Disclaimer: I do not own How to Train your Dragon. It belongs to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.
Chapter One - Nothing to Hit
Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop. Dri-
The quiet pitter-patter of the late afternoon rain's rhythm was broken by a loud sound, emanating from the horn that their ancestors had carved in resemblance to one of the first breed of dragons they had encountered - the mighty Thunderdrum. The deep boom that signaled a dragon raid continued to reverberate through the air, and was soon joined by an accompaniment of Berkian Viking Battle Cries.
A young and thin boy, son of Chief Stoick the Vast, and - much to the Viking's disappointment - the heir of the Hairy Hooligans was in a mad dash to get to the forge on time, as the last time he was regrettably late by one minute, and Gobber had a talk with him, and the boy vividly remembered the last few words he had said: "If you're late one more time, I'll burn your back room down and lock you in it! I'm serious!"
The small and fragile boy visibly shuddered at the thought of his back room being destroyed, as he used it as a place to get away from life, a place to draw up some new projects that he would never have enough time to finish and it was also the storage room of a secret keepsake he had from when his life was simpler, when his father had loved him for being, well, 'all of this'. As the boy speeded into the forge - on time, mind you - he quickly sharpened the spare weapons that they had received this morning via a generous donation with speed, efficiency and deadly precision, before running into the back room before the raid started to check on his special keepsake.
As he opened the door, he pulled out an outcropping in the wall - that he had made - and pulled out a pristine and tiny bow and quiver of three arrows; a gift his dad had given him for his seventh or eighth birthday, or somewhere around there. He couldn't make out the exact date he had received it, as Stoick made no nod to them in any of their recent conversations, which mostly consisted of 'son, you have to grow up' and a few of 'I couldn't be any less disappointed in you'. Hiccup supposed that his dad thought they were ashes, or in pieces by now. The boy always checked it before a raid, because recently, he carved in a silhouette of a four leaved clover to one of the ends of it. After giving it a quick clean up and hastily putting it back into its rather clean hiding spot, he ran out the door.
And predictably, the screams had started, along with cries of "Glory or death!" and an occasional "flowers and rainbows" springing from the mouths of the near-five hundred residents that the village sustained. The fire brigade was out there too, made up of the other teenagers around his age, lead by Astrid Hofferson.
'Oh, their jobs are so much cooler,' thought Hiccup, checking if anyone was looking before attempting to rush out of the smithy before being hooked - literally - by a certain Gobber the Belch. His name was well deserved. Yak dung would be like the scent of a wildflower from Wild Dragon if you smelled the guy's barf.
"Aye, Hiccup, no escapin' is one of my rules, ya' know," joked Gobber, as he set Hiccup down into the perimeters, blocking the only exit and entrance.
"Well, Gobber you see," started Hiccup, thinking up an excuse. "I need to see Gothi quickly, see I got this cut and-" Gobber silenced him and swiftly answered, "We have wound wraps in here you know," while grinning at his apprentice. "Anyway, you might like something I prepared for you!" Gobber pushed Hiccup into his little corner near the sharpening stone. He also left a hefty pile of swords that were especially sharp, as if just laying a gentle finger on a sharp edge for a second would draw blood. There was a note carefully placed on top of the pile.
Hiccup.
Pick any that suits your fancy,
I'm sure you'll need it someday.
Gobber.
As the boy shuffled through the pile of weapons, he carefully inspected each and every single one of the weapons, but none of them were specially shaped, which he knew might be a key design advantage and they were all heavy, and that wasn't good. He needed a lightweight weapon that could swiftly be moved with precision but a weapon that would be able to inflict damage to a degree.
As Gobber walked in, expecting him to be holding a weapon and testing it out, he instead found a sighing Hiccup with one of his palms on his hand. As he stood up, he shook his head, while looking at the pile.
"Hey Gobber, none of these seem to really," Hiccup said, while making a slight crescent curve with one of his fingers. "...have the shape I need. And they're really heavy." Gobber pondered for a bit, before he got an idea.
"Johann's supposed to arrive tomorrow, y'know. Maybe I can find some weapons that would fit you a bit more," Gobber mused, turning his back to Hiccup. "C'mon, the request station's overrun with weapons, and Stoick has called me to battle." Gobber smirked before his expression morphed into a stern look. "Don't touch anything, just sharpen. And whatever you do, don't get out of the smithy." Gobber turned around, yelling out the standard Berkian Battle Cry.
As he gave each Viking who was waiting a weapon while he dumped the swords onto the ground, he came across an exotic weapon he hadn't seen before, which he hid and made a mental note to ask Gobber about it later.
A loud thirty minutes had passed, and no one had asked for new weapons, so he secretly snuck out with one of his secret projects, which he called the Mangler. As he pushed it up the clearing, he locked it in place with a special metal 'leg' that extended into the ground to lock itself in place. As he aimed, he muttered under his breath.
"Give me something to hit, something to hit.."
There was something definitely there, but Hiccup didn't see that black silhouette dash right across where he could hit.
"Do you have any idea what you did?" asked Stoick the Vast, Hiccup's father. "Do you know how much lives you could have taken away?" Hiccup shook his head in shame once more. "You left the blacksmith unattended, and the amount of people clamoring for someone to get them another weapon was staggering!"
"I'm.. sorry," whispered Hiccup. "I-I didn't... know."
The chief shook his head, thinking of a way to punish the boy for his trouble-making. Something would have to be done about him.
A / N
Did you guys notice the first major change in this AU? I seriously hope you did. If you noticed it, congratulations, here's some virtual cookies!
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Of course, I'm a fat slop, so I ate them all. (If anyone knows where that came from I will cry) But anyways, this is my first fanfiction, so I could really use some feedback and constructive criticism. No flames please! Don't you bloody dare give me a flame. But drop a review, would you? Again, I could use the feedback!
Till Next Time,
StormySkrill.