Words of Wisdom
"The Dragon Book," Gobber intoned in a deep and melodramatic voice as he tossed something large and flat onto the smooth wooden table, "contains everything we know about every dragon we know of. It would be wise of you -" at this point he stopped and stared pointedly at Ruffnut, Tuffnut, and Snotlout "- to read up on it. Our village has been slowly gathering the information found in this book since before the days our ancestors first sailed to Berk."
Fishlegs wiggled excitedly in his seat. "Do you know? I've read in there that there's this dragon that -"
"Does something cool, with whatever body part he does it with, at which point he sprays whatever goo he has inside of him, at whichever Vikings are nearest to him?" Astrid quickly spat out, irritated.
Fish Legs clamped his mouth shut. Every single one of them knew that when Astrid got into one of her moods that you stayed far, far away from her. She tended to lash out at everyone, becoming much worse than an enflamed Monstrous Nightmare.
The table was silent after her outburst, until a well timed boom of thunder interrupted them. Gobber nodded to himself, saying, "No more training today. Study up." He hobbled off on his wooden leg, in search of a good cup of mead and a wholesome leg of meat.
"Study?" Ruffnut said incredulously.
"As in read?" Tuffnut replied, equally as surprised.
"Reading is for when I'm dead," Snotlout added, snorting in distaste. "I'd rather go wrestle another dragon."
"Another?" Tuffnut said, his right eyebrow raised in suspicion. "When did you wrestle the first one?"
A heated argument started up between the teens, following them as they excited from the Great Hall. Astrid got up to follow them, before a timid voice made her pause.
"Well, I guess it's just you and me now..."
"Already read it," she snapped, before stomping off out into the rain.
Hiccup sighed, used to the degrading treatment he received daily from his peers. No, not peers, he thought to himself. That would imply that we were equals. And as he knew, he was anything but. His first day in Dragon Training had reminded him of that all too well. He went to the kitchen and handed the bar maid his plate and cup, the only one on duty that night. She was older, but her massive biceps belied the fact that she could probably still crush a dragon's neck if she tried. Hiccup thanked her, frowning as he turned back towards the long tables that filled the hall.
It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to fit in. Every time he had, though, something always went wrong. Hell, they could probably name the effect that caused catastrophes in and around Berk the "Hiccup Effect," or "Hiccup's Law." Literally? When something could go wrong and did, it was his fault. He didn't have enough fingers and toes to count the number of disasters that had befallen his fellow villagers and himself whenever he had tried to "fit in."
Hiccup shook his head, ridding himself of the depressing thoughts. He had other matters to attend to as he sat down and fingered the worn leather: first, learning all he could about Night Furies, and two, learning why the only Night Fury he had ever seen and lived to tell about it had not eaten him or killed him the first chance he got.
Peer pressure can wait until tomorrow.