What you hold before you is the tale of Henrik 'Hiccip' Haddock. He was chosen by his ancestor to complete his work and defeat a dragon tyrant.

A bit of fantasy/supernatural (Henrik's ancestor communicates and helps him physically on his quest), some adventure, friendship, romance (what woild be a HTTYD tale whitout some hiccstrid) and a pinch of humour for good measure.

I don't own the characters. They are property of Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks, but since they're not on the list of people who don't want their work to be used in fanfiction I guess they won't mind.

Rated T because there'll be violence (including decapitations) in later chapters.

Enjoy!

In the far north, where summers are short and warmth is only found in alcohol, where winters see no sunlight, where the climate cold and the locals more so, where people know the true meaning of the verb 'to freeze' lies a relatively not so small town.

This is Berk. Fifty kilometres of icy, unmaintained road (it's more of a path realy - now that I think about it it's not even a path) divide it from the main road and it's ten times as much air distance from any real civilisation. However, it's also the largest settlement in a hundred kilometre radius which means it is the region's economic, cultural and political capital.

We have fidhing and hunting (mostly fishing, there isn't much wildlife around theese parts). I should have you know that our town used to be most famous for whale-hunting. But now all that remains is an old museum that gets around six visizors a year (seriously, who would be as stupid as to go here on a holiday).

This is my home. What could I say about life here? It's tough. Realy tough. The mortality rate can be high since our hospital is small and competely outdated. But I can say that if you survive the first five years of your life you should be fine. Unless you're someone like me. You don't know me? Ah well, introduction time.

The name's Haddock. Henrik Haddock. Yeah, my family bears the name of a fish.I told you we were fishermen. Sorry, I'm getting off topic... where was I? Oh yes, me. So... I'm fifteen and attend at the local high-school (the only one in the region). I'm considered the most promising student of the generation. By the teachers at least. Otherwise I'm considered a mistake, a 'hiccup' (that's what most people call me by the way).

Why? You see, If I was born somwhere there in the wonderful south, where inteligence and ingenuety are values I'd be the most popular guy at school. Unfortunately I don't have that luxury like many people reading this might have. Here only the strong, tall people with long, braided hair and a forest for a beard (if we're talking about a male) survive. I'm none of those things (except for the hair and beard part - that seems doable, I might become respected for my brown hair and beard reaching to the ground if nothing less). I'm not very tall and am weak. Some say I remind them of a talking fishbone. I'm not very good at sports and even worse at trying to not look weak and awkward. My only strenght lies in my inteligence and that isn't a value in a society of norse fishermen (A/N: sorry, norse fishermen)

Most people don't notice me, but for those who do I just wish they didn't because they either keep reminding me of what a disappointment I am or they use me for a punching bag or whatever it is people use nowadays to lay off steam. Most do both.

This particular morning it's likely that even the school staff won't give me a break: my alarm clock didn't go off due to a black-out our town's been dealing with for the last few days. The thing that wakoke me up was sunlight which means I only had a few minutes before my first period starts. At least it isn't winter - I would have slept till spring.

I leapt out of bed and put my clothes (meant for a boy at least two years younger than me) before storming down the stairs and hoping not to run into my father on the way out.

But, as you may have figured out, I'm the mortal the gods have chosen to screw around with. Before I could reach the door a thundering voice stops me.

"Leaving without breakfast?"

Meet my father, Sigurd Haddock (people call him "Stoic tge Vast" after a legendary viking hero though), the mayor of this helhole. He's a war veteran. Some say that he can kill a man just by looking at them. Do I believe it? Yes I do. People say that he used to be happier. But ever since my mother died during my birth (remember what I said about the hospital?).

"You need to eat, Henrik, to grow into a strong leader."

Another thing about him. He always claims that I will one day become the gratest man alive...

"If you don't eat you'll always be like this - weak and disrespected."

...and then gives me the hatchet, saying that he doesn't like what I am now.

I don't know if I can blame him. I'm all he has left of my mother after all.

"Sorry, dad, but I'm in a hurry. Perhaps I could eat this on the way"

Before he could protes I grabbed some bread and ran out the door. My morning exercise continued as I crossed several streets, passed the workshop in which I would most likely spend the afternoon (what can I say - it feels like home in a place where i can invent stuff) befote I reached the harbour where the Berk high-school stood.

I entered the main hallway and quietly sneaked towards my locker. I took my coat off, grabbed my books and...

"Hey look, if it isn't poor little Hiccup running late."

Well shit. Just when I thought my day couldn't get worse. I turned around to lock my eyes with a boy a bit taller and more-than-a-bit wider than me. Meet Steiner 'Snotlout' Jorgenson. The greatest bully north of, well, anywhere. Also my cousin. Behind him were his 'body-guards', the Thorston twins Torbjorb and Ragna (or Tuffnut and Ruffnut), who were the only people dumber than him.

"Hey, Steiner, to what do I owe this pleasure?" I said, slowly backing away.

"No need to call me by my name. We're cousins, you can call me Snotlout." He was aproaching me, his fists ready to give me a good-morning punch.

Just when he was about to punch me he stopped. I didn't know why until he said: "Hey, Astrid!"

I turned around to see the girl that made my head spin. Meet Astrid Hofferson, the most popular girl in school and the most beautiful one this side of... anywhere. Athletic and clever, yet as cold as our winter. Among my peers she was the nicest to me. Meaning she ignored me.

She looked at us (I hope she was looking at Snotlout though) in disgust. "I'd get to class if I were you."

Phiew! Saved by the bell again. I quickly made my way to classroom 12. All was well until I remembered what we would be studying today. My first period was literature and we were learning about heroic epics at the time. And we were starting with the most popular tale in the north. The tale that told about the suposed ancestor of all the modern Haddocks, a warior who would make beasts shit their pants if they had them. I would never hear the end of it - me being a decendant of the great and mighty dragon master. Do you know what I speak of?

"The tale of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III..."

So it begins ...