Chapter 3: Establish A Connection

When Stoick the Vast made a decision, he tended to act on it very quickly. Hence, when he'd decided to "befriend" his son's dragon, he had promptly declared the creature to be part of his family, welcomed it into his home and allowed it free access to food. Providing these basics of status, shelter and sustenance was as far as Stoick had intended to go—after all, that was how he had raised his own child for all these years. What more could the devil want?

Unfortunately for Stoick, the Night Fury's definition of friendship was a little more…involved.

Face to face with the mighty Viking chief, Toothless sat as a dog would sit, a pose that Hiccup had always praised him for, as it made his gangling reptilian body appear aesthetically compact and manageable. Indeed, the dragon in the middle of the Viking's hut now resembled a single, solid black stone, glistening in the light of the fire.

One of Stoick's eyes twitched in impatience, and then in confusion as the dragon arched his sturdy neck, politely unhinged his jaws, and presented the chief with a full view of the toothless gums that had inspired his name.

"What're you doing?" Stoick grumbled in suspicion, unimpressed with this deceptive display of harmlessness.

Toothless closed his mouth, and fixed Stoick with a cool look of tolerance. Clearly, the beast was deigning to allow the human a reaction.

Stoick blinked a few times, unevenly, revealing his lack of comprehension. "…That all you wanted to show me? That you can hide your teeth?" he demanded, struggling not to shout in outrage. "Wonderful. At least it explains the ridiculous name. Now will you leave me alone?" He pointed to the far side of the room. "Sit! Over! There!"

Unfazed by all this pointing and yelling, Toothless proceeded with his particular version of introductions. Since he had so generously allowed this man the measure of familiarity required in order to be shown a Night Fury's tooth-free mouth, he expected the man to return the favor. And there was something of Stoick's that Toothless was terribly curious about, something that Hiccup most certainly did not have, which Toothless had decided he would be permitted to investigate as soon as he had made the first offering of goodwill.

This item of interest was nothing other than Stoick's fearsome beard, which in Toothless' estimation set Stoick apart from Hiccup as almost an entirely different species of human. What was that furry haystack on the man's face? What did it do?

Narrowing his eyes and flaring his nostrils, Toothless nudged his nose forward and took a deep, evaluative sniff of the chief's whiskers.

Stoick reeled backwards in surprise, but his motion was not quick enough to evade Toothless' snapping gums, which clamped shut on Stoick's beard in the next instant.

To a casual observer, this might have looked like a curious dragon wanting to see what the beard would do if given a casual nip. But in fact, the flame-red beard of Stoick the Vast just so happened to smell strongly of the herring Stoick had eaten for yesterday's breakfast, and the Night Fury simply couldn't resist the urge to bite it.

Unsurprisingly, the Viking chief was not in a mood to let his whiskers be chomped off for a dragon snack, and with a furious battle cry he crashed one of his huge fists down squarely onto Toothless' nose.

With eyes suddenly snakelike, Toothless reared back, roaring in pain and shock. His wings burst out to their fullest extent, filling the room with a gust of wind that roused the fire and rattled the timbers of the roof. After Toothless had been behaving so magnanimously all this time, how dare this man strike him? Where was this man's fear? Hiccup always showed the right amount of respect. It was what made his presence endurable. This human, this Viking, wasn't showing any respect at all.

Besides, Toothless' nose was sensitive, and he didn't appreciate having it bashed just for trying to get a tasty tidbit of herring out of a funny furry haystack.

Stoick's lip curled in a sneer, his eyes hard and cold. They were the eyes of a killer, and they compelled Toothless to match their steely gaze.

This man had no respect, no fear at all. No awe. Keeping his wings out for effect, Toothless widened his mouth; teeth extended this time, and banshee-screamed at Stoick as fiercely as he could, intending to intimidate him.

But the scream had a decidedly different effect, as the chief's eyes acquired an eager gleam, and his sneer broadened into a deadly grin. Stoick clenched his hands into fists, took a mighty breath, and then returned the dragon's scream with a rumbling yell so powerful and ferocious that it seemed to encompass all the yells of all the warriors of Berk, present and past.

Toothless' eyes seemed to glow as their pupils shrank to blade-like slits. Man and dragon regarded one another in mutual hatred and disgust, the shuddering fire providing the only movement in the room—

-Until a slight furrow appeared on Hiccup's brow, as if in response to a half-felt twinge of pain.

"Nn," uttered the unconscious boy, and both dragon and chief automatically swiveled their heads to look at him, their quarrel forgotten. They seemed frozen for half a second, and then they raced to Hiccup's side. Stoick's feet pounded the floor like hammers, and Toothless covered the distance in one froglike leap, tail swinging and knocking over a bench in the process.

They arrived at the boy's bedside at exactly the same time, jostling into one another.

"You infernal—he's my son!" Stoick growled, elbowing a gigantic black wing out of his way. "Move over!"

By sheer force of will, Stoick shoved the dragon back and fell into place at Hiccup's side. His hand found Hiccup's on the bed, and he interlocked their fingers. "Son?" Stoick half-whispered, his voice desperate. "Hiccup, can you hear me?"

Stoick held his breath, studying the boy's face, searching for any sign that he might be close to waking.

Toothless, meanwhile, had crawled around to the foot of the bed. From that vantage point, he had a clear view of both humans, and after quickly confirming that Hiccup's condition hadn't changed, Toothless riveted his gaze on Stoick. And suddenly he saw what he'd been looking for.

There was the fear, the respect, the awe in the chief's eyes. Not for Toothless, but for Hiccup! Toothless found this quite extraordinary, and swished his tail a bit in approval. And then he noticed something even more fascinating: the phenomenon of Stoick's meaty hand, holding tightly to Hiccup's much bonier one.

By simply clasping his son's hand, the Viking chief had not only captured Toothless' attention: he had given the dragon something terribly meaningful to ponder. Toothless gazed at their joined hands in rapt amazement, his pupils swollen into inky ovals, absorbing every detail of the scene.

After a long, expectant moment, the chief gradually came to terms with the fact that his son was still in a coma.

"What're you staring at?" Stoick muttered to the dragon. With his face arranged in its standard scowl, he tracked Toothless' gaze.

Their hands. The dragon was staring intently at their hands. Stoick couldn't say for sure why that annoyed him, but it did. "Look," he commanded, as patiently as he was able. "This boy is my own flesh and blood, my only child."

Toothless didn't react, and Stoick got the impression that the beast's thoughts were far away. "…Do you understand?" Stoick asked, gruff but sincere. He gave Hiccup's hand a little squeeze, and at that, the dragon flinched. Stoick let another moment pass, hoping that his intended meaning was sinking in, and then he gently put Hiccup's hand back down on the bed. Toothless immediately craned his neck to sniff the boy's hand, and then focused his gaze on Stoick.

The dragon's expression, if it could be called that, was one of wary hope. He had been given a revelatory idea. Perhaps he could communicate with this horrible human after all, using the language that Hiccup himself had first used to communicate with Toothless.

Toothless sat himself onto his haunches again, and carefully lifted one of his front paws in Stoick's direction. "Rrrk?" the dragon offered, with a little head-thrust of encouragement.

Stoick raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Rrrk!" Toothless urged again, nodding again at his own outstretched paw. To Stoick's disbelief, the dragon's eyes glimmered in a way that almost seemed to say please.

With a jolt, the Viking chief shook himself free of the dragon's mesmerizing gaze. What was this confounded dragon doing? Was it offering its paw to shake, like a dog? For some reason, the idea offended him.

"This is absurd," Stoick blurted out, backing away. "Get your claws out of my face." With a frustrated huff, the man turned and tromped away.

"Nrrrhn?" Toothless' eyes had never been wider, nor had his expression ever been so stunned. The Viking chief had turned his back on Toothless' offer of friendship—the one gesture that Toothless had been certain the man would understand. Bewildered, Toothless looked down at his paw, wondering for an instant if there was something wrong with it, something he had stepped in, perhaps. But no—his foot was not only clean, it was as beautiful a specimen of Night Fury foot as you were likely to find anywhere in the archipelago. Toothless looked back up. Had he just been insulted, then? Surely it was an unforgiveable affront, when a dragon stooped to offering a truce on a human's terms, only to be denied reciprocation.

"HRAWWR!" The dragon spat, and then gazed desperately at Hiccup for guidance. The Viking chief couldn't have meant to insult Toothless. It must have been a mistake. But where had it gone awry? What had Toothless done wrong? He searched the boy's expressionless face, his freckles, his pale lips, his closed eyes.

Suddenly Toothless perked up. He had just remembered something important, something critical. Of course—he had forgotten to close his eyes! How silly of him—he was a dragon, after all. No human could be expected to be in their right mind while overwhelmed by the awesome power of a dragon's gaze.

Purring to himself in affirmation, and giving the boy on the bed a last caring glance, Toothless shuffled off in pursuit of the Viking chief.

Stoick had just stepped into the pantry and was in the process of selecting ingredients for a nice fish soup (since Hiccup couldn't very well eat mutton while unconscious) when Toothless stuck his head through the doorway.

"Blasted lizard, can't you give me five minutes peace?" Stoick grumbled, angrily pulling things off the pantry shelves.

"Rrrwwl," Toothless said politely, and then stubbornly squeezed his entire body into the confines of the pantry area, cracking the doorframe in the process.

"What the! Thor almighty! You!" Stoick sputtered, brandishing a cooking spoon in a threatening manner as the contents of his meticulously stocked pantry came tumbling down in little avalanches around him.

"Hrrrrh," stated the dragon, and made a sound that was akin to a human clearing his throat. Then, quite deliberately, and looking thoroughly proud of himself, he repeated his earlier motion of holding out his front paw in the man's direction. Only this time, once his paw was in place, he closed his great green eyes, and gracefully, elegantly, he arched his neck and turned his head away.

Stoick the Vast was dumbfounded. And, he was angry. All Stoick knew was that a very large and possibly insane Night Fury was shoving a paw in his face, and was now acting all bashful about it. "What in Odin's name is the matter with you?" Stoick exploded, knocking Toothless' paw aside with the back of his hand. "You want me to kiss your royal foot, your majesty? Not going to happen! You may have my son fawning all over your scaly black hide and bowing to your every whim, but I am not him!"

Toothless opened his eyes and looked back at Stoick, with all the innocence and all the wisdom in the world.

Stoick felt his eyes sting. He had finally reached his breaking point. Before he could stop himself, the fearless Viking warrior was hunched over in the middle of his pantry, sobbing into his palms.

Toothless observed this with great patience, not really understanding what was happening, but sensing that it was important. After a moment, he gave the man his best consoling rowl, and decided that perhaps he was going about this all wrong. Perhaps he was using the wrong sort of limb.

Determined to try again, Toothless squared his four paws on the ground and reached out towards the man with the wrist-joint of one of his wings.

Stoick looked up, tears streaking his ruddy cheeks, and observed something like an enormous folded-up umbrella being pointed at his face. His shoulders heaved up and down, and he gritted his teeth. All his emotions were quickly being distilled into rage, and would need just the slightest spark to erupt into violence.

"Ghh!" Stoick grunted, and angrily pushed the wing away. Completely by accident, the powerful shoulder-muscles of the Night Fury overcompensated for this motion, and the wing came swinging right back—and bumped into Stoick's shoulder.

And that was all the provocation the Viking chief needed.

The fight was on.

...to be continued...

Author's note: hee, that was fun- and the best part is still to come! One thing, to all you anonymous reviewers, (especially "Just you,") will you please please please sign in so I can reply to your wonderful reviews? I feel so guilty when someone leaves me a great review and I can't send them a reply to thank them for it!