I open my eyes.
The world is still mostly dark, with just a hint of light stretching out from the horizon.
As much of a horizon as you can get, anyway, from a mountainous island such as Berk. Berk is my home, and has been for many years. Much longer than most of the villagers here can remember. But I, one of the esteemed elders of the village, can think back to when the Vikings first came to this rugged, unforgiving island, and got it into their thick heads to try and tame it. Those were some tough, but happy days. As they are still now, and will be for ages to come, I hope.
Life on the island has gone through some drastic changes, the most recent being our new co-habitation with the most fearsome beast on this planet – the dragon. Or should I say, dragons. Scores of them, living amongst us peacefully, excluding the few times building fires were accidentally started by a feisty young dragon trying to prove itself to its peers. Many of the dragons here don't have a family, but they roam the village freely, and are quite friendly. There are, however, a few renegades, and with one of these rather sourly dispositioned dragons is where my story begins.
Today, I think, will visit the dragon nursery, there is nothing that warms an old heart so much as seeing a baby Deadly Natter throw its first tail spike, or hearing the hungry squawks of the forever hungry Rumblehorns. When I look through the glass window, I can see the babies in their various nests being tended by the Nursery dragon, a young Bewilderbeast. I shouldn't say young; this imposingly built female is 300 years old. Young for its kind, though, which can live up to 1 000 years! In the left corner closest to me, an especially small Gronkle begins to flail about wildly, and flaps its wings rapidly in sort of panic. The Bewilderbeast, however, doesn't notice the little one's increasing distress, as she is busy sating the hungry appetites of the Rumblehorns. I'm getting concerned, and I begin to notice the Gronkle's face is turning blue! I pound on the glass window loudly, hoping the Bewilderbeast will realize something is wrong... but it turns its attention slowly to another group of hungry babies. I decide there's only one thing I can do; intervene!
I run as fast as my old legs will let me towards the door, throw it open, and manoeuvre my way through the maze of nests as quickly as possible to the left corner. I frantically scan the corner, searching for the blue face...There! Its wings are beginning to beat a little more feebly, and it is trying to cry out past whatever is blocking its throat. I rush over, and try to see what's blocking its throat. I peer a little closer, and spy an oddly shaped blue rock wedged in its throat. Quickly as I can, I reach in and grasp the object, and almost let go because it's surprisingly cold to the touch! I pull on it, and the Gronkle heaves, and out comes the object, which flies from my hand and shatters against the far wall. I soothe the Gronkle, which is whimpering sadly, and is slowly returning to a normal color. The Bewilderbeast has noticed my presence in the room, and begins a low rumble. I know I should leave, before I make it angry for intruding. Only a select few are allowed to enter the nursery, and rarely ever without first talking to the Bewilderbeast. I quickly walk out, careful not to bump anything, and quietly wish the Gronkle a happier day.