A/N Back again! Notice that I take turns now, updating A Fresh View and The Tale of Drake (my other current fanfic). If one gets updated, that means I'm working on the other for sure. Now, watch in fascination as my story takes an unexpected twist! (maybe? did YOU see this coming?) I'm just going to say right here, that this story will follow the movie in theory, even if major things are added/removed. 'Cause the movie's awesome. Still, I'm not going to directly follow it, since who wants to read another HTTYD novelization? No offense to those writers, just sayin that they've got that topic pretty well covered.
Also, to answer one of my reviews: Yes, our favorite puppy dog . . . nope, deadly night-black dragon, Toothlessm WILL appear in the story. Just not now. There is an example of in what ways this story will deviate from the movie.
Disclaimer:
I do not own HTTYD.
That night, things had only gotten better for both Hiccup and Birla. As it turned out, Birla's entire family had gotten drunk at the Mead Hall and had spent the entire night there, not by choice of course. They kind of passed out.
Birla had spent an hour going over every system, part, and calculation that was part of her pulley machine and Hiccup had listened intently to every word. He had even gotten a few new ideas from her. It was slightly jarring for him to meet someone else who had a similar view on all things Viking as him. It was equally jarring to even be talking to someone that treated him as an equal.
It struck him that he'd never really had that sort of experience for a long time. Teasing from the Dragon Trainees, awkward, one-sided conversations with his father, random glares from other Vikings, human interaction was a rare commodity for Hiccup. As much as he had wanted to shoot down that darned Night Fury, Hiccup believed he had been given a much greater gift in meeting Birla.
Early in the morning, Hiccup and Birla stood outside the Western Tower, inspecting Hiccup's Bola Launcher. Birla had begged him to completely explain everything in the machine, and so he had. It had only taken him an hour . . .
Birla beamed at him. "I understand it now!" she exclaimed. Hiccup gave her a disbelieving look. "I think, at least." she hastily added a second later.
Hiccup crossed his arms. "Well then, let's see."
She nodded at him, and knelt down before the contraption. Brushing her hair back to get a better look, she began. "Ok, this crank winds up this rod that has the tension rope coiled around it. It uses a gear system so that someone like you can pull the throwing string back."
Hiccup raised an eyebrow at her. "And look who's talking . . ."
"No, no." Birla shook her head, "sorry if that came out wrong. Anyways, that little lever will snap up when there's enough tension coiled up. Then, you unsnap that clasp there to aim."
"And why is that?"
"If it could swivel freely when you cranked it up, then it would swing around all over the place and be really hard to wind up. Correct?" Birla said, smirking at him.
Hiccup shook his head. "Yes. Glad to see someone listened."
Birla allowed herself to give a self-satisfied smile before continuing. "Then you grab the two handles like so, and aim the bola launcher using the pop-up sights."
Hiccup nodded, and dramatically clapped his hands. "Bravo, bravo. Touched by your attentiveness."
Birla laughed. "So can I shoot it?" she asked.
Hiccup opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Egill Skall opened the door of the Western Tower and called out to Hiccup's friend. "Birla" he yelled.
"What, dad?" Birla said back. Hiccup was jarred by Birla's sudden change in voice when speaking to her father. Now she sounded (and acted) like the first time he had met her - shy, and as quiet as a mouse. In fact, Hiccup doubted if Egill had even heard her.
Well, actually, that wasn't quite true. Birla had still been very quiet when speaking to Hiccup, but . . . it was the very way she spoke that changed, he supposed. When Birla was talking to Hiccup, after she had warmed up to him, of course, she had been outgoing, witty, and surprisingly energetic beneath that weak exterior. Her energy didn't make her speech any louder, per say, but it was obviously there.
"Come inside, Birla. Your mother and I have to discuss something with you." Egill continued. To be frank, he actually seemed rather troubled.
"Coming." Birla responded, still in her subued personality. She turned to Hiccup, and instantly brightened. "This machine is really cool. You're really cool! You think . . . that I can see you sometime later today?" she asked, eyes sparkling. There she went again, Hiccup reflected. Back to her old self. Well, the self that Hiccup liked, anyways.
"Uh, sure. Of course." Hiccup stuttered. He looked over Birla's shoulder (not a very hard thing to do) and saw his father walking down the road. Stoick's face had that "time to talk" sort of look to it. "I guess I'll see you around!"
Birla flashed him a smile before running to her father.
"Hey dad." Hiccup said neutrally as his father approached.
"Hello son." Stoick replied. He motioned for Hiccup to follow him. "I have to speak with you about something."
Stoick turned away and started walking down the long, interconnecting ramps to the docks, Hiccup struggling to keep at his side. "Dad?" Hiccup asked.
"Yes. Son, our village has a problem, and you are part of the solution." Stoick answered, staring straight ahead, a distant, far away look in his eyes.
FLASHBACK
Stoick sat in the Mead Hall late the previous night, after the raid. His initial reaction to the repulsed attack was one of satisfaction; only a few injured Vikings, almost no supplies stolen, most of the village intact. His son had even helped bait a Monstrous Nightmare to the Western Tower's catapult (he thought it had been intentional). Now, Spitelout was giving him some bad news that successfully tempered his mood.
"Stoick, we have a problem." he had first said, walking up the the Chief of Berk.
"What?"
"Fishleg's father has alerted me to an . . . unfortunate trend in past year. He's been compiling a bunch'a records, and apparently, with the current rate of Trainees and our annual losses, soon we won't even be able to send out boats to find the nest. Sir, we're running out of men."
"Aren't this year's Dragon Trainees starting in a few days?"
"Yeah, all five of 'em. Not enough, supposedly."
"Thanks for the heads up."
Spitelout nodded, and walked away. Stoick frowned at the new information. A minute later, Gobber ambled over, mug in hand.
Without preamble, Gobber spoke. "Spit it out." he commanded.
"What?" Stoick asked, confused.
"Ye got' that look on yer face, Stoick, Somethings botherin' ya." Gobber clarified.
"I was just told that Berk is running out of warriors." Stoick said flatly, grimacing.
"Aye, it's a damn shame." Gobber responded indifferently.
Stoick gave him a look. "That's all ye got? Those beasts are winning!"
"Simple. Make more teens Dragon Trainees." Gobber said, taking a swig from his mug.
"But who?" Stoick asked.
Gobber gestured wildly, saying "Everyone, Stoick! Let all other Vikings pick up teh' slack. Ye said we need more warriors, ye get more warriors."
"Who's going to grow up to make our bread, catch our fish, bake our bread?"
"It only has teh' be temporary. Get a bunch o' warriors, find the nest, destroy it, and we're good. What's worse, havin' a shortage of bread in the future, or havin' a shortage of warriors now, when we need 'em most?"
"And you're sure about this?"
"Yup. Take it from me, those kids want to be teh' Dragon Trainees. Who wants teh' be a dumb ol' fisherman when ye can be a big, strong warrior?"
Stoick sighed, and conceded. "Fine. But most of those kids are no warriors."
"Ha! And ye're sayin' that Fishlegs an' Snotlout are? Can't be much worse."
"Got a point. Get the word out."
"I'm puttin' ye in Dragon Training, Hiccup." Stoick said finally.
"What? Dad, are you kidding me? All my life you've said I'll never go there and the day before it starts you say yes!?" Hiccup exclaimed.
"Ye won't be alone." Stoick said, closing his eyes.
"Huh?"
Stoick stopped and turned to Hiccup, bending down to his level. "Hiccup, Berk is running out of warriors. We need everyone."
"What?"
"Any parent who wishes to have their fourteen year-old put in Dragon Training this year may do so. We're desperate, son." Stoick said.
"But . . . but these are fishermen! Sheep shephards! Bakers! Carpenters! Are you actually putting them in a cage with live dragons!?"
"Yes, I am." Stoick stated flatly. "And you're joining them."
"But . . ."
"Don't worry, you're new friend . . . Birla, is it?" Hiccup nodded, "her parents jumped at the opportunity."
"Birla?" Hiccup gasped in disbelief. "She'll get crushed!"
"Then help her, Hiccup. I'm not expecting you to agree with my decision, but you must carry on the tradition of the Haddocks." Stoick said slowly, for emphasis. A second later, he added, "Here. This will help ye," handing Hiccup a small axe he had produced from his belt.
He began to walk away, but then turned back to Hiccup, a few feet away. "Make your ancestors proud. Make me proud, son. I'm leaving tomorrow for a nest hunt. I'll be back . . . maybe."
"And I'll be here . . . probably."
Later that day after helping clean up the forge a bit with Gobber, Hiccup took a walk into Town Square. Too late, he noticed Fishlegs, Ruffnut, Tuffnut, Snotlout,and Astrid, the original Dragon Trainees, standing in his path.
Hiccup was surprised, to say the least, when they completely ignored him strolling by. Instead, he got to listen in on a snippet of their conversation.
"Can you believe we've got twenty other kids in Training now?" Ruffnut exclaimed.
"That means more people that we see get hurt!" Tuffnut sneered, and high-fived Snotlout.
"Actually, twenty-five more teenagers are joining us, Ruffnut." Fishlegs added. Ruffnut glared at him.
"I'm gonna crush every one of 'em!" Snotlout boasted.
"This just means more people to beat, guys. Come on." Astrid said, getting up. The rest of the "original five" followed at her heels.
Thanking Odin for his luck, Hiccup continued his walk. Everywhere, kids his age were excitedly swinging the weapons they would bring to Training tomorrow about, while others were talking in small groups, no doubt on how awesome it was that they were going to become warriors. Their parents looked just as happy.
Hiccup felt like the only unhappy person in the Square. That thought was dis-proven a second later as he ran into a diminutive brunette girl.
"Birla!" he exclaimed.
"Hiccup!" she said at the same exact moment. "Did you hear the news?" she added, a look of terror on her face.
"Yeah . . ." Hiccup said sadly, lifting up his axe to show her.
Birla nodded and showed him a little sword, more like a dagger that she was carrying. "Dragon Training." she said.
In unison, the two friends spoke. "We are so dead."
Oh noes! This chapter opens several critical questions . . .
Will the random teens from different professions not die on the first day of Dragon Training?
How in the world will Birla and Hiccup survive in an arena filled with thirty other people?
And most importantly . . .
What can Gobber cook up for Training, since the Gronkle he usually uses for six people (six shots) will be swarmed? *evil grin*
Find out next time on A Fresh View! (and please review, as always)