A/N: So I recently finished "Nightfall" written by Le'letha(which, you seriously HAVE to read if you haven't yet, it's really awesome. Can find it at the top of my "Favorite stories" list on my page) and I got an idea for it that I discussed a bit with them and asked if it would be okay to do my own sort of spin-off fic based off of Nightfall, so that gave rise to this.
It'll be multiple chapters but they'll probably be super short, and I don't expect this story will be all that long, but there's always a chance I'll get carried away. I'm definitely excited to try the Hiccup/Toothless POV, but I'm sure that'll be a challenge(but where's the fun without the challenge, right?) Anyway, enjoy~
Disclaimer:
How To Train Your Dragon belongs to Dreamworks.
Nightfall(which this is directly based off of) was written by Le'Letha. If you read this, please ALSO read her story ^_^ (you'll be very glad you did!)
My own OC's in this belong to me.
Learning from the Masters
A How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction
Based off Le'Letha's "Nightfall"
A low rumble like thunder reverberated through the ground and the smell of dust and men and animal sweat tinged the air. The faint wind of momentum blew back brown hair and white-and-black tail alike in their wild charge that had surely unsettled every other animal in the area into fleeing far away.
A hard, steady Hfff Hfff Hfff from a large, flared nose blew small clouds of breath back into his face that quickly mingled with the rest of the heavy fog that cloaked the ground. Others sounded behind in a low thrum, just beneath the sound of galloping hooves.
Blue eyes never left the figure ahead for even a second, maintaining just enough distance to keep the beast from whirling around and attacking, but not enough that it could escape. Let it think it could outrun them. He was patient, and more importantly, he had planned on exactly this scenario.
The dragon screeched its fury back at the small hoard of pursuers as it sprinted, wings tucked to its sides rather than spread to fly, but not voluntarily. A long bolas was tangled around its body, pinning its wings and leaving its only mode of flight to run, or to turn around and fight if it tired of the chase.
A rock sling provided a quick cure for that idea however, occasionally pausing to whirl it overhead and let a stone fly, pelting the dragon's hide mostly harmlessly, but startle it into continuing to run with a howl of alarm and lashing its tail to throw off an attacker it thought must be right behind it.
When the dragon strayed from the path they wanted it to follow, another man on horseback cut off its escape, steering it this way or that, into the waiting maw of a steep ravine. Alternate paths were blocked, giving it little choice than to head deeper into the trap.
Having decided they had come far enough, and not wanting this to drag on any longer than it had to, the head rider swung another bolas overhead and let it fly, tangling the dragon's legs and bringing it down hard.
The beast screamed and wrestled desperately, tail lashing furiously to snare anything dumb enough to come too close.
Panting, huffing horses came dancing to a stop, men finding their own feet.
"Secure that tail," the lead rider commanded, walking wide around the fighting dragon. It snarled a panicked warning at him, seconds before blasting fire he was already prepared for, leaping and rolling, back to his feet, and lunging.
Fangs snapped at him. He all but leapt onto its head, his weight forcing its jaw shut. His brows furrowed in concentration as it squirmed, wanting to bite and tear him, or smolder him into ash. Perhaps both.
"Muzzle it!" he ordered to those who were not already busy restraining the tail and rest of its body. Leather straps and metal buckles were brought over, securing them over the monster's head so it could neither bite nor spew flames, all but entirely secured.
He let the dragon's head go and straightened up, staring at it and the handiwork of his hunters appreciatively. This dragon was a nice specimen, fit and strong. It would do well for what he had in mind for it, for however long they had it.
Blue eyes slid to his men, many of them waiting on his orders, despite that he was of the smallest build between all of them and one of the youngest.
"Retrieve the cart. We take this one back with us as well." The Norsemen that surrounded him immediately jumped to do as they were told without hesitation. He wasn't entirely fooled by their willingness to work and follow commands, however.
Certainly, they thought this idea to be crazy. Idealistic, intuitive, and creative, certainly, but just as crazy as all those other things. Even his father had been skeptical, thinking this idea of his was somewhat foolish, but perhaps unique and unexpected enough to work.
Both of his parents had often said he was ahead of his peers even as a child, thinking of things beneficial to not only their tribe's survival, but enhancement, that no one else before him had even fathomed. Everyone was often wary of his strange thoughts and the things he came up with, but none doubted that he would make a great Chief exactly because of it.
To him, what others failed to see seemed so obvious. While they had been unable to fathom coming to the conclusion he had, he had trouble fathoming how they hadn't.
Dragons were a nuisance for all of those under the Viking name. That was a matter of fact. Most of the pain of dealing with dragons was for mainly two reasons; fire and flight. Flight was the most troublesome out of the two, because how could you kill or fight off something you couldn't even reach?
In all retrospect, his tribe was lucky. Dragons were only the rare minor nuisance, though he had heard other tribes had far worse luck, even being wiped out entirely by dragons in some areas. What they lacked in dragon troubles though, they earned back in warfare with other tribes. That was far more troublesome.
The idea had first come to him when he was young, but now he was fully realizing that dream. If something as big as a dragon could fly, then surely so could they. The thought was tantalizing, and the tactical advantage over other tribes was deeply motivating to make it a reality.
Making it reality was the trick, though.
With reluctance, his father had granted him a knar and his own crew of nineteen to accompany him on this "expedition" of his. He could not spare any more with the constant threat of other tribes ready to wipe them all out at any opportunity.
The other Vikings brought a flat cart from further down the canyon and loaded the dragon onto it, tying it down with chains. It hissed and growled at them with nervous anger, but it went unheeded.
Their work was interrupted with a roar that didn't belong to their captured specimen however, another one appearing as they were hitching some of the horses up.
Someone barked a warning, "Dragon!" that had everyone scrambling for either a weapon or a sling. The beast snarled and flew downward, aiming for the one chained down, likely a mate or sibling to it, but was pelted back by a shower of stones and brandished weapons before ever getting close, and then narrow space of the canyon provided little room to maneuver.
The captured dragon whined and howled, the two beasts chattering to each other. With a frustrated caterwaul, the newly arrived one wheeled around and disappeared into the sky hurriedly, easily repelled. Men cheered victoriously and waved their weapons as though taunting it, celebrating their easy win, but the younger Chief's son was silent in observation as he watched it flee.
"Do not celebrate too soon," he warned, the noise dying down slightly, his words met with confused looks. "It might only be going for help. Hurry up, and move this dragon back to our camp. If it does plan to return, let's not give it the chance to find us still here."
There was a moment of doubt, some looking as though they wanted to argue, but they obeyed and carried out their work solemnly. None of them were dumb enough to question his caution, not wanting to face more dragons just to defend one if it really did plan to return with the rest of its nest.
