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Dragon Slayer Ajahn: Dully noted. I will try to remember that.

Lydia Crazzy: Okay then.

Chapter 2: How i Got Claws

I bet your wondering where I got my claws from. Right? Well, it's a long story. You got the time?

Nine years ago. . .

Hiccup made his way to the Blacksmith Forge. He may be too young to be any help to the Forge, but Uncle Gobber enjoyed his company. More than the other kids now lately. His cousin, Snotlout and the Thorston Twins were starting to act like bullies, Fishlegs didn't want to hang out anymore and Astrid started to train more and more than before.

His father was becoming more and more busy being the Village Chief so he hardly had time to play with Hiccup. So the only option was to hang out with Uncle Gobber.

"Damn Trolls!" Hiccup heard Gobber shout angrily from the Forge as he approached the door. "Dragons already took ma arm and foot! Now these wee bastards are taking my socks!"

"Hi, Uncle Gobber!" Hiccup happily chirped, waving his hand excitedly.

The blacksmith paused in whatever he was doing and looked to the young heir in surprise. "Oh, Hiccup! Uh, how much did you hear?"

"I heard about you shouting about dragons taking your arm and foot," Hiccup replied in an innocent tone. "And I heard you say something about basta-"

Gobber suddenly pressed his hook over Hiccup's mouth, shaking his head frantically. "No, no, no. Hiccup, you can't say 'bastard.' That's an adult word." he said before wincing that he realized he let the word slip.

Hiccup didn't understand what Gobber was talking about but dismissed it as an adult thing and asked, "So, why are you so mad?"

"Well, I guess you heard me goin' on about Trolls, right?" Hiccup nods his head. "Well, Trolls exist and steal your socks."

"Really?" Hiccup gasped.

"Aye, and I'm down to my last pair," Gobber replied. "And I can't go look for them 'cause I'm busy with these orders." He frowns and gestures to a pile of blunt or rusty swords and axes.

Hiccup felt sorry for Gobber. Swamped with weapons to fix and having his socks being taken? That wasn't fair. "What if I find them for you, Uncle Gobber?"

After all, Stoick had told him that a chief looks after his people.

"Really, Lad?" Gobber asked, looking shocked. "You'd do tha fur old Gobber?"

Hiccup nods his head excitedly. "Yes, in fact, I'll go look for the Trolls and your socks right now!" he exclaimed. And then he ran off before Gobber could reply. "Don't worry, Bub. I'll bring them back before you finish that order of weapons!" he called back as he ran out across the Village Plaza.

This was not really the first time I went looking for Trolls. The other teens and I had done it together when we were younger.

It started to rain that day and they searched until they gave up and then Snotlout and the Twins pretended to be Trolls, covering themselves in mud and saying to Hiccup, Astrid and Fishlegs that Trolls use human socks for trade.

They were all having fun before Stoick found them and he sent them all home, angry that they risked getting sick to look for Trolls that don't exist.

That was one of the last times I had to hang out with the other kids before my reputation as the village's destructive runt separated them from me.

Now, I was just a lone wolf.

"Okay, if I was a Troll, where would I hide the socks I just stole from Vikings?" Hiccup asked himself as he walked through the woods. "Wait, even if I find them, how am I going to get Uncle Gobber's socks back? Ask them nicely? But what if they're not nice Trolls? Maybe I should steal them back. . . I mean, is it really stealing if you're stealing from thieves?"

Hiccup searched for any sign of Trolls for hours. He could not let Uncle Gobber down. Wait, what's that?

Footprints! They weren't dragon nor Viking boots! Finally, Hiccup had found a clue to Trolls!

He followed the tracks all the way to the mouth of a cave. "Huh, so Trolls live in caves," Hiccup said to himself. "Thought they'd live in the forest, but given that we've been cutting down a lot of trees recently." With that, he walked into the cave, determined to find Gobber's socks.

As it turns out, I did not, in fact, find Trolls in the cave but instead I found wild boars and among them was what I can only describe as Boar-Zilla, the King of Boars. And he wasn't happy about a Viking runt like me walking into his cave, calling him a Troll and asking about socks.

Hiccup ran out of the cave, Boar-Zilla hot on his tail. He tried his best to lose it in the forest but it clearly knew the terrain better than the young Viking heir because Hiccup couldn't shake it off.

"HELP! PLEASE! SOMEONE!" Hiccup cried out as he ran, tears blurring his vision. Then he tripped on a log and crashed into a tree, face first. "Ow. . . " he wheezed as he felt pain shoot through his skull, warm liquid that he knew was his blood running down his face from his forehead.

As his vision refocused, Hiccup saw Boar-Zilla stalking towards him. The giant hog knew it had the boy dead to rights and seemed to enjoy the horror and helplessness in Hiccup's eyes.

Fear clawed at Hiccup's chest as Death loomed over him, his cold hand closing in around him and ready to take him and send the boy off to Helheim.

But as I looked on, that fear I was feeling that day, in that moment, it turned to anger, to rage, a rage I had never felt before.

Flight was no longer an option and I was a Viking. Fight was my only option left. I either died a frightened child or a fighting Viking.

The rage Hiccup felt in his chest spread down his arms and to his hands and suddenly his knuckles stang in pain something fierce.

As Boar-Zilla got ready to charge, Hiccup looked at his hands and saw three nine inch long blade like bones sticking out of his knuckles. Confusion filled his head before it was replaced by his fury and he roared to the giant boar, "COME ON!"

Boar-Zilla screeched in response before charging forward. Hiccup crouched down before pushing his left hand forward, the claws stabbing the giant hog's head and Boar-Zilla halted in its tracks.

I didn't stop there.

Snarling, Hiccup reared his right clawed fist back and plunged his other claws right into Boar-Zilla's neck. Then using all the strength a six year old Viking had, Hiccup shoved the giant boar down to the ground with his claws. Then he pulled his right fist back before plunging his claws back into the hog's neck. He repeated this process three more times before his rage burned out of his system.

So, yeah, I killed a really big boar with my claws that day. After that, I spent two hours processing that I had claws, three more hours washing my hands and my sleeves of the boar blood before I returned back to my house, Uncle Gobber's socks forgotten as I went to sleep.

And luckily, they were fogotten by Gobber himself until three weeks later when I found out that it was the Thorston Twins that were stealing his socks and using them for stink bombs.

I didn't really put much thought into my claws other than they looked weird and cool at the same time. Other than that, I didn't really show anyone yet.

And then eight years old, I joined the Blacksmith Forge as Gobber's apprentice. For the first five months, I had cuts and burns and that was when I found out that I could heal faster than other people.

At the time, I thought it was limited to cuts and burns and then Snotlout and the Twins started bullying me. It wasn't just name calling or teasing, it became actual punching and kicking me after playing Hunt The Runt.

Yeah, not really fun for me, but they're having a good time. Even convinced Fishlegs to join in.

Too bad Astrid didn't join. She's really missing out.

. . . That was me being sarcastic. But then again, she has the idea of fun getting a scar out of things so who knows how she'll be.

We're Vikings. Pain, we love it.

Outside of the village, past Raven Point, Hiccup held his notebook open to a hand drawn map of the island, covered in X's. Hiccup takes a deep breath and looks at the brush in front of him. He walks down a path and writes another X to the map. Then his frustration over the whole day boils to the surface and he scribbles on the pages in anger before it disappears and he puts the notebook away.

"The gods hate me," he said to himself. "Some people lose their knife or their mug. No, not me. I manage to lose an entire dragon." He whacks a low-hanging branch in front of him only for it to snap back at him and hit him in the face.

"Ow!" he exclaimed and held his eye in pain. He looks up at the tree in anger and frustration before he sees that the tree trunk was snapped in half down the middle. As if something had crashed through it.

Following the direction it fell, Hiccup saw a freshly made trench. Cautiously, he walks down the trench and climbs up a small hill. He peeks over the hill and catches a glimpse of a black dragon. Gasping, Hiccup quickly ducks down. Gathering his courage, he looks up and sees that the dragon hasn't moved, let alone noticed his presence.

He pulls out his dagger. He makes his way down to the downed dragon as quiet as possible. He hides behind a boulder for a brief moment before slowly coming out and looking at the dragon closely.

It looked like nothing Hiccup had seen. It was black as the night sky and its body seemed more smooth and aerodynamic than most dragons. That's when it clicked. This was the dragon. This was the Night Fury.

"Oh, wow. I did it," Hiccup says to himself in surprise before excitement filled his voice. "Oh, I did it! This fixes everything!" he pumps a fist in the air before planting a foot on the dragon's foreleg. "Yes! I brought down this mighty beast-!"

The dragon shifts its leg and grumbles, "Get off me."

Hiccup yelped as he jumped back, his back hitting the boulder. He stands back up, holding his sword up and sees the dragon looking at him with a green eye.

". . . You're the one who shot me, aren't you?" the dragon grumbled. It made sense. The Viking that shot him down would be the one who found him.

Hiccup faltered a little. He had long ago learned that he could understand what dragons could say. In fact, he heard the Monstrous Nightmare that chased him through the village and was ranting about avenging his hatchling by taking a Viking hatchling. It wasn't just dragons either, he could understand animals as well plus heightened senses of smelling and hearing that made avoiding Snotlout and the Twins easier. Not to mention avoiding Mildew and Fungus who smell like their names suggest.

Focus, Hiccup! he said to himself before taking a deep breath. "I'm going to kill you, dragon." he said out loud, more to himself than the dragon. "I-I'm going to cut out your heart and take it to my father. I'm a Viking." he says that last part to himself before saying louder with conviction and his claws came out, "I'M A VIKING!"

If the dragon's eyes were wide before, they were definitely wider now upon seeing Hiccup's claws. "Please, don't do this," the Night Fury said. "I don't want to die."

Hiccup faltered a little. That plea sounded too human for a dragon. No, no! his father's voice said in his head. It's a mindless beast! A demon from Hel! It's mouth isn't tied! Kill it before it decides to shoot you!

You can have everything you ever wanted! Your dad, Gobber, they all will be proud of you. The village will finally accept you as one of them! Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, the Twins! They'd finally respect you! Do it! Kill it!

Hiccup took a couple of deep breaths and raised his sword above his head. He paused and looked back at the dragon.

"Please, don't do this." the dragon said again in a desperate tone.

Viking and dragon stared at one another before dragon's expression became resigned. ". . . Just. . . make it quick." he crooned in resignation as he dropped his head and closed his eyes.

Hiccup closed his eyes trying to ignore the pity he was feeling along with being reminded of himself when he was bullied by Snotlout and the twins. How many times had Hiccup had the same look in his eyes? As he looked into the eyes of his people, begging for either for help, forgiveness or just simple companionship? How many times did he plead with them only to given ridicule, hatred and loneliness? And only one house out of two hundred offered compassion. As he stood over the animal, he wondered why it just gave up. It should be thrashing around, trying to rip and tear him into shreds. Not waiting for death.

"I've never seen anyone mess up that badly. That helped!"

"You need to stop all. . . this."

"Every time you step outside, disaster follows!"

"Quite the performance."

"Yes! That's it! Stop being all of you!"

"You are many things, Hiccup. But a dragon killer isn't one of them."

"Stop trying so hard to be something you're not."

Hiccup tries to go through with it, fighting himself before sighing and sheathing his claws. "This wouldn't change anything," he mutters as he runs his hand down his face. ". . . They'll still hate me." His dad was right. He's not a dragon killer. Boar-Zilla was going to be his only kill.

He looks at the dragon before he tried to walk away. "I did this." Minutes ago, he would have spoke these words in pride but now he said them with shame and regret.

"Yes, I get it." the Night Fury grumbled, his eyes still closed. "You did it. Just quiet gloating and get it over with!"

Hiccup paused and looked back at the dragon. While he couldn't or wouldn't kill this dragon, would anyone else have this hesitation? No. Absolutely not. It. . . he could starve, Hiccup thought to himself. I can't leave him here like this. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

". . . I can't do it," Hiccup said to the dragon. "I'm not going to kill you."

The dragon's visible green eye snapped open and looked at him in surprise. ". . . Is. . . is this a trick?" he asked in disbelief.

Hiccup looked behind him to see if anyone was nearby. If they saw what he was about to do, they would probably hate him and call him a traitor. He knelt down, grabbed a rope and began sawing through with his knife.

The dragon's eye filled with more surprise as Hiccup glanced behind him while sawing through the second rope. Then he sawed through the third and final rope.

Before he knew it, Hiccup was pinned against the boulder and the Night Fury held his throat between his claws. He winced a little as he looked up to the eyes of a free and pissed off dragon.

The Night Fury didn't say anything, just simply glared at him with his emerald green eyes.

Well, this is it. Hiccup thought numbly. I'm going to die here. He should be screaming for help or begging the dragon to so mercy just as he had but he isn't. He just stared back at the dragon for an intense moment before the dragon reared its head back, spreading its wings as if getting ready to fire. Hiccup closed his eyes and waited.

Instead, no fire burned his flesh. No teeth or claws ripped him apart. The Night Fury roared in his face. "THANK YOU BUT NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!" he then growled quietly, "Go home, Viking hatchling."

When he felt the weight lift off his chest, Hiccup opened his eyes to see the Night Fury disappear into the tree line. He sighs in relief before he stands up. He can hear the Night Fury say something but the words sounded colorful and his tone was both angry and confused for some reason. Once the dragon is out of view, Hiccup turns back to where he came and tries to walk away before his knees buckle and faints with a whimper.

When Hiccup woke up, he could tell that it was almost night. He quickly made his way home. When he entered his house, he saw Stoick stoking the fire. He quietly closes the door and tried to sneak upstairs to his room behind his father's back. He probably would have succeeded if he didn't try climbing up on all fours.

"Hiccup," Stoick said without turning around.

"Dad!" Hiccup said, feigning surprise before sighing deeply. "I have to talk to you, Dad." he said as he stepped down the stairs.

"I need to speak with you too, son." replied Stoick as he rubbed his hands together nervously.

Both Haddocks took a deep breath before speaking at the same time. "I think don't want/It's time for you-to fight dragons." They both paused and looked at each other confused. "What?" they both said.

"Uh, you first," Stoick offered Hiccup.

"No, no. You go first," Hiccup replied.

I should have gone first.

"Okay, you get your wish," Stoick declared. "Dragon training," he added when Hiccup looked confused. "You start in the morning."

"Oh man, I should have gone first." Hiccup said to himself before moving his arms around as he spoke. "Because I was thinking that we have a surplus of Dragon-fighting Vikings but do we have enough. . . bread making Vikings? Or small home-repair Vikings?"

Stoick reached over to the wall and gave Hiccup an one sided axe. "You'll need this," he said as he dropped it into Hiccup's hands.

"I don't want to fight dragons, Dad," Hiccup said as he stumbled with the axe.

Stoick chuckled at Hiccup's claim as if he was joking. "Come on. Yes, you do."

"Rephrase, Dad, I can't kill dragons." Hiccup tried to sound stern.

"But you will kill dragons!" Stoick said. Hiccup shook his head. "No, I'm really extra 100% sure that I won't."

Stoick stops smiling and becomes stern. "It's time, Hiccup."

"Can you not hear me?" Hiccup asked.

"This is serious, son." Stoick said firmly. "When you carry this axe, you carry all of us with you."

"That's a lot for me to carry," Hiccup remarked drily. "Can't some of you guys walk on their own?"

Stoick frowns and places his hand on Hiccup makes him straighten. "Which means you walk like us."

"Like I'm tied to a rock?"

"Talk like us."

"Okay, that shouldn't be too hard."

Stoick places a finger against his head. "You think like us." No! Not my brain! It's the only muscle I have that's bigger than Snotlout's! Hiccup thought. "No more of. . ." he simply points to Hiccup's general direction. "this."

It was one thing when Gobber said it but with Stoick it meant something else. It wasn't a joke and Hiccup wasn't being given a choice. The chief doesn't see the look of hurt on Hiccup's face before he covers it up with annoyance. "You just gestured to all of me."

"Deal?" Stoick asked.

"This conversation is feeling very one sided!" Hiccup stated before Stoick's eyes narrowed. "Deal?" he demanded.

Hiccup sighs in defeat. This is how it always goes in a conversation between them. "Deal," he submits.

Pleased, Stoick picks up a basket. "Good. Train hard." he reaches and grabs his helmet from where it hangs. "I'll be back. Probably." he adds in a morbid tone as he leaves the house. There was indeed a chance that this could be his last voyage. "See you in three months. Hopefully." he said.

"And I'll be here. . . maybe." Hiccup replies in a sarcastic tone.