I neither own nor claim any rights to How To Train Your Dragon...

Hello, everyone. First of all, I want to thank everyone who took the time to read my two existing stories, "Jarin and the Riders of Berk" and "Jarin and the Legacy of Nartara." I enjoyed writing them, and it is my hope that you enjoyed reading them. And now for something a bit different. This story follows the experiences of a man who finds himself stranded on Berk. It's written in diary format and in first-person perspective. I am not going to put any limits on how many chapters this will have. I'll be adding to it gradually over time. This takes place chronologically after everyone returns home following the Battle of Nartara at the end of "Legacy of Nartara" So any elements introduced in my previous stories are potential plot elements for this story.

Enough rambling. Let's get to it, shall we :)


The Diary of Oscar Rodgers

October 19 2014

Dear Diary...

My name is Oscar Rodgers, I bought this diary today so that I can document my trip to visit my cousin in Iceland. When we were kids, we had this fascination with stories of Vikings and dragons and such, and while my life ended up being more mediocre than anything else, he went on to be somewhat of an expert on the subject and has been spending the last few years going back and forth from the states to Iceland, sending me letters each time. This time he insists that he found something remarkable and wants me there to see it. Well, I've been accumulating vacation time, so off I go.

October 10, 2014

It's very late here in the hotel I am staying at. Bob will be picking me up tomorrow morning and we'll be taking off in his private plane so he can show me what he found. He insists that it is most dramatic when seen from the air. Who am I to argue? He's the expert, after all...

October 15, 2014 (I guess)

I guess my name is Oscar Rodgers. That's what it says in the first entry of this diary which the Vikings found in my waterproof satchel. I don't remember a thing prior to waking up in a hut belonging to an old woman who communicates by writing in the sand with her staff. Apparently, she's the village healer. This large, crazy viking with a prosthetic arm and leg translates what she writes. I don't know how, but I understand him perfectly, even though I am pretty sure I never learned to speak Norse. But then, like I said, my memory only goes back to waking up this morning. I am clearly educated, as I know how to write. So who knows what I forgot I learned?

So yeah... I woke up this morning with a splitting headache in unfamiliar surroundings and surrounded by unfamiliar people. There was the old woman I mentioned, Gothi. There was Gobber, the Viking with the prosthetic arm and leg. And there was the largest man I have ever personally met, Stoick the Vast, whom I learned is the chief of the village. They don't want me leaving the hut yet, because they are worried about my health. Well aside from my amnesia and the blasted headache that still holds my skull in a vice, I feel fine. I asked how long it would be before I could be allowed out. All I got was a "we'll see."

They told me that I had been unconscious for five days. That's why this entry was made five days after the previous one, though I am just assuming that only five days have passed since then. I cannot be certain of anything.

I fell asleep shortly after writing the above passage. Apparently I really am messed up a bit. I had some new visitors this time. There were these viking twins, as crazy as their names: Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Seriously, who gives their kids names like that? Anyway, they woke me up by banging their helmets together while they were still on their heads. Just thinking about it makes my headache worse. They actually remind me of Beavis and Butthead, only one of them is a girl.

After the twins left, two big teen-age vikings came in. Snotlout, nephew of the chief, and Fishlegs, (what IS it with these crazy names?) who seems to be some sort of historian. He did most of the talking and tried to ask me a bunch of questions I don't have the answers to. Or maybe I do. I don't know! Snotlout just stood there staring at me like I was some sort of intruder. I guess from his perspective, I am an intruder. I certainly don't belong here. Wherever here is.

I finally got fed up and shouted that I am the one who has a lot of questions, and that I really need some answers. They looked at me like I had eels crawling out of my ears, then put their heads together, whispering. Fishlegs turned back to me and said that he would see what he could do. I thanked him and eased myself back down.

I fell asleep again while waiting for Fishlegs to return with someone who could give me some answers. I awoke to hear a girl clearing her throat. I opened my eyes and beheld the most lovely young lady I had ever seen standing there. I had to mentally slap myself. I was clearly a grown man and she couldn't have been any more than fifteen... maybe sixteen. Besides, for all I knew I had a girlfriend or wife waiting on me back home. It wouldn't do for me to even think about attractive females, young enough to be my daughter or not... How old am I, anyway? I really didn't know.

Of course, I had been so caught up in her crystal blue eyes that I didn't notice she wasn't alone, and I didn't notice that the lanky young man with her was holding her hand. I felt stupid, but what can I say... I am a sucker for eyes. These two were Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (yet another crazy name) and Astrid Hofferson (Finally a normal sounding name)

I know they both caught me staring at her, and they had looked at each other and chuckled. Hiccup was the one that gave the introductions. He had a lot of information, such as the name of the village. Berk. He was the son of the chief and heir to the chiefdom, though how he could hope to fill the shoes of someone as impressive as Stoick the Vast, I don't have a clue. There were a lot of questions he couldn't answer, such as what happened to Bob, and where the plane went down. But he was able to tell me that Berk could make accommodations for me in one of the guest houses on the outskirts of town, the best times to show up at the Mead Hall for food, where not to go if I decided to go walking into the woods, and the best times to visit the Dragon Training Academy.

I had laughed at that, and they both frowned at me, Astrid actually going so far as to crack her knuckles as if she intended to hit me. The were actually serious. Hiccup proved it by walking me to the door to the healer's hut an out to her balcony, telling her that he was accepting responsibility.

I couldn't believe what I saw. There were dragons everywhere, of all sizes shapes and colors. Even remembering the sight as I write about it, I have a hard time accepting that it wasn't some freaky dream. But the fact that I snuck out a couple of times after that, while Gothi was sleeping, and saw the same sight each time is proof that the dragons are real. And these Vikings trained them.

After Hiccup and Astrid had left, I found myself with more questions than I had originally. Vikings and dragons... Childhood stories coming alive before my eyes. How is this possible. What does the future hold for me? Am I stuck here, or can I get home. Where is home, for that matter?