Definition of European dragon from Dragonology books: European known to most people through their ability to breathe fire and love of a treasure, this species is not confined to a few remote areas Effective at using language, the shed their skins triennially. Lair or nest: Mountain or see cave; preferably in remote locations. Dimensions: At full grown about 45 feet long by 13 to 17 feet tall when standing on back legs. Scale Pigments: red, black, green, and rarely gold. Attack: Flame, tail, claws and horns. Food: Wild game, deer, cattle, sheep, human (not preferred do to bitter flavor)

Also so as not to offend anyone out there, Nerthus and her band are witches, but think death-eater not Wiccans.

When gravity
Finally splits and crumbles
And the earth
Falls back into the stars,
When all our desperate dreams
Have sunk back down
Into the muck,
And our laughter and pain
Fossilized
In ice cold rock,
The moment will come
Deep within
The unimagined twists and whirls
Of space and time
When we recrystalize,
Unfettered by
The crawling speed of light.

Hiccup is sitting on a stool, flipping through the pages of the Complete Book of Dragons on the lab table. Gobber stands a few feet away, clad in a set of boisterous set of thick lens goggles and protective gloves. He's mixing chemicals to find out the age of a knucker recently found to be living in a pond nearby. Hiccup rubs his thumb over the little casing of white Frost scales on the page.

"This is the third new one this month. Knuckers don't reproduce this fast. I have an inklin' that they're migrating to this area."

"Is that a good thing," Hiccup asks casually.

"Well good for us, bad for the locals. We're more likely to have run-ins, which mean we'll have to stock up on some forget-o-serum." Dr. Ernest says watching the vial in his hands change from black to dull brownish green.

"Forget-o-what," Hiccup says looking up.

"It's a memory erasing elixir we buy off the wizards"

Hiccup sits up, "Wizards?" he asks inquisitively.

Professor Drake raises and eyebrow. "Lots of dragonologist come from, how do they put it− magical families. They're a secretive bunch though who tend to keep to themselves. They don't think to highly of us plain folk; they hike up the prices for everything. Of course we get it cheap because Aurore's sister married one," Gobber says that last part with a wink.

"Aurore has a sister?"

"Yep, name's Ava, lives over in America, your mum spent time over there studying North American dragons."

"What was my mother like?"

Ernest shrugs. "She was smart, quiet, polite, vastly independent."

"Do do you know why she went crazy?"Hiccup asks. Gobber stares at the boy, slightly taken aback by the question. The man shakes head, "I'm not really the one to ask on that subject," he says quietly, "she worked mostly with Camille, Aurore's mother, she was interested more in the veterinary aspects of Dragonology. Conservation and zoology are more of my specialties. After I taught her the basics we were never very close. "

"So you don't really know?"

"I know it had something to do with your brother's death and the grief from that. I'm sorry to say that I mostly just watched her go insane. You might try talking to someone who knew her better. Have you tried talking to Stoick about this?" Hiccup stares at him blankly. "Dumb question sorry. Well Camille went back to France after Valerie's death, but Aurore might know something, but I doubt it she was only a child at the time. " Professor Drake sighs adding some powdery yellow substance to a beaker then pouring the contents of the beaker into it in silence.

Gobber observes Hiccup our of the corner of his eye, absently turning pages a sorrow on his face. "Quick, what colors does the European come in?"

"Green, black and gold," Hiccup answers.

"You forgot red," the professor states sternly. "And where do they like to live."

"Caves."

"Alright, caves located where? You need be more specific, you have to know the basics Hiccup. Vague answers will not help you any in the field."

"I know," Hiccup drones turning the page.

The professor chuckles lightly to himself. "The answer was mountain and sea caves by the way. I was thinking this afternoon we could take a dingy out to one of the sea caves and go visit Devona, as your first field study."

Hiccup feels the color slowly drain from his face. He could barely handle them in cages. "You sure about that, I've only been at this Dragonology thing for three weeks. I'm not exactly all that prepared."

"I'll be dead if we wait for that."

"Besides Devona is almost harmless, we've been in contact with her since my grandfather's time, friend of the family really," he says fondly scratching his chin ignoring the combusting chemicals in his other hand, "I mean the worst she's ever done is biting Cousin Drew's hand off for throwing a pineapple at her."

"Well I kind of like my appendages as is, thanks."

"Then get to work." Gobber says pointing a sausage like finger at him.

Hiccup sighs internally as he skips ahead to the chapter on finding and tracking dragons. They're were detailed illustrations of dragon footprints, a list of signs indicating a dragon nearby, step by step instructions on how to make a correct journal log, a list of necessary supplies, and a warning not to take anything from the dragon at the risk of being roasted to char. And strangely enough steps to get rid of dragon hypnosis.

Hiccup uneasily steps from the dingy and onto the slippery edge of the cave. The air is thick with salt and the sound of waves crashing accompanies the calls of sea birds. Hiccup turns from the dark opening of the cave to face the ocean; the sun is high in the sky, marking the afternoon, casting beautiful rays and the gray-green blue water. Hiccup pauses for a second to watch a flock of birds fly in and out of a cloud, disappearing into the shadow of the sun.

Gobber grunts dragging the boat of white chipping paint up on the out cropping. He dusts his hands off and stands proudly, "Ready."

"No."

"Too bad," he answers dryly.

Gobber pulls a lantern out of the boat and walks into the shadow mouth of the moves quickly close behind. "Devona, oh Devona, we brought you some beef jerky." the professor calls.

The lantern illuminates about fifteen feet in front of them. The gray walls drip with condensation. "Devona, Devona," Gobber calls loudly. "Always announce yourself, a surprised dragon is not a happy dragon," he asides.

Suddenly a flash of blue and green scales appear on the edge of the light. Followed by the aged eyes of an agile dragon, the scales around them are wrinkled with age. "Hello Devona how have you been," Gobber says tossing her a piece of jerky; she catches it gracefully in her mouth. She breathes out heavily through her nostrils in content. With the tip of her tail she taps Hiccup in the center of the chest.

"This is Hiccup," Professor Drake says patting him on the head, "he's my new apprentice." The dragon nods knowingly, smilingly slightly. She turns around and thuds off into the darkness.

"She's going to show you her lair." With that Gobber gives him a shove off in the direction the dragon disappeared. "And then give you a gift, like she does all my apprentices, something she deems useful to you in the future. Other than that don't touch anything."

Hiccup gulps. "Alone and in the dark," he shouts fearful and angry at the darkness. It's too dim to see the nose in front of his face. "Hey," the Professor booms, "Devona is granting a huge leap of faith allowing you to see her lair, she expects you return the favor. No weapons, no lights. You have to get them to trust you, Hiccup."

"This is nuts."Hiccup drones. His instructor chuckles, "Welcome to Dragonology." Hiccup hears his teacher shuffle and sits down on a rock. "Just walk in a straight line and you won't run into anything, then follow along the wall. I'll be right here in case something goes wrong. Just remember, bow first before and don't touch anything unless she gives it to you." Hiccup nodes, takes a deep breath and sticks both arms out in front of him. "This is ridiculous," he grumbles. He clamps his eyes shut and begins to shuffle slowly forward. The darkness envelops him like the giant crest of a wave crashing into a beach. He opens his eyes to discover he cannot even see the nose on his face in the complete darkness. The smooth surface glides under his boots as he walks. All seems to run smoothly until he knocks hard into a wall of rock. Causing him to stumble backward, almost tripping over his own feet. He clutches his throbbing head with one hand. "So much for not crashing into anything," he mumbles.

Hiccup runs his other hand along the stony wall. The tunnel has come to an end at a wall of molten rock; a very different texture than the damp smooth walls of the rest of the cave. Hiccup runs both hands along the rough grainy surface trying to find the side of the cavern. This must have been what Professor Drake was referring to. After a few feet the wall begins to curve deeply; he hears the distant mocking snort of a dragon. Hiccup's blood runs cold for a moment. He takes a deep breath, attempting to calm himself as he continues on. He presses harder to the wall and bits of chalky earth come off in his hands.

After another twenty minutes or so of walking the cold air begins to warm. Slowly the pitch blackness begins to recede and Hiccup's eyes can make out faint shapes and spaces in the darkness. The passage way is narrow but tall; extending up into the dense shadows farther than the eyes could possibly see, up into the rocky underbelly of Berk. Hiccup must be in the bowls of the ancient island by now. Suddenly a small far off flickering light appears from behind the turn of the curving rock.

A large jagged hole, large enough for a dragon to fit through streams light out into the hallway; the gentle flickering light from within emitting low red and yellow rays on the dusty black rock. Hiccup hears the placid shuffle of movement and the sound of scales rubbing against the stone floor.

"Devona," Hiccup urges carefully. "Devona," he says a bit louder taking a single step into her lair. The same golden scarlet light glowing on piles of gleaming treasure, very little of it was gold, Hiccup notices, most of it being uncut precious stones, along with other odds and ends such as antique furniture, glassware, and tapestries. The room glows from a single fire in the center of the room. "Devona," Hiccup calls again.

A shimmering sea green dragon head pops out from behind a pile of treasure near the back of the cave. The dragon smiles and makes gentle cooing noise. Hiccup relaxes slightly at her noble disposition. He bows until she waves her tail motioning for him to enter.

Hiccup moves around the large piles to stand next to the fire. Numerous hefty spotted eggs are kept warm in the blaze, Hiccup notices. Devona scrutinizes the boy up and down from behind heavy lashed emerald eyes. The empress dragon stares on at him for several minutes. Hiccup feels a bit of cold sweat running down his temple despite the warmth of the room. She turns, and pulls something out a pile behind her, a fishing pole, and from one on her left in her jaws she takes an old tin plate. She returns and drops both items at Hiccup's feet. The plate has tarnished greatly with age. Hiccup brushes off bits of dust from the inscription. Dragons he had noticed had a thing for cryptic messages.

"I find no comfort in the shade
Under the branch of the Great Ash.
I remember the mist
of our ancient past.
As I speak to you in the present,
My ancient eyes
see the terrible future.

"Do you not see what I see?
Do you not hear
death approaching?

"The mournful cry of Giallr-horn
shall shatter the peace
And shake the foundation of heaven.

"Raise up your banner
And gather your noble company
from your great hall,
Father of the Slains.
For you shall go to your destiny.

"No knowledge can save you,
And no magic will save you.
For you will end up in Fenrir's belly,
While heaven and earth will burn
in Surt's unholy fire."

Hiccup picks up the fishing pole in his other hand. He glances between the two objects in befuddlement. "You want me to go fishing?" Devona nods her head. "And a prophecy?" He says pointing to the surface of the plate. The dragon nods. He reads it over again. "I don't get it." She snorts shortly in reply then looks out over toward the entrance. Hiccup takes this as a sign to leave. He bows his head and makes to go, both of the objects under his arms. Devona flutters her wings in a kind of stretching motion and curls up around the fire pit, encircling her eggs, breathing fire on them to keep them safe and warm and alive.

Gobber rises as his apprentice emerges from the darkness like a manta ray with a fishing pole and an old tin plate. His smile widens at the sight of the boy, "Ha-ha, well seeing how you're still in one piece I say things went well."

Nerthus refrains from shivering against the brutal cold. Back home in Scotland it would be warm with summer's heat, she thinks irritably. The mountains, although good for reputations, had weather that was far from pleasant. Nerthus eyes travel among the members of the cult all aligned in a ten pointed start, standing in the snow around a primordial tree stump. The followers were mainly middle aged men and women who had been cast out of Scotland alongside her in their youth. Time made them bitter.

To find the portal into hell she was looking for, and further more to open it, Nerthus would need help, a very particular kind of help.

Centuries before a powerful sorceress had been hung on this very tree for selling the souls of a village, that had once occupied this spot, to demonic forces. To contact her, one would need blood, lots of it. Nerthus looks on as the unconscious prisoners captured from a yonder village are carried in. Alastair, her second in command, comes to stand beside her. He's a tall burly man with golden curls that fall in his face from under the hood of his cloak made from the pelt of a bear turned inside out. He has a large scar over his right eye. The somber man huffs. "This better be worth it, those villagers will be noticed to be gone before long."

"Don't worry; we have the government of this hell forsaken nation on our side, the villagers can do little more than protest on deaf ears," Nerthus assures him. Alastair merely huffs again. He is as big as an ox and worries like a mother hen.

The hostages are pulled from the wagon by lesser members of the covenant and are laid on the stump in circle, heads touching, legs hanging of the sides. They are peasants to say the least, Nerthus notes, dressed in little more than rags that have been stitched together over and over again over spans of time, shoes with giant holes that let in winter snow. Twelve lives, three questions. It is steep price to pay for so little. But at the end of it all she would have the location.

Nerthus takes of her cloak and hands it to Alastair. Nerthus climbs up onto the ancient stump of the old ash tree. She nimbly steps over the heads and into the center of the circle. Eseld and her sister Alecto pull daggers made of cockatrice fangs out of sheaths hanging about their waists. Nerthus eyes the others standing in formation; they all stand ready, hands poised. She nods to Eseld and to the taller girl Alecto. They begin nimbly slitting the throat of all twelve sacrifices. Nerthus raises her arms to the sky; where the great limbs of the ash tree used to stand. She feels the warm blood pool about her feet, flowing over the edge of the base, onto the white of the snow below.

"Valhallarama, ancient and powerful sorceress to you do we send up this sacrament of blood in payment. We come to take what we have sowed." Then her followers raised up their hands, throwing black powder that erupts into a cloud of smoke. Each trail of smoke curls upward around her like a finger, slowly enclosing her. Nerthus' eyes remain locked on cold pale blue sky until the pair of hands blocks them out. Nerthus does not move she can feel the frigid air begin to warm around her. And just like that, in a rush of air she's tumbling down in a pit of black. Falling and falling into apparent forever, for the void around her appears to be end less. She turns on her back in free fall and sees the light of the hole from which she fell growing smaller and smaller and smaller, into near disappearance, the bits of blood following after.

She crash lands in a pile of ash and skulls. A desert of ash and bones spread out in all directions until they seem to tumble over the edge of this place. The air smells of singed hair and musky water. A false light, much like the sun, but casting shadows as well as rays of light hangs in a sky the color of wood smoke and dandelions. Nerthus slowly stands up, her middle aged bones aching from impact. A large black circle exists above her head; drops of blood fall from it, soaking the bone dry ash below. It is the hole from which she entered this world. Nerthus sticks out her palm and catches a drop in her hand. "I have brought payment, come out Valhallarama keeper of bones, and give us what we have bought," the enraged sorceress shouts to the empty air.

Like the death of an insect, a cloaked figure appears suddenly in front of her. The figure's face and body are completely hidden by the black billowing fabric surrounding it and its feet dangle aimlessly above the floor. "Hello Nerthus," the woman says slowly in a voice like breaking glass.

"I have brought my payment of blood," Nerthus says gesturing the falling droplets.

"I see," the woman says again. She draws her arm from beneath her cloak and lets the droplets fall onto her palm. They soak into her milky white skin. "This will suffice; you may ask your questions now."

"I need to know where the final resting place of Master Fionnghal and where he hid his four fatherMerlin's talisman, and how to retrieve it from its hiding place."

The cloaked figure nods. "The island of Berk off the coast Scotland is the land where Master Fionnghal took to his grave. He hid the talisman in the pits of hell beneath the seat of his greatest failure, follow the paths of those deemed too small to be human, they will lead you there, to the center. To perform the incantation necessary you will need to perform an equal trade of misery. Bones from a thousand mortal creatures, dirt from the grave of a man long dead buried alive, the blood of a virgin taken by force, a piece of the skies fury, the despair of a boy who once held the stars in his eyes and the blood of Fionnghal to break the seal. Place it your circle and you will be able to walk into hell."

Nerthus nods, charting permanently into memory as constellations in the sky, all she will require for her most supreme magical feat. She smiles deviously at the thought. Then living sorceress bows to the dead. "Thank you Valhallarama," she says before being sucked upward back to the surface world, the world of the fully living.

Her feet plop down back on the tree stump, as the smoke recedes. Sky and snow become visible. Her legs fumble from exhaustion on the sticky slipper surface. Alastair catches her as she tumbles down. "Get me my servant," she mumbles bitterly, barely awake, "I need to make a grocery list."

An evil smirk toys at the corner of her mouth as she drifts off into sleep.

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Well in case you couldn't tell *coughareblindcough* this is going to be a rather dark story. So head my warning, but don't worry I will be keeping it T. Confused about Val, aka. Hiccup's mother? Good you should be, and I hate to break it to you, you probably will be till, well, the end XD

the poem is called Odin's doom and is from old Norse mythology www timelessmyths com/heroes/poem4 php

:D Please review

~Opaul

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