Hiccup And The Dragon
Once a year, Hiccup told the story of how he caught a Night Fury. The small group of family and friends waited as they sat around the fire, just after sunset on this cool Autumn evening. Most of the time, the weather in Berk is not too bad, at least for Vikings, although you'd never know that if you heard how much the residents exaggerate.
On this night, a black dragon named Toothless was lying between two of the children, fast asleep, with one paw resting on a hot ember in the fire. The kids smiled as their dad arrived to take his place among them, in anticipation of the story. The dragon looked perfectly content to continue his nap. Hiccup began the tale.
"This happened many years before you were born. It was a time of chilling darkness and piercing flame. We were at war with dragons. Most any night, they would come, to kill us and take our livestock. And the bravest warriors would battle the monsters. When everyone was asleep, a mass of dragons would suddenly appear in the dark, with fire and claw and fangs, to grab -"
"Please, Hiccup," said Astrid, "Tone it down. They'll have nightmares."
"Okay" replied Hiccup. "Well, anyway, even as a teenager, I was real little. Sure, I still am. But, I was... little-er. I'm an inventor, and I built stuff in the blacksmith shop, so that I could kill a dragon. Brains over brawn. And I wanted most of all to kill the biggest trophy, the Night Fury. Long ago, on this very night, I brought one down."
Hiccup glanced at the dragon in their midst. Toothless was fast asleep, completely uninterested in the story.
"I used my Mangler, which launched rock and rope at high speed to snare a dragon. On that night, the whole village was occupied with the battle, and I set up near a catapult. That's what a Night Fury would usually attack. It was perfect timing, since one of them was making a dive-bomb pass at that moment. I aimed quick, closed my eyes, pulled the trigger. The whistling of the flying rope gave way to a heart-wrenching scream, echoing through the mountains. Night Fury was hit! He was like a falling star still glowing from his fire blast, and tumbling end-over end, toward Raven Point.
I could hardly wait to get out there. I hiked all morning to the spot, and finally arrived near the lip of a canyon. The dragon was lying all tied up, but he was still alive – and staring right at me. All I had was my little filet knife, and he was so helpless and miserable, I didn't have the heart to kill him anyway. I was feeling kind of sick over the whole thing. I'd be a hero in the village – this kill would a great victory for me – and the only thing I felt was – remorse. I only wished I could go back in time and undo everything.
I started to cut him loose, while checking over my shoulder to be sure nobody was watching me do so. I had no plan on what to do once I freed him, but the dragon was calculating his options the whole time. I'd only sliced a couple of ropes when he leaped up and pinned me by the neck to a large rock. He glared, then roared at me so loudly, my ears were ringing. Then he leaped into the canyon in a rage, and disappeared. I was completely unharmed!
The following day, I was placed into dragon training. My boss, the blacksmith Gobber the Belch was the teacher. I failed so badly that day, I nearly got burned to a crisp by the slowest dragon ever, a gronkle.
Still, there was a question that haunted me: Why didn't the Night Fury kill me?
And I had to go see if he was alright. So I went all the way back there again, and this time I was able to draw a picture of him. See? This is the picture I drew. I was a pretty good artist back then, huh?
But he was injured. Part of a tail fin was missing, and he wasn't able to fly up the steep rock walls of the canyon. He stared at me again, and this time, his eyes seemed almost... gentle. I didn't know what to do, but I also didn't want him to starve. So I secretly saved a fish for the dragon. And I brought it into the canyon, hoping to find him.
And you're not gonna believe what happened next.
I crept between the large boulders that morning, to the canyon floor, bringing my shield in case I confronted an injured, angry fire-breathing dragon. I threw the fish into the clearing. And my shield got stuck in the rocks. I pressed on anyway, out in the open, protected only by a slightly rotten fish.
From out of nowhere I was confronted by the black dragon – this was becoming a regular occurrence! And he demanded that I disarm. Not in human words, but I still knew what he meant. Maybe I've always understood him. Now knife-less and shield-less, I was briefly relieved to see he was "toothless". He grinned a smile of gums, then his retractable teeth snapped into place, and he bit my fish in half, swallowing it all. Before I knew it, he'd backed me up to a rock, and we were face-to-face again. Then he spit half of his fish into my lap, and politely asked me share his snack. Not wanting to offend a huge, wild dragon, I took one bite of the raw fish half, could barely keep it down, but smiled as if I were full – as if it was the finest banquet I had ever eaten – hoping I could now be permitted to leave.
And he smiled back. A broad grin, maybe a little more sincere than my own, but with no teeth. I reached out – could I pet him? Nope. He growled and leaped to the other side of the pond. When he seemed to be napping, I snuck over to check out that tail with the missing fin, but as soon as I got close, he walked away in a huff.
I had a problem. How do I tell a dragon that I nearly killed, "I'm not your enemy, let me help you"? Never mind the fact that he'll starve even if I bring him as much fish as I can carry every day. And that he'll probably be found and killed before he has a chance to starve.
...And that I had no idea how to help him...
With the memory of his smiling face, I started vaguely drawing his head, using a stick in the soft sand on the shore of the lake. Now I was the miserable creature, with no idea what to do. And he was suddenly sitting right next to me, watching me draw! The next thing I knew, this dragon had broken a tree, was holding it in his teeth and carefully drawing a huge picture of his own, all around me. It looked like this. See? It's a lot of loops and lines. That's pretty good art considering it was his first drawing. And boy was he proud of it! He growled so angrily when I stepped on a line, I thought he'd burn me alive. We were both relieved when I realized the idea was to avoid the lines. I practically danced out of his "maze", so happy that he was trying to reach out to me. Not paying attention, I backed right into the seated dragon. I could hear his heartbeat and feel his warm breath. I reached up to touch his head, but now all I wanted to do was somehow show him "I'm sorry". He growled, but not very convincingly.
So I reached up again - turned my head away, closed my eyes, and stretched out my arm to him. It would be fair if he bit my arm off. It would serve me right. It was time for him to decide now if I was still his enemy. I cringed and waited for what seemed like an eternity, for the bite to happen. This would hurt. Then something warm touched my hand and my knees buckled. But there was no pain. I looked up to see the dragon had pressed his nose into the palm of my hand. And his eyes were closed.
The dragon shook his head and leaped back to the other side of the pond again. But I knew he'd called a truce. We were even, no hard feelings. He could die in peace. But I needed to figure out how to keep him alive.