Hiccup sits at the desk in his room, a smudge of charcoal darkening his cheek as he works by the light of his dying candle. The pages in front of him are covered in designs for his latest invention: a bola launcher. Several papers ago, it had been a preliminary sketch, just his ideas taking shape. Now, it is drawn to scale. With measurements written in the margins and details on how exactly the gears would work with the launching mechanism, Hiccup can't help but feel the familiar sensation of pride swell in his chest. There isn't much he is confident about, but his inventions are at the top of that short list. Of course, he won't let himself really feel accomplished until it is built and working, but this is a start.
The candle flickers as it begins to use up the last of its wick. The familiar burn of working too long in low light and being too focused to remember to blink regularly settles in his eyes. He rubs them with his fist as he yawns, realizing it is time to turn in for the night.
Hiccup thinks about what happened earlier that morning. His father hadn't left any breakfast for him, which happened often enough. If Stoick woke up well before his son would, he wouldn't bother making extra food knowing that it would be cold and unappetizing when his son came to eat it. So, like Hiccup always did on these mornings, he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. He took his plate and sat at one of the empty tables at the edge of the room like he normally did. No one would join him, no one ever did. But Hiccup didn't really mind. He was too busy satisfying his hunger to worry about his lack of social interaction.
What was different about this morning than the others was the conversation. Usually, the Great Hall was quiet this early in the morning, everyone generally still to sleepy to worry about talking. On this morning however, sitting a few tables away from Hiccup was his Uncle Spitelout. He was talking loudly with the other Vikings surrounding him.
"I don't understand why Stoick keeps that little nuisance around. He's useless! He can't fight, he's scared of dragons, and he's caught the village on fire more times than anyone cares to count. All he had to do yesterday was help take care of some harmless sheep and he couldn't even handle a job as simple as that! I hope Stoick doesn't expect the little runt to become chief one day, because then all of Berk will be doomed."
Hiccup's shoulders slumped with sadness. His father had asked him to help Bucket and Mulch with their animals yesterday and he'd agreed, eager to show his father that he could help. However, when he'd been milking the yak, a handful of the sheep had gotten out of their field. It wasn't a huge mistake, and he'd chased them all down quick enough, but people had still found out how he'd messed up such a simple task. Hiccup fought the tears rising in his eyes. Useless, that's all anyone ever seemed to think he was, just a useless little runt always getting in the way and causing problems.
Hiccup abandoned his food before finishing it, too upset to even consider eating anymore. He'd fled the Great Hall silently, none of the Vikings realizing that he had been there and heard their hurtful conversation. When he arrived at home, his father was still out, so he let himself cry like he only ever did when he was alone. Useless. Runt. Nuisance. Their hurtful words swirled around in his head. He ran up to his room and sat at his desk, taking deep breaths to try to calm himself down. The last thing he needed was to be in the middle of a breakdown and have his father come home. It'd make him look weaker than they already thought he was.
He took his mind off his inner turmoil by focusing on the invention designs he had hanging on his wall and- That was it! He'd invent something, something better than all of his other inventions, and show the entire village that he wasn't useless! But what? What could possibly be good enough to prove that to them? All anyone really cared about was killing dragons. And with that thought, Hiccup began to formulate his plan. Being the kind-hearted boy he was, he never desired to fight and kill the fire breathing beasts. He never wanted to be anywhere near them actually, since disaster seemed to follow him. He wasn't scared of them exactly, just choosing to try and minimize disaster. No matter how much he didn't want to hurt the dragons, he realized that dragons would be the key to changing his image. Now, there was no way he would kill one, even if he could invent something to do it. Catching one, however, was a whole other story. If he could catch one, he could present it to his father in front of the whole village. Brimming with excitement, he began to work.
Hiccup yawns again, bringing himself out of his negative thoughts. Tomorrow, he will build his bola launcher. During the next raid, he will catch a dragon. And then, his days as Hiccup the Useless will be in the past. For the first night in ages, Hiccup falls asleep with a content smile on his face.
Hiccup wakes up early the next morning to his dad milling around downstairs. His father's feet create a thunk sound where they meet the sturdy wooden floor. Sighing, Hiccup throws off his blanket and sits up, stretching his hands high up over his head. His back lets out a series of light pops, evidence of his late night spent hunched over his desk. Rising to his feet, he crosses over to his desk where he shuffles through the myriad of papers scattered across the surface before grabbing the final bola launcher design. After folding it carefully, he tucks it safely into his vest. Then, he bounds downstairs.
"Ah, son, you're up early," Stoick says from where he sits at the table, his breakfast laid out before him.
Hiccup brings his hand up to rub at the back of his neck. "I've got some work down at the forge I need to get to."
Stoick's face brightens at hearing that. His son doing hard, manly work down at the forge is always good news to him. Plus, if Hiccup is down at the forge, he is less likely to get himself into trouble. "At least have some breakfast before you go. I made plenty."
Hiccup shrugs and sits down across from his father. The man pushes some of the food in his son's direction, encouraging him to help himself. They eat in silence, Stoick thinking about his impending day of chiefing and Hiccup thinking about working on his invention. And, though Hiccup is reluctant to acknowledge it, he is ravenous. He hadn't finished his breakfast the day before and he'd been too caught up in his invention to worry about eating lunch or dinner. So today, he clears his plate without a problem before heading out the door. Stoick, too lost in his own thoughts, doesn't realize Hiccup's walking out the door until it's too late – too late to say goodbye, to remind him to be careful. He doesn't bother calling after him.
On the way to the forge, Hiccup runs into Astrid, like literally runs into her. He bumps into her and she has him flat on the ground before he even realizes what's happening.
"Ow," he groans from his position on the ground.
Astrid glares at him, her foot planted firmly in the center of his chest. "Watch where you're going Hiccup."
"Sorry," he offers, not even trying to get her foot off him. There's no use trying to move it; she is way stronger than him.
"And be careful. With you rushing around like that, a disaster is bound to happen. And I know I speak for the rest of the village when I say no one wants to deal with another one of your disasters today." She stares at him for a moment longer, mouth downturned at the corners, before removing her foot from his chest and marching away.
Hiccup pulls himself up off the ground and brushes the dirt off his clothes the best he can before hurrying over to the forge. It's early enough that (other than Astrid) most everyone in the village hasn't made their way outside yet. Hiccup is grateful that he can make it there without feeling the weight of judgmental stares. Pushing the door open, Hiccup takes a quick look around. The forge is unlit, which means Gobber hasn't been in yet today. With the coast clear, he pulls the bola design from his pocket and unfolds it on the workbench, pressing out the creases a bit so it lies flat. After double checking where to begin, Hiccup lights the forge. Though pushing down on the bellows requires almost all of it body weight, the action is familiar and he performs it with practiced ease. Gathering the materials comes next: a lot of wood for the frame, metal for bolts and hinges, the components needed for the wheels, etc. Hiccup falls into the rhythm of working after that. Heating and hammering metal in a seemingly endless cycle as it takes shape little by little. He pieces the wood together and watches the frame take shape. Gears and springs are tedious and difficult, but Hiccup is always up for a challenge when it comes to his inventions.
So caught up in his invention, he manages to work clear through lunch, and probably would have worked through dinner without Gobber's intervention. Pushing open the door, the one-armed, one-legged Viking hobbles in with some bread and smoked fish for the boy. Hiccup pauses the swing of his hammer and blinks dumbly for a moment, trying to figure out of this is lunch or dinner. A glance out the door behind Gobber tells him it's the latter. Setting his tools down, he wipes some of the sweat off his face with the back of his sleeve and turns to face his mentor.
"You've been in here all day boy; I thought it was about time for you to eat somethin'," he says, setting the food down on the workbench away from Hiccup's detailed invention plans.
"Thanks Gobber," Hiccup accepts the food eagerly and begins stuffing his face. Does this bread taste better than normal, or is Hiccup just that hungry?
"So," Gobber says nonchalantly, "are you working on anythin' special?"
Hiccup nods, swallowing a too-large mouthful of fish. He coughs and Gobber pounds him on the back.
Waving him off, Hiccup responds. "New invention, but it's not done yet. You'll have to wait for me to unveil it."
"An unveiling, huh? Sounds like this is a pretty good one. Well, I won't keep you then. Just make sure you don't stay up working all night like you did last night."
Hiccup swallows his mouthful of bread. "How did you…?"
Gobber gestures to the dark circles beneath Hiccup's eyes and the boy sighs.
"All right, I'll make sure to get some sleep tonight. I'm almost done anyway."
Gobber nods. "That's a good lad." He doesn't bother reminding Hiccup to properly extinguish the forge or return the tools back to their rightful place because the boy is plenty capable and he's done it many times before. So he lumbers back out of the forge in into the evening, whistling off-tune as he goes.
Hiccup finishes off the rest of his food before continuing his work. Though his muscles are sore after a day of hard work, the hammer he's swinging feels lighter than before. Gobber's visit has lifted his mood. Sometimes, it seems like Gobber is the only one who truly cares about him. Sure, Hiccup know that his father loves him, but it was difficult to see on most days because it's painfully apparent his father doesn't like him. Gobber, on the other hand, is always there for him, regardless of his many quirks. He's taught Hiccup everything he knows about smithing. And though Gobber still pokes fun at the boy's weaker build, he acknowledges that Hiccup does an excellent job in the forge and has never questioned that he has a brilliant mind.
A little past sunset, the coals have cooled, and Hiccup is putting the finishing touches on his invention. The calibration will need to be set tomorrow, but Hiccup is satisfied enough that he has finished the actual build. Now all he has to do was wait for a dragon raid. Though Hiccup's muscles feel like lead, he manages to laugh a little to himself on his way back home. For the first time ever, a Viking is actually looking forward to a dragon raid. He almost can't believe it.
Hiccup doesn't have to wait long for the dragons to come. Two nights pass by without chaos, but on the third night he wakes while the moon is still high in the sky. Outside, Vikings raise their voices to be heard over the sound of billowing wingbeats, violent bursts of flame, and panicked cries of livestock. Hiccup can smell burning wood from his bed and wonders whose house has caught fire. Sitting up and throwing off his blanket, Hiccup rolls his shoulders back. It's time to change his life. He jumps out of bed, pulls on his boots, and runs down the stairs as quickly as possible. His father is already gone, so Hiccup doesn't bother sneaking out. Instead, he bursts right out the front door and heads straight for the forge where his invention is waiting.
The way from his house to the forge is full of Vikings running about. Some have axes, some carry large hammers, and some swing swords. Hiccup has to make a few careful dodges to avoid getting hurt by their massive weapons. He makes it to the forge unscathed though. Instead of going in the front where Vikings are lining up to get their weapons repaired by Gobber, Hiccup sneaks around to the back. He feels a bit guilty leaving all of the work to Gobber, but he'll make it up to him somehow.
Unbeknownst to Gobber, Hiccup has worked one of the boards in the back loose so he can slip in and out of his little work area without Gobber knowing. He's only used it a couple of times in the past to sneak in, grab a few of his designs, and sneak back out. This time, it's going to be tricky. While Hiccup will be coming in the back, but there is no way that his invention will fit through there. The only option is for him to bring it out the door, which is in plain view of all the Vikings gathered. He'll have to wait for a distraction, something that will draw the attention of not only Gobber, but all of the Vikings waiting at the front of the stall.
Hiccup sneaks in the back like he'd planned. He holds his breath for a second, but it doesn't sound like Gobber noticed him. Sighing in relief, he heads over to his bola launcher – only to trip over a stool on the way. It tips over and clatters into a sword on its way down. Cringing in anticipation, he pauses again. But one more, it seems like Gobber hasn't heard him. Hiccup guesses he shouldn't be too surprise though, considering all the racket the dragons are making outside. Careful not to trip over anything else, he reaches his invention. He'd built it to be mobile, like a wheelbarrow, with one wheel in front and two handles in the back. It is heavy, but with the excitement coursing through Hiccup's body, he has no doubt he'll be able to move it.
He wheels it over to the curtain separating his little back room from the rest of the forge before peeking to the other side. Gobber is hammering a twisted sword back into shape. Has the line of people managed to get even longer while he's been back here? At this rate, he'll be waiting forever. Hiccup's quiet groan of annoyance is cut off by an explosion coming from somewhere down the street. The most likely cause is an errant Zippleback set on causing as much mayhem as possible. All of the Vikings in line turn to see the source of the commotion; Gobber sets down his tools to run over and take a look as well. This is it! This is Hiccup's chance! He bolts from his hiding place and over to the entrance to the forge, pushing his invention as fast as he can. His clumsy feet manage to not betray him for once and he makes it outside and out of view before everyone turns back to the forge.
Once he is out, he sticks to the shadows, not wanting to be seen. Still, he hurries in getting to his destination. A little past the east side of the village is a decent sized grassy area. It comes to an enormous drop-off down to the ocean. Hiccup had noticed in the past that many of the dragons would fly over to that area to turn around so they could circle back and cause more damage. He figures it is his best shot at catching one. Plus, since there are no houses to destroy or livestock to grab over here, this area will be empty of dragons, which means it will be empty of Vikings as well. While Hiccup isn't ashamed of his invention, he has never fired it before, and the last thing he wants is everyone watching if he misses.
Hiccup rolls the bola launcher near the drop-off and gets it set up. He opens the top shell and raises the launching mechanism. Loading the bola, he pulls it back until he hears a click, locking it into place, ready to be launched. Then, clambering onto the back, he rests his finger by the trigger with his eyes trained on the sky, watching for any movement. Gronckle, Monstrous Nightmare, Deadly Nadder, Hideous Zippleback – Hiccup isn't going to be picky. He just needs a dragon, and any dragon will do. A flash of movement catches his eye for a second before it is gone again. He peers deeper into the darkness until he glimpses it again. It is more of a shadow than an actual definitive shape, but there is only one dragon the Vikings knew of that can camouflage that well at night. It's a Night Fury.
Hiccup can't believe his luck. A Night Fury! The unholy offspring of lightning and death itself, the most feared dragon to the Vikings on Berk. It never steals food, never shows itself, and never misses. And if Hiccup manages to catch it, he will never be called useless again. He looks through his scope, following the movements of the shadow in the sky, and pulls the trigger. The force of the bola being launched throws Hiccup from the back of his invention, but he is on his feet before he can blink. He holds his breath, waiting.
Seconds later, Hiccup can hear the collision in the air of his bola wrapping itself around the beast. He's prepared himself for the sound of the impact. What he hasn't prepared for, however, is the shriek of pain and fear that comes from the dragon. He watches as it plummets towards the ground before landing hard among the trees by Raven's Point. Without the use of its wings to help slow its descent, it crashes with an alarming amount of speed. Hiccup can still hear the dragon's shriek echoing in his mind. That pain, that fear, that undoubted helplessness that dragon must have felt when it could do nothing but fall – these are all emotions Hiccup is familiar with, emotions that make him despise getting out of bed on some mornings. And now, Hiccup has gone and inflicted them on another creature. The guilt is making his stomach turn. He doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach into the grass.
When he straightens, his eyes are drawn to his bola launcher. The sight of it makes him want to yell. He'd created it to make himself feel better, but he doesn't think he'd ever felt worse. With his heart full of anger, he rushes over to it and gives it a hard shove. It is enough to send the contraption over the edge of the drop-off where it falls quickly before plunging into the water below. Hiccup feels a bit better now that it's gone, but not much. The dragon's shriek still plays in his mind. He sits abruptly, almost collapsing, and buries his head in his hands. The raid is still going on, and he knows it isn't safe to just be sitting out in the open, but he can't bring himself to move just yet. He pulls angrily at the grass for a moment, ripping up fistfuls of the stuff in a poor attempt to let out some of these awful feelings that are churning his stomach, but stops when a sound catches his attention. Breathing – not the kind of breathing that would come from a Viking, but the low rumbling breaths that come from a dragon. Slowly, Hiccup lifts his head. Standing about one hundred paces away is a Monstrous Nightmare. It studies Hiccup with its fierce yellow eyes, tilting his head one way and then the other as it assesses him like prey. Smoke swirls up from its nostrils as a growl rumbles from its throat. Hiccup feels fear grip his heart with icy claws. The dragon lowers its head and takes a small step in his direction. Hiccup stands quickly, turning at the same time, and sprints towards the village.
He can hear the Monstrous Nightmare chasing after him, but he doesn't dare turn around to see how close it is. He just keeps running. When he reaches the village, he goes around one of the houses, making his way towards the street. He is hoping if he leads the beast into the village that one of the larger Vikings will stop it from eating him. However, just when he reaches the front of the house, he trips. He lands on his wrist and feels it twist painfully beneath him. He doesn't dwell on it much though, not with an angry dragon after him.
It just so happens that the house he has fallen by has a sizeable front porch. Hiccup uses that to his advantage, rolling under it and hiding himself from view. Peering out from his hiding place, he can see the dragon creep by. It has its nose in the air, nostrils flaring as it hungrily sucks in air, searching for his scent. Hiccup holds his breath, thinking there is no outcome to the situation where he doesn't end up dragon food As the dragon takes a step towards the porch and Hiccup prepares to say his goodbyes to Midgard, Stoick comes charging around the corner and tackles the beast. Opening its jaws, it exhales, calling up fire to attack, but it's all out. When Stoick grins cockily and pulls out his axe, Hiccup closes his eyes. Logically, he knew when he led the Monstrous Nightmare into the village that if the dragon didn't end up eating him, it would most likely be killed by another Viking. Still, the guilt of having yet another creature's pain rests heavily on his shoulders. He hears his father's axe cut deep into the dragon's flesh and the resounding shriek of pain. Blood pools in the dirt, spilling heavily from the wound. It causes Hiccup's nose to burn with the warm, metallic scent. He rolls to the side and retches, but there is nothing left in his stomach to come up.
He stays under the porch until his father is gone and the dragon's corpse is hauled away. The telltale sounds of the raid have vanished as the horizon begins to brighten. Hiccup crawls out of his hiding place, careful to avoid the red pools on the ground that are slowly seeping into the dirt, and makes his way back home. With the sun so close to rising, his father will start looking for him soon. The chief does this after every raid to make sure that his son hasn't been eaten or carried off by dragons. When Hiccup arrives at home, his father is still absent. Grateful to not have to put up a front, he lugs his weary frame upstairs and flops facedown onto his bed. He won't fall asleep, but he can pretend, and it will keep his father from asking questions on his whereabouts during the raid.
Sure enough, it doesn't take long for Stoick to make his way home, looking for his son. When he finds Hiccup upstairs in his bed, seemingly asleep, he quietly leaves to go work on cleaning up the village. Hiccup waits until he hears the front door fall closed before he getting up. He winces at the pain coming from his throbbing wrist but pushes the sensation to the back of his mind. There are more important things to worry about. Grabbing his journal and some charcoal, he readies himself for the task at hand. He escapes out the back of his house and into the woods. He has a Night Fury to find.