Chapter 3: New Beginnings
(Excerpt translated by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III)
I never met my Soulbound. It was done when I was a wee bab, apparently. My parents were out fishing, and my mother had brought me along with her to see if I would be interested in the simple life they had set out in front of them (infant or no, they wanted to see if an 'early start' could be inspired). Whilst they were busy, a swarm of dragons had surrounded them, and my mother had placed me under the boat's seat in order to protect me as they fired arrows at the descending hoards.
What they hadn't noticed was that a young Stormcutter, only a bab, had snuck onto the ship, found my hiding place, and had taken deep interest with me. It had latched onto my foot, initiating the bond. By the time my parents had discovered what had occurred, the bond was well forged, and the dragon fled once my father struck out with a hammer, nearly blinding it.
They simply assumed that my foot had been bitten and, thankfully, that nothing was beyond repair with a few bandages and salves from Gothi and a careful eye for the next few weeks.
My grandmother knew better. She vowed to watch over me, 'for safety' she told them, 'for protection' she whispered to me. She taught me everything I knew, how to hide it and be safe under the hate-filled gaze of the surrounding Vikings.
But even then, it's not enough. What if that happens to my bab? I can prevent a bond for as long as I am alive, but how long will that be, in a war-fueled village? How long until a raid occurs and he's carted off, only for a bond to form while in the grasp of a Nightmare, or Nadder, or Gronkle or Zippleback? How long can I be a protector from this curse?
And that's why I seek to end something. The war would be great for all Vikings, everyone in the Archipelago would be grateful, the Haddock name held in high regard. However, my nonviolent methods turn the stomach of the entire village, and they are less than willing to listen to me. Any victory on any side leads to more bloodshed, more hate, more violence.
No. The only surefire way to protect my bab is to end this curse and save my child.
"Welcome ta Dragon Training!" Gobber's hook prosthetic snagged the bottom of the gate, throwing it up and turning to the teenage recruits behind him with flair. The cold stone walls were covered with weapon and shield racks, scorch marks adding the deadly touch that Vikings were known for. The metal chain web above them clinked in the morning breeze along the cliff face, the sun hidden behind overcast clouds. Along the far wall were five, heavy metal doors which, if you listened carefully, grumbling could be heard from behind.
"No turning back." Astrid stated as she walked in, axe drawn at her side as she walkeded with steadfast confidence. The other teens turned around as they moved, taking in the arena with awe and delight. Trailing behind them was Hiccup, his own axe hanging disinterestedly in his grasp as he hung away from the more abled Vikings. He was sleep-deprived, anxious, and nauseous to top it all off, only eating half a bowl of soup from his father's 'skilled hands'.
It was decided early on that Hiccup either made his own food or go to the Great Hall at dinner if he wanted something edible, otherwise he'd have to deal with the slop his father made.
"I hope I get some serious burns." Tuffnut wished aloud, dragging Hiccup back to the present.
"I'm hoping for some mauling," Ruffnut responded, rolling her shoulders. Coincidentally, the twins both wielded spears, odd considering their love of causing mischief and chaos wherever they went. He was expecting a sword, maybe, or a mace. "like, on my shoulder or lower back."
The leading shield maiden smirked and flicked a few stray strands of hair over her shoulder. "Yeah, it's only fun if you get a scar out of it."
Hiccup scoffed, catching the attention of the teens. He didn't blame them for not noticing him, he'd been quiet as he made his way to the arena, and he'd stuck back for good reason. "Yeah, no kidding, right? Pain." He rolled his eyes. "Love it."
"Oh great." Tuffnut pointed his spear at him. "Who let him in?"
Before anyone could make a remark, Gobber sauntered over, done with the beginning preparations. "Let's get started! The recruit who does best will win the honor of killin' his first dragon in front of the entire village." The blacksmith twisted his hook and threw out his hand at the upper ranks, where seating was provided. Used to his theatrics from working in the forge for so long, Hiccup merely sighed and waited for a jab at him.
"Hiccup already killed a Night Fury, so does that disqualify him or...?" Ah, there it was. The twins joined in with Snotlout, pointing at the so-called-heir and laughing, walking further in and leaving the two smiths behind.
Sighing, Hiccup looked down at his axe and closed his eyes. Thor, Odin, Freyja, Loki, whoever's up there, throw me a bone and get me out of here as soon as you can.
"Don't worry." Gobber slung his salvaged hand over his shoulder, walking him towards the other teens. "Yer small and yer weak. That'll make you less of a target. They'll see you as sick or insane and go after th'more Viking-like teens instead."
Chuckling, he ruffled Hiccup's hair and moved in front of the line of teens, leaving Hiccup next to Fishlegs. The bulkier teen gave him a reassuring smile and, once upon a time, Hiccup might've found the action reassuring. Now, it made him sick. He wanted Fishlegs to either pick a side or give up all together and outcast himself, and stop with this weird back and forth between joining in on his tormentor's remarks and trying to 'console' him.
"Behind these doors are just a few of the many species you will learn ta fight." Gobber continued, gesturing at the doors as he went, trying to amplify the tension. "The Deadly Nadder."
"Speed eight. Armor sixteen." Hiccup glanced to his left at Fishleg's excited whisper, raising his brow confusedly. Sure, it was apparent that Fishlegs was interested in dragons but… that was a little bit extreme, even by Hiccup's standards.
"The Hideous Zippleback."
"Plus eleven stealth. Times two."
"The Monstrous Nightmare."
"Firepower fifteen."
"The Terrible Terror."
"Attack eight. Venom twelve."
"Can ya stop that!" Gobber shouted, and it took a lot of Hiccup's will power not to laugh. It didn't take much to get Gobber in a shouting mood, and ruining his established atmosphere was one of them. Getting back on track, he placed his hand over a lever, the door on his right shaking as something pounded into it. "And... the Gronckle."
Beneath his breath, just loud enough for Hiccup to hear, Fishlegs whispered, "Jaw strength, eight."
Not focusing on that, Hiccup tensed his legs. He'd worked in the forge, under Gobber's watchful yet teasing eye, for nearly eight years at this point, and he knew one thing was certain: his old friend wasn't about to give them an easy first day. The hand on the lever told him that much.
Apparently, Snotlout had also caught on, rushing forward with panic clear in his eyes as he pleaded to Gobber. "Whoa, wait! Aren't you gonna teach us first?"
Hiccup chuckled and, despite his reluctance for dragon fighting, he couldn't help but feel slightly amused at his cousin's panic. Sure, he was in the same boat, but at the very least he expected something crazy out the gate.
As if confirming Hiccup's suspicions, Gobber grinned madly, stone tooth poking out from his lip. "I believe in learning on the job."
The lever was pulled down, just enough for the log to be pulled up and out of the bars keeping it shut, and the clunky dragon burst out. A mottled brown, its wings beat so quickly on its back that they blurred out of focus, the deceptively short wingspan giving the dragon enough lift to keep off the ground and enough speed to become a battering ram, if necessary.
In fact, that's exactly what it did. Flying at near-full speed past the teens, it was unable to slow down before ramming into the wall. Undeterred, it turned and, keeping low to the ground, quickly gobbled up a few large rocks that had been left behind.
Or was it going for them? Hiccup wondered as he watched the dragon cheerfully eat the thick rocks, smashing them with its many thick, sharp teeth. It roared, slit pupils darting around as it picked a target, jumping off the ground to gain height.
He decided that, right now, that didn't much matter.
"Today is about survival. If you get blasted, yer dead." Gobber shouted from near the Gronckle's cage, staying away from the action for now. "Quick, what's th'first thing yer going ta need?
"A doctor?" Hiccup joked, mainly to ease his anxiety. Stones were tough, and they paled in comparison to soft, human flesh and his twiggy bones.
"Plus five speed?"
"A shield." Astrid was already running, keeping the dragon in her eyesight as she dashed for the shield rack.
Gobber nodded. "Shields. Go!" The recruits clambered to their feet and scrambled after their leading star, their mentor continuing his speech. "Yer most important piece of equipment is yer shield. If you must make a choice between a sword or a shield, take th'shield."
Grunting, Hiccup tried to heft the shield onto his arm. Most of the time in the forge, they simply made shields big enough to protect a Viking, never adjusting the weight for the specific user since they got tossed around so much in the heat of battle. As such, he wasn't used to the full weight, even after building so many. Thankfully, Gobber ran over and helped him to his feet, the shield weighing heavy on his right arm.
The arm that magically healed itself. His mind supplied. Maybe, if you get blasted, your limbs will grow back and your burns will stitch themselves together. Wouldn't be too much of a stretch at this point.
Still, he could be worse off. He could be the twins over on the side, bickering over one that seemed to have a skull design painted on it.
"Get your hands off my shield!"
"There are, like, a million shields!"
"Take that one, it has a flower on it. Girls like flowers."
Growling, Ruffnut managed to pull it out of her grasp long enough to bash him in the face with it, her brother grunting as he held his nose. "Oops, now this one has blood on it."
Hiccup heard that same, disconcerting chortling noise from before and looked to see the Gronkle let loose one of its shots, the explosive fireball hitting the shield dead on. The twins spun as they both tried to keep a grip before they were thrown to the ground, clearly disoriented. Not wasting a second, Gobber continued with his lesson plan as the Gronckle ate another pile of rocks. "Tuffnut, Ruffnut, yer out!
"Those shields are good fer another thing; noise. Make lots of it ta throw off a dragon's aim." Desperate for anything that would keep them alive, the teens started to bang the metal rim and center of their shields with their weapons, the clanging ringing out through the arena. The Gronckle dipped in its soaring majesty, shaking its head as it swiveled around, trying to focus on one target in particular. "All dragons have a limited number of shots. How many does a Gronckle have?
"Five?" Snotlout guessed.
"No, six!" Fishlegs corrected.
"Correct, six. That's one for each of ye!" Hiccup rolled his eyes at Gobber's cheerful tone, trying to stay away from the Gronckle's line of sight while not getting hit by its stubby, bludgeoning tail. Sure, it was dangerous to be in any dragon's line of sight, but staying directly behind this one wasn't an option if it decided to swing around, or jolt backwards. Throwing caution to the wind, he pulled his gaze away and saw that one of the racks had been knocked over, and was leaning against the edge of the arena, giving him a wall to hide behind.
Better than staying out here with a shield. He thought, making a run for it. Behind him, he heard Fishlegs nervously start. "I really don't think—ah!"
The sound of the Gronckle letting loose another shot, a hammer clattering to the ground, accompanied by Fishleg's continued shouting, gave Hiccup more than ample evidence to guess what had happened. Gobber's disqualifying shout confirmed it, and he ducked behind the wooden barrier, breathing harshly.
"Gods damn it." He whispered, looking at the axe. It was too heavy for him to carry around and, to be fair, it was weighing him down. He'd always been better in the speed category, given his size, and he didn't have the upper body strength to heft the axe high enough to take a swing. Even then, he doubted he could keep his resolve long enough to harm the Gronckle, let alone kill it. "What does that leave me with?"
"Hiccup, get in there!" Gobber shouted, and a shot detonated on the wall directly in front of him, a few embers catching on the wood. Even though it was wet, they clung on stubbornly, hoping to ignite.
Sharp wit and a sharper tongue. He thought as he ran back out, the heat from the blast singing his face as he passed. Thankfully, the Gronckle's attention had shifted to Astrid and Snotlout who, if he had to guess from his demeanor, was trying to hit on her. In fact, he was practically shouting, trying to grab Astrid's attention as she bounced on her heels, watching the dragon's every move.
"So, anyway, I'm moving into my parents' basement. You should come by sometime to work out. You look like you work out—" Hiccup watched as Astrid cartwheeled toward him, leaving Snotlout to deal with the incoming fireball. It hit his shield, preventing him from being horribly injured, but it was enough in Gobber's book to consider him out of the lesson.
Hiccup watched as the blonde gracefully backflipped onto her feet, axe and shield expertly handled in her hands. He shuffled awkwardly, attention captivated by her, but not enough to notice her eyes widening. "So, I guess it's just you and me, huh?"
"No. Just you." She dodged again, and Hiccup looked forward just in time to scream and raise his shield as a lava slug hit him dead on, throwing away the shield and pushing him onto his back.
Could've given me more warning! He thought, but he brushed the agitation aside as the Gronckle dove, dead set on finishing the training lesson with him a charred corpse. Gobber shouted something from his safe spot, but it was drowned out in the sound of rushing blood as Hiccup abandoned his axe and did what he did best, run.
Still, there was only so much space he could run. Not wanting to lead the dragon to the easy kills of the defenseless recruits, Hiccup turned right, only for the Gronckle to pick up speed and practically flatten him against the wall. Panting, Hiccup tried to crawl back as much as he could as the Gronckle sneered at him, opening its mouth and letting the lava build in the back of its throat, the earthy scent of dust and charcoal meeting Hiccup's face.
Oh Gods, I'm dead.
He didn't know whether it was a conscious action, or just a panic-fueled response, but he grit his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and snarled. Barely focused and more concerned about making some distance between him and the Gronckle's mouth, his mind went on autopilot as he growled out. "Get away!"
It startled even the Gronckle, whose eyes snapped down to meet him. However, the brimming flames refused to die down. In fact, they got even brighter. "Rider…!"
The Gronckle's head was forcefully dragged to Hiccup's left, the lava shot flying out and slamming into the stone wall. He ducked down and covered his head as small bits of scorching debris fell around him. Gobber, hooked hand twisted to keep a hold as he wrestled with the Gronckle. It continually pulled back, trying to crane its head to look at Hiccup, but Gobber continued to relentlessly pull it back to its cage. "And that's six! Go back ta bed, ya overgrown sausage! You'll get another chance, don't you worry."
But as Hiccup watched, he could hear another voice, far more feminine with a distinct roll in its voice that differentiated itself from Gobber's. "No, no no no, wait! Wait just one—quit pulling at my tooth you over grown lump of wood, I just need to… I just need to check—!"
The door to the Gronckle's cage was slammed shut, the log sliding back into place, and the voice was lost. Taking the opportunity, Gobber pulled Hiccup back to his feet and turned to address him and the other recruits. "Remember... a dragon will always, always go fer the kill."
He walked away, the silent dismissal calming the teens as they followed him out of the arena. Not taking the initiative, Hiccup did his best to calm his rattled nerves. He turned to look at the wall he had been pinned against not a moment prior and saw, at his eye level, a burning pit with flame red cracks running throughout it. If Gobber hadn't reacted, that could've been his head.
But that voice, the growl he had let loose, the wounds that he'd received only for them to heal supernaturally fast…
He needed to find the Night Fury.
This time, the woods was lit with the afternoon glow of the sun. Light flitted down through small gaps in the leaves, showing off the damp, thriving moss and grass that clung to everything in sight. The clearing would have been beautiful, if not for the downed tree, the upturned earth, and the remains of a bola scattered on the forest floor.
The same clearing he'd found the Night Fury in.
The same clearing his life had become a wild mystery.
And right now, the only way he was going to solve that mystery would be to find the dragon. The very same dragon that had probably flown off to Gods know where after it had bitten his arm, and he had virtually no clues as to where it went.
Bending down, Hiccup picked up one of the heavy stones that gave the bola enough weight to bring down a dragon. He threw it up and down lightly in his palm, sighed, and put it down. Unless he had an amazing sense of smell within the next few seconds, he couldn't track the Night Fury with the remains of his bola. Instead, he pushed forward, further away from the village, and began to aimlessly wander. If worse came to worse, he would get lost for a day and then return to dragon training where no one except Gobber and maybe Fishlegs would miss him.
A dragon will always go for the kill.
There was no reason why the Night Fury had let him go after a single bite. He was pinned, not physically capable of throwing the dragon off, had no back up with him at the time or coming, and he'd shot it down. If anything, it was Loki bringing the dragon repayment for having him, the disgrace of the Viking village, shoot down such a powerful and deadly beast.
But no. A simple pinning, growling, and then a bite. Granted, it'd left Hiccup in the near-winter cold in the middle of the forest with no protection, but what was he expecting? A nice hot meal and a blanket besides him?
Still, he wanted a sign of some sorts that he was going in the right direction. He lowered himself from a slightly high ledge and dropped, falling onto a natural pathway of white stones and moss before walking down the small tunnel.
He couldn't have been graced with a better view. Beams of sunlight fell down into an isolated cove that was lined with large, smooth rocks and ferns, with springy moss at the bottom. At the center laid a spring pool, clear as day and probably freshwater, considering that they were far inland. The trees that had grown close to the edge had roots draped down the walls until they reached the ground and firmly planted themselves in the rich soil below. A small flock of birds dove down, cawing at each other as they swooped around the small, pristine paradise.
…But it wasn't what he was looking for. With a dejected sigh, Hiccup looked down at his feet and muttered to himself. "Well this was stupid." Shifting his weight to his other foot, his shadow moved just enough so that it illuminated something on the ground that caught his eye. Kneeling, he picked up a small black scale, big enough that it eclipsed his thumb, but easily fit in the palm of his hand.
So the Night Fury had been here. It might have stopped to examine its injuries, and shed a few loose scales, but it was clearly gone—
The sun was blotted out, but for only a second, and an ear-shattering roar rang through the cove. Instinctively throwing himself into the shadows of the tunnel, Hiccup gasped and watched as a long, scale-covered tail flicked over the entrance. He darted forward, keeping close to the walls, as he heard scrabbling clicks directly to his right. A buzzing sound filled his head, like a swarm of bees had surrounded him, and he heard a voice.
"Come on you Goddess forsaken walls, let me—let me get a grip! Damn these blunt claws and all the good they've ever done for me… ARGH!"
The Night Fury roared, slipping down the cliff wall and briefly showing those same toxic eyes before pushing off and gliding over the pool, landing with… less grace than Hiccup had imagined. It had fallen onto its front legs, one folding underneath its weight, as its wings struggled to balance it correctly as it picked itself up.
He'd found it.
He'd found it!
A disbelieving grin spread across Hiccup's face as he inched closer to the edge of the tunnel, eyes watching the dragon's every move. The buzzing in his mind, while disconcerting, was painless, and he brushed it to the side, blaming it as another odd thing that had been the fault of the Night Fury. Understanding dragons? What good would that do for either of them?
The Night Fury snarled, taking a running start as it leapt atop a felled log and then flapped its wings, gaining height, only to swerve left and crash to the ground nearly below Hiccup's hiding spot. "Son of a Half-Flame Skin! Work, you moronic wings! You should be able to get enough lift to get out of here alive, I don't need goddess-damned steering to go up!" Another screech at it flew directly upwards, uncaring about speed and simply focused on climbing higher into the sky before scrabbling at an outwards-jutting smooth boulder.
Again, the Night Fury lost its hold and fell to the ground, muttering irritably and shaking itself out, fully expanding its wings. Snapping out of his excited daze, Hiccup fumbled for his personal journal and pencil, early opening it to a brand-new page and sketching the dragon with quick, precise strokes.
"Why don't you just… fly away?" Hiccup pondered aloud as he looked down back at the dragon. Snarling with fury, it let out a plasma blast and scorched the ground in front of it, the brief explosion soundless upon impact. With the brief flash and swish of its tail, Hiccup looked down at his book and corrected an error that he'd made in his sketch. The dragon only had one tail fin: he'd drawn two to keep its body symmetrical.
A new crash drew Hiccup's attention back to the Night Fury, which was currently dejectedly laying only a nudge away from the pond's surface. Something caught its eye, and it sauntered to its feet, slit pupils darting wildly as the rest of its body remained tense, ready to strike.
Suddenly, its head darted forward, jaws open and ready to clamp down on its unlucky victim. However, a moment later, it drew its head out of the water with no reward, growling at the shallow depths. "Never should have let that twig of a human go. At the very least, I'd be satisfied before my death."
Hiccup tensed, but at the same time, he didn't immediately flee. While the words were threatening to hear, there was only sullen contempt in the voice, as if it was just being angry for the sake of being angry. Thinking back to earlier, when he'd heard the… Gronckle, he guessed, the stout dragon seemed to have more wisdom in its voice. If he had to compare the two, the Gronckle sounded like Phelgma, a proud mother of four from the village, while the Night Fury sounded like…
Like him.
The realization made Hiccup sit back, only to dart forward as his pencil slipped out of his grasp. The wood clattered against the stone as it fell all the way to the bottom of the cove, landing on even more rocks as it went down.
Any hopes that the Night Fury would only concern itself with the pencil were dashed when it stood, and ran its eyes up to Hiccup's ledge. Their eyes locked, the dragon's pupils thankfully staying somewhat round, while Hiccup remained frozen. A thunderous growl left the Night Fury's throat, and it showed its teeth as it shouted out to Hiccup, who could already see the incoming plasma bolt. "You!"
"I swear to the Goddess, I could feel it."
The dragons collectively groaned at the Cruncher's insistence, the Small Snap cackling madly at their misery. The Shine Scales turned away from trying to clean her scales in the dim light of dusk that managed to make its way through the hole above. It was mainly used to drop fish down for her to eat, but even then, those times were rare. Still, she kept an ear open to the discussion that would follow. She and the Cruncher were the longest lasting caged 'victims' of the Vikings, with the Small Snap following them third, then the Double-back, the Flame Skin having been thrown in a few days ago, after the raid.
"'Feeling something' is different from knowing the truth." The Flame Skin snarled, her opinion backed by the chirping Double-back's heads. "You're old and you've eaten too many of these savage's little treats, you probably imagined it."
"I'm afraid that I have to agree." Hummed the Shine Scales as she attempted to console her long-time friend. "There hasn't been a Rider on this island for more than ten years. Besides, wouldn't the hatchling's nest-bearers make the Bond when he was younger? We would have sensed it long before now."
"In a village that gets ransacked monthly by the Queen's forces, it's not unlikely that 'is nest-bearers died before they could supervise one and select a specific dragon for Bonding." The Cruncher rebutted before a loud huff came from her cage. "The dragon discovers that the boy comes from a line of Riders, sees an opportunity, forges the bond, and flees before another Viking can kill them or irreparably damage their souls. It's not that big a boulder to swallow!"
The Double-back took this opportunity to slam against their cage door, heads butting in and overtaking the conversation one after the other as they proceeded with their odd bickering. "Not enough time! Raid was long but—not enough for bond! Their souls would be broken—destroyed before they could bond! Cruncher is wrong! Cruncher is wrong!"
The eldest dragon snorted. "I never said it was forged during the raid, just that it was made recently. Within the week."
"I still don't believe you." The Flame Skin grumbled and retreated further into her makeshift den, her voice echoing slightly. "These bloodthirsty beasts could never ascend to the grand heights of a Rider."
"Well, I'm up next for their Growing Ceremony, correct? It's Cruncher, me, Double-back, and then whatever Two-Limb feels necessary. I can check!"
"Sure," The Double-back heads sang. "Just know you'll be looking—into a mad Cruncher's ramblings!"
The Shine Scales rolled her eyes and turned in the general direction of the Cruncher's cage. "Can you tell me what he looked like?"
"You know how my head gets when they bang those shields of theirs." The dragon sighed. "I can tell you that he was scrawny, thinner than the Small Snap that sneaks out all the time, and that he had brown stuff on him."
"Like… droppings?"
"No! It was the fuzz upon his head or those ridiculous pelts they all wear. If he had dung smeared all over him, I'd tell you to smell for the dung."
The Flame Skin chuckled. "He might as well've been, because you said you couldn't tell what dragon he's bonded with."
"I said that it wasn't a native-born and it wasn't a breed that's in this arena. Besides, I've been in here for twelve generations of humans. Of course I'd forget a scent or two…"
The Shine Scales sighed and settled down for a nap, the chittering bicker of the Double-back lulling her to sleep. Well, it's better than nothing.