YAY! DRABBLE 100 HAS ARRIVED! WHOO HOO! *throws party* This is amazing, you guys. When I wrote the first five drabbles, I had no idea that they would morph into this crazy monster fic collection. Not that I'm complaining. :) Anyway, I'd first like to dedicate #98 to DOBT18, for giving me the prompt with the weapons, and #99 to TheCrazyArtist for giving me the word "switched" to work with. Paraxenos, I know that you gave me a great idea too, but yours came in after I had already thought up these five so it didn't make it in. It'll be in the next batch though, promise. Also, congrats to Snotlout, for being the star of the long-awaited #100, and to keep-me-posted, for submitting review number three hundred. And (I'm almost done, just hang with me) .4ever2010, I know we were in the middle of a PM conversation when I unexpectedly didn't reply to you. I'm sorry. I got distracted, and forgot about it. I'll get back to you, like, now, if I can find your PM again. Please forgive me. And thanks for getting me this far, everybody. This chapter is for all of you. Enjoy!

~.~

98. Armed

There are many things distinctive about the look of a Viking, Toothless has noticed. They have a look that is entirely unique to them, a certain aura that can only be found in the people from the far north, that sets them apart in a crowd.

There are many things that contribute to this, the dragon has decided, from their wardrobe of furs to their unique language riddled with a variety of creative swearwords to their telltale buff body build. However, there's something else, something a tad bit more subtle, that, while not a characteristic only found in Vikings, still defines them: they are always armed to the teeth.

Toothless has seen many races that constantly arm themselves, but few as obviously or as heavily as his Viking friends. He's not sure why they insist on always looking (and acting) like they're marching off to war, and he thinks that they could probably do just as well without the display of brutality, but knows that he would probably lose any argument that he started over the subject. At any cost, he thinks, at least he gets a good insight at their character.

For instance, the weapons that Toothless' friends carry with them reflect their personalities quite well. Like when choosing dragons, they unconsciously go right for the ones that best reflect who they are—Fishlegs, for one, displays obvious favoritism for large, heavy objects with witch to hit people, as does Snotlout, and they both enjoy weapons such as hammers and clubs and staffs. Astrid, of course, has an ax that weighs thrice as much as she does that she swings around as effortlessly as she would a small tree branch, and can use in a great variety of different ways, from beheading people with the blade to dealing blows with the heavy handle. The twins seem to have a slight obsession with everything shiny and sharp—Ruffnut, for example, was once asked to reveal just how many small knives she could conceal on her person. She came up with over twenty, sliding them out of innumerable odd places, such as beneath her helmet, hidden in her boots, up her sleeves, and strapped and pinned to unusual places beneath her clothing.

Toothless came to the conclusion that there was probably a reason that she rarely was hugged, and that her boyfriend must cut himself a lot.

Her brother was a bit less secretive with his weapon-wielding, and was in possession of a truly unnecessary large sword that was nearly half as high and heavy as he. Most people thought that this was a bit overkill, but Ruffnut says he's compensating. Just what for, exactly, is a mystery.

And then there's Hiccup. As far as Toothless knows, his best friend has broken away from the norm and doesn't make a habit of carrying deadly weapons. He does, however, have a large collection of heavy glass vials and beakers for his experiments that would make excellent projectiles, and a vast knowledge of chemical reactions.

And this, the dragon thinks, is very unsettling.

99. Switched

Toothless knows that thinking is considered a very dangerous pastime in the village of Berk, but sometimes, when he's in a sentimental mood, he often finds himself brooding over the "what if" factor. It's just something he does when he has nothing better to pass the time—applying a "what if" to any given situation that he's encountered lately, and thinking up all the scenarios that could have become of it.

Sometimes, he wonders what would have become of Berk if Hiccup hadn't been in it. And this thought leads to another one: What would have become of him? And then, sometimes, he thinks about what he would have done in Hiccup's place. What if their roles had been switched? What if it had been the boy who was hurt and at the mercy of the dragon instead of the dragon who had been shot down and wounded that night?

Toothless likes to think that he would have acted the way Hiccup did. That he would have the curiosity and the compassion to disobey the rules of the far North's harsh food chain and reach out to touch the life of a stranger, however different they may be from him.

He likes to think that, even if their roles had been switched, things would still have turned out as good as they did. But he wonders.

100. Mercy

Snotlout battles alone on the other side of the clearing, easily holding his own against any of Berk's invaders who attempt to cross blades with him and escape with their lives. Although only in his late teens, the boy is a prodigy on the battlefield, dominating the corner of Berk that he defends. Illuminated by the fires that run rampant through the village, engulfing everything in their path, he reminds Toothless of some war god, merciless and powerful and deadly as he defends his home from those who wish to take it away.

As Toothless watches, Snotlout's next opponent melts from the shadows and lunges for the boy—a man, older than most who willingly involve themselves in petty activities such as war, with graying hair and many years of wisdom reflected in his eyes with the light of the fires that his comrades had started. Snotlout whirls and meets him head-on, and for a moment, the two are matched, their blades crossing with the harsh screech of steel upon steel and a quick shower of sparks. Snotlout's raw power is unable to dominate the experienced moves of this seasoned warrior, and the man cannot find a chance to land a blow through the boy's speed and strength. Then, as fast as thought, Snotlout feigns left and the man lunges, fooled, and the tip of Snotlout's blade catches the handle of his opponent's, sending it spinning out of sight. The old man stumbles back, defenseless as Snotlout comes in for the kill—until he's knocked from the danger zone.

The boy who had rammed himself into the man and knocked him away, voluntarily taking his place at the tip of Snotlout's blade, cannot be any older than Snotlout himself. Fair-haired and baby-faced, he's sprawled on the ground and glaring up at Snotlout with a mixture of terror and sheer determination. He is willing to die to protect this old man, although the relationship between them is unclear—friends? Father and son? Mentor and student?

For another moment, Snotlout hesitates, surprised by the sudden sacrifice and frowning down at the boy who presently has the tip of Snotlout's sword pressing into his neck. A few feet away, the old man gets up from the dust, trembling violently, his wise eyes softer now, sadder, scared—and pleading.

And after a moment of indecision—during which Toothless holds his breath—Snotlout removes his blade and steps back, allowing his prey to scramble away unscathed. He lowers his head slightly, once, in a gesture of retreat, understanding, respect . . . and mercy.

101. Quiet

Sometimes, it's the quiet moments that Toothless cherishes the most. Small, unimportant, inconsequential moments when, for once in their lives, none of his friends are trying to kill one another.

It's those little things that he doesn't think about often, but make him smile when he does, those rare times when no yelling is required to make a point, that leave an impression on him. They come in a variety of forms, from sitting on the riverside with Tuffnut in silence for no reason other than a little moment of peace, to noticing the heated arguments that Ruffnut and Astrid manage to have with only overly-dramatic facial expressions and pointed looks, to a small grin shared with Stoick whenever Hiccup runs by yelling about life-changing scientific breakthroughs and not noticing that his hair is on fire.

Little things, quiet things that you usually wouldn't notice. For instance, a few precious minutes of dead silence between a group of friends, when they all follow some subconscious calling that draws them to the same rock ledge high above Berk to watch the best sunset of the year. For once, there are no death threats, no complaining about boredom, no violent wrestling matches over who gets to sit where. They simply sit, and watch, and enjoy each other's company, and prove that sometimes the best bonding moments are the ones that come wrapped in silence.

102. Crossroads

On one of their many travels, they stumbled upon a crossroad. A place in the earth where one well-worn path met another, and created a perfect "x" in the middle of the wilderness, cutting a sorry scar through the lovely, lush forest. They walked until they stood upon the point, in the very spot where all four of the roads became one and all options were open to them, awaiting their choice.

Of the four roads, three were obviously traveled extensively. They were wide and smooth and beaten down by many pairs of feet, purposeful and professional, straight and true, and very, very boring. The fourth and final of the paths was something else entirely—winding and rough and overgrown, a mess of a road, canopied by leaf-laden branches and home to many half-hidden tree roots just waiting for the next fool to trip over them. It was dark and wild and adventurous, everything that the other three roads were not, with the sound of birdsong heavy in the air and the glitter of curious eyes blinking out from the underbrush. Enticing. Forbidding. Abandoned.

Hiccup and Toothless took the road less traveled. And it made all the difference.