Chapter 1: The Stray Pokémon

So. I probably owe some of you an explanation.

Well, during this site's "email drought" in 2023, I decided to make myself an account on AO3, partly as a precaution and also to cross-post like some other fanfiction writers I know, and it's given me the opportunity to reflect on my stories. I'll admit that, when I started the series around the mid-2010s, I made some literary choices that I'm not entirely proud of, because I was younger and less experienced then, and I intend to fix that. It wasn't an easy decision, but I have chosen (reluctantly, VERY reluctantly) to wipe the slate clean and start over. I want to make this something I can really be proud of (and it's fun to write, too, which I think is also very important).

For those of you who are discovering this story for the first time, please disregard the preceding message.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything associated with the How to Train Your Dragon and Pokémon franchises.

Everyone on Berk knew that Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was anything but a typical Viking.

Oh, he wanted to be. He wanted to be the great Viking savior of the world, big and strong. He wanted to do all of the wonderful things expected of him. He wanted to look at the world, figure out what was broken, and fix it.

But he wasn't a natural-born Viking hero. He had no Viking-like qualities at all. He was all brain and no brawn, which was evident in his lanky build, and he kept making a mess of things with his awkward clumsiness.

He was alright at managing weapons. But "alright" wasn't going to stop the war and kill all the dragons that were plaguing the villages all across the archipelago. He needed to be like all the other Vikings - big, strong, scary, and dangerous.

Hiccup was about as dangerous as a caterpillar. He knew that because his polar-opposite cousin had said so.

The series of events in which his life changed forever started on any ordinary evening. He was out in the forest, gathering firewood like his father had asked him to. Not because they were short on supplies, but rather so that he would be busy doing something actually productive instead of any sort of funny business in someplace he wasn't supposed to be.

He'd been out there for nearly an hour when he heard it.

A loud snapping sound, like the crack of a whip.

There were dragon traps set out in the forest, and one of them had just been sprung.

Hiccup glanced up at the sky. It wasn't dark yet. Dragons usually raided the village when the sun was down. Could they have come early? Or was there someone else in the woods, someone who might have stepped in the trap by mistake?

He could hear the faint sounds of something struggling, and the clinking of metal on metal. It could have been some helpless squirrel or wild boar that took a wrong step.

Against his better judgment, Hiccup stepped toward the sound and called out, "Who's there?"

Silence.

Then he heard a cry.

"SNIVY!"

That did not sound like a normal animal.

Dropping the sticks and kindling he'd gathered, Hiccup took off running into the trees, following the sound.

"Snivy Snivy! Vy Snivy!"

"Hold on!" he called out. "I'm coming!"

Tree branches and stray shrubbery scratched at his face as he ran, but he paid them no mind. He had a pretty good idea what sort of creature had been caught in the trap. If he was right, and there was no doubt he was, then the poor thing was probably terrified out of its wits.

Finally, finally, he reached a small clearing. And in the middle of it, as he anticipated, was a wooden contraption that consisted of a pendulum that was tipped upwards and attached to a metal net that currently held a small green creature captive about ten meters off the ground.

The little head that poked out through the net was slender with a long, pointed nose and brownish-red eyes that met with Hiccup's as he emerged from between the trees. The creature was slender, reptilian, its body green with a cream underside. A thin yellow stripe ran down the length of its back and tail, the same color as the markings around its large eyes. Two curved yellow structures that resembled leaves or small wings protruded from its shoulders and bent backwards. In spite of its snakelike appearance, it had four fully functional limbs; slender green arms with three fingers, and tiny, cream-colored, digit-less feet. On the end of its tail was a large, palmate leaf with three prongs.

He knew what it was. He'd seen its picture in a book he used to read before he hit puberty. It was called a Snivy, and it was one of countless creatures that lived throughout the islands, collectively known as Pokémon. (Why they were referred to by that shared name was a mystery.)

The Snivy was squirming every which way, its small hands grasping the thin metal bars as it searched desperately for an escape. The net swung around, and Hiccup could see the Snivy's tail had a long cut running down its length. It had probably been sliced by the metal net when the poor Pokémon got caught.

He couldn't leave it like that.

"Hang on," he said, stepping up to the trap. "I'll get you out of there."

"Vy?" The Snivy stared at him with wide eyes.

Slowly and carefully, Hiccup reached up toward the pendulum. But it was up too high for him to reach.

What I wouldn't give to be a foot taller...

What he did next was quite risky, and probably just plain stupid, but there was no other option - he grabbed onto the wooden structure of the netter trap and started to climb up. For once, Hiccup was glad he didn't weigh so much; he didn't want to think too much about what would happen if the mechanism fell over.

Once he'd climbed up high enough, he grabbed the rope to keep steady as he worked to disable the trap. "Okay," he muttered to himself, "engage the safety pin, dislodge the trigger strut, and..."

The net opened on the forest floor, and the Snivy came tumbling down with a startled and pain-filled cry.

For a long moment, neither Hiccup nor the Snivy moved.

Then the green snake Pokémon turned its head and locked eyes with him. Hiccup slowly climbed back down off the netter trap, nearly falling when he missed a step. The moment his feet touched solid ground again, he stepped toward the injured Snivy.

The poor creature was shaking like a leaf, obviously scared. Hiccup expected the Snivy to make a break for it, but instead the Grass Snake Pokémon crawled away, wincing as it moved its injured tail. Its wide eyes were fixed on him.

"It's okay," Hiccup told it in a calm voice. He knelt down on his knees in an attempt to match the Pokémon's height. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise."

He wasn't sure if the Snivy understood any of what he said. Pokémon were rather intelligent beings, at least according to some people, but a wild, untamed specimen could be as unpredictable as a regular forest animal. If Hiccup was going to help this injured Snivy, he needed to show that he wasn't a threat.

Whether the Grass Snake Pokémon understood him or not, its entire demeanor changed. It sat still, its injured tail curled around its legs, staring calmly up at him.

Hiccup scooted forward and slowly reached one hand out. His fingers brushed the cut on the Snivy's tail, and it winced in response.

"Sorry," Hiccup said quickly. "Just - hold on." He gently cupped his hands around the injured Pokémon's body and scooped it up. It squirmed a little, but otherwise made no protest as he tucked it underneath his fur vest and held it close to his body. The Snivy stiffened for about half a second before relaxing at the softness and comforting warmth the boy was providing.

"I need to get you to a healer," said Hiccup, more to himself than the Snivy. He pushed himself to his feet and started the long trek back home, grumbling sarcastically under his breath, "My father's gonna love this."

The village had a building known by many as "the Pokémon Shelter". It wasn't exactly an official name, but, if anyone asked, Hiccup couldn't think of a more appropriate title for it.

The local healer, who was older than probably everyone else on the island combined, specialized in treating people. Her former apprentice, Kyrie, specialized in healing Pokémon, which is why they ran the Pokémon Shelter.

When Hiccup arrived at the shelter, he was immediately greeted by the sounds of curious Pokémon. On one side of the room was a small pen where the smaller creatures could roam and play freely. Every now and again, someone would come in and watch the Pokémon in thoughtful silence, considering their options. Most of the Vikings had already chosen, or were assigned, a Pokémon to be their partner - whether for battle or simple companionship, their choice.

Come to think of it, Hiccup still needed to choose a Pokémon partner. Most children in the village made their choice at around age ten or eleven, but he was fifteen now and still without a Pokémon of his own. Whenever someone asked him why, his answer was always the same - he hadn't found the right one yet.

For a fleeting moment, he wondered if perhaps this Snivy could be his partner. But he had a feeling that would be selfish of him. If the Snivy wanted to leave, then he had no right to force it to stay.

Hiccup expected to be greeted by the owner of the shelter, but they were nowhere to be seen. "Kyrie?" he called out. "Are you here?"

"I'm in the back," answered a voice.

If there was one thing Hiccup liked about Kyrie Eleison, it's that they didn't treat him with any disdain at all. Kyrie was older than Hiccup by ten years, and while they weren't exactly friends, the two of them did have an understanding of each other. On their eighteenth birthday, Kyrie had to deal with similar scorn from the other Vikings when they'd come out. For about six years after that, Kyrie and Hiccup had been in pretty much the same boat. Then Kyrie made the Pokémon Shelter, and now they made a living healing the Vikings' injured Pokémon and raising Pokémon from eggs to one day be given to new trainers.

It seemed almost unfair that everyone was now more accepting of them after they'd proven themselves useful to the tribe, while Hiccup was still basically treated like dirt. But he squashed that thought down as he crossed the floor into the little backroom where Kyrie worked.

Their back was facing the doorway when he entered. In front of them was a medium-sized wooden exam table on which they treated their patients, and it was currently occupied by a small, amber-colored, lizard-like Pokémon - a Charmander, Hiccup realized. Its signature flame on the end of its tail was alarmingly small, no brighter than a candle. It was sweating profusely, and it seemed to be shivering.

Kyrie turned to grab something on the shelf behind them and spotted Hiccup standing in the doorway. Their short, brownish-black hair stuck to their sweaty forehead and their grayish eyes blinked at him.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hiccup said, "but this Snivy is hurt. Can you help him?" He pulled his vest back to reveal the injured Pokémon.

"Of course I can," Kyrie answered. "But he'll have to wait his turn; this Charmander has a fever."

Somehow, Hiccup couldn't help but find that a little bit ironic - a Fire-type Pokémon with an abnormally high body temperature. "Will he be okay?"

"She'll be fine," Kyrie corrected. "Once I give her the medicine she needs." They grabbed a mortar and pestle, threw in some berries and herb leaves into it, and started grinding them into a fine paste. "Shouldn't be too long now." They glanced at Hiccup and asked, "I don't suppose that Snivy is your Pokémon?"

"No," he answered, "I'm not even sure he has an owner. I found him caught in a dragon trap in the woods -"

Kyrie whirled around so fast they almost dropped their supplies. "A dragon trap?" they cried in alarm. "Why didn't you say so?!"

Moving quickly, but with the gentleness of a trained doctor, they set down the mortar and pestle, moved the Charmander over to one end of the exam table, grabbed the Snivy from Hiccup and then placed it on the other end of the table.

They wasted no time examining the Grass Snake Pokémon. Kyrie always started with the face, checking the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth (if the Pokémon had any, that is) for any abnormalities. Then they checked the rest of the head for bumps, cuts, or bruises, then the arms, the shoulders, the body, the legs, and finally the tail.

Kyrie sucked in a breath of air when they saw the cut. "What did this?"

"A netter trap," Hiccup answered promptly.

"He's lucky," said Kyrie. "It's mostly superficial. I'll bandage it up, and after a few days of rest he should be good as new." They retrieved a roll of cloth and a gauze dressing from the shelf and immediately got to work bandaging the Snivy's injured tail. "There's recently been an increase of Pokémon that have been injured in dragon traps. I keep telling the trainers that they need to be more careful about where their partners tread, but does anyone listen? No, everyone's more focused on the war and how to end the Arceus-forsaken threat."

Kyrie was the only person Hiccup knew who swore by Arceus, a mythical Pokémon said to have shaped the whole world, instead of the more traditional gods like Thor and Odin.

"Sni," the Snivy uttered. "Sni Snivy."

Across from him, the Charmander answered, "Char..."

"What are they saying?" asked Hiccup.

Kyrie shrugged. "Wish I knew."

Hiccup knew for a fact that Pokémon were very smart creatures, seeing as they were able to understand human speech and could communicate effectively with each other. He often wondered what the Pokémon in the village were thinking or talking about, but the only people he knew who could actually understand "Pokéspeak" were the Peaceables, who all lived on a whole other island.

It didn't take long for Kyrie to finish dressing the Snivy's wound. His tail was practically covered with cloth strips holding the gauze in place. Kyrie tied the cloth in a secure knot, then turned back to the Charmander.

"So," said Hiccup, "does this mean we're finished here?"

"Keep him someplace safe," Kyrie said by way of answer. "Preferably indoors, if he's comfortable with that. Feed him plenty of Oran Berries and make sure he gets lots of rest."

Hiccup nodded. "Thanks, Kyrie."

"Anytime."

Snivels had never once thought that Vikings could be anything other than big, loud, smelly, half-brained brutes who stormed the shores every day and chugged mead all night. And he certainly wasn't expecting that opinion to change the day he got himself caught in a dragon trap.

But, really, the last thing he expected was for some skinny miniature of a human to come to his rescue. Not that he was complaining, because that outcome was a thousand times better than being found by a Viking.

Of course, Snivels knew better than to stray too close to a dragon trap. But he didn't have it in him to just stand by and watch as another innocent creature got themselves caught because they were too young and too inexperienced to recognize the danger. So, he took the fall for them.

The suddenness of the pain combined with the stress of the situation might have killed him, if he hadn't been a Pokémon. But Snivels wasn't just an ordinary Snivy - he was a survivor. And because he was a survivor, he held on.

Some might call it luck, others a miracle, but the human that found Snivels caught in the trap was most definitely not a Viking. And for that, he was grateful. Had it been a Viking, they would have just disabled the trap and left the injured Snivy to fend for himself. Instead, the teenage boy brought him to a healer to treat the wound.

Snivels had been semi-conscious the whole way from the forest to the shelter, so his memory was a bit fuzzy at times. If anything, there was one thing he distinctly remembered - a sick Charmander lying next to him on a table. He remembered calling out to her, "Hello. I'm Snivels." And, for a moment, he'd thought he heard her weakly reply, "Amber..."

When he came to, he was curled up on an uncomfortably hard wooden structure with nothing but a thin blanket made of cotton. His tail hurt like crazy, night had fallen, and the room's only source of light was a small candle.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Something moved in his peripheral vision, and he realized it was the boy from earlier - the one who had found him in the dragon trap.

To the untrained ear, it sounded like the young human said something like, "Pú ert vakandi". But Pokémon had been around since long before dinosaurs roamed the earth; they'd been adapting and developing for more than three billion years. Therefore, every Pokémon species in this day and time had an innate understanding of all the known languages - including that of the Vikings.

Snivels knew exactly what his rescuer had said - "You're awake."

"Where am I?" he repeated. When the boy didn't answer right away, he asked, "Can you understand me?"

"Are you feeling any better?" the human asked, making no indication that he understood Snivels's questions. "Here, you must be hungry."

He knelt down in front of the Snivy and held out his hand, a small, round, blue fruit sitting right in the center of his palm. Recognizing it as an Oran Berry, Snivels grabbed it and took a bite - it wasn't much, but it would at least replenish his energy a little. It had been an exhausting day, and he was starting to feel tired.

The berry was gone in seconds.

Feeling better now that he'd eaten something, Snivels smiled up at the young human who had helped him. "Thank you."

Even though this strange human clearly didn't understand what Snivels had said, he did understand the intention. "You're welcome."

That made Snivels smile, but only a little bit.

"We don't normally see Pokémon like you around here," the boy continued. "Where did you come from?"

"Orre," Snivels answered, despite himself. There had to be a way to communicate effectively with this human, he just had to figure out how.

The boy shook his head, a defeated look on his face. "I wish I knew what you were saying."

So do I, Snivels wanted to say, but he knew it wouldn't do either of them any good.

"Well," said the boy, standing up and gesturing around the room. "Welcome to my home, I guess. I know it doesn't look like much, but it's actually better than most."

The wooden structure Snivels was lying on turned out to be a bed. Which wouldn't have been his first guess, because there was absolutely no soft, cushiony mattress to sleep on at all. Just a flat, wooden surface with a small pillow and a thin cotton blanket on it.

Other than that, the room was mostly empty, except for a small desk with a chair, lots of paper and a couple of writing utensils...and a set of stairs that led down to a lower floor.

"I understand if you're not comfortable here," the boy said. "If you want to leave, you can. I won't force you to stay."

Snivels shook his head. Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't; not while he was hurt. He had to stay out of danger until he recovered from his little escapade with the dragon trap.

"Okay then," his rescuer said. "You should get some rest. Doctor's orders." He sat down at his desk and started doodling on one of the black sheets of paper.

Snivels watched this strange human with interest. He was vastly different than the Vikings - hulking mountains of men who could make the deadliest of creatures cry for their mommies. He was much quieter and kinder, and he smelled a lot cleaner, too. He certainly seemed like the kind of person Snivels could trust to take care of him.

The house was suddenly filled with the sound of a door slamming open and a man shouting from downstairs. The boy scrambled to his feet and down the stairs, out of Snivels's sight. He wondered what could be going on, but he didn't want to get in the middle of it.

That night turned out to be one of the longest nights in Snivels's life, if not the absolute longest. It was impossible to get comfortable on the bed, especially with his injured tail flaring up whenever he moved it or positioned it wrong or, worst of all, laid on top of it. He didn't know how he would ever get to sleep.

It got worse when the boy returned to the room and tucked himself into the bed. He wasn't a very big person, but he still left Snivels with less room to work with.

Snivels could only stay asleep for a few minutes at most. At one point, he gave up and tried sleeping on the floor, but it didn't really help much - no pillow and no blanket. So, back up onto the bed he went. This time, however, he bunched up a corner of the blanket that wasn't being used into a makeshift cushion and laid on top of that. It wasn't the softest, but it was definitely an improvement.

He wasn't sure exactly when he'd fallen asleep, or for how long he'd slept, but he woke up to the smell of smoke. Then he heard the sounds of mighty roars and alarmed shouts.

Snivels's eyes shot open. It was the very early morning, with the light of dawn having yet to appear on the horizon. His tail still hurt, but he didn't care right now. Whatever was happening, and he had a pretty good idea what, he needed to get out of there.

He couldn't get himself stuck in the middle of another raid. Not after what had happened to...

There was a frightened bleat from outside, which snapped Snivels out of his reverie. There was no mistaking it now.

Snivels scrambled to the head of the bed, where the young human boy was still asleep. Fumbling in the dark, his hands somehow found the boy's shoulder, and he shook it with all his might.

"WAKE UP!"

The boy's eyes blinked open. "What? What is it?"

Another roar, this one louder than the last.

Quick as a whip, the boy sat up. Any remnants of sleepiness completely vanished as a look of fearful realization crossed his face. He practically threw himself out of bed, scooping Snivels into his arms, and rushed downstairs.

The main floor of the house was basically a spacious room with a fire pit in the center, most likely for a source of heat and for cooking food. Round shields adorned the walls, a table and a couple of chairs stood off to the side, and there were two large doors opposite of each other in the front and back of the house.

Aside from Snivels and his new human companion, the building was completely devoid of any living beings.

"What is this place?" Snivels asked without thinking. So many feelings were coursing through him at that moment - confusion, exhaustion, curiosity, and fear. It filled every fiber of his being, and he could tell the boy was feeling the same thing.

Snivels didn't know it just yet, but he and this strange human were about to set the world on a course that no one could have predicted...

"This is Berk."

Call it what you will, but so far starting over with a clean slate has proven to be a good call.

To those who have read the original story: I apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused. If you would please bear with me, I do hope you'll enjoy reading the revitalized adventures of a budding trainer with a destiny greater than anyone could imagine!

Confession: I had to use Icelandic instead of Old Norse, but aside from variations in spelling and semantics they're basically the same. (I can't guarantee that the translation is 100% accurate; such are the consequences of using a free online translator.)

Please leave me some reviews!