Merry Christmas and happy Snoggletog to all!


He spent the holidays alone. For years now, that was the way it had been. As a five year old, he had blurry memories of his father actually spending it with him. But now, he would watch from a distance, standing on the edges of the crowd in the Great hall, wishing for all the world that he belonged with them, wishing he could eat the food, drink with them, laugh and tell jokes about yaks and sheep, dragons and mead. He wished he could exchange gifts, hug his friends, hug his father after unwrapping the latest carefully wrapped present. He wished he could stay up late, singing Snoggletog carols until his throat hurt. He wished he could fall asleep knowing he mattered.

But none of it was a reality.

So he left the Hall, trying to ignore the happy laughter of his father over the laughter of everyone else.

Except him.

Tears began to run down his face, landing on his green tunic, slipping past his belt and landing in the snow. Sobs began to shake him as he trudged through the snow. Anyone out this late in the cold was either crazy or hardy. He was neither. He made it home and closed the door, the house he shared with his large father darkening all the way. No one had been home, that was painfully clear. Now someone was. He started up the fire and sat by it for a while, adding wood and rubbing his hands until he was warm. Nothing could warm the chill in his heart. He was as good as alone.

He stared emptily and bitterly at the dancing flames. Even the fire seemed happier then him. Even the sparkling snow and ice looked cheerful. The distant, cold stars. The warmly lit Great hall. He was as empty, dark and cold as the houses on Berk, currently unoccupied while the nighttime party raged on in the hall, except for houses that held families that preferred to have more private parties. He glanced down at his boots.

Little did he know only a year later, he would be celebrating happily with both his dad and a dragon. That they would be the closest family anyone ever knew. And that five years of peace with the dragons would be started, thanks to him. That his dad would die to his best friend. He remained blissfuly unaware of it all, staring at the fire.

A soft knock brought him out of his deep thoughts. He told the knocker to come in, and Gobber hobbled in, bringing a cold wind with him. Gobber closed the door behind him, moving up to the fire. He shivered and added another small log to the fire. They exchanged a short conversation. Then Gobber pulled out a small package. Wrapped neatly in parchment, with a small bow decorating the top. On it was his name.

He stared up at Gobber, the closest person to family that he had. His emerald eyes widened with surprise and wonder. No one gave the village runt, Hiccup the useless a present. But here was a gift for him. Gobber motioned for him to open it.

He rubbed the paper for a moment, wondering what could be inside. He savoured the moment, the first time he had recieved a Snoggletog gift since he had been five. He teared the paper, getting it off and revealing a new journal underneath, but this was no ordinary journal.

The edges of the leather bound cover had gold lacing etched on it, in beautiful patterns. The inside held a large pack of neatly cut paper, whiter than regular paper. His name was etched onto the top, made in perfectly straight runes. A single, diamond shaped emerald lie just below hs name, the same color as his eyes. The emerald was surrounded with the same gold patterns around the edges. He let out a small gasp. He stared up at his friend, tears forming anew in his eyes. Tears of happiness. Putting the beautiful journal aside, he reached out and hugged Gobber tightly.

"Thank you so much, Gobber."

"Happy Snoggletog, Hiccup."


Six years later, he sat in the exact same spot, staring at the fire and clutching his journal. Now filled with drawings. He had used it gently, not nearly as much as he had used every other journal ever. He felt a numb pain shoot through his left leg, a phantom pain starting up again, painfull, but not as painful as years ago. He was aware of Toothless's soft snores in the corner. A soft voice startled him from his flashback.

"Hiccup?"

He turned and saw Valka. He smiled at her.

"Mom.

She walked up and sat down in the other chair. "Still up? It's bed time." She stopped, staring at the journal. "What's that?"

"A present Gobber gave me a long time ago."

"How long?"

"The Snoggletog the year before I met Toothless."

"Oh. That was a long time ago."

They lapsed into silence, Hiccup staring at the flames, dancing in front of him. He smiled. Despite all that he had been through, he was still himself.

Still Hiccup.

And every time he stared up at that stone statue in the mountain, he would remember that.

No matter what he would go through, he would remain himself.

In the years to come, whether he defeated Drago or not, whether more Night Furies were found or not, whether people died or not, Berk was destroyed or not, Dragons left the archipelago or not, whether the Hooligans went with them or not, whether Snoggletog was celebrated or not...

Whether he grew to old age or not...

He would always be Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third, Chief of Berk, the father of Dragons, the bringer of peace.


A reminder that no matter how the third movie and onward goes when it comes out, we will always love our sweetie.

Everyone have a wonderful holiday!