Dear reader,
Hola! Thanks for choosing this fanfic to read in your spare time. I consider it a high honor to know someone—anyone—out there is reading and enjoying my fanfiction.
Let me just say right now, that Dreamworks' How to Train Your Dragon is quite possibly my favorite movie of all time. As a few weeks passed, I kept thinking late at night if I should start writing fanfiction of my own, as I was inspired by others to do so. But one thing was holding me back, I am very shy about people seeing things I write or draw. So, I had a talk right before bed with my father and my sister that if I ever was dissatisfied with the ending or sequel of a movie or video game, I could always write things the way I—or other people—would like it. Sooner or later, I started typing and voila! So, this story is an original concept after hearing about the sequel to HTTYD coming in 2013. According to an e-mail sent by some DeviantArtist to Chris Sanders—Director of HTTYD, it would incorporate some elements from the second book in the series by the wonderful Ms. Cressida Cowell—How to Be a Pirate. At first I thought that that would be a corny idea and the thought of Hiccup being all "swashbuckle-y"—including the peg leg and optional eyepatch—would be weird and would alienate the audience with the cheesy "yo-ho" kind of pirates. You know, the kind that are drained of their historical bad-arse...ness(?) and notoriety for killing people, stealing from entire villages, etc. and are replaced with the kind that carry around a parrot and just say "Aarg!" all. The freakin'. TIME.
Whew! now that we have recovered from the run-ons, I think it would be a good idea to finally start this fanfic. So, let's get this train-wreck a rollin'!
Love and kisses,
Simtiff
This is Berk.
It's three weeks East of Frostbite, a couple miles away from Below-Zero, and just a stone-throw away from Desperate for Warmth.
In a nutshell, it's a pretty decent place, and it has been here for several generations. If you're fond of burly, bearded men with battle axes greeting you with an almost-blow-to-the-head, then this is your place. The best part of the island has to be the pets. While some places have cats or canines, Berk has dragons.
Some big, some small, some that could set themselves on fire...
But one of the most famous kind of dragon is the elusive Night Fury. Undoubtedly the fastest breed of dragon; the Night Fury is completely invisible against the night sky, can eat twice its weight in fish, and never misses when shooting a fireball. It is incredibly rare, and the only known owner of a Night Fury is—
"Oi, Hiccup! Git yer lazy hide outta bed!"
No, not him.
Wait a second.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III regretfully shot his eyes open.
There he is.
Training today, he thought to himself, almost forgot.
Hiccup thrust himself forward till he was upright and let out a long, drawn-out yawn. Looking nowhere in particular, he leapt out of bed, landing on the floor.
Oh, right.
"Toothless," he breathed.
The dragon opened one green eye from his spot on the bed that pierced through the early morning darkness.
"Hey, bud. Can you get me the leg?"
As if second nature, Toothless bounded around the wooden home, retrieving the device as if it were a stick in a game of fetch. Receiving the prosthetic, Hiccup buckled the leather straps around his left leg—well, more of a stump, now. His reptilian best friend softly nudged Hiccup to his feet—make that foot.
"Oh, great! I forgot to pack!" Hiccup said as he ran a stressed hand through his bed-head, remembering how he fell asleep as soon as he hit the pillow last night from the evening's rigorous flying.
Hiccup quickly lugged a wicker basket onto his bed, frantically stuffing it to the brim with extra clothing, a sack of flint, food rations, and Toothless's riding gear.
"Hurry it up, boy, we're wastin' time!" hollered Gobber the Belch from outside his door as Hiccup fastened the basket straps to his back.
He opened the door and limped outside. Toothless trailed beside him.
It was pitch black. Not even a glint of sunrise. Freezing cold, too.
"Ahh, the Viking way," Hiccup said sardonically under his breath.
He was shortly joined by the massive, dark silhouette of what could only be Fishlegs, who was the closest Hiccup probably came to having a human best friend before the dragons were accepted. He was joined by his Gronckle, Horrorcow, which was the only dragon Fishlegs did not go into anaphylactic shock from—peculiarly, he was allergic to carnivorous dragons.
"Hey, Hiccup. Great day to go risk your life to learn to be a Viking, huh? Woo!" Fishlegs mumbled, twirling a sarcastic finger in the air.
"Well, it couldn't be that bad. I mean, what's Gobber gonna do? Let us run around, killing each other off?" Hiccup joked.
"Statistically speaking, I'm leaning toward an 'yes'," Fishlegs responded.
Oh, wait. He would.
Not much later, they were joined by Tuffnut; a hunchbacked, lazy, mischievous adrenaline junkie who already had a tattoo at the age of fifteen and loved nothing more than making his fraternal twin sister's life Hel.
"Heeeeeey, guys! How's this? Amiright? A whole month of sittin' on a ship, getting fat, 'n fighting? I think I died and went to Valhalla!"
Tuffnut pretended to swoon and swayed backward, but his dramatic efforts were thwarted when something clonk-ed him on the head, pushing him toward the dirt.
"Hey, stupidhead! You're supposed to wake me up!" Another bang on the head by the hands of his sister, Ruffnut, causing the two boys cringing in awe with every blow. The younger of the twins was just as lazy as the other, but when she fought, she fought.
"I-I'm sorry, wha' wassat? I was too busy drownin' out the annoying sound of your voice!" Tuffnut gutsily replied.
Ruffnut pushed her sleeves back and winded her arm back to throw a tremendous punch, but was interrupted by the low, trembling rumble of a horn.
Fourteen men. There were fourteen men at the table. Some were fairly fit, some bulging with fat, some were pure muscle, and then there were the veritable talking fishbones. They all seemed to be occupied with one thing—that figure. One of the younger men was cajoling a barmaid to lower the price on a mug of the finest ale, though it wasn't for him. The one with the pumpkin-shaped birthmark on his right temple was locked fist-in-fist with the figure, one that would not lower the fur-lined hood of its cloak. The twelfth of the group was down on one knobby knee, holding out an engagement ring to the hooded figure and giving a long monologue of his unrequited love.
Amid the swarm of suitors and adversaries alike, the stranger sat placidly—back perfectly straight—focusing only on the resonating thud of a huge, hairy arm slamming against the table. The pub erupted in raucous cheers at the sound victory of the figure, the seventy-fifth one this week, causing mead to slosh around in mugs and a leg of mutton to roll off its wooden plate.
The roar died down into its usual frenzied series of yelps as the figure demanded more fighting and another pint of ale. The next person to sit down, however, made the cloak freeze. The drunken revelry and mania dissipated without warning into a cautious whisper as the man sat before the hood, gazing intently with a brazen sneer upon his lips.
"'Ello there," the man greeted with a deceptive grin, yellow teeth gritted. The tension was palpable.
A rushed sigh of defiance fluttered from the cloak.
"What do you want this time, Irongut?" groaned the hood, its voice distinctly female.
"Ey! No love fer good 'ol Pinion? We're really uptight now, aren't we, Luvvy?"
To put it lightly, listening to the man's accent-heavy voice was like being put through a cheese grater, the hood's wondered if this rat of a man would shut his stinking mouth already.
A great "hmph" of disgust was audible in the near-silence of the pub. Pinion licked his dry lips, accepting this implied challenge.
"Issa'bout You-Know-Who. He's lookin' fer yeh. Wants tah make a—eh—barter, so tah speak."
The invisible pair of eyes glared at Pinion. He stared back with his own beady, glittering pair.
"...How much is the reward?" the woman had asked, taking a swig of the ale that was offered by the bartering suitor who was now fearing for his life.
"'Bout 300 coins apiece fer ev'ry limb you manage to bring back—quite a pretty penny, in my opinion!" he chuckled darkly and took a gulp of some more unattended mead. His head tilted down, recoiling from the strong flavor. Regaining his bearings, he continued, his calloused hands adding little flourishes here and there.
"An' he says tha' the best part is tha' he'll reward yeh with yer own vessel."
"This entire conversation is getting more and more cliche by the second, huh?"
Think 'bout it, the S.S. Dragonslayer! It'd suit'cha if yer lookin' fer a more—how should I say this—intrestin' life. Unless, y'know, yeh like being chased aroun' by pretty boys fer the rest of yer life. I mean, who wouldn't want tha'?" he shrugged.
She spat in Pinion's face. It's not like the woman regretted it, anyway. He wiped the saliva from his eye, laughed lightly, and continued like nothing had happened.
"Yeh can try all yeh want tah curry favor with 'im. Nothing works, I tried. Does it really matter tha' much tah yeh? Issit even worth all the trouble?"
"Would you stop asking me all these questions?" the woman snapped, "Like it matters to you, anyway. Why don't you run along and go play pirate with some other little lady who's sensitive and doesn't like to kill on impulse?" at these words the hood drew a knife from its belt and pointed it at mottled skin.
"He wants tah see yeh, Sigs. Think 'bout it. Oh, an', yeh look better without the hood, yeh 'ave a nice face," he winked as his "friend" lowered her weapon of choice.
Pinion left without another word. Sigs sighed, recalling how much she hated having the last word in a conversation. For a second she actually hesitated when she got up from the table, her head slightly spinning. She cursed under her breath—something about the effects of mead—and started on her long journey home.
EDIT: Alrighty, I fixed the layout!
...And that concludes chapter one! The suspense must be killing you guys.
Pfft.
Leave a review and thanks for reading!
~Simmy