The Gods Must Be Crazy
(Rated K)
...
The Gods Must Be Crazy.
Or at least moderately insane...
...No, definitely crazy and Odin hated him, to boot. Thor too, obviously.
Why else would he be sitting in the Great Hall, jaw dangling wide open, the mouthful of mead he had been about to swallow now sprayed over the tabletop while the others looked on in surprise and mild disgust?
"W-what did you just say?" Hiccup spluttered.
"I said Berk's been chosen to host the Inter-Tribal Games this year," Astrid replied, a bit more impatiently than when she had burst through the doors to deliver the exciting news.
Hiccup pulled a sleeve across his mouth. "The…the what-huh?"
"Are you serious," Snotlout chimed in, a wide, roguish grin crawling over his face. "She said Berk's hosting the Inter-Tribal Games. You know, where the whole Archipelago gets together to bash each other around in the spirit of fun and friendship? It's like Thawfest times twenty!"
Hiccup blinked, paled…
Snotlout had just drudged up a very unpleasant series of memories. The Games only happened every ten years, the last occurring when Hiccup was twelve and not much more than a twiggy, scraggly sapling. Most of the youngsters from the other tribes were muscular, hulking and, thankfully, incredibly stupid. It still baffled him how he'd managed to stay alive through those three arduous days of "fun and friendly" competition on nothing other than wits and his easy-to-miss size on his side.
Almost as if acting upon survival instinct, Hiccup stood, performed a sharp about face and made for the entrance.
"Wait!" Astrid caught him by the collar and dragged him backwards, plunking him back down onto the bench. "Hiccup, as the chief, it's your duty to represent Berk in the Games. We have tons of work to do to get ready, not to mention you need to start training right away—"
"T-training?" he gulped, heartbeat skipping. "Training for wha—all right, I wanna know who okayed this without running it by me for chiefly approv—"
"Oh, hey!" Tuffnut exclaimed as if noticing Hiccup for the first time. "He's the chief!"
"That's right, he is the chief," Ruffnut agreed, stroking her chin.
Snotlout snorted into his mug. "Wow. They finally noticed."
Tuffnut fist-bumped his sister. "Congratulations, big guy! You get to compete with the biggest…"
"…and the best…"
"…in the chiefs-only Brawl-A-Rama Battle Bowl!"
Hiccup's lunch turned in his stomach, threatening to evict itself.
"Lucky," said Snotlout. "The Brawl-A-Rama's like, the ultimate poundage."
"Superior pummelage," said one twin.
"Premium slayage—" started the other.
"Nope." That did it. At the mention of "slayage", Hiccup bolted. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope!"
"Hey! Get back here!" Astrid called after him. "Where are you going?"
"Uh, nowhere in particular! Just ditching Berk for a couple months—TOOTHLESS! Y'know, see the world, find myself, throw up..."
And he was gone, leaving nothing but a swinging door behind.
"Please tell me we have a backup plan…" Snotlout said after an awkward moment.
With an exasperated grunt, Astrid let her head fall into a palm.