Chapter 1

This is Berk

Berk, Early Morning

The roof creaked and the walls shuddered, rousing the boy from sleep. Frantic shouts filtered through the cracks in the wooden planks, snapping him out of his groggy state. The boy's small feet pattered down the stairs with dull thudding sounds as he rushed towards the door, his dexterous hands reaching out to pluck his sleeveless fur coat from its hook. He didn't slow down even as he flung the woolly garment over his tunic; he was reaching for the door before it had quite settled on his shoulders.

There was only one thing that could get a Viking up in the middle of the night so quickly; one thing that could inspire such excitement in this particular boy; one thing that could be making the deafening roar that vibrated its way through the floorboards and into the boy's bones.

He opened the door, and an immense red beast swooped into view on wings as great as the sails of a longboat. A torrent of flames spewed from its jaws, straight towards him. The boy closed the door and leaned against it, keeping it sealed shut against the blast of fire. Amidst the crackling of the flames that filled his ears, all he could do was utter an excited whisper…

"Monsters."

The heat against his back died down, and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third yanked the smoldering door back open. He emerged from his house into a scene that looked as though it could be part of Ragnarok itself. Vikings brandishing weapons and bellowing war cries were everywhere, and so were the monsters that had come to plague them. In the light of the flames that spread throughout the village, flying monsters of all shapes and sizes filled the black sky, shrieking and roaring. Down the slope from Hiccup's house, the central plaza was an inferno, where land-bound monsters stomped freely after fleeing Vikings, and aquatic monsters slithered up from the docks to join the chaos.

The docks! Hiccup knew that, during a raid, the first thing he had to do was find Gobber. The fishing boats were due from their latest overnight trip this morning, and Gobber had said something yesterday about lending a hand – literally. If he wasn't back in the forge already, then he'd still be down at the docks, or making his way up to the village from there.

His course of action decided, Hiccup stumbled down the slope toward the path that would lead to the harbor. He ducked, dodged, and tripped around the chaos unfolding around him, displaying a level of physical coordination that Gobber liked to compare to a newborn lamb. In quick succession, he narrowly avoided two Vikings hauling lumber, a flying Lance that sank into the ground next to his foot, and a fireball that sailed past him and exploded against the ground. The force of the explosion knocked Hiccup off his feet, right into the path of a passing Viking.

"HWAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!" the warrior bellowed in his face, before adding a cheery "Mornin'!"

Hiccup scrabbled to his feet and scampered away as the man charged off as quickly as he'd appeared. The scrawny Haddock boy somehow made it onto the dirt path without tripping over his own feet or attracting the attention of a monster. And, luckily for him, the road to the docks was all clear – nothing more than a thirty-second jog down between two cliffs without any risk of being eaten by monsters.

Ah, bring 'em on, Hiccup thought as he sprinted onward, huffing and puffing. Gimme something simple. I could take it no problem. Then I might finally get that date with A–

The brown-haired, green-eyed teenager cut the thought off. He'd entered the harbor and just turned onto one of the docks, when his eyes caught sight of a small vessel making its way toward him. It had no sails or oars, but it was cutting through the water regardless, as though it was being pulled by something. Inside the boat stood two girls, waving at him to get his attention.

Hiccup had no idea who they were, where they were from, or why they'd come to Berk. But the constant sounds of grisly battle emanating from the village reminded him that he would have plenty of time to address these questions later. All the other Vikings were preoccupied with killing monsters, so it was up to him to get these two foreigners to safety.

"This is Berk," Hiccup greeted the girls with a lopsided smile, and extended his hand to pull them from their boat. "You've, uh… come at a bad time. We're not exactly in any state to welcome visitors… as you can see from all the fire and smoke and screams of pain."

The smaller of the two girls, who at first Hiccup had thought looked scared of the monster raid, covered her mouth and giggled at his sarcastic tone. He guessed that she was around Gustav Larson's age – nine or ten at the most. She had brown hair done up in a bun and equally brown eyes, and she wore simple wool clothes similar to Hiccup's own.

"Sorry to crash the party you've got going here," the other girl said, taking a step forward to greet Hiccup properly. She also had brown hair, although hers was long and well-groomed, with dark green eyes, and wore a matching set of monster-skin clothes – a shirt, asymmetrical skirt, pants, and boots. All were of a pinkish-red hue. Hiccup couldn't help but eye her ensemble for a moment, wondering what kind of monster the scales and hide had come from.

"Like what you see?" the girl teased, placing one hand on her hip when she saw Hiccup staring.

"N-No! I m-mean, y-yes! But not like that!" Hiccup immediately babbled, flush with embarrassment. "I was just thinking… know what, never mind. Follow me, I'll get you someplace safe until this gods-forsaken monster raid is over with."

The words had barely come out of his mouth before something huge surged out of the water and landed on the dock. Hiccup couldn't help but stagger back and yell with fright at the sight of the twenty-foot eel that reared up in front of him like a venomous snake. After a moment, though, he noticed the emerald scales, the streamer-like fin on its head, and most importantly the freaking wings. It certainly wasn't an eel, but Hiccup honestly would've preferred that to the sea dragon he was now faced with.

"That-that-that-that's a S-S-Siren," he stammered out.

In a flash, the legendary dragon demonstrated its Loki-blessed ability to shapeshift by morphing into the guise of a young Viking man with almost bewitchingly charming features – tall, scruffy blond hair, sea-blue eyes, lean and muscular. The Siren did retain some of his draconic features in his human guise, however, such as the broad wings extending from his back and the claws sprouting from his fingers. His long-sleeved shirt, pants, and pointy-toed shoes were unusual – made of leathery, blue-grey Sharqskin – and he also had a simple white scarf that wound around his neck and fluttered in the breeze.

"Before you say anything, I'm not going to eat you," the Siren promised, holding both hands up in a placating gesture.

"He's kinda with us," the teenaged girl said with a shrug. "He's Batwings – I'm Snaketail Grundenson and that's Arachne Philston. We all lost our homes and met up while drifting aimlessly across the sea."

Snaketail took a breath to continue her explanation to Hiccup, who by now was incredulous. However, she was interrupted when a Viking whose clothes were on fire plummeted, screaming with rage, off the nearby cliff. He hit the water's surface with a tremendous splash, and all four of them watched the spray settle in shocked silence.

"Long story, we'll tell you more details later," Snaketail decided. "In the meantime, you said you had a safe place for us?"

Arachne ducked with a little shriek as a fireball came streaking over their heads and hit a nearby building with a BOOM. She turned her head to look away from the destruction, but it did her no good. Wherever the Philston girl turned her head, she saw houses on fire, monsters running rampant, and Vikings yelling battle cries with weapons clutched in their meaty fists. It was all she could do to follow her new friends and their Berkian guide.

"See, most people have mice or mosquitoes," the boy was telling them, as they ducked behind a building. "We have…"

Their shelter didn't last long, because a shower of spines from a black, cat-like monster on the roof above them almost impaled them. They ran out of the alley and had to scramble to avoid a squad of Vikings, almost all of which yelled at them to "Get back inside!" The way ahead was filled with battling Vikings and monsters, so the boy ducked underneath a wheelbarrow that had been left unattended. Arachne didn't want to be left out in the open, so she crawled in beside him

"…monsters," the boy finished, once he'd gotten his breath back. "Most people would leave – not us. We're Vikings… we have stubbornness issues."

As if to highlight his point, a forest-green dinosaur-like creature stomped past their hiding spot with a Viking in its jaws, who was repeatedly hitting it on the head with his bludgeon. Then, a purple bird-beast with pointy ears flew over them and out to sea with a sheep in its talons – only for a Viking to take a running leap off a cliff to grab it by the leg and wrestle with it.

He wasn't kidding, Arachne thought, amazed and a little horrified.

A fireball exploded nearby, rattling the wheelbarrow and making them all flinch. "Is this your 'safe place'?" Batwings hissed, disgruntled. "Because somehow I doubt it'll stay standing for much longer!"

The gods, apparently, agreed with him, because a passing monster slammed into the wheelbarrow and sent it flying far away from them. Arachne couldn't help but let a squeak of fright escape her mouth as they were suddenly exposed to the battle raging all around them. The boy jumped to his feet and motioned for them to follow, and none of them hesitated to dash after him.

"My name is Hiccup," he uttered, as if the literal war they were stumbling through was totally normal. He must have heard Snaketail snort in response, because he added, "Great name, I know. But it's not the worst. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls."

"Like your charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that," Batwings muttered. Arachne thought she saw him briefly touch the scarf that covered up his wound.

Hiccup suddenly swerved to avoid a charging monster, and took a different path up a stone staircase that led to another part of the village. Arachne, Snaketail, and Batwings followed his example before they could be left to fend for themselves. They ran past a Viking that seemed to be standing guard for something, when suddenly, a massive hand struck out from nowhere to grab the back of Hiccup's shirt. The scrawny boy yelped, and Arachne and the others whipped around in terror – only to find Hiccup being dangled two feet off the ground by something colossal.

The man was the largest Viking Arachne had ever seen. He was all power and muscle, draped in a bearskin cloak, and exuded an aura of command so strong that she stepped back, intimidated. Even Snaketail and Batwings instinctively deferred to the man, who didn't regard them in the slightest – from a face that was basically all braided red beard, his eyes glared exclusively at the boy at his mercy.

"Hiccup!" the enormous man shouted through his facial hair. "What is he doing out… What are you doing out here?! Get inside!"

With a sweep of the Chief's hand, Hiccup was set on his feet and pushed away. Arachne glanced at him, worried that he might've been hurt, before turning back to cast a fearful look at the awe-inspiring man that strode confidently through the chaos as though he wasn't even bothered.

"Who's he?" she heard Snaketail whisper. The older girl sounded awed by the impressive man's presence.

"That's Stoick the Vast, Chief of the tribe," Hiccup informed them. "They say that, when he was a baby, he popped a monster's head clean off its shoulders."

"You believe that?" Batwings asked. There was no skepticism – it was an honest question.

And Hiccup gave an honest answer. "Yes, I do."

They turned back to continue down their previous path, although not before Arachne saw Stoick lift a wheelbarrow into the air and throw it at one of the flying monsters overhead. Hiccup led them through a few more twists and turns across Berk, and finally, their harrowing journey ended at a building whose windows shone with comforting orange light. Hiccup was the first through the door and immediately made his way further inside, while Arachne and her acquaintances remained in the doorway, gawking at its interior.

It was a blacksmith's shop, with a forge belching heat and light at the back of the room, weapons hanging from the walls, and tools scattered throughout the place. The harsh sounds of iron being struck came from the anvil in one corner of the room, where a huge Viking stood banging at a twisted Great Sword. There was no doubt that this was Berk's resident smith – and Arachne couldn't recall meeting anyone that looked odder than him, sporting a peg leg, braided moustache, and a Hammer instead of a left hand.

"Oh, nice o' ye ta join the party!" the blacksmith greeted Hiccup in a jolly tone. "I thought ye'd been carried off!"

"Who, me?" Hiccup gave an awkward laugh as he discarded his coat and replaced it with a soot-stained apron. "C'mon Gobber, I'm way too muscular for their taste. They wouldn't know what to do with all this…"

He paused in his work to give his weak little arms an exaggerated flex. Arachne couldn't help but let out a giggle, and she heard Snaketail cough and Batwings chuckle behind his hand.

"Well, they need toothpicks, don' they?" Gobber joked, at the same time replacing his Hammer with a set of tongs. Then, he heard Arachne's laughter and paused, surprised by the company. "Wait a minute, Hiccup, who're these three fellows ye brought?"

Before anyone could answer, though, Gobber waved his tongs and made a frustrated noise. "Agggghhhh, there ain't any time to talk aboot that! You three, make yerselves useful an' help out! Lass, open the shop an' ferry the weapons in and oot. Smaller lass, keep the forge nice an' hot. Siren, sharpen the swords, an' don't eat me apprentice – he's the only one I've got!"

Startled by the sudden assignment of orders, the three newcomers decided not to question Gobber and just help as best they could. Arachne had never worked in a forge before, but she knew how bellows worked, and silently thanked Gobber for giving her a job that seemed most appropriate for her size. She ran over and used her entire upper body to press down on the bellows; the forge let out a blast of hot air in her face as though thanking her. A metallic scraping sound indicated that Batwings was over at the grindstone, sharpening a weapon. A wooden clunk drew Arachne's attention over to the front of the forge, where Snaketail had just opened the window and received a pile of broken weapons from a small crowd of impatient Vikings standing outside.

Carefully, Snaketail, with Hiccup's help, carried the new weapons over to the bed of coals outside the forge, where they then dropped them. Seeing her cue, Arachne hastened to pump the bellows a few more times. After only two pumps, the ten-year-old Philston girl started gasping from the effort required from her tiny body. However, the burst of light and sparks spitting from the coal came as a reward for her. The subtle hiss of hot metal told her that she was helping.

"The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber," Hiccup introduced to the three newcomers. "I've been his apprentice since I was little."

"Well, littler," Gobber corrected, giving them a cheerful wink.

Arachne giggled in between pumps and decided that she liked Gobber very much. The blacksmith, grinning at how well-received his humor was, sauntered over with the sword he'd been working on and handed it to Batwings for sharpening. The Siren, in turn, handed his finished sword to Snaketail, who hurried over to the window and tossed it to one of the waiting Vikings.

Hiccup was pleased to see how smoothly the forge work was going. He'd only intended to bring Arachne, Snaketail, and Batwings here to hide out until the end of the raid. However, Gobber hadn't wasted any time making use out of them, and had somehow found a perfect job for each of them. He, Batwings, and Snaketail were working together extremely well, maintaining a constant flow of weapons being repaired, sharpened, and ferried outside. Despite Arachne's small body, she was managing the bellows well, although Hiccup made sure to step in to give it a few pumps whenever she looked tired.

Normally it'd be me and Gobber handling everything at once, he noted, as he placed a new set of weapons on the coals to be heated up. I think this is the happiest I've seen him during a raid. I'll bet he tries to convince Dad to let these guys stay.

A roar blasted through the comfortable background noise of forge work, startling everyone into pausing and looking up. Outside, a great red wyvern swooped low to pepper a nearby house with fire blasts, setting the whole thing ablaze.

"Old village, lots and lots of new houses," Hiccup commented to the newcomers.

Then, over the sounds of battle, he heard a warrior near the new fire hazard call out for water. Hiccup's heart skipped a beat, and he momentarily abandoned what he was doing to stick his head out the window. He was just in time to see a small group of teenagers – the group of teenagers – rush onto the scene with a barrel sloshing with water.

A thrill coursed through the Haddock boy, accompanied by a hot flush that he could feel linger in his face as he frantically searched for Astrid amongst them.

"Who're they?" a voice asked. Hiccup looked over his shoulder to find that Arachne, Snaketail, and Batwings had gathered around to see what he was suddenly so interested in.

"Oh, them?" he said. "That's just Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut…"

Just outside the forge, the other teens set down their barrel and hurried over to the fire with water buckets in hand. The huge Fishlegs and muscular Snotlout doused a portion of one of the walls, while Ruffnut and Tuffnut started fighting over their own bucket. However, their struggle was interrupted by the arrival of a fifth figure, who shouldered past them and threw her own bucketful onto the fire in one elegant motion.

Then another fireball came down from above and there she was. Astrid Hofferson, perfect in every way, framed magnificently by the titanic explosion of flames just behind her. Hiccup automatically tuned out the others that regrouped to join her, his spellbound gaze focused solely on the most attractive girl this side of Midgard. The blonde bangs falling over her eye in a way that seemed to summarize her beauty and awesomeness, the movement of her spike-studded skirt with every sway of her hips, and oh, those perfectly-sized –

She was gone before Hiccup could get a better look at her, although he certainly tried his best, almost falling out of the window as he leaned farther out. Wow, Astrid looked amazing tonight. He couldn't have asked for a better view. He'd have to thank that Rathalos for doing its part to deliver that stunning spectacle.

Wait, how much of that had he said out loud?

The heat in Hiccup's cheeks went from the warm, glowing embers of a comforting fireplace to an inferno comparable to the one consuming that house. He turned around and, to his shame, saw Arachne and Snaketail giving him identical knowing looks. Both were grinning at his lack of subtlety, as well. Even Batwings caught his eye and waggled his eyebrows with a teasing smirk.

But hey, could they blame him?! Astrid was a miracle, a Valkyrie sent down to Berk to grace the unworthy mortals with her presence. He lived for every scrap of attention she was generous enough to grant him. Like that time she'd glared daggers at him for destroying a house with his last monster-killing attempt, which had made the whole incident almost worth –

"AH!" he yelped as a pair of tongs yanked him back into the forge. Quickly realizing who had done it, he let out a groan and complained, "Aw come on, let me out, please? I need to make my mark!"

Gobber plopped him down on his feet and gave him a stern look. "Oh, you've made plenty o' marks – all in the wrong places!" He jabbed him several times with his tongs for emphasis.

Very aware that they had an audience of three for this lecture, Hiccup blushed hotter with embarrassment, and he knew his face was bright red. "Please, two minutes!" he begged. "I'll kill a monster and my life will get infinitely better! I might even get a date!"

Using his fingers, Gobber listed pointedly, "Ye can't lift a Hammer, ye can't swing a Switch Axe – ye can't even throw one o' these!"

He lifted a set of bolas and jangled it for emphasis, which a Viking outside snatched from his hand. As they watched, the Viking threw it with an expert touch, tangling up a flying monster's legs and causing it to plummet to the ground. Gobber gave Hiccup a raised eyebrow, as if to say See? Tha's how it's done, ye wee fishbone.

"Ah," Hiccup countered, having just the argument for that last point. He ran over to his latest invention, sitting against the far wall as innocent as could be, and patted its wooden casing like a proud father. "But this baby will throw it for me."

He saw Arachne open her mouth, intrigued, but before she could ask, the launcher he'd designed and built unfolded at his touch and sent a bolas hurtling toward the window. He winced when he saw the Viking closest to the window get knocked out cold by his temperamental machine.

"Now this right 'ere is what I'm talkin' aboot!" Gobber yelled, having reached the end of his patience.

"It's a, a mild calibration issue…" Hiccup attempted to explain, but the blacksmith was having none of it. His argument was cut off by a snap of the tongs.

"If ye want ta get oot there an' fight monsters, ye need ta stop all… this," Gobber finished with a vague gesture.

"I– Yo– Bu– " Hiccup spluttered, appalled. "You just pointed to all of me!"

"Yes, that's it!" Gobber crowed in a satisfied way. "Stop bein' all o' ye."

The Haddock boy sucked in a breath, channeling his frustration in a way he hoped looked intimidating. He stepped right up to Gobber's, puffed out his chest, and stood as tall as he possibly could.

"You, sir," he warned, "are playing a dangerous game. Keeping this much raw… Viking-ness… contained? There will be consequences…!"

Gobber gave him a flat look. "I'll take me chances," he deadpanned, before casually slapping a dulled Longsword into Hiccup's hands. "Sword. Sharpen. Now. The rest o' ye, back ta work!"

Nearly staggering under the weight of the weapon that had been handed to him, Hiccup stumbled over to the grindstone and set the flat of the blade against it. His new friends resumed their jobs around the forge, but tried to stick close to him as much they could.

"Looks like you're not exactly the village hero," Batwings drawled, setting a new cluster of weapons onto the coals with a clank.

The words stung, but Hiccup was well-versed in the art of sarcasm, and just rolled his eyes at the Siren's jab. He was used to his role – Hiccup the Useless, they sometimes called him. He was under no delusions of his own strength or skill… or lack thereof. That was why he built things like the bola launcher, to compensate for his many shortcomings and apply his brain to his dream of eventually killing a monster.

As he kept one eye on the sword in his hands, he couldn't help but watch the others bustle around the forge. Arachne was still young, but strong for her size as she worked the bellows – she'd become a great fighter if she really worked at it. Snaketail seemed to study every weapon she carried over to the window, analyzing it with a warrior's eye – she looked like she had a talent, or at least an enthusiasm, for combat. As for Batwings… well, he was a dragon. That spoke for itself.

Hiccup had nothing but his mind. That would have to be enough.

"One day, I'll get out there," he promised to anyone who was listening. "Because hunting a monster is everything around here."

He felt three pairs of curious gazes resting upon him, but Hiccup's eyes never left the sword on the grindstone. He watched its edge get ever sharper and imagined it sinking into a monster's hide, driven into a fatal wound by his own two hands.

"A bird wyvern would get me at least noticed," he monologued. "Brute wyverns are tough. Taking down one of those would definitely get me a girlfriend. A flying wyvern? Exotic – top of the food chain, so twice the status. Then there are the elder dragons. Only the best Vikings go after those."

In the reflection on the blade's surface, Hiccup's eyes darkened with ambition. "But the ultimate prize is the monster that no-one's ever seen. We call it the –"

Then, a yell from outside pierced the night. It was only four words, but they cut off Hiccup's speech and sent an undeniable shiver of excitement up his spine.

"Gore Magala! Get down!"

I'm sorry if Hiccup's internal Astrid-centric monologue came off as creepy, but the movie makes it super-clear that he's obsessed with getting her attention. I can understand that, having once been a teenager myself – I lived for every glance my first love passed my way. And they haven't yet gotten to know each other, not really, so his attraction to her is purely superficial.

I'm still trying to work out the best pacing for this story, as far as chapters go. At the moment, I'm using the soundtrack as a guideline, but I also want to give Arachne, Snaketail, and Batwings plenty of extra time to get them settled onto Berk.

Please send reviews! Do you like what I'm doing so far? Is there anything you're looking forward to in particular?