Hi everyone! Welcome to the second day of Snoggletog! I won't keep rambling on this A/N, but rather just give a small thanks for all of the support I have received so far.
This story is based on the scene with Gobber where Stoick tellsthe story of Hiccup using his first axe as a paperweight. It is set when Hiccup is four, and they have not yet made peace with the dragons. This story is also a response to the request by Whiskerface.
So! I hope you all enjoy, and let me know what you think of it in a review! See you tomorrow!
.oOo.
Snoggletog was strange for Stoick. He still could not quite believe he had a son to spend it with. He still couldn't believe that he did not have his wife to celebrate it with.
It had been three years, and Hiccup was four now. He was getting bigger, getting stronger and braver, unlike the runt of a boy whom he had been born. Yes, he had to admit he was still smaller than the other Berkian children; his brother, Spitelout had had a son of his own the same year, who was a big burly boy already, although not anything like the Ingerman family's little boy. Nonetheless, he couldn't deny there was a newfound strength within his son.
And he couldn't help imagining that as a metaphor as Hiccup reached up, attempting to put the star on the very tip of their Snoggletog tree, which sat in the corner of the Haddocks living room. Hiccup was growing, more ambitious and determined than ever, so he couldn't help but think it was the God's way of saying that he had to try and move on, put behind him the death of his wife, Valka, and accompany Hiccup in all of his antics. He was going to be chief someday, and he had to show him exactly how strong that means you have to be.
Stoick knew more than anyone that that is hard. But the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and Hiccup's needs therefore mattered more than his own, just like the needs of the people fuelled him to fulfil his daily duties in being chief.
"Look, daddy! I did it!" The star sat agar upon the pointy branch, threatening to fall at any minute.
Well, not exactly threatening, he thought, as it slipped from it's position and clattered to the ground, lying limp on the base of the tree.
"Oh.." Stoick laughed as his son hung his head.
"That's okay. Look, we'll do it together." Stoick stood up creakily from the armchair in front of the fire, where Hiccup had picked up the star and was jumping in attempts to get it back up there.
Scooping him up from around the middle, he raised him high into the air and Hiccup giggled, his hand wavering as he attempted to get the star in place.
"Here," Stoick placed his own hand on top of his sons, and felt a sense of warmth jolt through him. Together, though mainly through Stoick, they placed the final touch on the decorations within their home.
There were no lights; just the candles they had lit and the fire raging in the fireplace, though in need of a good stoke. Hiccup sat, legs crossed, and watched as the flames danced in front of him. The house was perfect, and he had had a great day with his dad. The other kids didn't like him very much; they always said he was too small to play with them, but the fact that he had got to spend the whole day pretending to be chief with his father made it more special than anything he'd ever experienced. And it had made his cousin, Snotlout, jealous, which was always a bonus.
He lunged to grab his little dragon teddy he'd had since he was a baby, but noticed something glint under the tree as he did so.
"Look, dad! You've missed one!" He scrambled under the tree and handed a messily wrapped brown gift to his dad.
Stoick smiled as he looked down at it.
"No, son. This one's for you."
Hiccup's mouth gaped at his father, and he reached open in excitement. What a great way to end the day! A present! For him!
He tore it open with immense enthusiasm, and peered at what it was.
An axe. Tiny, light, with a oak wood handle wrapped securely with leather, and a thin, sharp blade at the tip. It was light, well, heavy to the little boy but light compared to all of the others' axes.
Hiccup recalled the other kids walking around with their axes, so proud, and he felt a sense of pride as he picked it up...
...and dropped it immediately.
"Wow! That was heavy!" Stoick laughed again, as Hiccup swayed on his feet, trying to stay balanced with it in his grasp. When he regained equilibrium, an excited look passed by his face.
"You're getting older now, son. And I thought, it was time you got your first weapon just like the others."
Gobber had spent countless hours in the forge with Stoick, as the two tried to decide what metal was best to use for the blade, what wood was best for the handle. Stoick knew Hiccup was not the biggest of viking boys, as I said earlier, so they had to account for all of that, something which they wouldn't normally have to do.
And then their was crafting. Shaping, sharpening, building... they had even engraved his name into the wood as an extra special touch.
He was going to be a fighter. A dragon hunter. The best one the history of Berk had ever seen. He just needed to right training. The perfect weapon.
"So, are you ready to hunt dragons?" Hiccup didn't answer, as he was too preoccupied in swinging the axe about and making whooshing noises. It was a moment before he actually spoke.
"Dad! Come quick! I know exactly what I am going to use it for!" And with that he took off, scrambling like a monkey up the stairs and signalling at the top for the chief to follow.
Stoick wasn't quite sure what he meant by 'what he was going to use it for', but he followed nonetheless, intrigued by the workings of his son's mind.
Before he knew it, they were in Hiccup's room, his bed unmade and various drawings of dragons littering his desk.
The boy reached up on his tippy-toes and brought down a stack of old drawings which he kept on the shelf above his desk. And then, he plopped them down and sat the axe on top of them.
"There! Now I can draw and keep my pictures safe whenever there is a dragon attack!"
Stoick was confused. "But son, whenever there is a dragon attack, don't you want to fight the dragons rather than draw them?"
"Why would I want to fight them when I can learn about them? They've never done anything to me." And wit that, he picked up his pencil and began sketching a dragon in a Snoggletog hat, folding it like a card and sitting it too under the axe.
Stoick sighed. Hiccup was going to need to learn how to kill dragons one day, but he knew that said day was not at present. So he watched as his son drew Snoggletog drawings, and accepted them gratefully whenever they were gifted to him.
For now, it was Snoggletog. A holiday for happiness and cheer. A festivity for family.
No matter who his son turned out to be, Stoick knew he would love him regardless.
Him and his Snoggletog paperweight.