Disclaimer: I do not own Riders of Berk or HTTYD. This is my own adaptation to an already existing story line.
It was early morning. A natural calm surrounded the small Viking village of Berk. Soon the villagers would begin to wake to start yet another day of hard manual labor, for that is the life of a Viking. A boy stirs in his bed. Hiccup slowly raises his head from his pillow, red-brown hair sticking up in every direction. Stretching his weary limbs he turns his head to look around his unkept room only to be met by two very large green orb-like eyes inches from his face.
"Well good morning to you too, Toothless."
The young dragon gave a little wiggle as he hummed his disapproval for not already having had his breakfast. Hiccup hung his legs over the side of the bed and began attaching his latest prosthetic design. This one was meant to give him a little more stability when he needed to go somewhere in a hurry. Which, to his misfortune, he was having to do an awful lot lately. After all, he was responsible for training to most hardheaded bunch of hooligans on the entire island.
Toothless skittered around the room impatiently, giving small warbles every now and then to encourage his friend to speed up the process.
"Alright, alright, let's go buddy."
After a breakfast of bread and yak butter Hiccup waited as Toothless wolfed down the rest of his basket of sturgeon before heading out into the cool morning air.
The days were beginning to get cooler, signs that Berk's too-short summer season was coming to an end. Hiccup and Toothless slowly made their way down to the training arena (previously known as the kill ring.) As he entered the arena Hiccup was greeted by a slew of Nadder spikes embedding themselves in the wall just above his head. Toothless jerked his head from the spikes to his stunned rider then wheeled around as more spikes landed within inches of his tail.
"UHG! Hiccup!" A tough looking blonde Viking came charging from behind the Nadder. She carried a large battle axe in her hand wearing a scowl that dared Hiccup to say something about her nearly turning him and his dragon into oversized pincushions. "You really should pay better attention, Stormfly and I could have easily killed you."
Hiccup gave a small nervous chuckle. He knew pointing out the obvious would only be a death wish. "Morning Astrid, you're here early. Working on some target practice I see." Hiccup kicked at a small rock on the ground, he still couldn't understand why he could never really look Astrid in the eye without his ears turning bright red and his face growing hot.
"Well yeah, we still have a few difficulties with moving targets though." She said as she rested her hand on Stormfly's side and receiving a small crow of approval from her reptilian partner.
Hiccup went about preparing the arena for the day's lesson and before long the rest of teens and their dragons showed up. The twins were sporting matching blackeyes as they rode up on their shared zippleback, Barf and Belch. Hiccup has learned not to even ask about the random array of bruises the two get as they are more often than not a result of some mischief that they seem to always find themselves in. Snotlout had showed up that morning with smoke rising from the seat of his trousers the result of yet another disagreement between him and his Monstrous Nightmare, Hookfang. Fishlegs arrived in his customary fashion his nose jammed firmly into a book.
The group of teens worked most of the morning, practicing firing at barrels while trying to dodge attacks from each other of water filled skins. The twins of course had taken to throwing them at each other, which of course resulted in them lighting the entire arena up.
Hiccup wrapped up the morning's training session, sporting rather large charred sections of his clothing. Now it was time for the teens to patrol the island and ensure everything was in order.
Over on Outcast island Alvin the Treacherous was plotting as he always was. Yet another Whispering Death had just wrecked havoc on his village, a desolate, nearly uninhabitable plot of rock and sand where all those exiled from their tribes took refuge. It was a village full of ruthless cutthroats and battle hardened criminals. A young Viking knelt behind Alvin, a newer arrival to his village who had just shown his prowess in the latest battle. Alvin stood with his back to the stranger and watched as the Whispering Death was forced into a much-too-small cage with an iron floor so it could not escape. After the cage door was properly secured, he turned to his guest, "what be yer' name stranger." The words came out as a growl, very similar to the beasts Alvin often finds himself at odds with.
" I am Hamill, Hamill Darthson of the Berserker Clan at your service."
Alvin appeared to give this statement some thought. "hmmm, I just might 'ave the perfect job fer you Hamill, my boy, and if you can deliver, there might be a small somthin' in it fer ya."
A dark grin formed on the young man's face, "What is it ye had in mind…"
To be continued...