Out of the bushes, came a tall Viking man.
He had brown hair and blue eyes. He was probably at least six feet tall, and had several tattoos all over his body. Much to my relief, he didn't look like anyone from Berk.
"What's a little seven year old doing here?" he sneered.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SEVEN?!" I shouted, taking out my sword, ready to fight. "I'M TEN YEARS OLD!"
"You are far too little to be ten," he chuckled as he drew out his sword.
"We'll see who's laughing at the end." I plunged toward him, and we began to fight.
Sword fighting is super easy. Back on Berk, I could literally beat half the adults at it, including Snotlout, who was one of the best on the island, except he'd never admit it. So it wasn't hard for me.
Except there was a slight problem. The Viking man who came to get me brought his BFF with him, and both of them fought against me at the same time. It wasn't long before I was knocked out.
I remember back on Berk, Snotlout and Fishlegs tried to convince Ruffnut to marry one of them, but she ended up with Eret. That was before I was born. Neither of them married until a few years ago, when a couple betrothed their daughter to him.
Their six year old daughter, to be specific. Dad wasn't too happy with how I told them what I felt about it.
Dad picked Fishlegs to be my godfather. I had a great five years with him until he died in the war with Drago Bludvist.
To this day, I can still remember the funeral.