Grey skies, sheeting rain, and waterlogged streets greeted Hiccup as he and Toothless bounded back from their morning ride. Autumn had come to Berk. The mild and occasionally sunny days of summer had given way to the colder and wetter days of fall. Soon, the equinox would be upon them, and the sun would leave again.
The harvest was due in the next two weeks, and Berk was bustling with activity. Vikings all around the small island were setting out to their day's work. Gliding over the village, Hiccup could already see the fires of the shops blazing.
"Watch out!" Toothless had barely landed before the warning came. A woven bag landed heavily next to Hiccup, a cascade of meal puffing into a cloud that clung to Hiccup's new sheepskin vest.
Thorlot the baker appeared next to the bag a moment later, dusting Hiccup off with a rough hand and an amused chuckle. Satisfied with her job, she gave Hiccup a gapped-tooth grin, "Well, if it ain't the little Chief. A'ways in my flour, ain't ye?"
Hiccup blushed at the nickname and gentle reproach, "Sorry, Thorlot."
Thorlot snorted and began to drag the bag of meal the rest of the way to the outdoor oven shielded by a rock hood. "Get on wi' ye, then."
Hiccup gave her a lopsided grin and disappeared up the hill from the bakery. Toothless bounded away after a minute, harassing another Viking who was coming from the smokehouse with a basket of herrings. The house of the Chief was only slightly larger than some of the other dwellings in Berk, but it was more ornately carved and coloured. Hiccup always liked to trace the outline of the new dragon figure carved above the front door as he climbed up the stairs to his house.
The front door burst open as Hiccup reached for the latch. Stoick the Vast lived up to his epithet in many ways and his size was certainly no exception. Before his father even realized he was there, Hiccup had bounced off his belted belly.
"Ach!" Hiccup's rear end hit the stone steps. Before the rest of him could follow tumbling down the stairs, a vice-like grip latched onto his upper arm.
"How many time have I told ye not to sneak?" sighed Stoick as he lifted his son to his feet and threw a hand around his shoulders. "One of these days, Thor knows what will happen."
Hiccup ducked out of his father's grasp. While their relationship had come leaps and bounds from the dragon wars nearly two years prior, things were still awkward. "Thanks, Dad."
The bigger Viking snorted, "And keep out of trouble."
Hiccup watched him leave before turning back to the house. He had so much left to do before tomorrow. After months of pleading and preparing, Hiccup was finally setting out to explore past the Barbaric Archipelago.
Gobber had set some saddlebags outside their door the night before. Hiccup dragged the two heavy objects over his shoulder and into his personal shop. He had already set out his overnight and first aid kits, as well as navigation and mapping tools. Now, all he had to do was to pack food and mead. Two waterskins hung by a cord on the wall. The skins had come from last season's slaughter and were still in good condition. He'd fill them with mead later that night.
The day passed agonizingly slow as the excitement of tomorrow's adventure filled Hiccup. He busied himself with double-checking the instructions he had set up at the dragon school. Eventually a exasperated Astrid threw him out with shout, "Your excitement is messing with the dragons!"
Banned from his school, Hiccup wandered around Berk, helping with odds and ends. Construction on a new dragon barn was underway; hopefully it would be finished before the winter solstice and in time for the dragons to hibernate. With little else to distract his wandering mind, Hiccup ducked into the construction zone to find Spitelout directing the raising of a wall section.
The burly Viking caught the small boy out of the corner of his eye as the men levered the wall into position, "Hiccup! Stop skulking about and go fetch some extra tools from Gobber!"
Hiccup nodded enthusiastically and ducked back out to Spitelout's shouting, "and don't touch anything!"
After a disastrous attempt to haul rough materials a few moons before, he had been banned from directly working with construction. Of course, he'd used Toothless to help lift the larger timbers into place, and had worked with the builders to design the barn, but practical tasks had been shifted to hands better suited for the task than his.
Finally, dusk was nearing. Hiccup practically skipped to the smokehouse to pick up the basket of smoked and pickled fish he would need for the trip. A small survival supply had been set aside for Toothless, but the dragon would need to fish to get his fill. Hiccup spent an hour packing his bags, throwing in a few items he likely wouldn't need but still might be good to have along. The last thing he added was a small map crammed onto a yak-skin parchment.
Hiccup looked at the map he had copied. Bjorn the trader had been so shocked to find another Viking who liked maps that he had let Hiccup copy this particular map in exchange for a paltry sum of leather barely enough large for one bracer. It had shown the islands in which Bjorn spent his winters. The trader had even shown Hiccup a few tips to notate his maps and illustrate land-forms.
After two nights of work, a fairly good copy of the map had been reproduced. Hiccup had tucked away the new knowledge for a time when he would be free to explore. The dragon rider spent moons trying to convince his father to let him make the journey. Hiccup had never embarked on a long distance journey before, and he had finally found a distant land he could feasibly travel to.
The summer solstice had come and gone before Stoick relented. The Viking knew that his son would go with or without his permission, so at least by agreeing, he could be sure that Hiccup would at the minimum listen to his safety concerns. Several fortnights were spent planning the journey before Hiccup finally obtained permission to set out several days short of the Fall equinox. The equinox was far enough from the onset of winter to ensure that Hiccup would return before the ice set in, and it also got the clumsy Viking out of the village for the duration of the harvest. As much as Hiccup had helped the infrastructure and people of the island, he was still a clumsy boy who was alarmingly prone to disaster.
"Tomorrow's the day," Hiccup breathed giddily to himself. He was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire in his room, his dragon curled up at his side. Toothless snuffled in agreement and nudged his head underneath his rider's hand. Hiccup smiled and scratched behind the dragon's ears.
The heavy front door creaked as it opened. The sound of footsteps echoed through their dwelling as Stoick tromped through the main room, "We missed ye at the hall. I brought ye stew."
A bowl of stew plunked down on the floor next to Hiccup. Toothless eyed it hungrily as he smelled the salmon.
"Thanks, Dad. I'm a little too excited to eat right now," grumbled Hiccup as he eyed the substance with distaste.
"Nonsense, my boy. Ye've got a journey ahead of ye, can't start that on an empty stomach, now can ya?" The hopeful look on his father's face was too much for Hiccup. He quickly slurped up a few spoonfuls, swallowing forcefully in an attempt to keep the stew down.
Stoick smiled triumphantly, "I'll leave ye to sleep then, and be sure to finish yer stew."
As soon as his father's steps echoed down the stairs, Hiccup slid the bowl to Toothless, and the dragon greedily finished the fish mush before he had even managed an, "Have at it, bud."
Hiccup checked his gear and provisions one last time before turning in for the night. His pallet of wool and feathers seemed unusually lumpy that night. The boy tossed and turned for hours after his dragon and father had fallen asleep. Anticipation boiled just below his skin. Tomorrow would be a big day.
The Barbaric Archipelago technically is a fictional chain of islands based off of the original author's travels in the Scottish Hebrides. Given this and the general feel of both Scottish and Norse heritage on Berk, I have decided to place the Barbaric Archipelago north of Scotland, but still close to the mainland. This would be northeast of the Hebrides, considerably south of the Faeroe Islands, and west of both the Orkney and Shetland archipelagoes. This is still close enough to have a feasible Norse influence (considering the Vikings pretty much ran rampant in northern Scotland for a few hundred years), while also maintaining the Scottish heritage apparent in the movies and giving a realistic place for an island chain with the type of climate described.
Given the technology of the films and the society, dates for settlements kinda went out the window. I'll probably set this in the 1100s, but there won't really be a definitive time period. It's definitely before the advent of Christianity in Scandinavian Scotland which according to the Orkneyinga Saga was around 995, so I will be playing fast and loose with dates, just like the books and movies. Expect historic Vikings from a timespan of several hundred years making cameos along with technology, customs, and beliefs spanning several hundred years. Basically this story is taking elements from Viking culture in the northern Scottish islands from the time the Vikings took over the Picts and Scots to the time the islands were finally absorbed under the Scottish crown and the earldom of Orkney dissolved
For some part, I will most definitely know what I am talking about considering that I studied the Scottish heritage of the Orkney and Shetland islands in Oxford. For a good portion of it though, I will likely be relying on internet research (my knowledge of Scottish Vikings mainly comes from strict history courses and medieval literature, i.e. the Magnus Sagas, the Prose Edda,and the Orkneyinga Saga. This knowledge is almost entirely socio-political and is still very limited). If any of you out there spot weaknesses and/or inaccuracies in my history/portrayal of Viking life, let me know and I will see if it's something I can fix. After all, this is just a fanfiction, not a full-blown historical drama. Expect references to made up villages as well as historical sites. There shouldn't be a significant presence of OCs outside of the general background characters used to flesh out the story more (there will be no significant romantic OCs or anything of the like, though I likely will have a self-insert cameo for all of five seconds).
Please note that I am not a linguist and my dialect writing skills really aren't very good. I will try to use both stereotypical Scottish and Norse accents and dialects to better simulate both the history and movie setting (try being the operative word here).
So this was a story I started 3 years ago and haven't updated in a while, but I have most of the ending written and thought I would give another crack at it. If you want to read the rest of it over there, I've posted it under the same Author and Title. However, I am posting an edited, corrected, and slightly expanded version here in the lead up to new chapters as I fix a lot of the mistakes from my earlier writing.
