A short one, this drabble. I was bored, humans, so prepare for my onslaught of drabbles today!
Disclaimer: I don't own How to Train Your Dragon, although I want a Night Fury plushie!
Prompt: Weapon
Most Viking children, at the age of five, have already started testing out all different sorts of weapons to find out which suited them the most. Whether it was the battleaxe, the war hammer or one of the various kinds of weapons the Vikings used, by the time they were ten, they should have adapted perfectly to their chosen tool of war.
But one didn't follow this tradition. In fact, he didn't follow any of the normal Viking traditions. He was born to be different, and different he is. His name is, conveniently, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of Stoick the Vast, chieftain of Berk.
As the chieftain's son, however, Hiccup was expected to perform these traditions if only because he is the chieftain's son, and so, his father had told him to get a weapon soon, or he will choose Hiccup's training for him and assign Astrid, toughest Viking-in-training (and also Hiccup's girlfriend), as his trainer.
When Stoick had told Hiccup that, he'd expected some sorts of begging or defiant protests, but his son only grinned and told Stoick to follow him outside. With great puzzlement, the broad man did so.
Soon as they stepped outside, however, Stoick saw several Monstrous Nightmares, Deadly Nadders and Zipplebacks and of course, Toothless, Hiccup's Night Fury, turning expectant eyes to Hiccup, like they were waiting for a command and some even cooed a welcome. The boy grinned back.
Hiccup smiled at his father before Toothless came up and nudged him, then pointed at the sky with his tail, and with a laugh, Hiccup asked for permission then went to find the saddle for Toothless.
The dragons soon came back to their previous business, trying to puzzle out just what the heck these two-leggers were saying and trying to find someone who could give a promising permanent partnership. Six or seven hungry Terrible Terrors, though, still tagged along after Hiccup and Toothless, although at the Night Fury's glare, they followed at a reasonable distance, chirping like a bunch of noisy birds.
Stoick stood in his doorway, staring after his son's disappearing back and the "shadow" that always walked next to or behind him, green eyes shining. Then he shook his head and returned inside, even though he was smiling. He had to say, he really loved his strange son. There was no rule in the Viking tradition that said your weapon can't be a living being. Like, for instance, loyal dragons.
And if there had been, Hiccup would've broken it anyway, defiantly or unknowingly. He was born just to be different, and that difference was what made him so great.
Thanks for reading!
~the Apprentice