Hello! And welcome to this crazy story idea! I hope this isn't too confusing... and I hope you enjoy reading this baloney! If you do, that is. I'm still pretty new at this, so no hate please :-)

Fergus is the narrator of this bit, but won't be for the rest... so yep!

Prologue

Fergus P.O.V

There is a boy in the ice.

He must be about my daughter's age. His arms lay wide apart, as if he's falling, but his chin is tilted as though he's looking upwards. Each strand of hair is held in crystalized motion. His eyes are closed. He is so pale. So fragile.

We haven't found anything like this before.

"Boys?" I say. " Get that Viking out. And be careful. DON'T damage it."

My crew stop staring and pull on their gloves. Grease down their grins. They realize now that a billion pound artefact is in their clumsy hands.

I can't believe I found this.

I can send my daughter to private school. My sons to an expensive nursery. I can move away from here, stop working, stop living wherever I can get work.

"What is it, boss?" The youngest worker asks. She isn't trusted yet.

"A Viking boy." I look a little harder. " Of good blood. See his chin? That scar isn't infected." I nod, convinced, " Good blood indeed."

The worker scrunches up her face. "Is it dead?"

I stare at her. " Yes. Of course."

"It looks… alive. Can that happen?"

I roll my eyes. " Astrid. That Viking boy is as dead as the rest of his kind. Now, stop asking questions and get me a cup of coffee."

She gives me an eyebrow. " I want to see it come out the ice, Sir."

I give her an eyebrow. " More than you want to see another day employed? Now go."

She places a hand on a slender hip. Apparently, she was dropped out of school for being to violent. I'm not entirely sure how she ended up on my archeology team. I mean, violence and handling precious artefacts? Not the greatest mix. Now that I think about it, she must be the same age as Merida, too.

Finally, she goes. I let out a sigh of relief. Teenage girls have never been my specialty.

"SIR!"

They've started cutting the ice. Sparks fly off the saws as they hack into the cube. Weak sun sprays onto the clear, icy surface. I stuff both hands in my pocket, as I look at the boy even closer. A line of thin freckles crosses on his nose, and his lips are slightly open, like he's preparing to say something. What was he going to say, all those hundreds of years ago?

He's dressed in black armour, ready for battle, no doubt. It's strange… Astrid was right. He does look strangely alive. I could almost believe he's just swimming, paused for a moment as he is about to rise for breath. Not trapped in ice.

Shhsz- I hadn't noticed how close they were to sawing him out. A thinner cube begins to emerge, the boy immersed in it's center. I breath. This is the important bit.

Slowly, they claw him from the berg. Before long, they've attached ropes, and the boy gradually is taken forwards. In a graceful movement, the cube eventually swings out, and crashes onto the snow below. One by one, the team gather round. Relieved. Awed. Mystified.

This is better than that mammoth, than the dinosaur bones, than, well… anything. It's perfectly preserved. And it's so beautifully dramatic.

"What are we going to do now, Sir?" Ruffnut breathes. She's actually called Gwen, but we named her as soon as she came. She has a ruff way with the chopping.

"Now," I say, " We call a museum, or something." Because I don't actually know. We've never been this successful in a find before. I don't think anyone has.

And that's when I notice it. The strange way the ice curves inside. Flecks of different colours race to its middle. Gold, peach, ivory, even aquamarine. Light swells to the block, and the young man. Everything shines, glows, as if the sun itself wants to delve into our discovery.

"Oh my god." A voice says from behind.

Astrid.

"What?" I ask.

Her cheeks are flushed, and a white haze is shredding her eyes. The coffee is clutched tightly in her mittened hands. She stares, wide eyed, at the boy.

"What?" I repeat, " What?"

She gulps in a heavy breath. Her hands go slack around the mug. The china falls, smashing on the floor. Shards fly. You can hardly tell shattered cup from snow.

"Hiccup." She gulps. "He's here. He's back."

"Astrid." I say firmly, "Hiccups are not he's. They're things.And no one has any hiccups."

She pays no attention, her face changing from shocked to elated. A smooth, calm, motherly elated that I've never seen in her before.

She walks towards the ice, transfixed. Each step lands on broken shards. The world crackles beneath her.

She presses her hand on the surface. Tilts her head downwards. Breaths.

"Hiccup." She whispers. "You're alive."

Yep! Done! I know this isn't great :-( But this is just the start! Right?

If you like this, please follow, fav, review, I don't mind! If you DON'T like it, then follow, fav, review just to be patronising. I don't really mind! :-D

Thanks for reading this baloney...

DinoRhino x