As an apology for how long it's been since I last updated, here is the Christmas chapter (requested by SonYukiGoku'sSister (Sorry I wasn't able to include the portrait, but I got the yaknog in!) one, as per the request, is a slight crossover with HTTYD, so if you're not into that, feel free to skip it :3

Happy Holidays, everyone!

Oh, btw, Fenrir Wylde Razgriz had an interesting idea, so if you have any folk characters from your culture that you'd like to see included before the end of this series, send them through to me!

Happy Snoggletog!

Jack hadn't been outside in almost two days. In fact, in that time he hadn't even left the substantial library in the Workshop. Normally, this would have been unheard of – as much as he loved checking out all the different sorts of books North kept, he still got bored or antsy from time to time and needed a quick flight around the world for a change of pace – but this wasn't a normal occasion.

He'd been perusing the biographical section of the library, looking for any names that stuck out to him, when he'd spotted a collection of leather-bound books, all relatively small compared to some of the others around them. They'd been rather plain looking where others were highly elaborate, and maybe it was this that had had him pausing to pull one off the shelf. The books had turned out to be a series of memoirs by a long-dead Viking called Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. If the name alone hadn't been enough to pique his interest, then the first lines certainly had been: There were dragons when I was a boy.

Jack had immediately been sceptical. Real dragons? Weren't they just a myth? But then he'd remembered his own dragon, and his and almost everyone he knew's status of being a myth, and had decided that it was probably plausible after all. So he'd read on... and on, and on, and on. And he was still there a day and a half later, curled up in a large armchair with a stack of books on the floor in front of him. He no longer cared whether the accounts were real or not; they were certainly fun to read.

This latest one, though, attracted his attention in a way none of the others had.

'This is Berk, boasting the kind of balmy, fun-in-the-sun climate that will give you frostbite on your spleen.'

Jack snorted. The sarcasm was palpable, but in all honesty it sounded like the sort of climate he would actually call fun.

'The one upside is our annual holiday,' he continued reading. 'We call it Snoggletog. Why we chose such a stupid name remains a mystery, but with the war long over, and dragons living among us, this year's Snoggletog promises to be one to remember.'

As he continued reading, his narrator going into detail about one particular Snoggletog and the drama that had unfolded, Jack felt a slight suspicion growing in the back of his mind. The account gave no actual descriptions of what Snoggletog was about, its practices, or anything of the sort, but from what it did say, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't just an old Viking version of Christmas.

Well, there's one person who knows all things Christmas better than anybody, he realised. Jumping up, he placed the book pages-down on the armchair so he could easily find his place again later, and zoomed out of the library in search of North.

Despite the chaos the Workshop descended into as Christmas Eve approached, it didn't take long to find him; after all, there were only a handful of places within the Workshop he would be, and any yeti who had seen him were happy to point him in the right direction.

"Hey, North, are you busy?" Jack asked as he peeked his head through the doorway to North's office.

North, who had been going over a ridiculously long list (The List, probably), looked up at the sound of his voice, face splitting into a big smile. "Ah, Jack! Come in! Always will I have time for you."

Jack returned the smile and did as he was bid, moving over to hover beside the desk.

"Now, what is it I can do for you, my friend?"

In hindsight, maybe he should have thought to bring the book with him. Though if North didn't know it by name, it was unlikely he would know it by sight. "I have a question."

"Ask away!"

"I was reading a bunch of autobiographies by a Viking called Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, and–"

"Hiccup? Yes, his stories are very good, no? Such an exciting life he must have led! All I know of him comes from those books, but I will do my best to answer you," North said, setting aside The List to give Jack his full attention.

"I was wondering about Snoggletog, actually," Jack shrugged. "There's not a lot on it mentioned in the memoirs but I couldn't help but notice it sounds a lot like Christmas."

North raised his eyebrows in surprise at the unexpected question then nodded. "Is not surprising," he said. "Snoggletog was a variation of the Yule celebration, which later influenced Christmas. Much of the traditions are very similar, no?"

"Yak-nog," Jack chuckled. From Hiccup's description, it had been too gross to stomach, even for the sake of the loved one who had made it.

"Yak-nog," North agreed.

There was something else, though; something he couldn't quite wrap his head around. "The memoir mentioned Odin?"

"Ah, yes!" North clapped his hands together. "Hiccup lived before my time, yes? There was no Santa Claus for them to believe in yet. The Norsemen believed that on Solstice Eve Odin would leave children gifts in their boots – or helmets, according to the Snoggletog variant."

Jack stared at him. "Odin."

"Yes."

"Odin. As in, the intimidating guy with the eye patch who's hostile to those not from Asgard? That Odin?"

North blinked. "Yes, that Odin. You have met him?"

"Briefly. I find it hard to believe he would give anyone a gift, let alone a bunch of humans." Then again, they were Vikings, who were probably pretty similar to Asgardians...

"Do not confuse myself with Odin, my friend," North chuckled. "I give gifts to the good children of the world, but Odin only gave to those who left hay for Sleipnir, the–"

"The flying eight-legged horse," Jack interrupted, smiling at the memory. "We've met." A thought occurred to him then, "That sounds similar to kids leaving carrots for the reindeer."

"Yes! Is exactly the same! Odin's Wild Ride eventually became me and my reindeer-drawn sleigh, you see?"

Jack nodded. He'd never really thought about where all these stories had come from, but it was interesting to learn how they had developed, especially when he knew or had met those directly involved. "Thanks, North," he got to his feet. "I'd better let you get back to that List."

"It will not check itself," North agreed solemnly. He reached for a cup of eggnog off to the side and took a long sip. "But you are always welcome, Jack, not matter how busy I may be. I trust you will be here for Christmas again this year?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Jack grinned. This year he was going to eat less at Mother's place, though – no need to invite antagonism from the Guardians about his diet, or lack thereof. He was halfway out the door when he paused, a thought occurring to him. "Hey, North?" he turned back around.

North looked up at him expectantly.

"Do you think I could borrow those memoirs?"

There was a twinkle in North's eye that told Jack that he knew exactly what had made him ask. "Of course, Jack! So long as you and Jamie are careful – they are very old – you may keep them for as long as you like!"

Jack shook his head, unable to deny that showing them to Jamie had been exactly what he'd had planned. The kid would get a kick out of them to say the least. "We'll be careful!"

North nodded in a final sort of way and returned his attention to The List. Jack, taking his cue to leave, slipped out into the Globe Room and started making his way back to the library, detouring via a yeti to get a bag to carry the books in. Maybe this year as his Christmas gift to Jamie he would bring him to see North's library. Then again, if he did that he'd probably never be able to get him to leave.

...

...

It was exactly five seconds after Jack had explained the memoirs and the whole Yule-into-Christmas thing that Jamie had sat up straighter on his bed and asked, "Do you think Odin and Sleipnir still do the Wild Ride?"

Jack had had no response to that beyond, "I don't know", and after that Jamie had been very adamant that they see through what he believed to be the most important aspect of a very old and very much forgotten (by the world at large, at the very least) tradition. Which was why Jack had taken them to the nearest rural area to 'borrow' some hay, and they had then put said hay in a boot on the Bennett's front porch for Sleipnir on Solstice Eve.

It was a testament to how used to such behaviour Mrs Bennett must have been that at his mother's equally amused, exasperated, and confused question as to why Jamie had put hay in his boot, Jamie had simply said 'for Sleipnir' and she'd nodded and left it at that.

In all honesty Jack hadn't expected much; if anything, he'd fully believed that when they checked the next morning they'd find the boot exactly where it was, still full of hay.

He was very surprised, then, when he was proven wrong.

"Cool!" Jamie crowed, struggling to heft a very ornate and very sharp battle-axe out of his boot. The hay was completely gone, and the saliva stains told them both exactly who was responsible for it. "They actually came!"

Jack stared, dumbfounded. He hadn't known what sort of presents Odin left for kids but really he shouldn't have been all that surprised. He was probably going to have to have a word with the guy about what things were and weren't appropriate to give to kids. But there was no way he was going to be able to get Jamie to part with it, especially when it came with the knowledge that it had been left there for him by an actual god.

"Hey, uh, just don't play with that, okay?" Jack shifted.

"Darn, there goes my holiday plans," Jamie replied sarcastically. Jack bumped him gently with his shoulder (hyperaware of the axe still in the kid's hands). Jamie bumped him back, but then froze, an expression of dawning horror taking over his amusement.

"What?" Jack hedged.

"How am I going to explain this to my mom?!"