-Chapter: IV-

-Act Like Us-

`...The day that I walked through the forest, looking for the downed dragon, was a day that changed my life. At the moment I have neither an idea as to how my life changed, but I felt that it did. Like I had found something more than just a dragon in my search. That I found myself. Not unlike the reflection of whom I am staring into. A reflection of myself, in the eyes of a great beast...

Hiccup woke with a start. His heart was beating with such ferocity one would wake all the trees slumbering inhabitants. He scanned his surroundings, and found a not so subtle dragon also sleeping beside him; not an arms spread away. Just laying there. Then he remembered why he was here. To show his people his capacity for great feats.

"Why am I here?" He asked, none too softly, for the great beast started to turn.

He rose to his feet, looking down at the dagger that lay forgotten. All his past hopes, all his past wishes and dreams lay in his use of this dagger. To slay the great foe and earn a title worthy of a great hero.

How are there heroics in slaughter?

"I did this." He slowly started to the crest behind him. He had brought down this foe. He had it's life in his own hands. He did this.

There was a war going on. A war far greater and more destructive than the war between Vikings and Dragons. It was Hiccups war of destiny. He could control his own destiny, but where would that destiny lead? To the path of life of a small Viking boy, or the path of death to a small child; young in life's grasp?

He cast his gaze to the dagger in his hand. All hopes and dreams lying in a piece of sharpened iron?

Hiccup knew what to do. He slowly crept towards the great beast, ropes and stones all. He knelt down to the chest that pushed out for air. He listened to the steady heartbeat, slowly picking up speed from his obvious presence. He listened to the rush of air through it's nostrils as he placed his knife in front of him. He saw the closed eyelids, shutting out the inevitable coming. He placed one hand on a rope and pulled.

'Slice' A rope cut through.

"Pop' Weighted stones pulling apart fraying masses

'Snap' A third rope cut through

...and it all fell down. Every rope collected at the earth, every stone lobed aside. Hiccup looked over his handy work, if only for a moment, as the great beast stirred most subtly. He only had a moment of notice before a lumbering form was pinning him to the ground. Only a moment as hot air washed over him from the twin nostrils. Only a moment to look into the depths of those eyes and see his own reflection. His own fear, mirrored across himself.

Then it let go. The black dragon slowly back pedaled. Continually staring into the eyes of it's enemy.

The enemy that let it live, that cut it's binds.

Hiccup didn't make heads nor tails of what was happening. A moment ago a great dragon was towering over, preparing to roast him. The next, the dragon was backing off into the forest, a sign to do the same.

He hadn't felt more fear in that moment than he had his entire life. No amount of fear from not knowing if the work you did was good enough. No amount of fear when dragons attack and you worry for your parents safety. No amount of fear that the wounds on your mother would be fatal.

Fear for ones life in immediate death is infinite. As infinite as ones known being, an expanse across who you are and striking at every chord, preparing to cut the heart line of ones life.

Hiccup was not alone in that fear. He had experienced that same fear in the eyes of the beast in his hands. The same fear the dragon had when its life was in his hands.

...and the same mutual release. The same act of staying life. The same act of sparing.

The walk back to the Village was not as simple as the walk before. So many thoughts ran through his head, he couldn't count them if he tryed. A single thought went to his throat.

"It sparred me. It sparred my life as I sparred its."

He looked up. It was Undorne. He had been out for almost the entirety of the day. By the time he gets back it will most likely be Eventide.

The walk back was uneventful. Any event could hardly compare to his experience before. The smell of cooking meats, and burning wood told Hiccup he was close to the Village. He sighted a small backing of the Chiefs longhouse before swooping in to the door. His dad would probably want to know where he was for the day. It was his method of saying he cared something for the boy.

The door was at his fingertips. He brushed aside his desire to pour out his happenings to his father, but knew it would be the wrong thing to do. The stairs to the rafter level was under his feet, his father was at the hearth, stoking the flames. He looked at the man hunched over and didn't see or feel any connection between the two. This man, albeit his father, was a fighter. Was a Viking. Hiccup was just a boy, and not a Viking.

"Hiccup."

The boy startled, had he picked his ears at the sound of his coming? "Uh, dad! I uh, need to talk to you dad." his voice trailed off on the last word.

"I need to speak with you too son." Stoick had deftly lifted himself and was staring level into Hiccups eyes. Hiccup was still on the stairs.

Both blurted out a long built up message.

"I think. learn. training. forget. fighting. dragons.." They looked at each other. Stoick broke off.

"You go first."

"Uh, okay." Hiccup didn't know what to say or even how to say it, if he had the right thing to say. "I think it's time I forget about learning to fight dragons."

Stoick looked startled. He knew the boy wasn't much of a fighter, but to outwardly omit to fighting dragons was startling non the less. "Hiccup, I-uh, I think you may be not so right about this. Your going to be inheriting the title of Chief later on in life and you need to be ready for what that title means. Omitting to fighting dragons is just not possible."

"I know what the title means, but recently I've been doing some thinking." and other things worthy of noting. "...and I've come to the conclusion that my life may not work with dragon fighting in it. I mean, who is going to take over the stall when Gobber isn't there as much?"

"Hiccup. This isn't about Gobber, or the forge, or the town at all. This is about you." The large man held his head for what was to come. "I've spoken with Gobber, and he has agreed to take you into training, dragon training, with the others."

"What? Don't I get a say in this?"

"Hiccup-" He was cut short by Hiccups protest.

"Don't we have enough dragon fighting Vikings already? I mean, do we have enough tannery workers? Maybe we need more on the fishing boats..."

"This is serious, son."

"..but not serious enough to allow me a say in it? In my own choosing?"

"I doesn't even matter what happens tonight. What's done is done." Stoick walked over to a rack of weapons. He picked up a single bladed war-axe. He placed it into the not so wanting hands of the young boy.

"When you carry this axe. You carry all of us with you." He lifted his sons shoulders for a better stance. "Which means you walk like us, you talk like us." He placed a finger against his helmet. "...and you think like us."

Hiccup moaned some incomprehensible words. They could be curses, they could be blessings, they could be notices for his next piece of work and the primary functions.

"Now, were going off on another hunting expedition. I won't be back for a month or so, but I will be back, probably." Stoick started for the door, leaving a tiny boy to clutch the axe his father placed in his care.

"...and I'll be here. Maybe." Dragon training was brutal, even for tough Vikings.

*Undorne* : the time period between noon and Eventide - (evening)

*Eventide* : the time of when the sun sinks into the horizon - (dusk)