A screech of unrelenting destruction broke the night. Hiccup was torn from his light slumber and leaped out of bed, although it was more of a clumsy stumble, which sent him sprawling into the nearby desk.
Getting a grip on his weariness, hiccup quickly dawned a new tunic, and grabbed his satchel. Which consisted of several clay canisters that contained various healing potions? Each one made to address a specific injury.
He also plucked his dagger from the bureau, and his newest invention.
It was a wrist-mounted crossbow. He came up with the idea a few months ago, and since then, created a working prototype.
It uses a combination of high tensile arms, a string which he wove together using metal wire, and a complex lever system to draw the two hundred pound test string back.
To say this is his greatest invention is no understatement.
Another ear-splitting roar shook the night outside his overly exposed sanctuary. After fashioning the string to the bow, he made a mad dash for the front door.
Tonight is the night. Tonight is going to be the night where he proves to everyone that he is not a scrawny screw up, that all their insulting jibes where for not.
That he was always one of them, but only needed to find his proper weapon.
Hiccup yelped when he opened the door. Right as the door opened, a Monstrous Nightmare rounded the corner and shot a blast of fire at him.
Reacting to the attack, Hiccup heaved the door close, and held it. He could feel the fire heating the solid oak slab for several seconds, then the heat began to despite.
He cracked the door slightly ajar. When he saw the coast was clear, he sprinted from the house, and made his way for the square.
The entire village was one, massive war zone, Vikings where running about, some of the. wounded, others held swords or axes, a few of them wielded spears.
"What are you doing here!" , "Get out of here, before you cause an accident!", "Go home Hiccup!"
It hurt to hear how little people trusted him. All he's ever wanted in life was to be a Viking. To show people that he is deserving to be called "The chief's son" but it seems no matter how hard he tries, with every step forward, he always winds up two paces further back.
"Hiccup? What are you...Who let him out!"
All he could do was dangle from his father's oppressive grip, like a kitten in the jaws of its mother.
Before Hiccup had a chance to explain, Stoic threw him off to the side like a rag doll.
Casting a diminished expression over his shoulder to the lump of a father, he continued making his way to Gobber's Forge.
Stoic was above all else, an enigma in his life. No matter what he does, how much he tries to show his father that he can be a Viking. Stoic's only response is disappointment.
Hiccup ducked, and slid under a catapult that had been pushed into his way, but some how failed to notice it until the last moment.
At least that is one decent trait he can proudly say no one else on Berk possess. Agility.
No Viking on this island passes the skill he does, when it comes to dodging things that is. on second thought, is that really a good thing?
Hiccup cleared his head as the smiths shop came into sight.
"Hiccup, nice of you to join us, I feared you might not show up."
"You know me, I can never stay away."
He replied jokingly as he received several bent and battered swords, then tossed them into the forge.
Out of every one on Berk, Gobber was by far the nicest. As well as the only one who is truly nice to him.
And the fact they share a similar sense of humor only adds to their relationship.
"Is that it?"
Gobber questioned when he noticed Hiccup's cross bow. Glancing down, Hiccup nodded.
"What, that is the big project you've been working on for the past month?"
Hiccup couldn't help but smile at the smiths teasing. Gobber knew fully well not to insult one of his inventions until he actually sees it in action.
Smiling deviously, He aimed at the far wall, and with a flick of his thumb, released the bolt.
There was a sharp "Twang" as the belt was sent hurtling through the air.
The sound of metal, impacting wood followed less then a moment latter. Gobber turned around to see where the bolt had struck.
The smiths eyes widened, while Hiccup physically recoiled by the unexpected result.
There was nothing left of the bolt, save the iron head, that protruded from the wall. The wood shaft had shattered from the force of its impact.
Hiccup, for the first time, over engineered a weapon. And for the first time in his life, was disheartened, by one of his own inventions.
The power his cross bow held was far more devastating than any catapult. A single "Wrist Bow" could kill a hundred people, just as easily as a hundred dragons.
Thankfully Gobber shared his concern. If there was one aspect about Gobber that he can admire proudly, it was the fact that he did not put his hatred of dragons above his concern for humanity.
Hiccup could see Gobber came to a similar conclusion about his Wrist Bow, and silently acknowledged each other's concern.
The pair was snapped back to reality when an explosion ripped through the night air. Spinning on heels, Hiccup had just enough time to see a giant cloud of fire rocket into the sky
Standing directly in front of it, and most likely the cause of it, was none other than Astrid.
The beauty that was bestowed upon her from the orange and yellow flames memorized hiccup.
What does it mean when the person who has done nothing but ignore you, to shun every aspect of who you are, is the only one who you love.
Be it a twisted love at that, love is love, and nothing is going to change that.
"Man the fort hiccup, I am needed!"
"Great, I'll come with you."
"Ah, no you don't. I can't risk having you...being...well you. No, stay put, and try to stay out of trouble."
Feeling defeated, and his hope of killing a dragon slowly diminishing, hiccup picked up a long sword and began sharpening it.
The continuous sound of grinding metal and warm sparks bouncing against his apron quickly lulled him in a trance like state.
Where his hands moved of their own accord, allowing his mind to drift from one topic to another.
This time it was his inventions, and in what ways he could prove upon them.
His Wrist Bow is a prime example of this. It was never intended to be a weapon; in fact it was meant to be a service item.
Something he could use if he was taken by a dragon, or somehow managed to stumble over the cliffs, which in his case, may be likely to happen.
He wanted to attach a spool of wire to the end of it, but he has yet to invent a wire strong enough.
Wire...Rope...launching. Hiccup's eyes widened as he remembered one of his other inventions that he had forgotten about.
Turning around, he began searching the shack for his Bola Launcher. He had come up with the concept several months ago, but only recently finished it.
Like all his projects however, the moment he thought of a new one, he completely forgot about the Bola Launcher.
Rushing with haste, he folded the weapon and ran from the forge. Carting it to the one place where he knew it would be.
The unholy offspring...yes...yes...He can't even begin to remember all the stories he has heard, each of them focused around the elusive Night Fury.
Hiccup flinched when he heard the nearby "Clang of metal, on dragon scale." if there is one thing about dragons that fascinated him...Alright, one of the things that fascinates him with dragons, it is their scales.
Several species of dragons have scales that are stronger than steel, when others have soft hides...
Hiccup froze when he heard it. Just a whisper, the sound of rushing air, then it struck.
A bright purple streak of light sped through the air, and collided with a nearby watchtower. The result was nothing short of devastating. Wood splinters, and metal fragments where launched on every direction.
Hiccup was temporarily blinded by the fiery eruption of wood, but after a moment his vision cleared and he began to align his target.
A streak, nothing more, nothing less, a small piece of night where no stars shown, was the only way he could track it.
The dragon darted to the left; he was making another run at the tower. Hope bristled in Hiccup's gut as he realized this, and took aim once again.
Timing is everything. Too soon, and he can dodge the attack, to late, and well, hiccup still misses.
Not yet...almost there...almost...there...NOW! With a massive "TWANG" the bola launched perfectly, and no more than a second later, he heard the dull thud, followed by screeching.
Hiccup watched on with a combination of fascinations, pride, excitement, and curiosity.
The Night Fury's roar was not what he had expected. It was not deep, nor was it a rumble.
But more of a mildly pitched shriek. Not to the point of causing hearing damage, but loud enough to alert hiccup that this Night Furry is different from the other dragons.
At first Hiccup was ecstatic he was the first Viking in history to he hit a Night Fury. He wanted nothing more than to cry out with joy.
But a hot, pungent breath that smelled like chard meat and death washed over him.
He became riveted in place. A breath like that could belong to only one creature. Swallowing his trepidation, Hiccup slowly turned around.
Only to find himself staring death in the face. He always imagined The Grim to be a hooded figure, holding a scythe.
He was slightly confused then to see bright crimson eyes, and long dagger like teeth sprouting from his lower jaw.
Ow no, this might not be Grimm, but a Monstrous Nightmare is just as effective.
The Dragon roared with anger, Hiccup took opportunity to run. Perhaps having this dragon chasing him is not so bad after all. Maybe, and just maybe, this dragon should eat him.
A quick death would be more favorable than going back to his father, only to be told how worthless he is, then to have the other teens to make fun of him again.
Hiccup yelped with fright when the Nightmare launched a jet of scolding red flames at him. That single action was enough to keep the young boy running. Albeit slightly grudgingly.
Hiccup dove into a side ally to hopefully confuse the dragon. But to his dismay, the dragon kept after him.
Other Vikings leapt out of the way as he came barreling through, the Monstrous Nightmare feet from his back.
He could hear most of them utter curses of irritation, and a few of them went as far to insult him.
Saying that everyone would have been better off is he wasn't born. Or that the dragon should do them all a favor and eat the fish-bone-with-legs.
When he heard that, his feet nearly stopped, and he almost wanted to reign around and embrace his death proudly.
However, his primal instinct in a situation like this is not to stop and surrender, it was to run, run as fast as he could, and eventually hide.
But in a village of Vikings, there where little places that could serve as a refuge. Luckily he wasn't a liking, well not yet at least.
So where a normal Viking would be too large to fit in, he could squeeze in comfortably. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the Nightmare was losing ground, and he was escaping.
Although that did little to brighten his spirit's. All dragons have an incredible amount of stamina, and well...regardless, Hiccup knew that the dragon was falling back not because it was tired.
No, it was because he wanted Hiccup to make a mistake. Making a ninety-degree turn, Hiccup sprinted down another ally, then left, to hopefully. Double back on the dragon, then he took a right down another ally.
Bad move, when he did this, he failed to see the turned over barrel, and he went hurtling out into the street.
Before he could react, the Nightmare pounced out of no where, and pines him under his massive talon.
Well this was it them, his release from this miserable life. Looking back on his life, looking back on all the times he had been hurt, the countless insults, the constant berating, and just not being wanted.
Despite what his gut said, Hiccup couldn't help but smile at the prospect.
He stopped struggling against the dragon and laid his head back and closed his eyes, a small smile crept across his face as he imagined meeting his mother again.
She was the one person he ever had that appreciated him for him, and not expected him to be something he wasn't.
"Why do you accept death so openly?"
A deep voice rumbled above him, confused he opened is eyes to see the Nightmare starring at him.
"You...you can speak?"
"You can understand me?"
The dragon seemed equally surprised by the statement. Hiccup nodded.
"Then tell me, why do you want death?"
"Why...because death is more favorable than living, I wouldn't expect you to understand. "
Hiccup looked up at the dragon, then turned his head to see them surrounded by Vikings, all of them waiting to see what would happen next.
"Can I make one request?"
"That depends of the request?"
"Instead of eating me, can you drop me?"
The dragon looked up from hiccup, and to the group surrounding them, then back to hiccup.
"No, I will not kill you. However, I will tell you this. A beggar will never find happiness while living on the street, but that does not mean he can't find happiness."
The dragon's cryptic response confused Hiccup.
"fare well none-Viking, I hope we meet again, perhaps, on better terms."
Without another word, the dragon released him and flew off, before any of the other Vikings could react.
Hiccup was speechless to say the least; never did it ever occur to him that dragons where intelligent, let alone, speak.
"Hiccup! What in Odin's name where you thinking?"
it took a second for Hiccup to realize that he was now standing, and being shook by Stoic.
"I...I don't know."
He said in a small tone. He knew what came next, and had no desire to look at his dad.
"Do you ever listen? I told you to stay in doors."
"You know how I am, whenever I see a dragon I just have to..."
"No, you don't. Now go home, I have a mess to clean up."
Hiccup stumbled several feet from the force of Stoic's shove. Hiccup held his head law and slowly made his way back home.
"Hey, pipsqueak, you should have let that dragon eat you!"
"I tried."
He murmured to himself as he walked past the group of teens, oblivious to their curious expressions.
"What did you say?"
Hiccup ignored Astrid's question and continued on his way. Astrid was sure she heard him correctly, but couldn't fathom him actually saying it.
"Why does he hate me Gobber?"
"You got it all wrong, he doesn't hate you, he's just...concerned for your well being."
"He's ashamed of me. He wishes that I was someone else, a large strong Viking, a son he can be proud of."
"You see, it's not what's on the outside that matters, its what's inside that he can't stand."
Hiccup slumped his shoulders, if he thought it wasn't possible to feel lower than what he already does, then he was a fool.
He turned around and was about to enter his house.
"Listen, Hiccup, what I'm saying, is, stop trying being something your not."
"I just want to be a son Stoic can be proud of."
That was the last thing Hiccup said before closing the door to his house behind him.
What did he ever do to deserve this fate? He can never do anything right, every time he only makes the problem worst, and never right.
A beggar will never find happiness while living on the street, but that does not mean he can't find happiness.
Hiccup couldn't help but wonder what the dragon had meant. Did he mean that hiccup was a beggar, asking people for their respect, or did he mean that he lives on a street, and the only way he would be happy was to move on?
He didn't know why, but there was a part about his last observation that struck a particular large chord in his chest.
A chord that reminded him of the
Downed Night Fury and its cries of torment as it plummeted down to the harsh ground bellow.
Then something strange bolstered in Hiccup, it was not a feeling of anger, or desire for death, no it was something completely unexpected.
It was concern. After hearing the Nightmare speak to him, and his cryptic analogy of himself.
He now realized that Dragons are not mindless beasts, but creatures of intelligence.
Deadening his heart to his father's disappointment, Hiccup ran over to the side table, and grabbed his book.
He only glimpsed where the dragon had gone down, and was determined to find it.
Although he knew that no matter what happened, he would return a changed man, if he returned.
With that thought in mind, he crawled put of the rear window, and began making his way to Ravens Paint.