Hello all you curious readers! This is my first story, so bear with me. If you have trouble reading the accents/words, just try speaking them aloud.
My name's Hiccup. I live on the more or less - usually less - sunny island of Berk. It's not a bad place to live, all things considered. Of course, it could be a lot better… Dragons and all, considered.
Oh yeah, I forgot to mention a few things. We have dragons. Thankfully, that's about all the pestilence we get. Nevertheless, even for a strong, hardy village of Vikings, the dragons are plenty and enough.
We've been here on the island of Berk for seven generations now, but the dragons have been here for as long as anyone can remember. Okay, they're not here, on Berk, but they frequent it enough…
As I said, my name's Hiccup. Great name, I know. But it's not the worst. Parents say a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.
Our chief, Stoick the Vast, is one of the more reputable dragon fighters of the whole village. Then again, he'd have to be. They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders. Do I believe it? Yes I do.
And then there's me. 6'1" with the frame of a toothpick. Well, okay, being a blacksmith's apprentice for most of my life gave me something when puberty hit. Still… it's not normal to see Vikings as thin as me at 17. Usually they're either brawny and top-heavy, or they're tough and basically a barrel on legs. Me? Again. Toothpick. And the chief blacksmith says as much.
His name's Gobber. I've been his apprentice since I was little. Well… littler.
Being a blacksmith's apprentice has really let me see the inner workings and the behind-the-scenes of all the action and adventure the other Vikings get. For every Viking's axe, there's a smith hammering away at an anvil. For every melted sword, every slagged spear, there's always someone bending it back into shape. And that someone is usually…
"HICCUP!"
The 'toothpick' turned from the window, cringing, knowing he was caught in the middle of his reverie. "Yeah?"
"Ge' yer sorry carcass o'er t'the bellows. Y'let the fire burn down again." Turning, the chief blacksmith went back to his hammering.
Turning to work the bellows, Hiccup was soon zoned out again. One day I'll get out there…
"Ach… HICCUP!"
He jumped at the sound of Gobber's commanding voice. "What?"
"Stop dozing off at yer work!" he accused.
That was a little too far. "Ohhh…" he said, eyes getting a glint of anger.
"Oooohhh yeh." The marginally taller smith looked down at Hiccup with a note of disdain.
"You, sir, are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much -"
"I've heard it before," Gobber interrupted. "And my answer stays the same. As does your fighting 'prowess'," he continued, making air quotes with his remaining hand and his hammer. "Ye can barely lift a hammer, ye can hardly swing an axe - ye haven't even been trained with these!" He held up a bola, which was promptly snatched out of his hand.
"Okay, but this will do it for me," he said, patting a wooden cart-like contraption behind him. Thankfully, this one didn't snap open and knock a Viking out. The last one to do that had been subsequently smashed when it snapped too far and broke itself in half. He had been wary to continue that project again… but this time it looked like it would hold. He was right, it had been an over-calibration.
"Acht, no, Hiccup." Gobber was attempting to reason with the teen. "If you want to get out there, to fight dragons, you need to stop all… this."
"You just gestured to all of me."
"Yes, tha's it. Stop being all of you."
"But I have! You said it yourself, I can lift a hammer and swing an axe!"
"Barely, and hardly," Gobber enunciated.
"Whatever!" Hiccup spluttered. "How am I going to change if you won't let me change?"
Gobber considered. The lad had a point there… And it was in the best interest of the village.
"Two minutes, and I'll kill a dragon. My life will get infinitely better, I might even get a date."
Gobber finally relented. "Two minutes. Any more, and I'm coming after you."
Hiccup was elated. "Thank you, thank you, thank you -"
"After you finish stoking the fire."
Hiccup deflated a bit. Of course there was a catch.
A very short time later, the fire was stoked and Gobber was off doing some heroics somewhere. Now was his chance.
Steering the cart to a previously staked-out position, he waited for the perfect shot…
"What have we got?" Stoick asked a nearby villager.
"Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks - oh, and Hoark saw a few Monstrous Nightmares."
"Any Night Furies?"
"None so far, but it's a prime night for them."
"So noted. Spitelout?" he requested, of his second in command.
"HOIST THE TORCHES!" Spitelout yelled. Stoick could do it himself, but his no.2 was far better at getting his voice to project.
As the night-vision torches were lit and raised, Stoick could get a good look for himself at the swarming lizards. They were everywhere.
And there were no carts to throw… Shoot.
However, there were a group of Nadders that were looking fairly hungrily at the sheep. Grabbing a few other Vikings, they got a net and swung it over the bunch with a "Let's geddim!"
"Mind yeselves!" Stoick cautioned, jumping on the supposedly lead Nadder. "The devils still have some juice in them!" he bellowed as one managed a fire blast before he clamped its jaws shut.
Hiccup was set up in a reasonably fortified area. It was nice and open, for the perfect shot. The bait, an unmanned but weapons-ready catapult, lay about 400 m away. His bola cannon could get a shot there in about 3 seconds or so - he had measured - so he'd have to lead the target by a few seconds. What was his target, exactly? He let himself sink back into his intrapersonal communication.
The ultimate prize is the dragon no one's ever seen, he reminisced. We call it the - He was interrupted by a yell from the main village.
"NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!"
Now they could hear it. A building whistling scream. They could get a rough idea of where it was going to hit, judging by the motion of the sound. That was the only reason that the gunning crew of the first tower was able to survive the powerful explosion.
It never takes food, Hiccup reminded himself. Never shows itself, and - Another blast took out the foundation of the tower. Never misses… he finished, an unbidden shudder running across his shoulder blades. No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why I'm going to be the first, he thought, logic temporarily escaping him. Steeling his grip, he awaited the dragon's attack on his tower.
"FIRE!"
"C'mon, let's go," Astrid called to her peers.
As they slowly doused the flame from the burning house, she headed back for a second pail. There was Snotlout, trying hard to make it seem he wasn't flexing as she walked by - and failing. He was a little shorter than her, and had the incredible delusion that she was smitten by him. Nothing could be further from the truth.
There were the twins, fighting over their bucket. Again. She broke it up by shoving her pail into their faces, and getting another herself. Ruffnut, the girl, and Tuffnut, the boy, were both taller than her, but their mental power was… somewhat lacking. Then again, put together, they could probably outthink Snotlout. Still not saying much, Astrid admitted to herself with a chuckle.
That was Fishlegs over there by the water cart. The ox of a teen was filling buckets faster than they could get taken away. Which was a good thing, she figured. He was far brighter than the other three, but when it came to actual strategy thinking? She beat him hands-down.
Though she had to respect his vast knowledge. More than once, a little fact or stat from him had saved her skin from being torched. Or stabbed. Or crushed. So she held a grudging respect for the guy.
There was another teen, the chief's son. She couldn't see him, which meant he was either working or missing. Considering the subject, she opted for the latter. Cough, she thought. No, wait. Hiccup. Right. Hiccup. He was… weird. To say the least.
What did she know about him? Well, he was fairly awkward; he seemed bright enough, but he would always clam up whenever she spoke to him. That was… kind of rude, in her opinion, but hey, it could be fear. More than once she had to prove something to the other teens with the blade of her axe, and more times than not she'd turn around to catch the back of Hiccup's swiveling head.
He was a blacksmith, she knew this. And he was pretty good with a hammer, too. Multiple repairs to her axe had proven this. So she held an even more grudging respect for him, too. Still… She shook her head. Back to work.
"C'mon, gimme something to shoot at, gimme something to shoot at…" Hiccup murmured, ears attentive to the whistling dive.
It came, at last, and against the backdrop of the explosion on the tower, he could see a blurred silhouette of what must be the Night Fury. His fingers pulled the trigger by instinct, and he was knocked back by the unexpected kick. Scrabbling to his feet, he saw the Night Fury's silhouette move away from the flame - and away from his shot. His heart sank to his toes. But at what seemed the last second, it hovered a split-second too long in one spot, then shot forward - to be intercepted by his bola. The scream that now came from it was not one of whistling wind. This one was far more primal.
"I...hit it? YES I HIT IT!" He shot to his feet, fists pumping in the air as he did a happy spin. "Did anyone see that?" A crunch and a low rumble sounded behind him, and he saw a Monstrous Nightmare stomping on his slingshot. "Except for you," he muttered wearily.
Stoick was fastening down the Nadders, when he heard a high-pitched yell, which cracked into a more manly yell. Sort of. Only one person made that yell.
"Auch." He sighed, then turned to his fellow Vikings. "DO NOT LET THEM ESCAPE!"
"Right!" he heard, already dashing up the hill, hammer in hand.
As he crested the hill, he could see the Nightmare, a blast of liquid fire aimed at the base of one of the torches. No, at Hiccup. It didn't appear that he was harmed, which was a relief. He charged at the dragon, the beast's only warning a yell as he hammered a fist, gaining the monster's attention. It spurted a weak blast, and a little cinder, and whimpered.
"You're all out," Stoick said, determinedly, and began to punish the monster's face.
As the Nightmare flew away, Stoick's attention returned to the torch's base - and the person standing behind it.
Oh, and there's one more thing you need to know.
As the piling began to tip to the side, unstable from the Nightmare's fire, the torch on top broke loose and began to bounce down the hill, unwittingly freeing the Nadders as their guardians fled for their lives from the torch.
Hiccup cringed again, anticipating a wrath that was sure to come. "Sorry, Dad," he said to Stoick.
He half-turned, taking in the charred buildings, the scorched Vikings. "Okay, but I hit a Night Fury," he managed, before he was dragged behind Stoick. "D'aw, no, it's not like all the times before, Dad, I mean this one's different, I mean, I really actually hit it. You guys were busy, and I had a very clear shot! It went down, just off Raven's Point. Let's get a search party out there, before it -"
"STOP!" his dad bellowed. "Just… stop." Hiccup glanced to Gobber for support; there was none. Gobber's features were as set in stone as everyone else's.
"Every time you step outside, disaster follows," Stoick continued. "Can ye not see that I have bigger problems?. Winter is almost here and I have an entire village to feed!"
"Euuhh, between you and me the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" Hiccup snarked.
"This isn't a joke, Hiccup! Auch, why can't you follow the simplest orders?"
"I - I can't stop myself Dad! I see a dragon and I have to just… kill it, y'know? It's… who I am, Dad."
"Auchh… you are… many things, Hiccup. An engineer, perhaps. A chief, even. But a dragon killer? Son… that's just not one of them. Ge' back to the house." He spoke to Gobber now. "Make sure he gets there."
With a tone of disapproval, he spoke to Hiccup as much as everyone else. "I have his mess to clean up. Again."
As Gobber and Hiccup headed for Hiccup's home, they passed by the chuckling Thorston twins. "Quite the performance," Tuffnut jabbed.
"I've never seen anything like that. That 'helped'!" Snotlout continued. Gobber shoved a hand down hard on his head, and he hit the dirt. He was up again with a smirk and a wink at Astrid.
"I really did hit one," Hiccup commented to Gobber when they were almost home.
"Ach, sure, Hiccup."
"He never listens."
"It runs in the family -"
"And when he does, it's always with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich." Time to put his Viking accent practice to use. "Excuse me barmaed! I'm afraed yeh've brou' me the wrong offspreng. I ordered an extra-lerge boy with beeeefy arms, extra guts and gloreh on the siyde. This here? This is a walkin' feeshbone!"
"Now, ye're thinkin' about this all wrong," Gobber assured him. "It's not what you look like, it's what's inside that he can't stand."
Hiccup stared at his master with a look of disbelief, unamusement, and weariness. "Thank you for summing that up."
"Look, the point is," Gobber continued hurriedly. "Stop trying to be something you're not."
"I just want to be one of you guys," Hiccup stated, hurt emanating from his voice, as he closed the door.
Gobber sighed. That boy. One day he'd make them all proud, he was sure of it. Till then… He straightened his back. Time for work. He turned back to the smoking village for a kip and a meal, then he'd get back to replenishing the armory.
And so it was no one saw Hiccup dash out the back door.
-~:~-
