This is a story for a good friend of mine! Yes, it does have OC's! There will be no serious bashing of any characters and this story will be strictly T. I do not own anything that looks like it belongs to Dreamworks or Cressida Cowell.

Enjoy!

If Sunhild were the type of girl to dance like a loon on the deck of her tiny, ugly excuse for a Viking vessel she would have. As it were, she simply bounced loudly in her seat as the docks of Berk became visible through the heavy morning mist. Her excited movements jarred the pale, sheep-hide bag at her hip, producing a light clink as her wares shifted inside. Another animated fit brought forth a bubble of giddy chuckles.

Her excitement was not unwarranted. She had begged, pleaded, for quite a few years now to go and sell her silver trinkets on Berk (Or any island, really) but was steadfastly refused. Why her mentor was so adamant to keep her with the Bog Burglars was beyond her, but in the end she was thankful for it. She was able to improve in the years she was kept home and she realized that had she gone when she wanted to, she would have sold nothing.

Silver smithing* was a long and delicate craft to learn, after all. Plus she had only been nine the first time she demanded they allow her to leave.

So now, with Berk minutes away, Sunhild was understandably thrilled. She shivered, either from excitement or the chill of the creeping fog, and tugged her heavy fur vest tightly around her. It did not do her much good because it cut off just below the ribs and had no sleeves, leaving no comfort from the cold. She was used to colder climates however, so she merely rubbed her cheeks to get a bit more circulation into them before pulling her sorry imitation of a boat up alongside the dock.

Vikings, tall and lumbering, trampled about with no small amount of disorder, yelling this and that. Some stopped to give her curious looks but soon lost interest. Tiny Bog Burglars were hardly threatening, after all. Big-Boobied Bertha would have certainly given these men more pause but Sunhild was hardly Big-Boobied Bertha. Thank goodness for small comforts.

She hitched her bag more securely on her shoulder before marching off in search of Stoick the Vast, Chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe and all around awesome guy. (In her opinion, at the very least.) She had met the man on one of his fleeting and few visits to the bog burglar island. Well 'met' was a strong word. It was more like the eavesdropping of a little girl on big girl discussions. After all, it was awfully hard to talk to a man twice her size and status.

Said man appeared to be absent though.

Sunhild huffed in frustration as she came to a stop, once again outside the smithy. It was her third round of the village in its entirety (she had the time for a wild goose-chase, it seemed) and she was wary to do it again. Perhaps the chief was gone for something? That would be inconvenient. How was she to sell silver to manly-men Vikings without the head honcho manly-man to convince them to do it? There were the women, of course, but Viking women were almost as manly as their husbands most of the time so that was pretty much a lost cause. Besides that, she could not just set up shop without Stoick's permission.

Thudding, uneven steps sounded behind her and a heavy hand was placed on her shoulder. She spun around, her bag whipping out with the movement and her woolen dress whirling around her knees. Not that she was frightened at all. Nope…

The man in front of her was hulking, not surprising there. His shoulders were broad, his gut was jiggly and his hand was missing. As was his foot. And one of his teeth. This man was just one big patchwork, wasn't he? She'd never voice that out loud though, not to his face, but it did seem that his luck was very low. She took a few seconds to take in the entire picture in front of her before the man's voice broke through her concentration.

"Never seen you before…" His accent was thick. "What're you doing outside my shop? Or here on Berk, for that matter…"

"I was looking for Stoick the Vast. You've seen him?" Sunhild asked politely or as politely as any Viking-raised child could.

"Nah. He's off on another Nest Hunt. Should be back soon though, if you're willing to wait for him. What are you, a bog burglar?"

"Yes." She replied curtly, sensing the suspicion on his tongue. She had a weird sort of pride for her home and herself and did not take kindly to slights against either. "And no, I'm not here to steal anything. I'm here to sell."

The large man chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, no need to get your undies in a knot." He began to limp away, glancing over his shoulder to ensure the girl was following. "Don't get many bog burglars here to sell things. What ya got?"

Sunhild smiled and dug around inside her bag. She pulled out a set of silver spoons. "I'm a silversmith. I came here to sell some of the things I made. I have much more in my boat if you'd like to look… What is your name?"

"Gobber the Belch, at your service!" Gobber, as he was now dubbed, gave a poor attempt at a sweeping bow. "Just Gobber, if ya don't mind."

Sunhild giggled behind her hand at the man's antics. They stopped short of entering the smithy and she came to the conclusion that this Viking must be the blacksmith. This was good. If she became acquainted with him then maybe he would let her use the smith. He seemed decent enough, if a little blunt. Blunt could be funny though so that was okay.

"Okay, Gobber it is then."

Smoke hovered faintly above the smithy's roof in whispering packs, dampening the sun's light. The light from the fire within cast a glow across Gobber's face enhancing his features in a sort of cryptic fashion. As he stepped across the threshold, he absently drew his good hand along the worn wood. Of all the buildings on Berk, this one seemed to be the oldest. Sunhild was hardly surprised. This island was known for the frequent dragon raids it experienced.

Inside the shop could only be described as organized chaos. Weapons and tools lay in piles along the flat surfaces in the room. Many were broken, as was expected in a Viking village, but there was a small stack of items seemingly just repaired. Sunhild admired the craftsmanship a bit, noting the simply designs along the broad side of a battle axe. Whoever repaired these weapons did so with battle in mind, not beauty. Not that she expected any different, mind you. These people had no time for spoiling themselves with fancy designs.

Gobber tramped over to the craft table, observing the weapons as she had, nodding occasionally. He must not have worked on them. Apprentice maybe? It's the only thing that made sense.

A loud clatter rose from a back room and a boy about her age appeared around a curtain. The make-shift door swung near silently back into place behind him, knocking an axe propped in the doorway over. He barely noticed this, though, because his nose was shoved deeply into what looked like an old leather-bound journal. A pencil tapped rhythmically against his chin as he perfected some creation in his mind.

"Hiccup!" Gobber shouted, wanting his attention. Hiccup was startled, eyes wide and flicking wildly from place to place. His journal snapped closed on reflex and he fumbled desperately with his pencil only for it to clatter to the floor. He spotted Sunhild as he went to pick it up and straightened before he even got half down. The journal was clutched tightly to his side as his free arm swung nervously at his other.

"Uh Hi- hi! Hey…" Hiccup stuttered in embarrassment. He had just made a fool of himself in front of a stranger, a girl stranger.

Gobber looked amused. "Eye's on me, lad." When Hiccup focused on him sheepishly, the large man continued. "This is…?"

"Sunhild." The girl supplied distractedly, lifting a shield and turning it to get a better angle for observation.

"Right, what she said. She's a Bog Burglar lookin' ta sell her silver things. Don't know why she came here, I know I won't be buyin' any." He paused, considering. "…no offense."

Sunhild snorted, not even bothering to grace that comment with a witty response.

"Anyway, if ya feel the need to use the smith, you're welcome as long as ya clean up after yourself. Can't have shiny things distractin' my apprentice! Got a horrible attention span as it is…"

Sunhild giggled as an indignant 'Hey' rang through the air. "I'll be sure to remember that."

Gobber nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Now then, Hiccup!" He yelled for the sake of yelling. "Show the girl around, introduce her to the more accommodating villagers. I'm sure your new fans'll be happy to see you."

Hiccup looked as if he was preparing to wipe that smirk right off the bigger man's face.

"Oh I'd love a tour!" Sunhild exclaimed, already heading toward the door. "Come on, Hippo!"

"Hiccup."

Right. "What sort of name is that?"

"It's supposed to scare off trolls." Hiccup mumbled defensively.

Sunhild chortled. "Oh yes, so terrifying! Hiccup… I'm practically quaking!"

"Hur Hur, You're so hilarious. My spleen ruptures as we speak." Hiccup shot back drily. "If anything, it should give me enough time to run for it."

"Yeah, cause that's Vikingly."

Hiccup scoffed. "On what planet am I even close to being Vikingly?" He gestured vaguely at himself, incredulous eyes trained on her as she walked beside him through the village.

Many people began staring, once again, but for entirely different reasons. It appeared that Hiccup was, in fact, pretty famous. Quite a few threw cheerful greetings as they passed, which Hiccup returned awkwardly, even sarcastically at times, as if he were used to using sarcasm.

Sunhild, appreciative of some good sarcasm, decided that Hiccup was pretty cool, in his own way. At least he would be interesting to talk to. Not to mention intelligent, which was a plus on his part.

But none of these realizations helped her currently. She was still down one Stoick and pretty sure that the next person to stop them for no other reason than to say hello would get their head hacked off with one of her shinier spoons. And wouldn't that just be a wonderful sales pitch? 'Buy these spoons! They cut through even the toughest necks! Get your jugular-carving kitchen utensil today!'

"Um Hiccup?" Sunhild started. "I'm not sure I should try selling things without Stoick here…"

"Meh, don't worry about it. It's not like you're selling us poison." Hiccup replied. His feet shuffled along the dirt of the path, kicking up rocks and small dust clouds. His journal was tucked securely into an inside pocket of his fur vest.

"Are you sure it's alright?" She questioned again. "I'm not gonna get some crazy chief on my back?"

"Trust me, my dad won't care! Mostly…"

Sunhild sucked in a breath sharply and nearly lost her footing. This was Stoick the Vast's son? Pretty scrawny, for a future chief.

"Hey, what's with that face? I look every bit the future Hooligan chief!" Hiccup then flexed, doing all sorts of heroic poses. His face twisted in determination, staring holes into his bicep in hopes that muscles would magically appear. "I do, I swear!" He strained his arm, still pathetically squishy and not at all chief-like. He finally gave up when he started getting stares from the villagers. "Today's kind of an off day for me…"

Sunhild giggled, hand poised to cover her mouth in an attempt to stifle it. She was a Bog Burglar and no self-respecting women of that tribe had giggle fits (in front of people). Hiccup gave a crooked smile and she noticed how right it looked. Odin knew what this boy's smirk looked like. She idly thought that maybe she'd like to find out for herself one day.

They walked around a while longer with Hiccup pointing out what was what. The Mead Hall was very big and stood at the top of a long flight of stairs that had Sunhild groaning in dismay. "Look at the bright side," Hiccup commented. "You can eat all you want and not get fat."

"And I imagine one's thighs start looking incredible!"

He showed her where he lived, at the very top of a hill. "Good gods, why don't you people have thunder thighs?!" And he showed her down passed the docks where the fish was kept. She took the liberty of showing him the rest of her items on the return trip and he only had nice things to say. He even offered to buy a set of spoons. At Sunhild's questioning look, Hiccup merely mumbled something about tongue splinters.

Finally, he showed her the kill ring. "This is where we train to fight and kill dragons."

The ring was spacious and deep with a chain-link net of sorts keeping the dragons at bay when they were released for training. There was only one door out, leading to a ramp that brought you back to ground level. Another door, blocked shut by a wooden beam, led to the dragon cages. Sunhild took this in with one sweeping motion of the eyes before turning heel and walking back the other way.

She had never understood why Vikings had to keep dragons that way, locked up and miserable. You either killed them or you left them alone. Keeping them contained until they were needed to train aspiring Vikings was unnecessarily cruel and Sunhild had no desire to see such a place any longer than she needed to.

Hiccup stumbled to catch up to her again and placed himself in her path. Confused green eyes locked with her own and she could not help but think that evergreen suited him greatly.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Sunhild opened her mouth to answer but paused. This was the son of the most dragon-fighting Viking in the Barbaric Archipelagos. There was no way he could possible understand her reasoning. He would say something about needing to train that way and then drop the subject with a stubborn nod. He was a Viking, after all.

"It's- It's nothing." She settled. "Let's just head back to the smithy. I'd like to see how you work."

Hiccup stared into her eyes a second longer and sighed, nodding his consent for the distraction. But she knew that it was not over. The curious gleam that remained in Hiccups eyes said as much.

They returned to the smithy quickly and Hiccup was ordered straight to work by Gobber. It was amusing to see Hiccup throw himself on the bellow that was too large for him to work properly. The clink of a hammer on an anvil served as constant background noise and the fire of the forge made a familiar burn seep into her skin. The atmosphere of the shop was content.

When Gobber wasn't hammering away, Hiccup was. He handled smaller things, often beating nails and hooks into shape. He was in charge of sharpening and rebalancing tools and handling anything too small for Gobber himself. She was informed that Hiccup had made his fair share of weapons, though. When presented with a beautiful dagger of simple design, Sunhild gave Hiccup an impressed look, which brought about a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks. The moment was ruined when he incidentally took the hammer to his right thumb.

When all his work was complete, Hiccup announced his need to be somewhere. With a quick goodbye and a promise to teach her how to shape a sword later, Hiccup was gone and the air was no longer as content as she would have liked. So she bid Gobber her own farewell and made for the docks in order to gather her things. It was then that she remembered something vitally important.

She had lost her tent. The one thing she was so adamant in not forgetting at home was lost at sea fairly early that morning. Where was she supposed to sleep now? Surely not in the field with the sheep? It would be just perfect if a dragon decided that her blankets made her look like a delicious pile of Sunhild treats.

Sunhild groaned. "I don't want to sleep with sheep!"

"Why would you sleep with sheep?"

"Odin's B-!" Sunhild whipped around, tripping up and landing on her rear-end. Across the dock sat a girl about her age, reddish-brown hair split into three long braids. Her brown eyes sparkled in amusement and curiosity.

"You know," She continued. "I don't think you would be very welcome in their ranks anyway."

Sunhild huffed. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Well…" The girl drew out. "It was supposed to imply that you aren't a sheep." She finished with a smirk.

"And what does that matter?" Sunhild asked in a huff. "I can be a sheep if a want to! And all those little grass-munchers will bow at my feet!" She paused for a moment. "If they could bow, at least."

The girl laughed loudly before patting the wood next to her in the universal sign of sit your butt down. Sunhild complied with a light laugh of her own. Once they were settled, the girl spoke again. "My name is Alvilda. Alvilda the spectacular Hooligan sheep herder."

"Wow, what a grand title you have!" Sunhild gasped in mock awe. "I shudder in your presence, oh Esteemed One!"

Alvilda smirked once again. "That's right, peasant! Shudder I say! Tremble at my name! Alvilda!"

Sunhild shuddered dramatically. "Oh! Tingly! Say it again."

"Alvilda!"

"Ooo!" They fell into a fit of wheezing laughter, leaning on one another for support. Alvilda wiped at a tear forming in her eye and clapped a hand to the other girls shoulder. "You're pretty funny! I don't usually talk to people that get my humor very well! What's your name?"

"Sunhild." She replied through her giggles.

"Well, Sunhild, You're welcome to stay with me if you like. We have an extra bed. I'm sure the sheep would like you more if you avoided sleeping all over their food."

"I would be so grateful! And I really don't care if they like me, so long as they don't try to eat me."

"Sheep don't eat people."

"Shows what you know." Alvilda scoffed and rolled her eyes. She stood up and held her hand out for Sunhild to take hold of and hauled her to her feet. She then led the way to the outskirts of the village to a house that sat right beside the sheep fields. It was a decent sized house, newer due to a recent raid, which stood two stories tall. It looked inviting and Sunhild was grateful for small favors once again. It seemed unlikely that someone she just met would offer their home to her, especially if she were obviously a Bog Burglar.

"Welp, Home sweet home and all that." Alvilda kicked the door open which ricocheted off the wall with a loud bang. A frantic swear sounded from farther inside and the clatter of something metal, probably a pan, could be heard. Minutes later, a young Viking woman stomped into the room in a deserved fit of rage.

"What in the name of Hel did I tell you about kicking the door in?!" The woman screeched.

"To not to…" Alvilda seemed subdued for all of three seconds before a wide smile stretched across her face. "But I has a friend over so all is forgiven!"

The woman scoffed in such a similar way to Alvilda that Sunhild wasn't surprised that they were related. "So you say!"

"I do say!"

"Well I don't!"

"Excuse me, bu-" Sunhild attempted to interrupt but was ignored for the sake of pointless argument. So she took this time to observe both girls better. They shared the same hair colour and length, though Alvilda was the only one who kept it in three braids. They were also the same height. The only real difference was face shape and clothes. Alvilda had on a loose tunic and baggy trousers with a leather cloak around her shoulders while the other wore a sliming green cotton skirt with a matching shirt.

"Linnae!" Alvilda whined. "Just let her stay!"

"Fine, but she WILL help me around the house!" Linnae turned to Sunhild. "You WILL!"

"Uh, Yes ma'am!" Sunhild turned wide eyes to Alvilda, who could only shrug.

"Right." Linnae said. "I am Linnae the glorious Hooligan house-sister. You're welcome here, as you know, so long as you earn your keep."

Sunhild fidgeted nervously. "I don't have to work with the sheep… do I?"

Alvilda pouted.

Linnae gasped. "Why would a force you to endure those smelly little things! No, you will be helping with my chores."

Sunhild sighed in relief.

"And the first thing to do is the dishes! Hop to it!" And so found Sunhild with a face full of soggy dish scrubber. She barely kept herself from complaining and shot Alvilda a contemptuous look. This favor wasn't looking so favorable anymore.

It turned out the Linnae almost never did the dishes. Sunhild imagined that the kitchen would be spacious if stacks and stacks of plates and the like were not hogging all the counter room. The sink was buried in the stuff and she struggled to see out the little window that would over-look the docks. "It will take me the rest of the day to do this!"

Alvilda took that moment to keep her company. "Well you don't have to finish them all today."

Sunhild gained a startled look. "Why wouldn't I-!"

"Just trust me. Get the ones in the sink done and then you can come outside with me!" Alvilda grinned happily, kicking her feet as she sat on the table. Sunhild was tempted to do all the dishes as slow as possible but it wouldn't due to make her host feel like she didn't like her. Because she did like Alvilda, just not right now. She took another cursory glance of the room. No, definitely not right now…

She got right to work on the dishes. Many had food particles stuck to the surface with iron grips and she wondered what it was that they could possibly be eating. Did they slaughter their sheep and this was the revenge? Vengeful sheep were the worst sort. How does that work, exactly? She let her imagination run away with her as she pictured Alvilda dressed as a sheep, luring the others into the imposing house where Linnae waiting patiently with a cryptic smile and a butcher's knife…

In that very moment, Linnae burst back into the kitchen with a loud shout. "Sunhild, you stop right there!" The iron plate she had been holding clattered to the floor. "The chief has returned and you both will come to the docks with me!" When they only stood (and sat) there in astonishment, Linnae grabbed the nearest pan and a wooden ladle and started beating, as if on a drum. "Come on, move it! Burning daylight here!"

As the two girls rushed out the door, Sunhild turned to Alvilda. "What is WRONG with you people?"

"Want a list?" They sprinted to the docks, wanting to get there quickly, Sunhild for the opportunity to speak with Stoick and Alvilda to get away from her crazy sister. Linnae was several meters behind them and she had stopped banging on the plate. The girls could hear her cackling fade slightly as the bustling at the docks increased in volume. Alvilda informed her that of the three ships that set out, it appeared that only one returned. A failed hunt then.

Stoick was just as big as she remembered but less intimidating. Only slightly, though. He stood with an air of defeat hanging about his shoulders as he spoke to Gobber. Snippets of conversation reached their ears as they neared and Sunhild could barely make out the comments of the other villagers as the passed Stoick.

"Congradulations-"

"-so relieved."

"No one-… nuisance!"

"He's gone?" This was the unmistakable voice of Stoick the Vast. He seemed downtrodden with dread for some reason.

Gobber was quick to reply. "Well, yeah, most afternoons! But who can blame him, I mean the life of a celebrity is very rough…"

Stoick adopted a look of confusion. "Hiccup…?"

"Who'd've thought it? The boy has this… way, with the beasts." Gobber then spotted Sunhild. "There she is!"

Sunhild waved jerkily at Stoick, who gave her a calculating look. Gobber paid this no mind, opting to continue with an introduction. "This is Sunhild. She's a silversmith—is what she said, anyway—and she decided to come sell her stuff here."

"Really now?" Stoick questioned. "Well let's see it then."

"Huh?" Was Sunhilds intelligent reply. "Oh right!" She dug around her bag once again and came up with the very same set of spoons that Hiccup had offered to buy. Thinking of him now, she wondered why he wasn't here to greet his father. She knew that if her father had gone out on a trip like this, she would be one of the first people down at the docks. Of course, it was her mother that was the most likely to actually go on a nest hunt.

"Spoons? Well I suppose that's better than getting tongue splinters all the time…"Stoick murmured in thought. Before Sunhild could contain it, a snort left her lips. "And what's so funny, lass?"

"Oh um… well Hiccup, your son, right! Well Hiccup said the same thing just a little bit ago. Okay it was hours." She rambled for a few minutes more before a hearty laugh cut her off. Gobber was clapping Stoick on the back with strength, Sunhild was sure, would have crippled lesser men. Alvilda was standing off to the side, kicking at rocks and whistling a tune she might have heard the men sing in the Mead Hall. "He's becoming more like you every day, eh?"

For the first time since his arrival, Stoick smiled. His large red beard stretched with the movement and before long, he was laughing right along with the other man. "Sounds like it! Maybe now he'll get a growth spurt!"

Alvilda snorted quietly. "Yeah, that's doubtful."

"Alvilda! You never know! He's fifteen, it could happen!" Sunhild admonished. She then turned back to Stoick. "So I can sell my things… right? I mean Hiccup said it would be okay but…"

"Yes, but Hiccup gets into trouble a lot so it's best to question his judgment often." Alvilda commented.

"I thought I did." Sunhild replied.

Stoick thought on the request for a moment. "I guess it's alright, don't see much harm in silver. Not like its poison."

Sunhild managed to keep herself in check this time.

"YES! CALLED IT!" Alvilda shouted, throwing a fist into the air.

Sunhild gave her a funny look and replied. "No you didn't."

"Did so! In my head!" The girl huffed and nodded stubbornly. Sunhild noticed Linnae over Alvilda's shoulder, gesturing wildly for them to hurry up so she could go home. She quickly thanked Stoick for his time and grabbed Alvilda's arm to drag her away. When they were back at Linnae's side, she spoke. "Now then, let's go home. You," She pointed at Sunhild. "…still have dishes to do."

Alvilda snickered.

"And you have sheep to herd!"

"Nooooo!"

Sunhild counted her first day in Berk an overall success.

The interaction between Linnae and Alvilda is almost exactly how my sister and I act. It's ridiculous.

Silver Smithing*- Not exactly sure this is what the job would really be called.