Once, many many generations ago, there lived among The People a man called Hithuk, who is known to the vikings as Hiccup. He lived by himself, spending many days in the wilderness away from his people and because of that he was wise in the ways of the wild animals and could speak the language of dragons. One day a dragon came to him and told him of a Queen, on an island far away. She was a terrible queen, a tyrant and a cannibal. Vast and great was her size and her greed, vanity and cruelty, for she made the dragons of the island raid and fight and make war to appease her. The dragons obeyed her, for they feared her greatly and knew that should they fail to sate her greed she would devour them and if not them, than their hatchlings which hid in terror in the depths of the island. Vikings, dragons and The People all fought and died for the sake of her greed.
When Hithuk heard this tale, he set out at once to see if it was so. So he made himself a boat and set off across the sea to the island upon which the Queen was said to dwell. When he came upon the island he found it to be shrouded in a mysterious fog impenetrable to the eye. But the dragons appeared and they guided Hithuk through the fog, for they knew he was a friend of dragonkind and they watched over him until his boated landed safely upon the black stone beach.
Hithuk wasted no time, and at once climbed to the top of the great smoking mountain at the center of the island and from there he gazed upon the lair of the Queen and he saw for himself that all he had been told was true. His heart bled for the plight of those he called friends, and he knew at once that something had to be done. So he went down from the lair of the queen and returned to his boat, there he sailed out into the sea and there he set his nets. Of the fish he threw back everything which he himself did not eat, but the yellow and black eel, which is reviled by all dragons, he kept. For five days he sat in his boat upon the sea until he had filled it to the gunnels with eels. When he was back upon the island built a fire, and upon that fire he placed a iron cauldron which he filled with the eels he had net from the sea. For the full turn of the moon, he stewed the eels in that pot, adding into the mix the red flower with the white petals and the crushed shells from the beach. When the moon had finished it's turn, he had with him a poison capable of killing the mightiest of royalty.
He then took one of his arrows and coated it in the poison, took up his bow and climbed the mountain once more. There he goaded the Queen to come out of her lair, by giving the greatest insult one could give to one such as her. The truth. He called her out for what she was, a tyrant, a cannibal, a menace and a terror to all. The Queen heard him, and his words enraged her, for she burst from the stone of the mountain as if she was merely a hatchling emerging from the eggs, roaring her fury, ready to punish Hithuk for daring to speak the truth aloud.
But Hithuk was ready for her, and when the Queen burst from the mountain he he fired that one arrow he had poisoned. One arrow was all he needed. That arrow struck true, right through one of the Queen's eyes. Her roar of pain was heard to the very ends of the archipelago, and she filled the air with fire trying desperately to kill the one who dared strike her. But Hithuk's poison was of the deadliest kind, and was made specially for her.
And so the evil Queen died. Upon seeing her death, the dragons rejoiced, and they proclaimed Hithuk to be their king in place of the evil he had slain.
Thus it was so, and Hithuk was from that moment forward a King of Dragons. Thus it is to this day, that the Kings of the Archipelago all trace their linage to Hithuk the Dragon King, friend of all dragonkind, and the slayer of the evil queen.
As for the Queen herself. Her bones now hold strong the castle at Helheim's Gate and her skull guards the mouth of the harbor through which all visitors must pass. There they are to this day as proof of the deeds of Hithuk, to all those who may doubt.
~Exerpted From "The Epic of Hithuk" Penned during the 25th year of the regin of King Hithuk II
xXxXx
In the ancient days, The People did not have iron. The secret of turning stone into iron was unknown to them, and instead The People armed themselves with tools of wood, bone, and rock.
The vikings however, had iron, and they raided The People whenever possible. The Vikings burnt The People's homes, pillaged their caches and stores, and kidnapped their children. While The People fought back, their weapons and armor were of little use against the Viking's iorn.
So The People summoned Hithuk to them, and explained to him their plight. Upon hearing their case Hithuk returned to the wilds, and when he returned he brought Gronckle with him. At his word The People gathered up rocks and stones of a specific type, which they then feed to Gronckle as food, and in return, Grockle gave them iron.
So The People made weapons and armor from Grockle's iron, and prepared themselves for the Vikings. When the vikings came, The People drove them back, for Gronkle's iron proved better than the Viking's iron. But The People were not alone either, for Hithuk had once again returned from the wilds. With him came Nadder, Nightmare, Timberjack, Scauldron and Thunderdrum.
Five times the Vikings returned, and five times they were driven back.
When the sails of the Vikings ships had at last vanished, Hithuk returned to the people and taught them the ways of dragons. He taught them to be dragonfriends, and allies of dragonkind. He taught them how to ride upon the dragon's backs, and to care and love their new friends.
So the eternal friendship between The People and dragons began. Never again did The People have to fear the Vikings, for with Gronckle's iron and dragons fire they were strong. In turn The People built nests, and armor for the dragons. They freed them from Viking traps and made medicine for their wounds.
Upon seeing that The People understood his teachings and had become true dragonfriends, Hithuk did not return to the wilds instead he stayed to live with The People, took a wife from amoung them, and fathered children with her. It from those children that the line of the Dragon Kings descends, and the legacy of Hithuk preserved.
~Exerpted From "The Epic of Hithuk" Penned during the 25th year of the regin of King Hithuk II
xXxXx
For all his great deeds, Hithuk was still mortal. As the years passed his children grew up and had children of their own, his wife grew old and died, he grew old and one day even he found himself on his deathbed. His children had gathered around him, bringing with them their children. Visitors had arrived from every corner of the islands to pay their last respects. For five days they came, one after the other. Some where friends, coming to say their last goodbyes. Some where enemies, seeking their last chance to make peace. Others where simply strangers, those who had only heard of his deeds and who sought one last chance to meet him in person.
On the fifth night however, a different guest arrived. A dragon. One black as night, who slipped silently through the camp unnoticed by all.
"I have seen many dragons in my life," Hithuk declared. "But I have never seen a dragon like you."
"There are few who see me," the dragon replied. "I am called Nightfury. I am the child of lightining and death. Those that I call friends see me rarely, and those I call enemies see me only before they die."
"And am I your enemy?" Hithuk asked. "For I am an old man about to die."
"On the contrary," Nightfury answered. "You are the friend of all dragonkind, and thus friend to me. Your deeds in service to my kind are great and good. Thus I am here to see you rewarded. I am here to take you to Valhalla."
"Valhalla!" Hithuk exclaimed. "I am an old man dying in his bed. The valkyries will not come for me."
"But I am here," Nightfury replied. "Your deeds are great Hithuk, and none can deny the boon you have been to your people and dragonkind both. You will not be denied your place in that hall dragonfriend, nor shall those who stay true to what you taught them. I will take you to Valhalla myself, you and all after who follow and stay true to your teachings. On my word, none who are true dragonfriends will have to fear the halls of Hel, for I shall take them to Valhalla as I do for you."
"Then I shall go with you Nightfury," Hithuk declared. "For not even age and sickness has made me eager for the halls of Hel."
So Hithuk died that night, and Nightfury left the camp as silent and unseen as he had entered it. True to his word, he brought Hithuk straight to Valhalla, where he now dwells amoung the great and good.
So it is, for those who are true to the teachings of Hithuk and who are friends of dragonkind. Do not fear the manner of your death. For whether you die on battlefield or sickbed, Nightfury shall ensure that none who are deserving are denied their place in Valhalla, to feast beside Hithuk and all true dragonfriends.
~Exerpted From "The Epic of Hithuk" Penned during the 25th year of the regin of King Hithuk II
xXxXx
"Riders of the islands. I need not tell you what has happened. You have not come here for explainations. I need not tell you that action must be taken. How can we call ourself dragonfriends when the vikings who commited this atrocity remain unpunished! One hundred dragons and five hundred hatchlings demand justice for their deaths. The Vikings of Berk must face justice! But justice alone will not be enough. We, as dragonfriends, need to avenge the dead. But, we must also ensure that the vikings will never again be able to commit another atrocity such as this! While we seek justice now, we must also seek security for our future, so that the children and hatchlings of the future will never fear such a tradgedy happening in their life. I do not ask you to fly to war lightly. Yet after what has happened, I fear that war is now the only way that we may see peace in the future generations from now."
~ Averk the Cunning ~Exerpted from his speach to the Clans in response to the massacre of nesting dragons at Warmrock Island by Berkian vikings
xXxXx
It was a clear night. A dark night. A new moon night with only the stars for light. The mist hung low over the sea, obscuring the black waters completely.
But Berk's watchmen wasn't concerned about the sea. The sails of any ship would be easily visible above the fog, and dragons always came from the sky. Therefore the watchman didn't see the thunderdrum swim towards the beach, a wet and the shivering rider clinging to the saddle on its back.
The crash of the waves against the shore drowned out the sharp crunch of the dragon's claws as it crawled up the gravel beach. The rider jumped down, seawater dripping from his clothes, and peered up at the looming basalt cliffs leading up to the village proper. Only the faint glow of the watchmen's torch was visible at the top.
It wasn't going to be easy to scale the cliffs, let alone to do so without being seen. But that was what he needed to do if Warcheif's Averk's plan was going to succeed. He was the best climber his clan had ever seen. Of all the Rider's he had the best chance.
The thunderdrum gave a low worried hum, and pressed it's broad nose into it's rider's back.
"I know you're worried. But I need you to wait for the others."
Another worried rumble.
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. I can do this."
He turned to the cliff and stared up at the looming climb. His hand strayed to the cord around his neck, and he ran his fingers over the black scale tied to the end of it. It was a nightfury scale, the closest he had ever come to seeing the legendary dragon. Nightfury was never seen. He would need to be unseen as well.
"I can do this," he repeated. He reached up to adjust his flight-mask, seized the cliff face with both hands, and began to climb. One hand at a time, one foot above the other. The rock was slick with moisture and hard to grip, yet he pressed on, working his fingers and boot-tips into the smallest of crevices and gripping to the narrowest of ledges. Finally, he emerged at the top, heaving himself onto the grass and crawling, panting into the shadow of darkened house.
Nothing. No shouts, no watch-horn sounding, no angry vikings charging at him with weapons. The rider let out a breath of relief. No one had seen him. He then reached into his bag, and removed the bundle of oiled cloth he had been given when Warchief Averk chose him for the task. Wrapped within the bundle was the tail spine of a deadly nadder. The spine was fresh, protected by the oiled cloth, and it's venom was as deadly and fast acting as it was possible to be.
He took the spine in his hands and climbed to his feet. He stuck to the shadows of the houses, darting quickly from darkened shadow to darkened shadow. He darted into the shadow cast by the watchtower, seized the beams and began to climb. Every small wooden creak seemed to echo in his ears, as loud as a dragon's roar. Yet the pacing footsteps of the watchman never changed. Closer and closer he crept to the top.
A sudden ear splitting yowl nearly made him loose his grip. He pressed himself back into the shadows of the platform, praying to every god and dragon that he wouldn't be seen.
"What's that!?" The watchmen's heavy footsteps thundered above him, moving towards the side of the tower to which he clung. The rider's heart pounded in his chest as the man leaned over the rail. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two ragged looking tabby cats streak off into the night.
"Damn cats," the watchman muttered. He stood back from the rail, and the wooden planks groaned as he returned to his spot overlooking the sea.
It was then the rider struck. With one last heave he closed the last of the distance to the top and threw himself over the watchtower's rail, hitting the planks with a bang.
"Wha!?"
The watchmen didn't even have time to finish, for the rider lunged forward and drove the nadder spine into the viking's throat. The large man choked and sputtered, but no sound came from his mouth. The nadder's poison would have paralyzed his voice first. Blood welled up is his mouth and he pitched forward, slamming into the ground with a thud. His watch-horn rolled from his hands, silent and unsounded.
The rider didn't even pause. Reaching into his bag he removed a small satchel of powder which he tossed into the watchman's brazier. The fire crackled for a second, then lit up with a searing light, as bright and white as lightning. The rider sheilded his eyes as the powder burned itself out and darkness returned to the village. He frantically looked around. No one was stirring. No sounds of life. No grumpy vikings coming out of their houses to investiage the light. He had done it.
The light was a signal. It told Warchief Averk that the watchman had been taken care of, and that no one would alert the vikings to their attack. The rider collapsed against the rails with a breath of relief. Already he could make out the shapes of incoming dragons, each one bearing their riders with them.
The dragons of Warmrock Island would be avenged.
The people of Berk would awake to find dragons in their skies, their defences ablaze, and their homes on fire.
xXxXx
When news had reached the village of Rorik that Berk had been attacked by the dragon riders, it had been immediately followed by word that the village of Deringar had been burnt to the ground. Erik the Firece, Rorik's chief, had been one of the first to call for a counterattack. No waiting around for the riders to attack their homes and families. They were going to bring the fight to the dragon lovers.
To that end he had mustered every warrior in Rorik. He took every ship in Rorik's harbor and set sail. Warriors and ships from the other viking tribes joined him. Even Berk had been able to spare a handful of warriors, all eager to avenge their village, despite the dragon riders having burned all their ships.
Two hundered ships had set sail. Each one loaded with warriors ready to take their vengence on the riders. For two days they sailed until they reached the nearest rider village, and found it deserted.
The dragon riders were nomads, flying from village site to village site with the changing seasons. One deserted village was not be expected.
Two deserted villages were simply bad luck.
It was the third abandoned village that revealed that something greater was up. The riders should have been there, gathering mushrooms in the hills, and fishing for cod off the shore. Instead the site was empty. The hearth pits were cold, and the only sign of tents where the holes in the ground for the pegs.
Village after village afterwards turned up the same. Every single one of them deserted, summer and winter villages alike. No sign of either dragon or rider. If they dragon riders weren't in their villages, there was only one place they could be.
Helheim's Gate was home to the largest of archipelago's dragon nests. The dragon riders had built a fortress there long ago, so that they could be closer to the beasts they loved so much. Of course they would flee there, rather than face the retaliation they knew was coming. Cowards. Every viking knew that dragon riders had no stomach for fair fights.
It didn't matter that Helheim's gate was surrounded by fog so thick it blotted out the sun. It didn't matter that no viking had ever successfully sailed through it. But that hadn't stopped any of them from sails straight on into that fog, confindent that somehow they would be the first to find their way through it.
They had been attacked mere hours into the fog. A party of dragon riders on dragonback had swooped out of the mist, shrieking and roaring. Two boats got their sails singed, before the riders realized the vikings were more than they could take, and had retreated. Erik had ordered the entire fleet to chase after them, thrilled with the idea that the fleeing riders would unknowingly lead them right through the mist.
It had never once crossed his mind that it could be a trap.
One moment the entire fleet had been in hot pursuit of the fleeing dragons, the next, flaming arrows were raining down on them from the sea-stacks and hundreds of dragons attacked from all sides. Choas broke loose. Half the warriors tried to attack the dragons, the other half were too busy trying to keep their vessels from burning up around them. Ships were colliding with each other in their attempts to manuver. When the captains tried to spread out and get more room to sail, they discovered that the riders had strung chains of gronckle iron up between the sea-stacks, blocking the channels.
But no matter what they tried, the vikings couldn't fight dragons, and fight the fires burning up their ships at the same time. Soon the mist was lit up with light of dozens of burning ships. Crews were leaping from flaming vessels, some in full armor, in their desperation to escape the flames. Prefering instead to face the tidal class dragons lurking beneath the waves rather than firey death aboard their vessels.
By the time the vikings were able to disengage from the fight and retreat, over half the fleet had been lost, the ships burning on the water. Hundreds of warriors sunk beneath the waves, weighed down by their armor. The dragon riders themselves ended up capturing over five hundred viking warrior, and ended up ransoming them back to their villages at the end of the war.
The remnants of Erik's fleet ended up sailing lost through the fog for four whole days, harrased all their way by riders on dragonback. When they finally emerged from the fog, they discovered the sky filled with dragons. Thousands of them, each one carrying a rider.
The surviving vikings perpared to be attacked. They grabbed their shields and readied their weapons. Only the dragon's didn't dive out of the sky to attack them. They kept flying, too high to be hit by any arrow. No one knew what they were up to, until they realized they were flying in the direction of Rorik.
Rorik, which was currently defenceless. Erik the Firece had took every warrior with him when he had lauched the attack. Rorik, which was three days sailing from Helhiems Gate.
A dragon could fly the distance in a single night.
It didn't matter that the winds and currents were on their side. It didn't matter was desperately every viking on those ships rowed. They all returned to find their families huddled in the burned out shells of their homes, their stores plundered, and their herds ravaged. The dragons and their riders were long gone, having moved on to other villages, all of whom had no warriors to defend them.
xXxXx
The tale of Erik's Folly is still told, for it taught the vikings two things.
First, it showed the danger of fighting dragons on the sea from aboard a ship. Ships simply burn too easily, and are vulnerable to tidal class dragons attacking them from below.
Secondly, it taught the vikings restraint. In his eagerness for battle, Erik the Fierce committed every warrior who would follow him to the attack on Helhiem's gate. Not only were many ships and lives lost in the Attack From the Fog, but he also left the villages of the Archepelago without warriors to defend them. If he had successfully sailed through the fog, he might have been glad for his choice. Yet he didn't, and the vikings paid for it.
Erik the Fierce did not live to see the effects of his folly. He was slain by the rider's arrows during the attack, and his body burned along with his ship.
Instead his son, Brigar, would inheirate a chiefdom facing starvation, with it's warriors slain, it's flocks decimated, and it's ships destroyed. With winter fast approaching, and with no hope of trading for more food while the dragon riders plundered the sea-lanes, he felt he had no choice.
Brigar the Kneeler was the first viking chief to bend his knees and swear obedience to Warchief Averk of the dragon riders. The same Warcheif Averk who would take up the name Hithuk the Second and be crowned as the Dragon King by his people. Brigar the Kneeler was the first viking cheif to surrender, but he wasn't the last. Faced with a similar desperate choice, the other cheif's of the archelpelago came to a similar conclusion.
One by one, they bent their knees before the Dragon King, submitting to his authority in the desperate hope it would allow their people to survive. So then did the dragon riders cement their hold over all the islands, a hold which they maintain to this day. Despite viking uprising after viking uprising, they have kept their hold strong.
The vikings remember when no dragon king ruled from Helhiem's Gate, when there was no Thanes to rule and tax them, and when their chief's submitted to no higher authority than the gods. But they also remember the Erik's Folly, and their defeat in the fog of Helhiems gate. To this day, no viking has ever sailed through the fog without a dragon to guide them, and no dragon would ever aid the people whose ancestors once hunted them.
So to does the line of Hithuk the Second sit upon the throne at Helhiems Gate. It is through them that the legacy of Hithuk is preserved, and the ancient bond between dragon and dragonfriend is maintained. It is because of King Hithuk the Second that the dragons of the island can now roost in peace, and their hatchlings need not fear a viking's axe. It is because of him that The People can now fly freely, without fear of viking raids.
So shall it be, so long as at least one dragon still roosts at Helheims Gate and The People remain true to the teachings of Hithuk.
Authors Note: I will say right out, that is fic is nowhere near fully developed. In fact this first chapter is nothing but background information and a bunch of lore I made up for it.
The basic idea for this fic started out of the questions "What if Hiccup was not the first person to forge peace between Vikings and Dragons, and he grew up in a culture in which dragon riding was already accepted and practiced." This evolved into the idea, "What if Hiccup's ancestors conquered Berk on dragonback, leaving peace between dragons and vikings, but not understanding." Ergo, this fic was born.
I hope you enjoy, and I would dearly love to hear any comments or criticisms you have on my work (good or bad) and I will say outright, if anyone wants to take this idea or any of the ideas I present here and do their own thing with it, I give them full permission. All I ask is that I get to see it.