"Brrrrrmmmmmm!" A loud blaring pierced the ears of Stoick the Vast as he sat asleep in his favorite chair in front of a fire pit of embers. He had been sitting there since he finally called an end to the council meeting he had been conducting about the last failed dragon search only a few hours earlier. Ten long years had past since his first attempt at finding the nest. Although he always felt they were close, time after time he had returned to Berk with less confidence and less boats than he did when he sailed off. But his determination towards his long-coveted promise remained.

After many long days of running a village, Stoick would find himself dozing off as soon as he returned to the comfort of his home. From the daily worries and stresses of the life of a chief and single father, Stoick was usually an impossibility to waken. This was certainly not the case as the disorienting sound echoed in his skull. Immediately, Stoick awoke from his dream-less snooze and was filled with adrenaline as his dazed head registered the potential dragon raid that the horn alerted to.

As the alarm blared through the village, Stoick groped for his boots that sat near the fire. In the darkness, he yanked the leather onto his large feet. He stood in such a quick fashion that an average Viking would have acquired spotted vision and unsteady feet. Stoick, however, felt neither dizzy nor unstable as he grabbed the fur cloak that was draped over the back of the wooden chair. Fastening the cloak to his shoulders, Stoick stomped towards the door. Through a nearby window, he saw lights coming from many other homes. Stoick felt the familiar cool comfort of iron on skin as he reached for the handle of his ax. And now that the horn had finished it's violent blasts, Viking yells and the clamor of metal could be heard from inside the chief's house. Another familiar sound reached his ears.

Afaint creaking echoed through the room. Stoick turned around.

An extraordinary small boy was standing on the staircase that led to the second level of the Haddock home. Nervous sweat dripping down from the messy brown hair covering his head, Hiccup stared with bright green apprehension-filled eyes towards his father.

Hiccup had always been hesitant when it came to dragons. The frequent dragon raids would often send him wearily down the stairs towards his father. Stoick recalled the memory of an even smaller Hiccup running towards his father's leg and shaking nervously in his embrace. Stoick knew that a child's fear of dragons came from a safe instinct and that Hiccup of all Viking children had memories from which fear could flourish, but his son was now ten and needed to learn to bravely put aside his fear if he was ever to become a Viking leader.

Despite these thoughts, Stoick's heart skipped a beat as he watched his son's worrisome eyes and boney physic. He remembered a promise he had made long ago and wondered how such a small child could protect himself. For now, Hiccup would be under his safe protection. Given time, Stoick always imagined, Hiccup would eventually become stronger than any of the other Vikings his age.

"Stay inside." Stoick commanded as he grabbed his helmet from a nearby table and forced it on his head. The last thing he saw before slamming the door behind him was Hiccup's oval face nodding silently from his frozen post.

The night was chilly as Stoick weaved through the chaos of an island at war. Half of Berk's able-bodied Vikings were already out of bed and wielding their weapons of choice. Mothers were corralling children into the safety of the Great Hall or locking their doors as they left to assist in the fight. Assessing the skies, Stoick could make out the shapes of dozens of flying pests blocking out the night stars. A few of the ferocious serpents had already started flying low to the ground, sniffing for the meat of sheep and yaks that they would often carry away. He soon felt the presence of another body running beside him.

"What's the situation, Spitelout?" Stoick grunted towards his second-in-command.

"Seems like a big crowd. Bigger than an average raid. The clouds rolling in aren't helping, but the torches should be up soon, so we can more thoroughly access the situation. None of them have attempted landing yet. We already got a team heading over to corral what is left of the herds."

"We need more archers over the southern cliff. That's where we had the most trouble last time. Let's beat those dragons before they even have a chance to land."

Just then, the large torches perched on poles high above the rooftops were ablaze, and the sky was filled with light. Stoick and Spitelout stopped in their tracks along with most of the Vikings who were just moments ago hustling about the village searching for weapons and lost children.

In the newfound light, Stoick realized that what they had all mistaken for a thickness of clouds was actually a swarm of beasts circling the island. Deadly Nadders, Gronkles, Hideous Zipplebacks, and Monsterous Nightmares flew in a horde above their heads.

Stoick was immediately devising a plan to defend against the growing threat.

"Never mind about the south cliff." He said to Spitelout. "Get those archers on the Northern Hill. Send as many nets as you can to the lower defenses. We've got to take them out before they decide to land. And send some more back up to the barn. I'll meet up with you there."

Spitelout ran off with his new orders as the other Vikings regained composure. A Viking did not run from trouble, no matter the fearful sight they all saw in the sky.

Stoick bounded towards the forge where Gobber was furiously throwing weapons to the many empty-handed Vikings gathered by the door. Budging through the small crowd, Stoick yelled towards his friend.

"Gobber! I need all the arrows you've got. Send them up to the Northern Hill."

Face and apron covered in soot, Gobber now had a hammer attached to his wrist as he pounded on heated metal. "Mornin! We have quite the party up there! So ye need the arrows. Right. Gonna hit them before they can hit you." Gobber left his work at the anvil, reached down towards his workbench, and cradled a large bundle of arrows in his arms. "Unfortunately, Stoick, I'm a little busy with a weapon shortage right now. Just look at this bunch." Gobber indicated towards the group of Vikings behind Stoick. "I don't see how I could bring these up the hill. I'm swamped."

"We can take it up." a higher voice spoke from behind Stoick. The two adult Vikings looked for the owner of the voice.

Pushing through the little crowd was a band of young Vikings. Their helmets askew and weapons wielded, five little Vikings stood before their chief. Astrid Hofferson, a girl with bright blonde hair and a confident attitude spoke again.

"We couldn't sleep knowing that our village was in danger." Astrid put her hands on her hips. She was about the same age as Hiccup, and Stoick recalled that she often used to play with his son when they were wee toddlers. She was leading the other Viking children, and they all looked up at their chief with exhilarating emotion in their eyes.

"Shouldn't ye all be inside?!" Gobber exclaimed.

"Well, we were thinking we could be of some use to you." Astrid spoke to her chief quite boldly for a young Viking.

"Yeah! We aren't babies anymore. We can help!" the boy standing closest behind Astrid pleaded. He was the young Snotlout, and he carried an adult-sized hammer with two stubby hands.

"Now, ye know that you children got to stay inside. It is dangerous out here, and you aren't old enough to-" Gobber was cut short by Stoick thrusting the bundle into Astrid's arms.

"Here."

The gang of children looked surprised to have so easily achieved their goal. The two twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, held either end of the bundle so Astrid would not drop it.

"You kids are right. Every Viking needs to be able to provide aid. Bring these arrows to the archers on the North Hill. But then go straight to the Great Hall. I want you all out of sight before any dragons start landing."

The kids gave a chorus of nods and 'Yes sir's before proudly heading up the hill carrying the cumbersome bundle.

"Stoick, what do ye think-"

"Gobber, we'll discuss it later. Just focus on these weapons. We can't have any defenseless Vikings tonight. We'll need all the help we can get."

And with that, Stoick marched off, leaving Gobber staring in awe behind him.

Stoick headed towards the lower banks as Vikings carrying sheep headed towards the barn. Unfortunately, the dragons had spotted this as well and had already started to attempt looting the sheep from the Vikings' grasps. Not about to let them take their winter food stock, Stoick and the other warriors sped into action.

Stoick gave a running head start to a jump that vaulted him-and his ax-onto the back of the nearest rampaging Gronkle. The weight of the Viking sent the Gronkle reeling off course and heading towards the fields. The Gronkle writhed and shook under the Viking chief as Stoick tried to hack at the buzzing wings of the giant. Stoick was just able to nick the dragon's left wing when he was thrown off his perch. The beast roared and soared away in retreat, just barely being able to fly off.

Falling only a few feet to the ground, Stoick rolled into the fall, and sprang right back up. He had landed in the middle of a cabbage field. From his position, he could see that the word had spread through the flock of beasts. The dragons were relentlessly attacking the sheep and those Vikings protecting them. Only so many of them had made it to the barn. Stoick ran towards the catapult that was hurling boulders towards the skies.

Stoick climbed above the village, and stood with the other Vikings atop the wooden construction. They stared at the swirling sea of reptiles above them.

"Odd, ain't it?" the Viking nearest Stoick said. "We haven't seen this many since the night of the strange Two-Wing." The Vikings gave a weary pause while loading up the catapult with a large stone. Everybody knew that was a night that Stoick the Vast did not discuss. It was the night he had lost his wife.

"Send them a message." Stoick said ending the awkward pause. There was no time for such memories now. The others cut the catapult's line, and sent a boulder straight into the fray above them. So thick was the air with dragons, that the flying weapon created a collision of three different beasts, breaking their unrecognizable flight pattern.

Soon even more dragons were among the Vikings, tearing at the catapult, blasting the smaller creatures with fire, and collecting the sheep that had not quite scampered fast enough.

But the Vikings of Berk were not about to let their hard-earned meals get swept away without a fight.

As Stoick tried to protect the catapult from being torn to pieces by the ravaging dragons trying to perch there, the Vikings below stood their ground. The villagers threw various blows at the beasts. Stoick saw a couple younger Vikings battling a ferocious Gronkle to the ground, about to cut off its wings. One maiden had come face to face with a Deadly Nadder and ran towards the creature with mace raised and war cry piercing the air. Smoke and fire filled the air. Berk was a sea of war. Dragons and Vikings battled it out for control of the food source. Every creature was ablaze with adrenaline and strength.

Stoick could see that the dragons were slowly beginning to ease up as the Vikings continued to defend their home and livelihood. He gave a few last orders to the men at the catapult and headed back down to the ground, ramming the blunt of his ax onto the head of a Deadly Nadder on his way down. The colorful animal flew from its perch and retreated to the skies along with many of the other dragons. Stoick proudly noticed that very few of the flying swine had their claws wrapped around meaty treasure.

Heading to the barn, Stoick assisted Spitelout and the band of Vikings defending there. Some of the beasts had locked onto the sheep's hiding spot and were trying to make their way into the building. Thankfully, the dragons were now wounded and out-numbered. Stoick could see the Vikings' triumphant ending in sight.

However, that was not to be. Because as soon as this thought slipped into his consciousness, Stoick heard a high-pitched tone zipping through the air behind him, the whir getting louder and louder. The tone was somewhat familiar to him, and with quiet realization, he saw a black splotch soar across the stars towards them.

"NIGHT FURY!"

"GET DOWN!"

The villagers surrounding the barn all dropped to the ground as a blast reverberated through the air and exploded the roof of the barn behind them. Debris and dust filled the air as the Vikings tried to regain their poise. But before even Stoick could wrestle free from the wooden boards and shingles covering him, the handful of dragons that were still on the island were swarming the barn.

As the beasts picked up their prizes and flew quickly to safety, Stoick struggled to climb over the ruins towards them. He swatted at the thieves, but they were too quick. Before he could reach the depths of the barn, the dragons had all left with their wooly loot.

Stoick watched for a moment while the Vikings dusted themselves off, staring and shouting after the bandits. Just as he thought he was winning, a stupid beast thwarted him. News quickly spread through the village of the powerful blast and the creature that created it. Night furies had been absent from the skies around Berk for a long time…

A few hours later, as the sun just began to light the sky, Stoick sauntered back to his home. Many of the other Vikings had already done the same. Those that had homes to go back to, that is. Stoick was thankful that not many dragons had been left on the island when the Night Fury attacked. The village still had a descent-sized herd. Stoick just hoped that the dragons would stay away until spring came. His village needed that food to survive the upcoming winter.

As if on cue, wisps of snow landed in the chief's braided red beard. Stoick rubbed his grimy face and dragged his ax behind him. The tired and sore man was ready for a warm fire, a cup of strong mead, and his favorite chair before another day of hard work would begin in a few hours. There was much to do after a night like this.

Stoick was just wondering if the snowstorm would last long, when he opened the door to his home and was met with a tranquil sight.

Hiccup sat on the same stair Stoick had left him. The boy had one hand on a leather-bound journal that sat on his knees and another loosely holding a charcoal pencil. His head leaned against the wall beside him, squishing the side of his freckled face as he slept.

Stoick sighed. Hiccup had tried waiting up for him. His son normally did. The action touched his heart, and he hoped Hiccup could realize that worrying was unnecessary. Stoick could protect himself, and he would do everything possible to keep his son safe. The boy worried him constantly.

Hiccup bolted upright as the sound of the closing door woke him. The boy collected his things in his arms and stood before the towering Viking in front of him. At Hiccups place on the stairs, the two were just about eye-to-eye.

"Dad…is-is everything…" the boy stammered uneasily.

"The dragons are gone, Hiccup." Stoick reassured him with a faint smile. "You're safe."

"Oh-I-uh. I wasn't worried about me. No-uh. I only wanted to make sure you were fine and-um..."

"Right. O'Course. Just watching out for your old man, eh?" Hiccup nodded ferociously. Stoick stilled the boy's head with a little pat. "Well, then, my little dragon-slayer, why don't you head off to sleep."

With a small smile, Hiccup bounded back up the stairs. Stoick could hear the floorboards creak above him as he plopped into his chair. He thought of the other children Hiccup's age that had come to him that night. After the raid was over, he had learned that the children dutifully fulfilled his request and had found safe refuge in the Great Hall before much of the bloodshed had ensued. Astrid, whose family was plagued by the failure of her uncle, was confident and cunning. Snotlout, son of Spitelout, was strong and brave like his father. All the children gave promise of being great Vikings. Stoick saw them again in his mind's eye, eager and ready to aid their village in the chaos of the dragon attack. In a world of kill or be killed, Vikings grew up fast…

But Hiccup was nothing like the others. He was always stuck in his books and dreams. Even now, as old as the boy was, Hiccup was afraid of the night raids. Stoick always imagined that he would outgrow the fear as all Viking children did, but that still hadn't happened. Stoick could see the fear in his son's face every time the warning horn sounded. Stoick just didn't know how to change the boy. He believed he was as good a parent as his had been.

Perhaps the boy just needed a little push. Yes, that was it. A little nudge in the right direction would surely send Hiccup on the path to greatness. Stoick toyed with the thought of thrusting Hiccup a little more forcefully into his training. Yes. It was time Hiccup and his friends were given a little more responsibility in this war.

Smug at the plan he had just created, Stoick added new wood to the fire pit and lit it with a stroke of his flint. Nestling back into his chair, and covering himself with his cloak, Stoick gazed into the fire and dreamed of the mighty chief Hiccup would one day become.

What the chief didn't know was that just above him, Hiccup tossed and turned in bed, dreaming of a far different future.