Welcome back! Thanks for continuing to read this story! And thank you to all who have reviewed so far; you're making this easy for me! :-)

A couple of things before the actual story. A few reviewers were kind enough to point out my misuse of "site" instead of "sight;" I have since gone back and changed it for the previous chapters. I also changed a few details in the last chapter, and am trying harder to keep the little details of the movie in mind when I write these.

This is the longest chapter I've written for this story so far--it has more than doubled the word count of the story by itself. Didn't plan it that way, but after reading some of the other stories, I wanted to add in a bit more detail in the descriptions. Hope you don't mind. ;-)

That's all I got this time. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Remember, I don't own the characters, human or otherwise.

Terrible Terror

Though it may be the smallest dragon known, the Terrible Terror has its name for a reason. A single one can be a menace, blindingly fast and able to wreak havoc on anything it might target; they prefer traveling in flocks, however--sometimes 200 strong. In these numbers, entire flocks of sheep can disappear, and a Viking can be carried off, never to be seen again. Extremely dangerous; kill on sight.

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He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Tuffnut Thorston was scared stiff.

How could he have gotten himself into this situation? How could he have been so STUPID to not see what he was walking into? There were signs all over the place, yet somehow he had missed all of them...and now, here he was, staring straight into what he was certain would be his doom. Tuffnut didn't exactly consider himself a coward by any means, but there were a few specific scenarios he would rather not find himself in. This was one of them.

He had been told by his father that if he and his twin sister Ruffnut wanted to keep the Hideous Zippleback they had suddenly become in possession of, they would have to care for it all themselves (partly to help them prepare for the real world, and mostly because their parents didn't quite know how to properly care for dragons yet). And so it was, in a rare act of separation for the twins, that Tuffnut found himself trying to catch fish while Ruffnut stayed and cleaned the dragon's riding equipment (they'd wash the dragon together after a while, if they didn't kill each other first). He'd gone through the forest to edge of the island early in the morning armed with a harpoon and a large net attached to pole, trying to see which method would get him the biggest catch.

The net was more efficient, perhaps, but the harpoon took skill and was cooler, and so it was the weapon Tuffnut preferred. Besides, how would the "ultimate killing machine" look if he let these fish off the hook (pun not intended) by not impaling them with a gigantic spear? No, the blonde teenager took pleasure (perhaps too much) from the sound of iron ramming through flesh, and the look of blood diffusing throughout the water.

The "Fishscale Massacre," as Tuffnut privately referred to it as, went on for quite some time--the sun went from barely peaking over the horizon to being well above eye-level before he was satisfied with his haul. Using the net to carry it all, the boy started back in the direction of his house...and then realized that he didn't quite know which direction that was. He stood there for a bit and contemplated his possible courses of action; either he could take the long way and walk around the edge of the island until the forest thinned out a bit, or he could cut through the forest and hope that he might find his way. Walking around seemed much safer and sensible; naturally then, Tuffnut chose to cut through the forest.

As far as he was concerned, the forest was his. Tuffnut had played in these trees even when he was a tiny, curious boy, and they had always hid and protected him whenever he needed an escape. At ease even with the creatures that lived there, he had honed his sense of Tuff-ness right between the tall brown and green towers, and knew nearly every branch of every tree by heart...well, the ones behind his house anyways. This part of the forest, Tuffnut admitted to himself, was rather foreign. It wasn't often he visited this side of the island except to fish, and most of the time it was with Ruffnut at his side (or at his neck); she was the one who got them home most of the time. He wasn't bothered by it, however; he was Tuffnut. He didn't need his twin (and younger by three minutes) sister to guide him home.

The sun wasn't yet high enough to be completely blocked out by the trees, but the light coming in at the angle it was at gave the forest a bit of a mystical quality. Tuffnut took it uncharacteristically slow, step by step, careful not to lose any of the food in his net nor any of his equipment. He trekked onward like this for a bit, until he came upon a gradual hill he thought he recognized. Getting a good running start, the teen Viking charged up the hill, fish in tow, dodging trees and low branches as he sprinted towards the crest. He was almost at the top of the hill when he thought he heard noises coming from the other side. 'Maybe other Vikings out here gathering wood', Tuffnut thought as he huffed to the top of the forest hill. He gathered his breath and spoke aloud.

"Man...(wheeze)...I thought...(wheeze)...I thought I'd never get...(wheeze)...get up that hill...but I did! I made it!" Tuffnut yelled that last part to no one...and then he heard the mass shuffling in response. He froze...slowly, he looked down into the clearing at the other side of the hill. And immediately wish he were staring at anything else.

Tuffnut knew first hand that, despite their small size, even one Terrible Terror could do quite a bit of damage. He'd faced just one single one in training, and had decided after that encounter less than a month ago that he never wanted to face another one for a very long time.

You can't blame him, then, for turning to stone upon seeing well over one hundred of the tiny dragons all focus their steely gaze directly upon him.

Him, and his net full of fresh fish.

Tuffnut gulped. He had heard of flocks this big, but the most he had ever seen together was ten or so. This...this was overwhelming, to say the least. Looking around for an escape route, all he saw were trees. Ominously, some of them had scratch marks and burn marks on them. How had he not seen those before!? He had walked right into a den of his least-favorite dragon, and was certain that, despite how drastically Viking-Dragon relationships had transformed over the past couple of weeks, he was going to die.

There was no sound at all; the forest had gone dead silent. Tuffnut stared at them; all of them stared intently back. Tuffnut took a single step backwards, and in unison, all of the Terrible Terrors before him took a single step forward, keeping their focus directed at him. He chuckled nervously, and took yet another step back—a big mistake.

A twig snapped under his weight. A bird fluttered away, breaking the silence. And in that moment, all one-hundred-plus tiny Terrible Terrors let out shrieks and took flight, directly towards Tuffnut.

Tuffnut let out a frightened squeal and, completely on reflex, flung the net carrying the fish over his head, slinging his entire catch out over the clearing. The Terrors, like one single flock of birds, immediately shifted course towards the flying food. They surrounded each fish, pushing and scratching at each other to get the next bite, clawing their way to get at least one piece of the precious fish (Tuffnet couldn't help but be reminded of the way he and Ruffnut interacted most times). It looked like a school of piranha flying in mid-air, eager for fresh meat, and despite everything in his head telling him to leave, Tuffnut simply couldn't look away from the carnage. He was mesmerized by the gore, but there was also a strange grace to it all--like watching the synchronized movements of fish underwater, or the graceful flight pattern of a flock of birds. He had to admire the way they coordinated themselves, even when they were all fighting for their own bit of food.

All the fish the lad had harpooned was naught but bones now, the skeletons lying on the ground in a pile. All the reptiles miraculously seemingly satiated; realizing this, the Terrible Terrors hovered in midair, their focus once again upon Tuffnut. The blonde in question blanched. WHY had he just stood there!? Why hadn't he run away while they were distracted with the fish?

He wasn't about to make the same mistake again.

Without another thought, Tuffnut turned straight around and ran back down the hill, equipment in hand. Immediately, the Terrors shot off after him, determined to catch him. And to Tuffnut's horror, it seemed they might succeed, despite his running downhill; he could hear the beating of their wings growing louder. Running as fast as his legs could carry him, panting hard but pressing on, Tuffnut ran like his life depended on it (and it very well may have)...but in the end, it just wasn't enough.

His eyes went wide and he let out a gasp when he felt not one, not two, or even three, but six pairs of feet grasp at his shoulder and dig in, while another two pairs pried his tools from his hands. Soon, his feet were flailing uselessly underneath as he desperately tried to continue running. Tuffnut closed his eyes and cried out in despair as the dragons carried him off.

"Oh, I'm definitely in pain! I'm in extreme, definite pain, and I'm gonna die, and I'll never know the pleasure of a woma...huh?"

He opened his eyes to find that he had cleared the trees of the forest, and was now heading in the direction of the village in the distance. Tuffnut felt himself...he was still in one piece! He wasn't dead! And apparently, he was being supported by nearly the entire flock of Terrible Terrors, formed into a single mass in order to bear his weight. Tuffnut sat upon the huddled dragons like Aladdin would sit on his magic carpet, feeling the strange vibrations of wings beating right below him, and touching the spikes along their backs that lay flat to save him from their pain. Those dragons that were not supporting him or carrying his equipment were huddled right next to him, purring at him, licking him, and glancing at him in adoration.

Tuffnut was in awe of what was happening. They weren't trying to kill him, they weren't tearing him limb from limb...no, they were carrying him back to the village where he came from, grateful for the feast he had provided. His fear slowly turned to excitement, and he let out an emphatic "WHOOO-HOO-HOO! YEAH!" Growing braver, Tuffnut began rising on his own two feet, trying to balance himself with the undulating mass of dragons beneath him. As he stabilized himself in a surfer's stance and released his hands from backs of the Terrors, they repositioned themselves to focus more on supporting his two feet, which left a small hole directly between his legs. Tuffnut paled, and told himself not to look down again.

"Just enjoy the ride...just enjoy the ride…all right!"

He looked straight ahead, squinting his eyes from the rush of wind but able to see that the village was getting even closer, and that the flight wouldn't last much longer. But Tuffnut couldn't remember the last time he felt so alive, so...free. Yeah, that was it—he felt free. Free from responsibility, free from his sister, free from even being a Viking. There was no one else flying with him right now, no one stuck to his side, no one else sharing the pleasure of surfing the wind. It was only Tuffnut up here, riding on this blanket of reptiles. And as he thought about it, he couldn't be sure that anyone else had ever flown like this at all. It was like he was walking on air...and he was the first to do it!

All too soon, however, the Terrors began their descent into the village. Realizing that they didn't know where he lived, Tuffnut guided them to his backyard by moving his feet to put slightly more pressure on one side of the dragon mass. They understood the direction, and turned towards his hut. 'Wish I'da thought of doing that earlier', the boy thought to himself. He wished he had more time to experiment with this new flying method, but it wouldn't happen today: he was already home.

The Terrible Terrors got as low to the ground as they were comfortable with, hovered a bit, then quickly removed themselves from underneath him as his feet hit the ground, his net and harpoon being placed beside him. Tuffnut looked around his backyard. The Hideous Zippleback he and his sister shared was sleeping near the tree line of the forest (heads zipped together), and no one else was in sight—everyone was inside, busy with their own chores. He turned back to the cloud of reptiles that had just carried him out of the forest; they were all hovering above the ground, eyes focused on him. He smiled at them, and they pounced on him and tackled him to the ground. Tuffnut wasn't scared this time, however; he knew they were simply showing affection. All one-hundred-something of them crawled on him, purring, trying to show their appreciation for him feeding them. He laughed, happier than he had been in a very long time. He didn't have to be that obnoxious, prankster Viking teen with the twin sister around these guys; he could be simply Tuffnut the human.

He hadn't been simply Tuffnut the human in a long time. It felt...refreshing.

The dragon clan began to disperse, flying back towards their hidden clearing in the trees. One by one, they gave him one last nudge or lick, then flew away. Tuffnut stood up. For all his former fear of them, was sad to see them go. He wondered whether he would ever find their hideout again, or if they'd even be there next time. He wondered if he'd ever see them again at all. So deep in thought the teenager was, that he didn't noticed the Terrible Terror still perched on his shoulder until it purred again. He started slightly, then looked at it. He had to admit...it was kind of cute. Or cool...yeah, that's what he meant—it was cool looking. Not cute. Cool...yeah.

And apparently, judging by the fact that it hadn't flown off and didn't look like it was going to anytime soon, it wanted to stay with him. Tuffnut smiled. His own dragon...he had his own dragon. It was his and his alone.

"All right, so you wanna hang around? That's cool...let's show you off to Ruffnut, she's gonna be so jealous!"

Picking his fishing equipment up off of the ground, Tuffnut started towards the house...but froze as he heard the stirring of his Zippleback. He turned around as he watched the dragon slowly open its eyes and began stretching out to its full length. The gigantic beast unzipped its heads and shook the sleep out of its eyes, before focusing its steely gaze upon Tuffnut, who stood frozen to the spot, suddenly wishing that the dragon would stare at anything else in the world but him.

Him, and his net with absolutely no fish....

That's it! Please, let me know what you think of it; I accept all forms of comments, criticisms and cruelties.

Next up is the Hideous Zippleback. Thanks for reading!