The horns stopped their cacophonous blaring as a throng of Viking children started to gather around the docks. Some were probably not much older than seven-years-old.

"Attention, Vikings!" bellowed Gobber over the din.

"Due to the introduction of dragons to the island, there 'ave been a few changes to the—uh—curriculum..." said Gobber as he flipped through a few pages on his clipboard. The young Vikings stood confused while Hiccup's eyes darted around to see a few ships bobbing in the nighttime waters of the harbor. His spirits plunged fifty feet into the center of the earth realizing what boats plus "curriculum changes" amounted to:

Seasickness.

Yes, although he didn't want to admit it, Hiccup was prone to it. Ever since he was little (well, littler), he'd step onto a tiny little rowboat and automatically feel his breath get shallow and his stomach heave; needless to say, it wasn't pleasant. Toothless seemed to sense his discomfort and nudged his snout into Hiccup's side.

"Ah, 'ere we go. Anyway, dragons will not be ridin' on team boats, but on their own. We don' want any of yeh cheatin', now would we? Anyone caught with a dragon will be shipped off back to Berk, yeh 'ear me?" Gobber admonished.

"Thanks bud, I'll be okay from here."

Toothless gave a disagreeing huff and nudged the boy yet again as he hobbled down the docks; Toothless was led away once Hiccup arrived at his destination.

"Hiccup, yeh don' look so good. Are yeh sure you won' toss yer guts over the side of the boat?" Gobber asked with a small pinch of a joking demeanor.

"Ohhhh, yeah, I should be pretty okay. Don't worry," Hiccup said with an air of cheerfulness (that actually masked his nausea quite well) as he was assigned to a little boat that seemed dwarfed by its two companions on either side.

"Heh-heh! That's the spirit, now! The open air, the wild sea! We'll see it all! Plus, it's a good way to impress the ladies," he said with a wink, with Hiccup rolling his eyes. He proceeded to slap Hiccup on the back, nearly upping last night's dinner he desperately tried to keep down. With a small squeak of desperation, Hiccup clenched his fists and managed a smile as he tentatively edged his way into the boat.

In the early morning gloom, he could make out a few figures: Speedifist marveling at a new sword Snotlout had bought, Sharpknife talking excitedly with Tuffnut, Clueless (who really did absolutely nothing but let his eyes wander), Fishlegs, Wartihog, Ruffnut, and Astrid. Hiccup instantly felt some of the pangs of nausea be replaced with flutters of warmth as he could make out the distinct outline of Astrid, bundled up tightly in fur coats, the butt of her axe firmly rooted on the deck. He saw the open seat behind her and slipped in between the two benches.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hey, yourself," she whispered back.

How was he supposed to respond to that?

"Well, um, how are you?"

That was stupid!

She opened her mouth to speak, but the boat jolted as it was cut free from the docks and Gobber began to announce news and whatnot for what seemed like the umpteenth time that morning.

"Good mornin' Viking Troupe Number Eight!"

"Good morning, Sir," chorused the group.

"Well, given tha' I am yer caretaker for this year's Viking Training, I think it'd be nice to tell yeh what we're actually doing righ' now as we speak. Would any of yeh like to guess as to what we're doin'?"

Wartihog eased his hand up into the air.

"Since dragons are friends now, we're learning the other basics of Vikingry?"

"That's it! Now, since Vikings are the best shipbuilders in the known world, it's necessary tha' we learn to operate this darn thing!" he said with a laugh, smacking a hand on the edge of the boat lovingly, "so, today yeh are learnin' how."

Everyone was pretty okay with that.

"But, I believe in learnin' on the job, and I think it'd be better if yeh skipped the technical things and got down to how yeh are gonna defend yerself if yer raided. Any volunteers for Swordfightin' 101?"

What.

"I don't expect yeh to jus' sit there like an ickle pretty jellyfish, now!"

No one raised their hands. They all knew that if they were going to swordfight, they would be matched unfairly. It was a simple fact of Viking society.

"Hiccup?" Gobber called upon.

"Wait! Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold up a sec—"

"Hiccup, I know yeh can do somethin' like this. Just try."

With a pause and a sigh, he regrettably agreed to fight. It was really unfortunate that he, of all people, was looked up to these days. Even more unfortunate, the cold rain started to fling itself from the sky and crash-land onto the deck, stinging Hiccup's skin. He grabbed a sword from a makeshift weapon rack and held it in his right hand, the grip felt strangely awkward. He felt like jumping into the water as soon as he was matched up against Snotlout and his new, pointy sword.

Oh Gods, this is going to be brutal.

"Now I want ye two to play fair…as best as ye can! Heh-heh," Gobber laughed, enjoying all the little things that came with fighting, "keep yer swords in their sheaths at all times and take three paces back with yer back turned...Alrigh'? Fight!"

Snotlout lunged with a daring swipe near Hiccup's face, while Hiccup barely dodged the attempted blow by about three inches. Hiccup, in retaliation, swept to the side—very wobbly considering his leg and the slippery deck—and locked their swords with a sharp clang. Unsuspecting of this, Snotlout was knocked off balance and fell on his back. Snotlout's sword skittered across the deck and Hiccup tried to advance quickly and catch him off guard, but his cousin had reclaimed his weapon and was making a mad dash toward him, obviously enveloped in the thrill of battle. Unluckily for Hiccup, Snotlout's sheath had mysteriously disappeared. Hiccup panicked and started bounding in the opposite direction. At this point, the rain had made a grand crescendo into a downpour, with freezing cold water droplets pounding into the deck without letting up the slightest bit.

"His sheath fell off!" Hiccup yelped as he tried to parry one of Snotlout's moves, it missing him narrowly.

"What's tha'?" Gobber hollered, trying to block out the sound of torrential rain pitting against the vessel.

"HIS SHEATH FELL OFF!" Ruffnut screeched, using her best I'm-screaming-at-Tuffnut-for-no-reason voice.

Gobber must have gotten the message, because in a blink of an eye, the fight was concluded with Snotlout being scolded strongly and Hiccup on the brink of fainting and getting sick and all the worst things he could probably think of. All of the sudden, the grating rain seemed to push him back along with the boat rocking along the choppy waves. Next thing he knew, the weakened form of a scrawny Viking plummeted overboard and was drifting in nerve-numbingly freezing water.

"HICCUP!" Astrid screamed from the edge of the ship.

The Vikings looked down frantically in the water for signs of him, and found him drifting away on a piece of wood, slightly unconscious.

"Quick! Haul 'im in!" Gobber ordered and a couple teens got a rope and lassoed him up, wood and all. He was eventually lifted onto the slippery boat once again, sputtering and coughing up seawater, the sting of brine already taking over his sinuses.

"This boy nearly died!" Gobber pointed out, "What in Thor's name do yeh think ye were doin'?" Gobber questioned Snotlout, sounding a mix between aghast and exasperated.

"I dunno, sir! It was just gone!" said Snotlout, desperately pleading his case. He did like brutality, but Gobber knew he'd never try to kill someone or at least make it so that killing was a possibility.

Gobber looked around thoughtfully. Tuffnut may have been mischievous, but wouldn't deliberately try to hurt someone. Ruffnut was the one who said the sheath was missing, but she was just as bad as Tuffnut was at scheming. Astrid would never pull a stunt like that. Clueless was…clueless. Sharpknife, Speedifist, Wartihog—no.

Little did Gobber know that Dogsbreath was blending in the crowd, tucking the sheath safely in his supplies basket.

"Alrigh' then. Yeh all are on limpets for the week," announced Gobber. The teens groaned in response.

Explaining what limpets taste like is impossible; but to describe it the closest, they taste a bit like worms, a bit like snot, and a lot less tasty than either.

"Erm, guys? W-what's this?" Hiccup asked, still visibly shaken from his "lovely" encounter with the angry ocean.

The piece of wood was still beneath Hiccup. Except it wasn't a piece of wood.

It was a coffin.

Now, in case you couldn't tell, I've put a smidgeon of book canon for a little variety (though it's definitely not a new idea). Additionally, I double-checked for conventional errors. I'm self-awarded with the 'Most Likely to Make a Stupid Mistake in Spellcheck' award. Mm-hmm.

Don't forget to leave a review and watch for chapter three! Love you guys!

~Simmy