Dragon Drabbles
She Chose Him
Gothi was easily the oldest person in the village. Rumours circulated around the people about her - like the idea that she could tell when someone was going to die by looking at your fingernails. Or your tongue. Both old wives tales, but she chuckled inwardly whenever she did leave her secluded home on top of a cliff to take a walk and see all the Vikings she came across hurriedly close their mouths and stash their hands behind their backs.
As she was the oldest person in the village, she knew a lot of stories that the younger generations didn't. Heck, she was old when Stoick the Vast was a boy! Unfortunately, due to her age, she had lost the ability to speak, and Gobber the Belch was probably the worst (yet he was amusing) translator she had ever had. She couldn't share the stories, so she kept them to herself.
But one story was extremely peculiar. She could still hear her mother telling her the tale.
"A very long time ago in a faraway land, there was a lonely young Viking in his village. He wasn't very good at all the Viking things everyone else was good at, because he was the runt of the village. One day, he was enrolled in dragon training, and although his peers expected him to fail, he was soon taking down dragons even without a weapon!"
"How mama?" Gothi's chipper little voice rang out. The older Viking smiled down at her young daughter.
"Secretly, he had befriended a dragon," she continued. "He was even riding it."
Gothi's eyes widened. "He was riding it?"
"Mmm hmm." Her mother confirmed. "That's why he was so good at defeating the dragons without hurting them. Then the village realized what he was doing, and although angry, he was able to show them that dragons weren't what they had thought they were. Then, once everyone had found their dragon, people were riding them all over the place."
"Wow . . ." Gothi then looked out the window of her home at Berk, where a dragon raid was currently happening. Vikings were armed to the teeth and slashing and throwing weapons everywhere to bring down the beasts that stole their food. She started to giggle. Vikings riding dragons. As if that would ever happen.
Gothi had been very young back then, and at the moment was shaking her head at her mother's foolish bedtime story. Her mother had always been in awe of the dragons - in fact, Fishlegs Ingerman reminded Gothi of her mother quite a bit. Many people called her mother frivolous, since she enjoyed studying more than weapon wielding. It was like her to think up of ridiculous fantasies. She knew her mom had made the Dragon-Rider the way he was, because her mother had been an ostracized quite a bit in the village when she was younger, until she made many useful discoveries about dragons that got put in the Dragon Manual.
Speaking of ostracized villagers, Gothi peered down into the Training Arena. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third had finally been enrolled, and wasn't doing too well with the Gronckle.
She remembered when the boy had been born. A tiny thing, a runt. Val and Stoick had been trying for a while for a baby, and then this hiccup had popped out. The little life's fate had been in her hands - if she said he was strong enough, he wouldn't be left on the hills to die, as was the traditional Viking way. The truth was, Gothi hadn't thought he was strong enough to be a good Viking, but had said he was anyway. Perhaps it was childhood sentiment of her favourite bedtime story hero, or Val and Stoick's anxious faces that made her doubt herself.
Whichever one, she was glad. Although the boy was a screw-up, there had been many a times when she came out of her house at the end of a dragon raid to hear his sniping, sarcastic comments and she had bit back a smile, his latest one her favourite ("The village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?").
Luckily, thanks to Gobber, the scrawny child would survive another day.
Then things got odd.
Hiccup started excelling at dragon training. The oddest thing of all, was that he was doing it without a weapon. She cocked her head slightly the first time, looking for the secret through the fog as he forced the Zippleback into its cage. Then taking down the Gronckle, and the Nadder and the Terrible Terror. All without harming the creature.
Gothi didn't know how Hiccup was managing it, but she didn't mind. He was a good boy, and his father was ecstatic. But she noticed the way Hiccup would leave for hours and often spend the night in the forest. Something was unusual.
And then, while taking a walk late at night one day, she heard some loud noises coming from the forge. She cocked her head and studied the building. Astrid Hofferson was striding over it, and the Viking girl and Hiccup began to have a nervous (on Hiccup's part, anyway) conversation.
Then Hiccup vanished, and there was a gust of wind. As Astrid barged into the forge, Gothi turned her head in the direction of the sound. A dark, easily distinguishable shape was clear against the bright full moon. A small dragon, by the looks of it. And a very human-like shape.
She blinked, to make sure she wasn't seeing things. The dragon did a loop-da-loop and skinny sticks shot out of the human-like shape. Arms.
She leaned on her cane, the startling realization coming to her as her eyes never left the shape against the moon, which was now blending into darkness. Unlike any dragon could, except for one.
By Thor. . . The boy really had hit a Night Fury! He must've gone to it alone - and had somehow befriended it. And was flying!
She continued on the way to her house, her mother's words ringing in her head. He was soon taking down dragons even without a weapon. . . Secretly, he had befriended a dragon. . . He was even riding it. . .
It all made sense. She entered into her home, shaking. The story she had once dismissed as ridiculous was now happening before her very eyes. She closed her eyes and sat on her wooden bed. What should she do? The final competition was coming up very soon for the honour of killing a Monstrous Nightmare, and Hiccup was the most likely candidate for the job.
Gothi frowned, thinking hard. Her mother's tale had been true, for the most part. The runt, the dragon, riding it. Her mother had had a reputation of being able to predict the future - had that been a prediction, secretly veiled in a story?
When the day came to pick, and Hiccup had downed the Gronckle, Gothi knew what she had to do. He had to fulfill his destiny. So she chose him.
It is my firm belief that Gothi knew what was going on, that crafty old lady.
