Hey guys, don't hate me on this. When I was watching the HTTYD series, I told out again but, seeing as I relate with Hiccup so much, I made myself go through his thought processes and basically filled his role. Also I may have given him my twin sister. Now that the series is over, I thought, why not publish my little fan project? To be fair, the Hiccup character is basically the same, I just added some of my quirks to him and changed his name. What if I had lived in Viking times? sort of project. I added a character to this mix who is...quite a character. My sister invented her for the story, I would say she is my sister, but that would be a lie. She is based on my sister. Sort of like how this Hiccup is based off me. This story is basically, what if girl-Hiccup had my twin as a sister and they grew up in Viking times? This series is my love ballad for the series, and also a commemoration for my sister who worked on this with me. You don't have to read it if you're not a fan of these type of stories, but if you want a different kind of OC Fic, then give this one a Whirl. This is a novelization where I (and maybe you) can live out the series. Enjoy.
This is Berk. A few days north of hopeless, and a few degrees south of freezing to death; it is located solidly on the meridian of misery.
Berk is large island, covered in forests and cliff faces. The island is guarded by two sentinel statues with torches in their mouths. Some say it is smack dab in the center of the archipelago. It is home to one of toughest tribes of Vikings, the Hairy Hooligan tribe. It not a flattering name, but it gives them a reputation as people not to be messed with. Many people just call the people of Berk "Berkians," a much easier name to handle.
My village, in a word: sturdy. This village has been here for seven generations but every single building is new. We have hunting, fishing, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests.
On one particular night, a sheep is suddenly taken from this island. As it was idly grazing the pasture with its fellow sheep, it was suddenly snatched up thanks to a menace of the skies. Its sheep companion paid no heed to this, as it was a regular occurrence. It simply moved to graze in the place of its companion.
This incident was noticed by the residents of the island who quickly took up arms. A young Viking girl was stirred from her slumber. She shot her arms open. She voiced her concern to the other occupant of the room.
"Gilda, did you hear that?" Her companion barely stirred.
"It's probably nothing, go back to sleep."
"I swore I heard something."
"Go check it then," said Gilda, curling up under the blankets.
The girl quickly pulled on her vest and each one of her boats as she made her way down the stairs. As she made it to the door she heard the villagers outside. In order to confirm her suspicions, she opened the front door of her house.
You see, while some places have mice…or mosquitos…we have…
As she opened the door, she saw a fire-breathing about to aim in her direction. She was lucky she closed the door again fast enough as it caught on fire behind her.
"Dragons," she breathed out, in panic and alarm. They were back again, she knew it!
She quickly rushed back upstairs. The time for sleeping was over, it was time to jump into action before the dragons stole their entire livestock and burned all their homes to the ground. She pounced on the sleeping girl.
"Gilda! Gilda, wake up! We're being raided!" Gilda still had trouble stirring.
"Awww, but it's finally warm enough."
"Don't you find that a bit strange?" Gilda's eyes shot open.
"That's fair." All tiredness from Gilda was gone, she jumped out of bed.
This girl looked mainly like the other one, except she wore her reddish-brown hair in a braid behind her back which reached her shoulders while the other one didn't care to braid her hair at all. This one also wore a deeper shade of green under the fur vest she pulled on. She quickly pulled on her boots, and once the other girl saw Gilda was coming, she rushed down the stairs again.
The door was on fire, but the fire was on the other side of the door so they should be fine if they were quick. They quickly pulled open the door and rushed outside. The other girl had noticed that the fire had moved beyond the door frame and was climbing to the roof of their house. Luckily, the townspeople were working hard to put it out. The girls would have stayed to help as it was their house that was on fire, but they knew they were needed elsewhere.
Most people would leave, thought the girl. Not us. We're Vikings; we have…stubbornness issues.
At that moment the girls caught sight of a chubby dragon, which flew like a hummingbird, carrying a Viking man in its jaws. The man repeatedly whacked the dragon's face with his mace.
The girl running forward couldn't help but be awe-stuck by what was happening around her. Sure, her town was a center battlefield on most nights, attacked by hideous and monstrous beasts who threatened their very survival and would kill you if you were in their sights (Her father likened them to demons from Hel, and she saw his point); but the people who lived here were mighty warriors, and she was proud to be one of them…well at least live among them.
The other girl, followed right behind, exasperated look on her face. She rolled her eyes at the other girl's smiles. Didn't this naïve girl realize they were at war and there was nothing great about this?
My name's Emer. Great name I know, but it's kind of weird considering…everything. I could've had any name to be honest, but Viking parents are known to give names that might increase battle prowess or else give yourself a strong presence to scare off enemies; like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that already.
Through the awestruck haze, Emer had to navigate the clamberings of Vikings fighting and repairing the damages from the dragons. She nearly got chopped by an ax, had Gilda not stopped her. She barely ducked from a carried log, but she still got jostled around from a Viking bumping into her, sending her to the ground. A Viking in the midst of battle, with a beard slightly burning, wielding an ax with crazed expression on his face midst a battle cry, nearly fell on top of her. He stopped mid-battle cry when he noticed her.
"ARGGGHHHHH! Morning," he said, and then moved past Emer to continue the fight. Gilda helped Emer back up to her feet, and they continued to run.
"Had fun daydreaming," she said sarcastically. "Pay attention, we gotta go!"
I guess I should introduce my look-a-like with the dry wit. That's my twin sister Gilda. What can I say? She always has my back, even when she would rather not.
As they rushed down pathways and gangplanks, they passed a bunch of Vikings mid-battle who definitely noticed them.
"What are you two doing here?!" cried a Viking named Hoark.
"Get inside," cried another.
"What are you two doing out?!" cried a third.
"Get back inside," cried a warrior woman named Phlegma.
The girls were about to run into a stream of fire shot down from a dragon flying past, but luckily, or maybe unluckily, they were saved by two strong meaty hands pulling them out of harm's way.
The girls were then raised up by the collars of their shirts. It was from this burly Viking who wore a chainmail tunic and had a large braided red beard covering his face.
"Emer!? Gilda?! What are they doing out aga-?! What you two doing out?! Get inside!"
The girls were then dropped and shoved forward; prompting them to run faster, for how dare they be outside in the midst of battle. It's not like their house was on fire or anything. Also it wasn't like they weren't trying to get to where they needed to go.
That's Stoick the Vast. Chief of the Tribe. They say when he was a baby, he popped a dragon's head clean off its shoulders.
At that moment, Stoick the Vast threw a cart of weapons at spindly dragon mid-air, the blow knocking it unconscious.
Do I believe it? Yes I do.
"What have we got," asked Stoick to a Viking known as Starkard.
"Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks. Oh and Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare."
"Any Night Furies," said Stoick, as a large ember of fire landed on his shoulder; a large pin to hold his cape in place.
"None so far," said Starkard.
Stoick brushed the ember of his shoulder. "Good," was all he said.
The girls ran past large torches which were being lit ablaze.
"Hoist the torches," a Viking cried. The torches were hoisted up, lighting up the night sky. The torches revealed there were dozens if not hundreds of dragons swarming above them.
The girls had finally reached their destination, the blacksmith's shop, which the girls endearingly called "the Forge." Inside was a balding Viking, with a long blonde braided mustache. He was also rather big and muscly, but he had a fake tooth, a peg leg, and currently his arm was a hammer. He was the blacksmith, hammering a sword to the right shape.
"Ah, nice of you two to join the party; I thought you'd carried off."
"Which one?" asked Gilda as she was putting on her apron. Emer shot her a glare as she tied her hair back. Emer quickly on her apron and offered a retort.
"They wouldn't have gotten me," she said as Gilda helped her with typing her apron. "I'm waaaay too tough for their tastes." She hoisted a heavy hammer onto the rack.
"They wouldn't know what to do with…all this," she said while flexing.
"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" said the blacksmith, wiping his brow.
Gilda opened the window. A bunch of Vikings dumped their busted up weapons on the window-shelf, which Emer bundled up in her arms. Gilda pumped the fan which would heat the coals while Emer dumped the weapons on top of them.
The meathead with interchangeable hands and attitude is Gobber. Gilda and I have been his apprentices since we were little. Well…littler.
"We would have been here sooner, Gobber," said Gilda as she pumped. "Someone was a little out of it."
"Me!?" Emer cried out from the tool shelf.
"Makes sense," said Gobber, sticking the sword in water.
"What?!" cried Emer in disbelief. "I had to wake you up!"
"Gilda has mastered half-sleep," said Gobber, placing the sword down on the shelf, available for the next passing Viking, and then went to stand next to Gilda putting his hand on her shoulder.
"It's hard to believe she's not the older twin with how vigilant she is for your sake."
Emer stood there with her mouth open, unable to find words.
"What can I say, it's hard to sleep when there's a WAR going on." Gilda made a large gesture to the outside. "Em, seriously, with you gawking about, forgetting where we need to be in a time like this; maybe next time instead of a burning Ack I should throw some BRIMSTONE at ya, maybe that'll remind you what's going on." Emer rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh, bringing over a hammer and forceps. Gilda would never understand; Emer sometimes questioned if they were even twins.
Stoick, meanwhile, was strategizing with his fellow Vikings on how to best defend the island.
"We move to the lower defenses. We'll counter-attack with the catapults."
With a nod from his fellow warriors, they started running down the gangplanks. Right above them, a dragon set another home on fire.
See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses.
"FIRE!" called a Viking nearby, as if it was the only house burning on the island.
"Alright, let's go!" called Viking boy, as a group of teens ran past the blacksmith's shop.
Gilda was busy working on some banged up swords, but Emer couldn't help but gaze out the window. The teens had carried over a tankard of water, which filled each of their buckets with water to douse the flames.
One was a large blonde girl, another was a muscly brunette of a girl, and there were a set of twins that were more identical than Emer and her own (so everyone just called them 'the twins'). Of course, out of all of these teens, Emer had eyes on one blonde boy in particular.
Oh and that's Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and…
Suddenly there was an explosion of fire from where the boy had just thrown a bucket of water, which somehow just made him more attractive in Emer's eyes.
Asmund
Emer couldn't help but smile dumbfounded at Asmund, everything just went in slow-motion as he strutted away from that fiery inferno, confident as ever. The vista that was him was not even ruined by the galloping galoots coming up behind him. He was going to be a strong and brave warrior one day, and she couldn't wait to see that day come so that she could be the first to cheer on his victories.
Their jobs are so much cooler.
If only she could be as cool as he was. If she proved herself, Asmund might actually notice her…and not in a bad light. Without hesitation, she went to climb out the window, ready to go wherever those guys went. Before she could though, she was grabbed from behind by a set of tongs.
"Oh no, you don't," said Gobber. Gilda noticed what was going on, shook her head with an aggravated sigh and turned towards the conversation, arms crossed.
"Oh come on, please? Let me out, I need to make my mark!"
"Oh you've made plenty of marks…all in the wrong places!" said Gobber as he put her down again and poked her hard in the chest. Emer stepped back a little from his pushing.
"Please, just two minutes," said Emer. "I'll kill a dragon, my life will get infinitely better…I might even get a date."
"Still have eyes set on Asmund, huh," said Gilda. Emer started turning red in the face and rubbed the back of her head, playing with her hair.
"Well…I, uh, um…" Emer stammered nervously. Gilda came up behind her to tighten the loosened tie in Emer's hair.
"Face it Em, your fate is to die alone…a week before me."
"Why a week before you?"
"I'm not stupid enough to run head-first into danger like you, but I am so lonely I'll die without you."
"Besides," added Gobber, listing off on his fingers. "You can't lift a Hammer, you can't swing an ax…you can't even throw one of these!" he said, holding up a set of bolas. The bolas was instantly grabbed by a passing Viking who swung the thing and threw it at a chubby dragon flying overhead.
Emer knew she was a weakling, and therefore couldn't do what most Viking warriors could. Emer didn't feel too bereft though, for what she lacked in strength she made up for in brains.
"Okay, fine-" she said backing up past her sister towards the entryways of her own little workshop. She shared it with Gilda; since Gobber and them were so close, he let them have that. He also knew how smart they were.
"But this, will throw it for me." She went to stand beside her latest invention, 'the bola launcher.' She had many ideas for downing dragons, but she figured if she was going to kill a dragon she would have to get it to the ground first; so bola launching was a good first invention to build. She was proud of her invention; she patted it twice, a 'good boy' gesture. She had already worked out most of the kinks on that baby. It suddenly released a bola (which Gilda and Gobber were lucky to dodge out of the way of) and hit a nearby Viking in the face. Well, as I said, she worked out most of the kinks.
"Maybe not, Em," said Gilda.
"Hey, it could work," Emer defended.
"You see, this right here is what I'm talking about!" said Gobber, exasperated. Gilda unconsciously went to stand beside Emer in that moment, knowing Emer was about to get another lecture, and they both hated lectures.
"Th-tha-a mild calibration issue-"
"Don't you-no-Emer. If either of you want to get out there and fight dragons, you need to stop all of…this." He waved his hand and tongs forward at the two girls.
"You just gestured to all of us," said Emer offended.
"Both of us," said Gilda, even more offended. "I'm pretty sure you just mean Em."
"Hey," said Emer.
"No, that's it, stop being all of you." Gilda was gobsmacked. "What? She's contagious Gilda; you'll end up like her if yer not more careful."
"Ohhhh," said Emer, realizing what she was up against.
"Ohhhh, yes," said Gobber not backing down.
"You sir, are playing a dangerous game," said Emer.
"What game?" said Gilda.
"Oh you know, keeping all this raw, Viking-ness, contained..." Emer gestured with her hands the compactness of it all. "THERE WILL BE CONSEQUENCES!"
"I'll take my chances," said Gobber unimpressed with Emer's bravery. He threw a sword into Emer's arms. "Sword. Sharpen. Now." Emer needed both her arms in order to carry it. Gilda helped her hold it up.
"Come on, Em," said Gilda with a small smile. They carried the sword over to the sharpening stone. Gilda turned the crank to get the stone moving, while Emer held the sword to the stone, stewing in her discontent.
One day I'll get out there, because killing a dragon is everything around here.
Outside, dragons continued to attack the homes and go after the livestock.
A Nadder head is sure to get me at least noticed.
Nadders were bird-like dragons with spiny tails and colorful wings. A bunch of them were cornering a flock of sheep.
Gronkles are tough. Taking down one of those will definitely get me a boyfriend.
Gronkles are chubby dragons, boulder-esque with humming bird-like wings. They were like giant deadly bumblebees or pitbulls. A couple Gronkles chose to steal racks of fish.
A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads: twice the status.
Zipplebacks were a type of dragon with two snake-like heads; one had breathed gas into a house, and the other lit the spark…KABOOM!
"They found the sheep!" cried a Viking by the catapults.
"Concentrate fire over the lower bank!" replied Stoick. The catapult operator didn't miss a beat, quickly moving the catapult towards his directed target. "FIRE!" he cried.
And then there's the Monstrous Nightmare. Only the best Vikings go after those; they have this nasty habit of setting themselves on fire.
Underneath the catapults, came a raging fire that set the board-planks ablaze. Breaking through the boards came the burning furious face of a Monstrous Nightmare, staring Stoick in the face with a fiery glare.
"Reload!" cried Stoick. "I'll take care of this." Stoick started whacking the Nightmare in the face with his hammer. After a few hits from Stoick, the Nightmare fled.
But the Ultimate prize is the Dragon that no one has ever seen. We call it the-
Just as the girls were nearly done sharpening that sword, they heard a high pitched whistle from the sky, not unnoticed by everyone else on the island. The fighting stops as all Vikings panic.
"NIGHT FURY! GET DOWN!" cried a Viking, as everyone covered themselves with their shields. An explosion hit the catapult where Stoick was, tearing it apart.
"JUMP!" cried Stoick to the others, all desperate to escape the crumbling catapult. All Vikings jumped to safety.
This thing never steals food, never shows itself, and…never misses.
In the middle of Emer's thought, the Night Fury launched another attack at a hapless building. The girls were low to the ground in the Blacksmith's shop, just in case it decided to aim there.
Emer couldn't help but peek out the window at the ensuing chaos, whereas Gilda had to pull her down again. Once the danger had passed, the girls stood upright again, Gilda prepared to head back to work, while Emer stood tall in determination.
No one has ever killed a Night Fury. That's why I'm going to be the first.
The girls turned towards Gobber who was attaching an ax prosthetic to his stump of an arm.
"Man the fort, girlies. They need me out there!" He begins to rush outside, but stops in the doorway. "Stay…put…there." The girls looked at him blankly. "You know what I mean." With that Gobber ran outside the shop yelling at the top of his lungs and waving his ax. Gilda was pretty sure Gobber mainly was talking to Emer with his order, but she honestly couldn't tell.
"Well Em," said Gilda. "I guess we have the shop to ourselves…" Gilda looked at where her sister was, and around the rest of the shop…no Emer in sight. "Where'd she go?" Gilda face-palmed and groaned with aggravation knowing exactly what her sister was doing at that moment.
Emer, already ditching the apron and hair flying free in the wind, was running through the battlefield with her bola-launcher, hoping not to miss her chance. A few Vikings noticed her running by and questioned her presence.
"Emer, where are going?" asked one.
"Come back here!" cried another, either worried for her safety or not wanting the nuisance; Emer didn't care at that moment.
"Yeah, I know!" said Emer, "Be right back!" Once Emer had cleared the area, who would run passed these Vikings but Gilda in hot pursuit.
"Gilda, you too?!" cried a Viking.
"What are you doing?" asked another.
"Yeah, yeah, I know!" cried Gilda as she ran past them. "I'm going to go get her!"
Meanwhile Stoick had just netted a trio of Nadders that were after a small flock of sheep. In retaliation, they tried to breathe their fire at him.
"Mind yourselves!" called Stoick as he clamped one's mouth shut. "The devils still have some juice in them!"
Emer had found a hill, undisturbed from the action within the Village. She quickly set up her Bola launcher and took aim. After a few seconds, Emer grew antsy with anticipation.
"Come on," whispered Emer. "Give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at."
Another few silent seconds passed. Suddenly, Emer heard the tell-tale whistle of a Night Fury. She looked through her scope, and spotted a shadow that blotted out the stars. Her eye followed that shadow as it threw down another explosion at a building nearby, illuminating it from the darkness as it flew away. Emer didn't hesitate; she took the shot, the blowback knocking her to the ground.
As Emer sat up again she heard the unmistakable sound of her bolas colliding with the creature, followed by the screeching wail of its plummeting form. Emer saw where it landed, in the distant forest. She had done it; she had downed a dragon…all by herself. She felt amazing. She could see it now, the humiliation would end: the scornful jeers, the mocking laughter, the groans of disappointment…all over! Instead they would see her and remember how she was the only one to down a Night Fury!
"Oh, I hit it," said Emer, still reeling from what just happened. Then she let the exhilaration take over. "YES! I HIT IT! Did anybody see that?" asked Emer, wondering if the praise would come now or later.
Emer heard a terrifying crunch right behind. That was the Bola-launcher no doubt, Emer figured, and what crushed it must have been…
Emer turned around to see a Monstrous Nightmare right behind her. Apparently her launching that Bola and actually hitting that dragon classified her as a possible threat to this beast.
"Except for you," said Emer grinning out of fear, continuing her previous question. As the Nightmare lunged at Emer she ran like the wind in the opposite direction.
As she ran she had run into Gilda who had just about caught up to her.
"There you ar-" started Gilda.
"RUN!" yelled Emer dragging her sister with her as she ran. If anyone was going to be eaten for stupidly being out in the open she didn't want it to be Gilda. Someone who knew never to run into danger, Gilda didn't deserve that; Emer would never forgive herself if that happened.
As Gilda was pulled along by Emer, she immediately saw the Monstrous Nightmare chasing them and changed her tune from annoyed caretaker to scared child. She yelled in surprise and ran to keep up with her sister.
The shrill cries of the girls caught Stoick's attention from across the hill. He saw the Monstrous Nightmare chasing the both of them. He groaned, there they went again. Of course, he had to go and save them. As he ran off, he barked orders at his men, "Do NOT let them escape!"
"Right," said a Viking called Spitelout.
Emer and Gilda ran until they began to make it into the village square. The wall was set ablaze by the Monstrous Nightmare's sticky flame. Emer just stopped short of the fire, Gilda bumping into her. They then ran to try to find some cover elsewhere. Emer went and hid behind a torch, grabbing her sister to pull her to safety. The sisters clenched onto each other tightly, trying to shrink themselves so they could both hid behind the torch together. The fire erupted behind their barricade, slightly singing the edges of their fur vests. They slowly released each other.
"You think it's safe?" asked Gilda.
"I'll check," said Emer. Still hiding behind the torch, she began to peek around the side to see if the dragon was still there. Unfortunately, the dragon was peeking around the other side, which Gilda could see very closely. She shrieked as the Nightmare went bite down on them both.
Emer quickly turned back to see the Nightmare, but just as she did Stoick the Vast appeared out of nowhere to punch it in the jaw. Emer grabbed onto Gilda, partly out of relief and comfort, and another part out of fear.
Stoick jumped back ready for a fight with the monster. The Nightmare went to breathe fire at him, but only a few drops of flaming liquid were coughed out instead. It had used up all of its firepower.
"You're all out," said Stoick menacingly as he rushed forward, kicking and punching it several times in the face before it flew off in defeat. Stoick slowly turned to face the burning, smoldering torch.
Oh, and there's one more thing you need to know.
The torch crumbled, the sturdy infrastructure eaten away by flame. It rolled away leaving two sheepish twin girls standing in Stoick's wake. As the flaming torch away, everyone turned to see the destruction it left behind. It rolled down board-blanks and hills, not stopping. Each time the torch descended, it left another scream from a hapless passerby. Each scream caused the girls to grimace deeper. They unclenched their shoulders sadly. Emer understood quite deeply the disaster that she caused today…Stoick was not happy.
"Sorry…Dad."
End of scene one, I hope I captured it right. If not, it's what I would be thinking at least. This is supposed to pan out like a novelization, so I'm acting like nobody has seen the movies before. Forgive me if this story is a little wordy. Stay tuned for the next scene/chapter.