So I finally bought and watched HTTYD2 and it just reminded me as to how much I love these movies. Only real downside (aside from the obvious one that we all cried to), was the lack of HicStrid. The chemistry was there, but Astrid felt a lot more minor this time around.

As for the dragons… the Timberjack is not what I expected AT ALL. They seem to be only orange in colour, have a snake-like body and NO LEGS. That being said, RazorWing is NOT going to change. He needs his legs as a plot-device later on and the tube like body is just ridiculous. So I suppose he looks a bit like a Changewing now, but who said this story was sticking to canon?

And I have to ask… what happened to the lore set in the specials and the series? Where's the Boneknapper? What about Thornado (OK I know what happened to Thornado now)?

Anyway, about this chapter. Here's the info I wrote for a planned update chapter: I had a workable concept here; I was close to finishing the first part of the next chapter. But then my hard-drive became an impotent, moaning bitch faggot and died on me. So I lost several paragraphs of work.

I still have the gist of this chapter, but I've changed it a bit. A BIG bit actually, throwing something from a planned later chapter up here. If you've re-read this recently, you might know what's going to happen. I've done this, because I felt a need to progress the story a lot more, so the fic will not be as long as I had once planned.

And there is an APPEARANCE update. No longer shall you imagine the teens to be how they looked in the original movie and the series. Instead, they are now in the transitional phase as seen in Dawn of the Dragon Racers.

-Key-

"Ordinary Speech"

"Shouting, names of ships/aircraft and foreign languages"

'Thoughts'

*Dragons Speaking*

One final reminder, this chapter is in third-person and not first-person like all the others. If the third-person does not take off, I might consider going back to first person. It also Anders-centric. I just couldn't figure out a way to include Hiccup or any of the other Vikings. But the next chapter will include them.

Chapter Ten: Hood

Even before they entered the forest, the smell of burnt fuel and cordite filled Ander's nose. The Vikings beside him coughed and gagged at the unfamiliar smell, but they carried on. The dragons behind lay in wait, in case their riders came under attack. All were wary of the lone Timberjack, towering over them, but had grown used to its presence. In the trees, a black shape flitted between the branches, green eyes being the only way to spot Toothless and Hiccup up there. The Norwegian's keen eyes picked something out that, in this time, did not belong there.

"What is it?" One of the Vikings beside him asked impatiently. Anders didn't reply. He could hear voices shouting in a familiar language, fires raging. He knew where he was: Skeleton Creek, where the best kept secret of British morale lay hidden. Filled with disbelief, he rose from his crouch, stepping out of the brush and towards the edge of a sheer wall of rock.

"What are you doing?!" Stoick whispered harshly, "What is out there?" Alas, he received no reply. Grunting, he called to his fellow Vikings to follow the airman out of the forest.

Anders stood on a cliff face, leading down into Skeleton Creek. It wasn't really a creek, more like a ravine, as it was simply a huge gash in the coastline, empty of life and devoid of any rock formations. But when Stoick, Gobber, Spitelout and the other warriors stepped up to edge, they joined Anders in his disbelief and confusion. Yet they also looked upon it with shock and awe.

The Creek had an occupant. A ship, a vessel so large it made even the mightiest longship look like a child's toy, so tall it made the tallest trees on Berk seem like matchsticks. Yet this huge ship fitted quite snugly into the creek, only the tip of mast showing above the treeline. Alas, it was heavily damaged, decks smouldering, walls torn open and men lying dead all over. They all heard Anders gasp,

"Hood."

Suddenly, voices shouted in a tongue that the Vikings didn't recognise. But Anders eyes widened.

"Up there! On the top of the cliff!"

"Germans!"

"Shoot them up!"

Anders sprang into action,

"Get away from the edge!" He screamed, "Get away from the edge!"

A thunderous noise filled the ravine and the edge of the cliff wall began to disintegrate as something ate it away. It didn't take a genius to know someone was firing upon them with some kind of weapon and the Vikings scarpered, just something blew a chunk of the wall into dust. Up in the trees, Hiccup clamped his hands to his ears trying to drown, not just the noise of the real weapons, but the weapons from his dream, ripping into his friends with lethal force. Below him, Toothless yelped as something shattered a tree branch just inches from his head.

"FRIENDLIES!" Anders yelled in English as hard as he could, "We're friendlies! The password is King Arthur!" His screams went unnoticed, drowned out by the cacophony of noise coming from the warship.

"What is that?!" Stoick shouted at Anders, "Why is it making that noise?!"

"That is the battlecruiser Hood! And they are firing at us because they think WE are the enemy!" Suddenly it clicked in his mind. If Hood was firing at ground troops that could only mean one thing: the Germans had landed on the island and she had been discovered. Yet inexplicably and exactly like him, she had been transported nearly a thousand years into the past.

'We need to catch their attention… But how?' Anders thought, racking his mind for the answer, but he just couldn't find it. A standard wave of a white flag might have done it, but no-one here was wearing anything remotely bright enough to be seen against the trees. He even contemplated using one of the dragons and its pale underbelly, but there was no guarantee it wouldn't get shot to bits. Besides, presenting a beast which none of the ship's crew thought existed was something Anders believed was not the wisest move. That and the fact there was now an enormous cloud of dust obscuring the view of the battlecruiser.

Standing up to run away would be suicide and he guessed the Vikings would not take kindly to being asked to leave this great ship alone in a creek on their island. Drained of ideas, Anders could only lay prone to the floor as cannon shells whizzed over him and the Vikings.

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Grand Admiral Holland could not understand his position. Hood was on the verge of being boarded, the harbour in ruins, the several tanks that protected the secret dock were burning wrecks. Yet when the ship was hit by another round of shell fire and she exploded, he suddenly found himself perfectly fine on the Star Mast of the flagship. He had watched the ship and his crew engulfed by flames and felt himself burning, but they were all fine… or as fine as they could be.

He couldn't understand it. The waning evening had miraculously become bright sunshine, the docks, steps and cables holding Hood in place were gone, as if they never even existed and the tremendous camouflage net draped over the area was also, nowhere to be found. Yet apparently, the Germans could.

Hood's upgraded and somewhat improvised heavy AA Guns had begun firing at the starboard cliff face less than an hour after things went silent. The dust cloud kicked up by the shells tearing away at the cliff was immense and pretty soon, Holland became convinced his crew were shooting at shadows, especially with the lack of return fire.

He turned to the ship's Gunnery Officer, a displeased glint in his eyes,

"Order the gun crews to cease fire." The Officer's eyes widened.

"Sir?"

"You heard me. Order the gun crews to cease fire and stand down. There has been no return fire which means they're just wasting ammunition." With a nod, the G/O marched over to a signal box, opened the panel and flipped a switch inside.

Outside, a shrill bell rang out, cutting through the sounds of war and one-by-one, the guns fell silent, their crews grinning, believing they'd eliminated the threat, or frowning with the lack of a fight the Germans put up. Satisfied, the Admiral turned back to the small window, staring out of it at the dissipating dust cloud…

…and was surprised by the gaggle of men he saw clustered just before the cliff face.

"Binoculars, someone give me binoculars!" he ordered, holding his hand out and gripping when a pair of binoculars was shoved into his palm. With a graceful sweep of the arm, Holland had the device pressed against his eyes. He instantly knew these men weren't Germans. In fact he didn't know who they were. From the clothes they wore to the weapons they wielded, everything about them was just off.

But among these unfamiliar men, was a familiar presence, kneeling besides a huge man with a bushy red beard, was the flight suit of an RAF pilot, minus parachute and the various other things the pilots were equipped with before they got in the cockpit. When the shaggy black hair of the pilot lifted up cautiously, revealing his face, the Admiral had to stifle a gasp that was somewhere between shock and relief. He was staring at a pilot who had been declared MIA two nights ago, and in this time, MIA usually meant KIA. To see the man's face again was a relief, but that couldn't explain who all these men where beside him. Anders Lanquist had always been a bit of an oddity.

Not even bothering to hand the crewman his binoculars back, Holland stormed out of the mast onto the balcony at the rear.

"Anders Lanquist!"

Anders perked up at his name, finding himself staring at the star mast and the figure standing on its balcony. There was no need to tell him who that figure was.

"Admiral Holland!" he yelled back, grinning from ear-to-ear,"What a pleasant surprise to meet you here! And glad to see you're still in one piece, Sir!"

"Not quite one piece Sergeant. We've lost a lot of men and the old girl's taken a battering. The Germans are in the process of taking over the island," Anders scowled, frustrated at his inability to do anything about it, "Speaking of which, Lanquist; where the bloody hell are the bastards?"

Anders drew in a heavy breath, shaking off Stoick's hand from his shin as the Chieftain tried to get his attention,

"Admiral, there's something I need to tell you and I don't think you're going to like it Sir."

However, before he could ask what Lanquist meant, something caught the Admiral's eye. Once again lifting the binoculars to his face, he spied a large blue reptilian head poking out from the brush. If he didn't know better, he'd have said it was a dragon. Big crooked horns and several sharp teeth poked out of its mouth, the sight of them widening his eyes in alarm. But Holland was able to handle surprises better than others. He had started 'training' himself to expect the unexpected since the Battle of Denmark Strait four years earlier, and so he quickly got over his astonishment.

"Lanquist look out, there's some ruddy great beast behind you!"

Anders stiffened, and then swung around. The wide curious gaze of Razorwing met his own.

"What are you doing?!" he scolded, switching back to Norse easily; "I thought I asked you to stay in the bushes! Get back in there."

Alas, the giant Timberjack was still a bit of a rogue and instead of doing as he was told, he stalked out of the bushes, revealing his entire form to a the surprised crew members on Hood's Star-Mast. And then we walked to the edge of the creek and peered down at the ship, surprising even more crew. Then one of them took a pot shot, whizzing past the dragons head.

"Get back Anders, we'll take it down!" The Admiral called out, signalling to the ships compliment. Rifles, cannon and HA/LA guns were pointed at Razorwing, who was completely oblivious to the destructive power that was now facing in his direction. But no-one could fire, not because they could only see the dragons head, but because Anders had ignored Holland's warning and placed himself next to its head.

The Admiral knew there was more than meets the eye when the pilot beckoned to his burly companions to join him, creating a human wall. The trees rustled as more dragons of various colours shapes and sizes emerged, including one that was jet black and being ridden by a gangly young man and joined the wall as well.

"As I said Admiral… there's something I need to tell you."

A/N: I didn't really like that bit much. Guess I'm just really rusty. Any suggestions for improvements?

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The gunshot reverberated through the halls like a gong had been struck. Wide, terrified eyes watched as the Munitions Officer slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind him, before he slumped to the floor, his brains dripping onto the mess deck.

Erich holstered his Luger, briefly turning to KönterAdmiral Fleicher who gave his apprentice a small nod, before turning to the horrified crewmembers of the Hindenburg.

"The news came in this morning. Our troops successfully took control of the Creek where HMS Hood was being stored. The ship was gone, vanished into thin air. Of course, we would have known if the ship was trying to leave. We would have seen it leaving after all. So how did the ship disappear?" The corners of his mouth turned down, his brows furrowing into a heated glare,

"The same way as that Spitfire the other day. Because someone didn't pay attention to the shells his was assigning to each gun. We are not at the stage yet of finding a useful purpose for the Transition weapons, yet they are filling the ready-racks of our guns!" He looked down at the crumpled body of the ships Munitions Officer,

"He was just an example. I want every single ONE of those weapons in a secure compartment within the hour and only myself and Admiral Fleicher will say when they can be deployed. Is that absolutely clear?"

"JAWOHL MEIN LEUTNANT!" came the cry. With a carefree flick of his hand, Erich dismissed the crew, who scurried away.

"We needed him you know." Hans Fleicher told his protégé. Erich only scoffed.

"There are plenty more in the Fatherland. Plenty who don't make mistakes." Hans shrugged in agreement, lips pursed.

"I've already ordered a second weapon to be requisitioned for your Drache to enable you to bring back Hood as well."

"It all depends on how damaged she is Mein Kapitan. We did shell that area several times, but who knows which barrage was the one that sent her back to yesteryear."

Hans looked up at the ceiling in thought, "We weren't the only ones shelling her Erich. The bombardment started a good quarter of an hour before we fired our first salvo. We are the only ship in the fleet with these weapons after all, so I think she'll have taken some damage at the least…" Hans looked back at Erich, who had sat down on one of the mess deck benches, deep in thought, "Use the weapon at range Erich. It's your best chance."

The younger man got up to leave, but his mentor's hand caught a hold of his shoulder, "I think you should know. She's ready to go. Der Fürher hand-picked the crew himself. Best of the best." The wizening man sighed as he tightened his grip, "Be careful, mein Sonn."

Erich turned, stunned by his mentors words, his normally hard eyes softening. He embraced the Admiral in a bear hug.

"I will Mein steifvater. I will."

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A few miles away on the Isle of Berk, a German soldier patrolling a field caught something in the corner of his eye. He stopped in his tracks and turned to find himself face to face with a large, spiky lizard. The reptile noticed it was being watched and quickly scampered away. Confused, the soldier followed it, though he quickly lost sight of it. His gaze rotated downwards to the object it had been resting on. Crouching down, he inspected the crusty brown lump.

His confusion grew when he recognised the material as rust. Years of neglect had left the object as little more than a crumbling mess. He reached down and picked up a somewhat more intact object that was sticking out of the flaky mess. In his hands, was an engine piston. But the amount of rust this 'engine' had, or rather was made of, couldn't be right. It looked like it had been sitting there in this field for a thousand years. He decided not to pursue the matter. It was just an oddity. It was more than likely the salty sea air had helped this engine to rust. He dropped the piston and it exploded in a cloud of rust.

Returning to his patrol, he didn't think as why there was an engine on the island in the first place. There hadn't been people on the island for generations.

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A few miles away on the Isle of Berk and a thousand years in the past, a pilot, a chief, an heir and an admiral, walked through the Viking settlement. Holland hadn't been amused when Anders told him that he and his ship were now in the past, that he hadn't been born yet and that he was surrounded by beasts that he'd grown up to believe were nothing but the stuff of myths and legends. But his disdain was short lived as he felt safe here. The fact there was no Germans, Italians or Japanese and no constant threat of being shelled. Here, in this simpler time, the admiral felt at peace for the first time since the war began.

He couldn't understand anything these people said though. Lanquist seemed to be fluent in the tongue, which was something he didn't know about the man, though there was much he didn't know about him. Lanquist had been an enigma from the start.

After that great big blue dragon had dropped Lanquist off at the Mast, he had been invited to tour the past of Berk. To see the depression the mountain had once been a Great Hall, with hulking doors and pillars of sturdy oak inside was a marvellous sight. The wells, the paving stones, even the torches, still standing strong (or at least one of them was) was something an archaeologist would give several precious artefacts to see.

But the most intriguing sight of all was Anders conversing with the young dragon rider in a very animated discussion. Lanquist was selective with the people he called 'friends'. His flight, Valhalla Storm as they called themselves, Commander Rajit Singh, and the Air Commodore where the few people Anders associated with in their time. They all had one thing in common: they were all older than he was. He preferred the company of older men, for their wisdom and maturity. He steered clear of the few woman on the island and he totally ignored the many twenty-something's around him.

So seeing him talking with someone who was obviously a teenager was a rare sight indeed and it proved to Holland that the Norwegian did have a softer side.

"Admiral?" Holland snapped out of his stupor, seeing Lanquist standing there and gazing at him intently. It became clear he had been asked a question.

"Sorry Sergeant, it's just a lot to take in. You were saying?"

"Since we're both going to be here a while Sir, I was thinking maybe I could ask for a few of your men to help me repair my Spitfire, Sir?" The question was harmless enough, but it reminded Holland, that no matter where he was, there was a war on and the number of men he had lost. He still didn't know the precise number.

"I'll see what I can do, Lanquist. But no promises. As I said, we took a hell of a beating back there, especially with jet bombers replacing the Super-Stukas and all."

Anders did a double take,

"Jet-bombers… Sir?" he asked, aghast, "But they didn't have any in that fleet when I was transported here…" The horror on his face only grew, causing the dragon rider and the Viking Chief to look troubled at the exchange,

"How long have I been gone Sir?" The Admiral closed his eyes and sighed,

"Nearly two weeks, Sergeant."

Lanquist heaved, coughing at this revelation,

"Two weeks?!" he exclaimed in utter disbelief, "But Admiral, I've been here for barely two days!"

The Admiral could only join in his surprise. Anders gulped down the bile that had risen to his throat,

"Sir, we've got to get back. Every second we spend here-"

"The Axis come closer to winning the war," The two men shared a moment of dread, knowing exactly what was on each other's mind, "Question is…" Holland started.

"How do we get back?" Anders finished. Neither man knew.

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I was going to do more with this one, but I figured this would be enough for now. Sorry that the chapter is Anders centric. I couldn't think of a way to write Hiccup in, but I promise he will have a much bigger part in the next chapter.

And once again, I really must apologise for the huge delay on this chapter. Depression, gay hard-drives and addictions have been to blame for this one.

Oh, and did I mention I need a pre-reader for this story? If anyone is interested, just PM me. Any changes/constructive criticism suggested in reviews I will enact if I find it makes sense or it is better than what I have written here