"Dragon raid!" A shriek comes up from the village. A monstrous nightmare swoops down, and a blast of flames erupts from its mouth. Several buff-looking Vikings jump away from the main blast. The red-coloured nightmare lands in the middle of the village, and fires several shots over the village plaza. With its large fangs settled deep in the ground, it suddenly flames up. His skin lights upon charging a flame, and his entire body is rapidly engulfed in a seething hot maelstrom of flaming tongues.

A sturdy Viking leaps forward and stands proudly before its beak. Its fangs shimmering mysteriously white between the encasing flames. The beak of the dragon hovers dangerously at twenty foot above the ground as he is challenged by the man in front of him. A disapproving scowl follows a fuming exhaust from the monstrous nightmare's nostrils. Before him appears a sturdy Viking, hammer in hand and a face glowing from the flames around him. One of the sturdiest Vikings of Berk, this is. The parts not covered in hair steaming with sweat and charging with inner rage and fury. Not just anyone dares approach a nightmare. The Viking wears a dark green tunic under his brown armour, but above all there is unmistakeable the long light brown beard and moustache underneath the stern face of the chief.

Because only the best ones go after these dragons. The chief walks forward and thrusts his hammer against the nightmare's beak. The dragon douses his flames, only to charge a blast deep inside his innards. No more than sparks come forth however. A grin forms visibly in the firelight on the chief's face. A wide grin underneath the nose hairs sticking out.

"You're all out of fire!" the chief says. Once more he thrusts his hammer against the beast's beak causing a massive blow. Several fangs fly out of its jaw and land on the ground beside the massive reptile. A painful yelp escapes the beast's air hole as it turns tail. It tries to take off, but not before several men catch it under a great net.

Well, that was that. Now, back to business. Fires are raging throughout the village, and that is where I come up. I just spotted one of the heads of a hideous zippleback surrounding a house with highly flammable green gas. Next thing we heard was a little click, followed by an explosion. The entire house blew apart. I am rushing towards it with my bucket of water and threw the water over the fire. As luck would have it, or rather, not have it, a passing nadder blasts the house with his magnesium fire just at that time, making the wreathing tongues tower. I jump away trying to escape the sudden outburst of the explosion. I check myself. Luckily I am only singed lightly. Nothing to worry about now. "Great. That was completely useless, but at least I am taking part in protecting the village," I think. I spot a small shape running towards the smithy.

"Unlike some," I mumble to myself.

My name is Astrid Hofferson, shield maiden to my tribe, the Hairy Hooligans of the Island of Berk. I am 15 years old and, truthfully, the best warrior of the teens my age. There are 5 others that might compete for that title. Well, compete, don't make me laugh… There is Snotlout Jorgenson; I despise him. He is always full of himself, and all the time trying to get on my good side, if you catch my meaning. He has been trying to get into my pants since I was 13. Pathetic. What's more, he is a Jorgenson, so doing anything together is and will always be out of the question. Snotlout is the chief's nephew, though he acts as if he were the chief's son himself. Such a brat. Then there is Fishlegs Ingerman. A beefy Viking, but way too nerdy for my taste. He knows all statistics about every dragon we know of, and honestly it is difficult to decide which is more annoying: Snotlout's disastrous attempts at wooing or Fishlegs's continuous jabbering. That, and they are both just cowards. Doomed for bachelor life, I guess.

Next we have the Thorsten twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut. Ruffnut is the lass, Tuffnut the lad, but that pretty much sums up the difference between the two. Both bumbling buffoons, playing pranks on whatever unwitting Viking happens to pass by. They are inseparable. They are probably the two most idiotic Vikings of this island, and if they are not wreaking havoc around town, they are bashing each other's heads in during a how-many-copies-of-me-do-I-see contest, but at least they are serious when it comes to raids. They know their jobs and help out with fires and stuff. In these dangerous times, we rely on everyone doing their job, and even the Thorstens honour that call.

Which certainly is not the case with the last of us. Well, 'us'… He's never been part of 'us' really since we were ten or so: the son of the chief. Though you might not have guessed that if you saw him. Yes, the small scowling and hiding creature running for the smithy is none other than the heir of the tribe, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, complete and utter miscreant and disappointment to the tribe. Eight years of being an apprentice in the smithy still would not beef up those muscles and really, I feel bad for him. Honestly, I have always had a little crush on him somehow. It's strange, but I can't deny it; the worst Viking Berk has ever seen touches something soft inside me. Whenever he is not annoying me, that is. Which is quite a lot, actually. The guy can't walk through town without breaking something. Whatever came over the chief to have him apprentice with Gobber, the blacksmith of all people, eludes me, but it sure would not be the first time the smithy almost exploded. Most of the other Vikings, the whole village actually, feel bad for Stoick, having a runt as an heir. I just feel sorry for Hiccup. He tries so hard to prove himself. When I was about ten, I got my own axe. It was beautiful, a bit big at the time, but perfectly balanced and a beautiful grey-blueish shade. The wrappings were so meticulously braided I blushed the first time I held it. It was a birthday present, made especially by Hiccup. It was amazing, and I have never forgotten it. I just hope Hiccup feels the same way about me as I do about him.

Anyway, that's all it is about them. Really I can claim I am the best in everything when it comes to fighting. My weapon of choice has been Hiccup's present. It never leaves my sight, and it feels like an extension of my arm. It makes me feel invincible. One day I will be allowed into Dragon Training. One day soon, when we turn sixteen. Then I will show everyone who the best Viking is.

A low, yet piercing scream spreads across the noises of battle. A scream so terrifying, it sends even the sturdiest Vikings running. We all know it. It is not one we long to hear. It is the sound of a particularly lethal dragon, the most elusive of all; doom its infamy, the offspring of lightning and death itself. We call it the…

"Night fury!" several Vikings call out. Everybody looks up but all we see in the darkness is a purple blast hitting one of the watchtowers, completely obliterating it on impact. This dragon was nigh invisible and none saw where it went or was when the night fury is not firing is deadly blasts. At that moment a small shadow passes in front of me pushing some large thing. Well, what else to call it? A death trap? No. An experiment probably came closest. A contraption, that's what it is. I recognize the shadow hurrying between the houses. It is …

"Hiccup!?" yelled the chief, grabbing Hiccup off the ground. "What is he… What are you doing out again? Get back to the smithy." He puts him back on the ground and sends him off. My gaze follows Hiccup running the wrong way. Typically Hiccup.

The chief is, in a word, sturdy. Both in personality and in physical being. A true chief, men said about him. Well, if by that you mean he can eat two full-grown boars a day, than yes, he is a true chief. Stoick Haddock the Vast however is a great chief. The village relies on him alone. He is the best dragon slayer this island knows. He always puts the village first. Sometimes at the cost of his own son, but Hiccup seems to deal with that pretty well. Berk is proud of its chief. The strong man rises up six foot eight above the ground, and probably takes up half that number in width, but his leadership and stout voice demand the respect of everyone around him. A strong chief as the village needs, both during raids, the endless negotiations between the tribes and the equally endless winter freezes. If only his son had the same makings of a chief as he did…

Dawn is in the air. Twilight appears through the stars, slowly weakening and dimming the lights in the sky. Fires leap up high, but the rest of the teens and I are doing everything we can to put them out. Well, except for Hiccup, of course. He is nowhere to be found. A scream comes from higher up. We all look up and see a tiny figure sprinting away from a monstrous nightmare. After a second scream and the some very lucky tripping causing the shadow not to be hit by a blast from the angry fire-spewing reptile, we know who that must be. Who else could that be but Hiccup, and sure enough the sixteen-year-old lad sprints into town trailed by a furious nightmare. As he runs between the houses I see him looking around for shelter. I see him looking back. His face betrays his thoughts. He is deadly afraid of the nightmare and I can hardly blame him. He jumps behind a large pillar near the central plaza as the dragon starts spewing fire.

As the dragon engulfs the pillar in a local heatwave the chief lets out a battle cry and charges with his hammer against the side of the nightmare. A crack is heard throughout the plaza, indicating something breaking hard. The dragon yelps with a terrifyingly high pitched scream and lifts off from the ground. The crack however did not sound like a breaking dragon jaw. And surely, a few seconds later I feel a tremor. The torch, resting atop the pillar that was blasted by the monstrous nightmare breaks off and comes tumbling down. I jump aside as it continues falling further downhill releasing the dragons that are kept under nets, tumbling off the cliffs and falling on the docks, rendering them useless for the time being.

As I get up, I hear the raised voice of the chief booming over the village square.

"Stop! Just… stop!" says Stoick. "Every time you step outside, disaster follows. Can you not see I have bigger problems? Winter's almost here and I have an entire village to feed!"

Hiccup shrugs his shoulders as nonchalant as his reply: "Between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?"

I can hardly contain myself. I look around, and to my great satisfaction I see some of the buffer Vikings around staring redly at their bellies.

"This isn't a joke, Hiccup!" says Stoick.

"I have to disagree with you there, chief." I think, but luckily don't say it out loud.

"Why can't you follow the simplest orders?"

I see Hiccup as stern as ever, very confident and sure of himself. "I can't stop myself, dad. I see a dragon and I have to just kill it, you know?" As he says this he makes this gesture as if he opens a rusty jam pot, obviously trying to imitate breaking the dragon's neck, but somehow I can't get the comparison out of my head. "It's who I am, dad!"

The chief sighs loudly.

"You are many things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer is not one of them. Get to the house!"

"But I really hit a night fury!" Hiccup still remains adamant. No doubts in his voice.

"Get to the house! Gobber, make sure he gets there. I have his mess to clean up."

"Aye, chief!" says the blacksmith as he starts guiding the heir of Berk off the Plaza. Something about this whole affair makes me uneasy though. Hiccup has never been one to come up with ridiculous lies before. Something is up.

"I have never seen someone mess up that badly!" comes Snotlout's sarcastic compliment to Hiccup.

"What?" Comes the disgruntled voice of Ruffnut. "Why does he get all the credit?"

"Yeah. We mess up far better!" says Tuffnut. "Or is that worse? I don't know."

"That, my linguistically inclined companion, is one of the absolute major mystifying enigmas of the etymological horrors of the awesomeness inspiring derivations of literary semiotics." Ruffnut replies.

"Never a truer word was more eloquently put forward, my confrère," says Tuffnut.

"Consœur! I am still a girl!" Ruff replies angrily.

"Really?"

Ruffnut takes the closest bucket that until recently was filled with water, and smashes it against her twin brother's face. Well, back to normal that is, I guess. For them, at least. Though I really wonder what they actually said, probably utter nonsense.

Something is definitely up. Hiccup may be a nuisance in the village. He may be a walking disaster and never where he should be. He may even be equalling the twins in damages, but he never lied about it. He always takes responsibility. He never made up stories before. So why now? Can it be that he really shot down a night fury? His father does not even consider it. Well, it does sound too ridiculous to be true. Hiccup being, well… Hiccup, grounding the offspring of lightning and death itself? It is preposterous! But then again… Well, only one way to find out. I walk out on the other teens. Fishlegs has already gone home. Snotlout, recovered from the twins' sudden rant has returned to making jokes about Hiccup. Now he started imitating Hiccup screaming and running from the fiery nightmare. I trail Gobber and Hiccup until Gobber sets Hiccup off at the chief's house.

I see they are having a little debate, with Hiccup imitating Stoick's voice, and Gobber making a failed attempt on lighten him up. Hiccup enters the house defeated.

I am now sure. I want to follow Hiccup, perhaps talk to him. I want to see this night fury!

"'Ello, lass." Gobber greets me, as he walks by. "'fraid 'e won' be much ter talk to now."

"I don't care. I'm trying anyway!" I say. Gobber looks to me with an eye raised, as if he was surprised at me saying this. Then the eyelid lowers and he continues.

"Well, I'm not 'oldin yew back. Go fer it!"

I start running towards the door. The sun now sends its first rays over the treetops of Berk and I feel the sudden sensation of the warm light upon my face. When I get to the door, I open it with a slam, and take a look inside.

"Hiccup?" I say. No response. I walk in a little further. It costs some effort. I have never entered the chief's house so boldly.

"Hic?" I say, louder now. Still no response. No Hiccup downstairs. Perhaps in his room? I walk up the stairs. "Hiccup?" I say. Upstairs, nothing either. "Damnit." I swear in myself.

He's given me the slip. He has gone out by the back door of course, as soon as Gobber let him in here.

"Well," I say to myself, as I walk back down the stairs. "At least I know where he is going. He is probably off to find the crash site of that night fury, which is probably..." I let out a sigh, "somewhere on this island."

I stop short. Looking down I now stumble on two massive feet, sheltered by sandals and socks, from which came the beefy long-haired lower legs of the chief.

"I suppose, Astrid," I hear the kind, but stern voice, "you have a very good explanation for being in my house?"

I cannot hold back a tremor going across my body. The tall and broad figure of Stoick the Vast looms over me, blocking most of the light coming from the doorway.

"Yes," I say convincingly. "I went to check on Hiccup. To see if he was alright!"

"And?"

"Well, that was why I came, chief. No other reason. Just to make sure he was alright."

O, I wish I could sink through the ground now in shame.

"And?"

I give him an uncomprehensive look.

"Is he alright?" Stoick explains.

"Yes sir!" I say, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. "He's very fine. He just wants to take a nap after the whole ordeal with the nightmare."

"Good. Understandable. Well, when he wakes up, tell him to help out Gobber this afternoon. Lots of weapons need brandishing, especially after this raid."

At that, Stoick turns around and started leaving the house. Just as he stands at the porch he stops, and looks back at me.

"I am glad you look after Hiccup, Astrid. I know you like him."

At that the chief continues walking, leaving me with a bright red face. I am blushing! Why am I blushing? Do I really like Hiccup in this way? And why did I lie to the chief about his whereabouts?