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Chapter 02: Monstrous Nightmare

(Hiccup)

At Astrid's scream revealing his position to the mob of people that were looking for him in the plaza, Hiccup's knees nearly gave out.

"Odin's beard!" he hissed under his breath, hardly believing his ears.

Astrid had managed what he had thought to be impossible. She had outrun a Night Fury. And yet, she hadn't. Hiccup had lost quite a bit of time buckling the prosthetic fin and saddle on Toothless, before finally chasing after her.

He ran his fingers through his hair.

It's all my fault!

He should have flown directly to the village without trying to catch the running girl. Instead, he had hoped to explain everything in a way that Astrid would have eventually understood. He had wanted to give her one more chance. Unfortunately, they had been unable to grab her through the thick blanket of trees, so they had only followed her for a while, wasting precious time.

Still, if Hiccup could, he would have lingered longer, just to watch her run like the wind. Seeing the girl without any of her armor was not an everyday occurrence. And while she was still very much dressed, she was nonetheless a wondrous vision in Hiccup's eyes. Her blond hair, her ice-blue eyes, her perfectly strong figure, and yet so feminine, in a certain special way, of which she seemed to be completely unaware.

That sight of her was still making Hiccup's legs feel like fresh snow, collapsing under the weight of his fluttering chest. She was more than a Viking. She was a goddess, like Freya, or like one of the Valkyries, 'whose fury men both fear and desire', as the old saying went.

Alas, that moment hadn't lasted long. Toothless, had groaned in urgency, and Hiccup, made once again aware of the situation, had allowed the dragon to speed up towards the village.

Even now, though, with his position revealed, with no longer the chance to escape the forge unseen, he was instinctively prepared to forgive the girl. That's how infatuated Hiccup was with her. Astrid could do no wrong in his eyes and, from a Viking's perspective, she probably never had. He slapped himself mentally for being so naive. His foolish behavior was now going to cost him dearly. Even worse, it was going to endanger Toothless, his best friend. His only friend.

Ironically, the dragon's safety was the very reason why he had returned to the village in the first place. They needed to leave the island with both prosthetic fins. If they had brought only one, any damage to it would have spelled the end for them both. Yet, Hiccup had only packed the spare tailfin with him that morning, forgetting the better one in his little personal room at the forge, where he used to keep most of his secret projects.

That had been his first mistake of the day. The second one was letting Astrid escape from the cove. Underestimating the formidable girl's running skills had been his third blunder so far.

The voices from outside were getting closer. Hiccup no longer had a chance to run past them and reach Toothless at the edge of the forest without being seen. Even if he could have been as fast and agile as Astrid, which he most certainly was not, he would have still led them to Toothless, putting the dragon at risk. Vikings were, after all, very quick at throwing axes at winged creatures. They were consistent followers of the unspoken rule: 'Shoot first, ask questions... Never ask questions.'

Hiccup had to think of another way, and he had to do it fast. Astrid was probably going to wait before revealing his secret, because if she did, no one would believe the outrageous discovery right away. As recently appointed champion, Hiccup had become a somewhat popular figure, so his words held enough sway to give him a moderate, albeit temporary, sense of security. That was the only notion preventing Hiccup from fainting with panic.

There was a sound of steps outside. Hiccup was still wearing his flying-vest. His heart rumbling in his chest, he wiggled out of the leather straps, and tossed it behind one of the counters, just as the smithy's front door sprung open.

"Hiccup!" Gobber's voice was louder than usual, but not angry. Hiccup had never seen Gobber truly angry; he didn't think it was possible. Even when the large blond man looked outraged, he always kept a light-hearted, humorous tone. "What in Thor's name are ya doing here?! Did ya forget what day it is? Or did our celebrity suddenly chicken out?"

"Who? Me?" Hiccup muttered nervously, trying his best to feign surprise at Gobber's words, and confidence in his own. "Chicken out? No way, I'm far too brave for that." He chuckled.

"Oh yeah? Then why are ya hidin' in 'ere?"

"Wha- what are you talking about?" Feigning ignorance was probably his only way out. "Oh! You mean from the last trial? W-Why, is it noon already?"

Hiccup was lucky that the workshop was dark inside; scarce light was only provided by the cracks in the wooden walls and open door, and Gobber was in too much of a hurry to notice his apprentice's fidgeting. Hiccup had always been a terrible liar.

"I was looking for my dagger, you see, and I must have lost track of time," Hiccup chuckled as casually as he could. In truth, he knew very well where he had misplaced his old dagger. It was rusting at the bottom of the small lake, back at the cove.

"Dagger? To kill a dragon?" Gobber offered a puzzled look, but before Hiccup could provide any comeback, the man went on: "There's plenty of daggers in the arena. Now get yer skinny ass moving. Yer spectators have been waiting too long and are starting to get upset."

"Oh, great," Hiccup mumbled, hoping some sarcasm would conceal the dread in his voice.

The blacksmith made way for Hiccup to get out, but whirled around with a suspicious squint. "Waaait a moment," he said, studying him.

Hiccup froze. A chill ran through him under Gobber's long, scrutinizing stare.

"Astrid knew ya'd be here, then she said something about ya being in the forest... What were ya doin' in the forest, Hiccup?"

In response, Hiccup fidgeted again, this time with the most obvious, unsubtle gestures in his vast repertoire. "Um… well… aaah. You know…" He was sweating profusely by the time he managed to come up with an answer: "That's where I was looking for my dagger!" His voice came out louder than he had anticipated. "You see... at first." An obvious lie.

Gobber's lips parted slowly, revealing his crooked smile and the steel oversized tooth that sat precariously on his bottom jaw, presenting Hiccup with what he could only describe as the most knowing, indecent, creepy grin he had ever witnessed.

"Looking for yer dagger, huh? Is that what they are calling it these days?"

Hiccup's oblivious stare cued Gobber to continue.

"Ah! I should 'ave known! I've never seen Astrid tired like that before. And without her armor on to boot! Good for ya, lad!" The blacksmith poked Hiccup's ribs jokingly with the curve of his hook.

When Hiccup grasped what his mentor was implying, he felt his cheeks prickle, and his ears burn.

Hiccup had always tried to be secretive about his crush for the fearsome blond maiden, without much success, alas. There wasn't probably a single Viking on Berk who had not heard about it. Yet, to Hiccup's mild consolation, everyone seemed to ignore the fact, maybe out of respect for the chief's son, but, Hiccup suspected, most likely out of pity. The only person who, not only was incapable of ignoring this information, but instead took delight in giving Hiccup a hard time about it, was Gobber.

"Ain't ya enjoying the champion's prize a little early though? Ya just pray her father doesn't find out. Not sure Stoick is ready to pay such a high bride price..." The man guffawed heartily. "Oh, Odin! What am I saying? Imagine Stoick's face! He'll even sell his breeches!" The man laughed so hard, so proudly, he began coughing.

Hiccup could not conceal his embarrassment; his face was aflame with it, more than it usually was when confronted with Gobber's frequent, and often dirty banter. Nonetheless, this misunderstanding was going to work in his favor. It was not in his best interest to deny his mentor's allegation, so Hiccup tried to play along, but still failed to come up with any coherent response. He merely let out a timid "whaaa…"

"Nevermind that now, lad!" The blacksmith said heartily, patting his apprentice's back on their way out. "Ya have a dragon to kill! Ya'll tell me all about it after, over a mug of ale or three! Now move on! Ya're late!"

They left the smithy in silence, walking hurriedly under the mild spring sun. Gobber had been alone whilst retrieving Hiccup from the forge, but as they strolled towards the arena, they were joined by the other Vikings from the search party. Astrid was not among them. Even so, there was no way for Hiccup to escape from his escort. He might have been able to outrun the one-legged blacksmith, but not any of the other, younger, faster, and still-two-legged men.

As they traversed the plaza, moving to the long wooden bridge that connected the village to the training grounds, Hiccup could only hope to devise some hurried plan, trying to ignore the mounting sense of doom.

With Astrid knowing about Toothless, he needed to flee from Berk faster than ever. Yet, he now realized, he did not actually want to leave. Not like this. Not now that Astrid had proof of his betrayal. He had recently become a respected member of the village; he did not want to be remembered a deserter. He did not want to leave his home as a traitor.

Despite planning his little vacation to last, as he had put it, 'forever', Hiccup's courage to make that decision had only been fueled by the secret thought, the hope perhaps, that he would at least always have the option to one day return. Not if they knew he had befriended a dragon. Not if he truly was a traitor.

Regardless, he could not afford to stay on Berk as a traitor either.

UnlessWhat if I can convince the others that dragons aren't as evil as they think? If I can manage that, I might not need to leave at all. Will taming a Monstrous Nightmare in front of everyone be enough?

Changing a Viking's mind was not an easy task, but this was his last chance, and, apparently, his only choice too.

As soon as Hiccup saw the crowd that awaited him, Gobber let out a melodic cry: "Found 'im!"

Cheers and battle cries filled the air around the empty stone pit that comprised the stage for his much-anticipated performance. Almost every Berkian villager had gathered there to see him. Warriors, men, women, and children leaned heavily on the outside of the steel-woven dome of chains that hung above the arena, denying the winged reptiles any escape, but allowing people a good view. They all eagerly waited for some blood to be spilled on the already damp floor.

Hiccup shivered, aware of the hundreds of eyes scanning his small figure. Once he made his way through the iron gates, under the shade of the stone-covered passage that led inside, he received a pat on the shoulder from the smiling blacksmith, who handed him his traditional horned helmet, the gift Hiccup had just recently received from his father.

"Go get that beast, lad!" The man said tenderly, before shutting the entrance behind him with a loud clunk.

Roars and shouts and cheers of his name accompanied Hiccup inside the pit. He immediately spotted his father, Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk.

The man, huge and burly as his name suggested, red beard freshly braided, stood proudly at the center opposing the gate, outside the rim of the empty pit, towering over everyone else as he ignored the carved throne that had been prepared for the occasion. He gave a knowing yet stern look at his son, before raising a single hand. The crowd promptly fell silent at the chief's gesture.

"Pick a weapon," the man commanded solemnly. There was no other introduction. The crowd had probably grown too impatient for long speeches. They all wanted to see some dragon blood.

Hiccup trudged towards the weapons rack. He felt heavy and exhausted. His resolve had dissolved entirely after seeing his father's unwavering eyes. He didn't want to do this, but his mind was in a panicked haze. He could not think of a better plan. It was too late now anyway. He could only keep moving. The only source of energy pushing him forward was his desire to keep Toothless safe.

His thoughts then went to Astrid. Hiccup could not spot the girl anywhere in the crowd, which was probably for the best. He already doubted whether he could accomplish what he had set himself to do, especially since he hadn't prepared any dragon-grass to eventually appease his opponent, nor did he have any eels, which dragons feared for some odd reason. He didn't even know if Monstrous Nightmares could be tamed, for he had never approached one during his training; he did not need Astrid's condemning glare on top of everything else.

Hiccup picked the smallest dagger and shield he could find. He clumsily adjusted the oversized helmet on his head with the hilt of his weapon.

His voice quivered with uncertainty when he said: "I'm ready."

Stoick sat on the throne with a serious frown, studying his son's actions. The man hadn't attended many of the fights before, and this was probably his first real chance to observe how Hiccup actually performed.

With a nod from the chief, the wood and iron gates of the central pen were unlocked. Not a moment later, a huge red dragon burst out, roaring angrily, its body entirely aflame.

It looked so much bigger up close, so much angrier than any of the other dragons Hiccup had approached so far. That night before winter, when another Monstrous Nightmare had chased him around the village, seemed only a distant memory. Now he could truly understand the reason behind this species' name.

Hiccup suddenly recalled the story about his father killing one such dragon before the age of twelve, and couldn't help asking himself, not for the first time: how could he be so different?

The dragon did not see him standing at the center of the pit right away. It roared at the yelling Vikings all around, and quickly crawled with lizard-like fashion towards the chained border to attack them, its long curved talons scraping the floor, leaving marks in the stone. Fortunately, the protective steel net kept the dragon inside, but its mouth flamed nonetheless at some spectators, who expertly dodged the shot.

Then, the flames covering the scaly creature died down, and it began circling the arena until it ended up in its initial location, between the open cage and Hiccup. The dragon puffed dark smoke as some of the crowd urged the chief's heir to slaughter the beast with imaginative and colorful (mostly red-tinged) suggestions.

The chief had leaned forward in interest, one hand holding his bearded chin. The dragon finally noticed its opponent.

Aaand I'm dead. Sorry, Toothless.

The dragon did not attack, however. Perhaps Hiccup's lackluster brawn was not enough of a threat, so they merely stood in front of one another. The Nightmare sniffed in his direction, studying him, and quickly took notice of the laughable weapon he was holding, narrowing its eyes.

Hiccup knew what to do. He let go of the dagger and shield, bowing slightly, to avoid making too much noise as the weapons fell on the floor. He did not want to startle the deadly creature by any chance.

To Hiccup's relief, the dragon recognized this gesture as one of surrender, and widened its eyes in surprise. So did all the Vikings around them with multiple gasps.

Hiccup approached the cautious dragon, whispering all the while: "It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

Hiccup half expected the Monstrous Nightmare to start laughing at him, but this dragon seemed unable to understand what he had said, unlike Toothless often did. Yet, the soft words seemed to have some effect, so Hiccup proceeded to remove his helmet, earning a few muffled cries from the crowd.

"What is he doing?!"

"He's gone mad!"

Hiccup ignored them, and threw his helmet on the floor, hoping it would strengthen the message he was trying to convey to the beast. "I'm not one of them," he said, and smiled, extending his hand slowly to pat the red, scaly snout that was now at arm's length. The dragon moved towards him, carefully closing the distance.

Everything was going perfectly, until Stoick the Vast decided to intervene: "Stop this farce," he commanded. "Stop the fight!"

"No," Hiccup said, without ever averting his eyes from the reptilian ones before him. "I need you all to see this." Then, with the image of Toothless in his mind, he added: "Look, they are not evil beasts. We don't have to kill them."

At that, the chief rose to his feet with an appalled glare. Bringing down his heavy war-hammer on the protective iron fence, he thundered: "I said, STOP THE FIGHT!"

The sound alarmed the wary dragon, who suddenly abandoned all reason, and attacked.

Hiccup withdrew the hand just in time, and jumped away from the sharp fangs.

There was no chance of taming it now; Hiccup could only run for his life, screaming with his still pathetically unbroken voice. Everything became a blur.

Fortunately, Gobber had been paying close attention, and he had already opened the gate to let his apprentice escape. Hiccup darted for the only exit, but the Nightmare spat a scalding stream of fire across his path, forcing him to run in the opposite direction.

"HICCUP!" Somebody yelled, probably his mentor.

Hiccup could not focus. Yet, despite the chaos that had erupted, he turned around, towards the voice. He was abruptly greeted by the red dragon's paw, which punched his chest with terrible force, knocking the air out of him.

The dragon pinned him to the ground, making the back of his head hit the floor hard with a sickening clop. A sharp, blinding pain bloomed immediately where Hiccup's skull met stone. Time began to slow. There was no escape. He was trapped under that heavy, clawed paw.

The gods must hate me, Hiccup thought. I'm going to die after making a fool of myself. Perfect. At least I'll see mom in Valhalla.

His sight blurred.

Oh, who am I kidding. I'm definitely going to Helheim.

Resentfully, Hiccup let his eyes close, hoping for a quick death, when a piercing screech made its way through the fading, muffled noises in his ears.

Toothless! No…

The explosion of Night Fury fire was the last sound Hiccup managed to hear, before he softly fell into unconsciousness.