (with some difficulty, as the chair was Gobber sized). "But, I knew he was going to tell me to come here anyway. He was talking to Uncle Spitelout very, very seriously last night, so I know he's probably got a lot of meetings today." He opened his sketchbook, and began to draw. He was very neat, unlike a lot of Viking children, who would scribble quite violently when confronted with a charcoal pen and a piece of paper.

"What are you drawing?" asked Gobber.

"Me, fighting a dragon."

Gobber chuckled, before he heard much heavier footsteps coming towards the forge. Stoick poked his head in. "Is Hiccup in here?"

"Right here Daddy."

With some difficulty, Stoick pulled himself into the forge. It was hard enough with his rather large frame, but it was made more difficult by the fact he refused to take his helmet off. Gobber knew it was Valhallarama's old breast plate, and her death had been particularly hard on Stoick, so he kept his mouth shut about it.

"Hiccup," Stoick said in his chiefly manner. "You ran off very early, without telling me." Hiccup's eyes started to well up with tears, as they often did when he was about to be told off. Stoick immediately lost his resolve to give the boy a good scolding. "Just don't let it happen again, okay?" Hiccup nodded, and then furiously wiped his eyes; Vikings did not cry after all.

"Well Hiccup," said Stoick. "Your uncle Spitelout and I decided that you should spend some time today with your cousin Snotlout."

"Why?" asked Hiccup.

"It'll be good for you to spend time together; you're family." In truth, Spitelout and Stoick had planned that the two boys should make a bond early on, so that when Hiccup assumed the role of chief, Snotlout might be his right hand man, just as Spitelout was to Stoick. It was seen somewhat as an unofficial tradition, that a relative of the chief would be second in command.

"Okay Daddy," replied Hiccup. He closed his sketchbook and slid off the chair. After waving goodbye to Gobber, Hiccup left with his father.

Snoutlout's whining could be heard in the near distance. "But Dad, I don't want to! Tuffnut and I were gonna practice fighting with swords!"

"Then practice with Hiccup!" came Spitelout's exasperated voice.

"But he's only six! He hasn't even learnt how to!" (Basic sword training generally began when a young Viking turned seven.)

"Then you'll have to do something else." The two came around a house and into view. Spitelout was dragging Snotlout by the arm. Snotlout was scowling, and was quite red in the face. He looked like he was about to throw a full blown tantrum. "Behave yourself Snotlout." Spitelout motioned to Stoick. "It's disrespectful and dishonourable to misbehave in front of the chief."

If Snotlout understood anything at his age, it was how important respect and honour were. Sulking a little, he nodded that he would be on his best.

"Now you two run along now and play," said Stoick encouragingly. The boys walked off, both of them silent.

"Dishonourable to misbehave in front of the chief is it?" asked Stoick jokingly.

"Worked didn't it?" replied Spitelout.

"Half the village must be dishonourable then."

"Oh, shut up."

Snotlout led Hiccup toward the forest. Hiccup felt uneasy; he had never been into the forest without his father or Gobber, but he kept his mouth shut. Hopefully, Snotlout would not actually demand he go into the forest.

Tuffnut was waiting for them. He was running his fingers through his matted hair, probably making the tangles worse. His face turned sour when he saw who Snotlout had brought with him.

"Why'd you bring the runt?" He asked rudely.

"Dad told me I had to play with him today," Snotlout replied, picking something out of his ear.

"Can we still practice swords?"

"Dad says no."

Tuffnut groaned. "Not fair!"

His face suddenly brightened up. He put his hands on his hips, trying to stand heroically. "Then I say we shall have to hunt for trolls!" Snotlout cheered, and both boys looked rather proud of themselves. They started planning how exactly what they would do to capture a troll.

"They like stealing socks," Hiccup said quietly. "Left ones."

Snotlout turned to face him. Hiccup, was rather on the small side for a six year old, while Snotlout was very big, so he towered over him easily. He looked rather threatening from that angle. Hiccup cowered back slightly.

"What loser told you that?" Snotlout demanded.

Hiccup stuttered back "Gobber," before the boys started laughing.

"I suppose he told you the Boogey man is real too!" said Snotlout cruelly. He motioned for the others to follow. "Come on, I'll show you the real way to catch trolls, that doesn't involve socks."

"I'm not allowed in the forest without Daddy," murmured Hiccup, but Snotlout and Tuffnut did not hear him. He didn't repeat himself. He figured they would only make fun of him for being a baby if he did. He gulped. It looked like they were heading into the forest after all.

The boys had been walking for two hours, and they had yet to sight a troll. They were getting tired and hungry.

"This is stupid," complained Tuffnut. He kicked a pebble angrily. "I wanna go home."

"It was your idea to go hunting for trolls in the first place," said Snotlout.

"That was before we didn't find any." Tuffnut waved a hand mystically. "Maybe they're invisible."

"Or nocturnal," said Hiccup.

"Stop using made up words, Hiccup." Snotlout pocketed his bludgeon. "I'm going to the toilet," and he walked off to find an appropriate bush. Tuffnut and Hiccup stood there awkwardly. Neither boy knew what to say to one another.

Finally, Tuffnut said "You and your made up words Hiccup. Makes you sound dumb."

"It's not a made up word," replied Hiccup quietly. "It means it only comes out at night."

"Yeah well... What loser told you that?" said Tuffnut, obviously copying Snotlout's line from before.

"I read it in a book," mumbled Hiccup.

Tuffnut was hit with a twang of jealousy. "You can read?"

Hiccup nodded. "Daddy says it's important for chiefs to read."

Tuffnut humphed. "Reading's nerdy. You're a nerd. No wonder your Mum left you."

Hiccup could feel himself getting quite upset. He resolved to try and stay calm. "She didn't leave me. She went to Valhalla."

Tuffnut laughed. "Is that what they told you? They did that to spare your feelings. She really left 'cause she didn't want to see your ugly face!"

Tears started to well up in Hiccup's eyes. "You're lying!" he cried.

"I'm not! She left because she hated you!"

Hiccup ran then, deeper and deeper into the forest. He couldn't see exactly where he was going, the tears were in the way of clear vision. All he knew was that he needed to get away, and get away fast.

Tuffnut felt incredibly stupid. Here was this tiny boy, who was half a year younger than him for Odin's sake, and he could read. Tuffnut had been so jealous, that he had come out with all that about Hiccup's mother. He humphed again. Maybe it served Hiccup right, for showing off being able to read.

Snotlout came a few minutes later. He adjusted his helmet and looked around, frowning. "Where'd Hiccup go?"

"He got upset because...we couldn't find any trolls, and ran off."

Snotlout punched his rather roughly on the arm. "Why didn't you stop him? We have to find him, or my dad's gonna kill me!"

"Hiccup!" Shouted Stoick, making his way through the forest frantically. When Snotlout and Tuffnut had returned without his son, he immediately left the meeting with the Berserkers. Luckily Oswald the Agreeable, the current Berserker chief, was extremely understanding. Gobber and a few other Vikings were also scouring the forest for Hiccup, and Spitelout had joined the search after giving Snotlout a scolding that could be heard for miles.

The chief had been searching for at least an hour. It was starting to get dark, and a little drizzly. If the little boy was not found soon, Stoick was going to have a full blown panic attack.

"Stoick!" He heard from somewhere on his right. "I found him!"

Stoick barrelled through the forest in the direction of the voice. At last he found Mulch, who was holding a small, shivering boy.

"Hiccup," breathed Stoick. Hiccup's head snapped up at the sound of his father's voice.

"Daddy!" He held out his arms desperately, and Stoick scooped him up. He felt so tiny and fragile in Stoick's arms. His tunic was damp and dirty, and he now sported a sizeable cut on his chin.

Hiccup cried, while Stoick soothingly stroked his back. He could hear several Vikings shouting to each other that Hiccup had been found. He started toward home, leaving his comrades to sort themselves out. His little boy was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Hiccup caught a cold as a result of his experience. It was nothing too serious, but given that in the past, Hiccup's colds would quite often develop into something worse, Stoick kept him inside for a few days.

He had eventually gotten the reason for his disappearance out of the boy; that Tuffnut had said some inexcusable lies about his mother, and it had quite rightly upset him. Stoick spent a long time explaining to Hiccup that Tuffnut had lied, and that his mother loved him very much. He wished he had had that dragon toy Valhallarama had made him, as proof of how much she did love him, but Hiccup had been terrified of it and threw it in the ocean when he was much younger.

Hiccup seemed to understand that his mother did not want to leave him, but he had been in that dark forest hours. It was a long time to be dwelling on Tuffnut's lies, as well as being scared stiff. He had not quite recovered from that trauma. Stoick could only hope that he would in time.

Tuffnut Senior had been spoken to about what his son had done. He took Tuffnut junior over, and he was forced to apologise. He had tear streaks down his face, so Stoick had guessed he had already been told off severely. Hiccup, very graciously, accepted the apology. It made Stoick just a teensy bit proud that his son was showing such grown-up traits at his age.

That night, Stoick could hear Hiccup sniffling. Whether it was from the cold, or if he had been crying, Stoick did not know. He decided either way, he should check on his son.

"Hi Daddy," said Hiccup when Stoick came up stairs. He yawned, and rubbed his eyes. Stoick suspected he may have been wiping away tears.

"Aren't you meant to be asleep?"

"Oops."

Stoick chuckled softly. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm ok," replied Hiccup, before he had a coughing fit.

"How about a story?"

Hiccup nodded eagerly. Stoick sat on the bed and Hiccup snuggled into his side.

"Once upon a time there was a brave little Viking..."

Stoick told the story of the brave little Viking, who had defeated the humongous sea dragon that no other Viking could, oddly enough by speaking dragonese (a made up language that parents often told their children was the language of dragons).

Hiccup's little eyelids started to droop. Stoick smiled, and eased himself out of the cuddle. He tucked the blankets around him and turned to leave.

"Mummy used to tell me that story, right?" mumbled Hiccup sleepily.

"Right."

"Do you think Mummy misses us?"

Stoick stroked his son's hair. "I'm sure she misses us more than we can tell."

"I miss her lots," said Hiccup.

"Me too, son." Stoick crouched down low to his head was near to Hiccup's pillow. "But your Mummy loves you very much, even in Valhalla. And so do I."

"I love her very much. And I love you too Daddy."

Stoick gave his son a big, albeit scratchy, kiss on the forehead.

"Good night Hiccup."

"Night Daddy."

What's this? MORE LITTLE HICCUP? I think I seriously have a problem. But this leads the way for a multi-chapter fic I have been working on on and off, which I need to finish before the movie comes out and ruins my head cannon.

I picture Tuffnut Senior as a very serious man, who hardly ever smiles. His scolding of his children would be giving them a serious look and saying "I am very disappointed" before they start apologizing and crying like crazy