HTTYD Short Stories

by DeterminationDeliberationAndDragons

Summary:

This is a series of short stories featuring our favorite Dragon Riders and friends. It includes Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, Fishlegs, the Twins, Heather, Dagur, Trader Johann, and more! I wanted to explore each character and really get in their heads. Some stories are during a specific moment in time in the movies or shows, or are scenarios I made up that are designed to add to the canon. Eventually, I hope to write about all of the main characters. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Rewriting the Book of Dragons

*After the events of the first movie*

***

She didn't see much of Hiccup after she kissed him and he took his first flight on Toothless with his new prosthetic leg. At first, she was worried, and she wondered if perhaps she had misread the situation. But she didn't know anyone she could talk to about it. Ruff was...well. Rough. And there were no other girls her age she felt comfortable enough confiding in. Astrid had played the part of the indomitable warrior well. Far too well. And her parents wouldn't understand either. They didn't covet the position of chief as much as the Jorgensons did, but they had already made it clear that they were a bit too excited about Astrid's sudden closeness with the chief's son.

And so, that's how she ended up reaching out to her old teacher, Gobber, for help.

"You see," began Gobber, moving about his armory and switching between hands every couple of seconds as he hammered or tightened the many things strewn about the place, "when I was a lad, my father used to have a saying. He would say, 'Gobber, you can't always go at your enemies with a rock. Sometimes you have to whack them with a log.' You see what I mean?"

Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Gobber, what are you talking about? That doesn't make any sense."

"Aye, maybe not, but love-"

"I didn't say anything about love! I just haven't seen him and thought you might know where he's been."

"Oh, right. Well he's been resting mostly. His new leg is working fine but he still needs a lot of rest and practice using it before he's back out there full time."

Of course. Astrid should have realized that Hiccup was still recovering from his injury. She had seen him walk once and assumed he was completely fine, ignoring the reality that this would be a process.

She thanked Gobber and headed over to the chief's house. She was nervous as she walked towards the door. What do you say to someone after you kissed them? They were friends. Friends...kissed each other, right? As she paced outside, trying to figure out what she'd say, the door opened.

"Astrid!" roared Stoick the Vast, chief of Berk. "Good to see you! How is training going? You and that Deadly Nadder were a sight to behold back on Dragon Island."

"Thanks, chief. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this new dragon training thing. It's certainly better than being shot at while Gobber watches."

Stoick laughed. "Ah, true. Maybe you can train that dragon of yours to give Gobber a taste of his own medicine."

"That's certainly...an idea."

"And one that you came up with all by yourself. I always knew you were a clever viking," Stoick smiled, and there was a twinkle in his eye. "Anyway, I better run. I heard Mildew was raving in the public square again. I think we're going to build him a new house out away from the village. Save us all the headache. You here to see Hiccup?"

"I, umm, well I was going to..."

"He was just at his desk looking at something. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you." Stoick smiled again and took off towards the village, leaving Astrid alone in front of the door.

She breathed. Why was this scarier than every day of dragon training had been? She was a viking. She could do this.

She opened the door and walked inside. "Hiccup?" she called up the stairs. "Are you home?"

"Upstairs!" She heard him call back.

Hiccup was indeed sitting at his desk by the window, clutching a book like a tree limb. Toothless lay to the side, taking a nap. Hiccup looked up from what he was doing and smiled that sweet, goofy smile of his. "Hi, long time no see," he said.

"Well, I...wanted to check in. How are you?"

"I'm good. Gothi says my leg is healing nicely. It's getting much easier to walk, though it will probably take a little more time to get used to it completely. But never mind that, look at this!"

Hiccup held out the book so that she could see it. It was the book of dragons, the same one that Gobber had asked them all to read back when dragon training was dragon fighting.

"It's that old book," said Astrid. There was a loose page in it, and she pulled on it to see what it was. Unlike the others, she had read the book, and she knew there wasn't a drawing of a night fury in there. "Did you draw this?" she asked.

Hiccup nodded. "After I shot down Toothless, I found him in the cove and made a quick sketch. I thought I'd leave it in the book. That way, if anyone reads it, they'll know what a night fury looks like."

Astrid took the book and opened up to the night fury section. "And after the see the drawing they'll read all about how the night fury is the 'offspring of lightning and death itself.'" She said, pointing out the lines to Hiccup.

"Yeah, I'm not thrilled about that particular aspect of the book. I mean, look at this: 'your only chance is to hide and pray it does not find you.' Boy were our ancestors so wrong."

Astrid flipped through a few more pages, glancing at all the images of vikings being burned or dismembered, and all the dragons attacking or being killed. Once, she had been excited to fight those monsters. Now, she knew they weren't monsters at all. Her stomach squirmed a little just thinking about how...intense...she had once been.

She looked at Hiccup's drawing again. It was on similar parchment, but it didn't quite fit into the book as well. The sheet wasn't quite the right size.

"Maybe," said Astrid, the idea dawning on her slowly, "you should write your own book."

Hiccup shook his head. "Write a book? Me? Astrid, I'm not a writer. And beside, I'm just...Hiccup. No one listens to me, remember?"

"I listened to you." She kneeled on the floor so she could look into his eyes. She wanted to grab his hands, to kiss him again, but she didn't. "I didn't for a while, but eventually I came around. And I'm really glad I did. Hiccup, you know dragons better than anyone, and you saved us all from the red death. I really think people will start listening to you."

"You do?" Hiccup asked.

Astrid nodded. "This is your chance to change how future generations see dragons. We can train our dragons, but one day we'll be gone and all anyone will have left is that book. That book might be what our ancestors knew, but we both know it's wrong."

"You're right, of course."

"Yeah? Well, what are you going to do about it?" Astrid grinned as Hiccup smiled at her.

"Let's write that book," he said.

 

******

Hi! I hope you enjoyed this story. This is my first fanfic, hastily written on a Thursday morning before work. I've read a few fanfics before and wanted to try it out. HTTYD seemed like a great place to start. If you enjoyed this feel free to check out the other original stories I have on Wattpad. Also check out my creative writing podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." You can find it wherever you get your podcasts. My friend and I workshop our own writing, analyze books and movies (like HTTYD), and we even chat with the occasional author.

Chapter 2: No Book for People

Summary:

Hiccup has started training dragons with the other Riders. While he is comfortable around the dragons and proving to be an excellent trainer, he can't seem to figure out how best to approach his fellow humans, specifically Astrid.

***This takes place shortly after the events of the first movie. Hiccup has begun training the dragons and teaching the Vikings how to live with their new neighbors.

 

Dragon training was great.

Once Hiccup had fully recovered, nothing but the need for sleep and the occasional meal kept him away from the new Dragon Training Academy. Sure, it took some time for the dragons to get used to it, but they and their Viking riders made it work. Where the teens had once learned how to keep out of a deadly nadder's line of sight, how to disorient a gronckle, and how to neutralize the fire of a hideous zippleback, they now trained with the dragons in order to work together as a team to defend Berk.

Hiccup was proud to say that things were going well. Though there would always be some Vikings - like the miserable Mildew - who couldn't ever accept change, most of the Berkians were settling into this new life. Now, when he walked through the village, he saw dragons and Vikings living together, soaring through the sky, enjoying life. Funny how people seemed better rested when they weren't constantly fighting dragons.

Of course, he had his friends to thank for helping guide Berk in this new era of peace. When they weren't training at the Academy, Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, and yes, even Ruffnut and Tuffnut on occasion, could be seen helping their fellow villagers learn how to interact with dragons. The lessons they took from the academy seemed to be sticking, and they all served as excellent ambassadors, along with Stormfly, Meatlug, Hookfang, and Barf and Belch of course.

"You've all been doing such a great job around the village," Hiccup told the group one evening after a training session at the Academy. "Because of you all, Berk is doing a much better job accepting the dragons than I would have thought possible. I swear I even saw Mildew smile at Toothless the other day. Mildew! Imagine that."

"Sorry to break it to you, H, but uhh, Ruffnut and I may have been standing behind you at the time and..." Tuffnut paused, twirling his hands in the air as he searched for the words.

Ruffnut finished for him. "We were totally trying to set Snotlout on fire."

"Yep. Good ol' Mildew was just excited to watch the Snot-Man burn."

"We all want to watch the Snot-Man burn."

Snotlout glared at the twins and snapped his fingers, possibly as a signal for Hookfang to attack, though, as usual, Hookfang grabbed Snotlout by the ankles and held him high above the ground.

Okay, so there was still room for improvement. A LOT of room for improvement.

"Well," said Hiccup, trying to ignore the fuming Snotlout, "tomorrow we'll be spending some time helping Gothi study the dragons. The more she knows about their biology, the better she'll be able to help them if they're ever injured or sick. We'll bring the Dragon Book with us and record whatever she discovers."

The meeting ended shortly afterwards, and the others began to part ways for the night.

"You're really stepping into this whole leadership thing," a voice said. Hiccup turned and saw Astrid. The others were all walking out to the village, but she had lingered at the Academy. "With the students you have, I'm surprised you've held in there this long."

Hiccup blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, you know, Astrid, not all the students are terrible." Ugh, we'd he say that? Years of being ignored, ridiculed, and treated like he wasn't even a Viking hadn't prepared him for the day when Astrid Hofferson would actually speak to him on purpose. Even Toothless seemed to be embarrassed, hiding his face behind his tail fin.

But Astrid only laughed and then smiled. "Goodnight, Hiccup," she said, hopping on Stormfly and flying out into the sunset. Hiccup watched her go.

Later that evening, Hiccup found himself in the armory hammering away at a bent shield a Viking had brought in earlier. As he tried bending it back into shape, he said, "I wish people were as easy to understand as dragons. Dragons make sense. They don't like eels, so I don't give them eels. They love being scratched on their necks, so I scratch them on their necks. Dragons love conversations, and I can talk to them all day long. But people? They're so... complicated."

"Have I ever told you about the time your father and I sailed from here to Berserker Island?" asked Gobber. While Hiccup was working on the shield, Gobber was melting down some old and worn down weapons that no amount of sharpening could help.

Hiccup shook his head.

"Well," Gobber began, "we were both young at the time, about your age in fact. We were competing in the great regatta, and about four days later it dawned on me that we may have gone off course."

"Four days? Gobber, the regatta course is only about an hour long..."

"So as I was saying, we finally saw land and got off at Berserker Island where our good friend, Oswald the Agreeable, lives. But of course he and the other Berserkers didn't recognize us at the time since we were covered in war paint and had flags flying on every inch of our vessel, and after that final catapult projectile finally managed to sink the ship, your father and I had to swim to shore. Mind you, your father was just about ready to throw me overboard himself, so the catapult didn't really change much about how our day was going. It really just sped things along. But anyway, once we eventually got back to Berk and your father started speaking to me again, I realized something important."

Gobber paused, looking expectantly at Hiccup.

"What did you learn?" Hiccup asked.

"I'm so glad you asked! Thank you, Hiccup. There is no book for people."

"What do you mean?"

"You got that handy Book of Dragons that you've been rewriting and using to help you and others live with dragons. People are learning through your words how to live with these creatures we once tried to kill. But there isn't a book for people. In order to understand people, you have to talk to other people. Sometimes things will go well, and sometimes they wont, but there's no other way to learn how to interact with your fellow Vikings. You just have to get on out there and experience things."

The next day, after Gothi had finished her work for the day, Hiccup and the others had their usual end of day meeting at the academy. He praised them for another good day's work, told them what tomorrow's plan was, and wished them all a good night.

As she had the previous evening, Astrid hung back after the others had left.

"Working with Gothi was a great idea," she said. "I don't think we've ever added so much new information about dragons we're already familiar with to the Book of Dragons."

Hiccup nodded. "Yeah, it really was a productive day." He grabbed his arm, trying to think of something else to say.

"Well, goodnight." Astrid waved and began climbing onto Stormfly.

There is no book of people.

"Hey, Astrid!"

Astrid was already on the saddle and about to tell Stormfly to start flying. She stopped and turned around. "Hiccup?"

Now was the time. Like Gobber had said, he just had to put himself out there and actually talk to her. Him, Hiccup, the guy who no Viking wanted to even be around until recently.

"Umm, Astrid...Toothless and I, well, we were thinking of taking one last flight around the island. You and Stormfly... you're welcome to join us. If you want." He spoke fast and avoided eye contact as he did. There was no way she'd fly with him. It was late and she only kissed him that one time because he had survived. There was no world in which-

"Absolutely."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said absolutely."

Hiccup glanced up and saw that Astrid was smiling. Stormfly and Toothless both seemed to be grimacing, but Astrid, Astrid Hofferson, was smiling.

"Oh, that's... great. Yeah, let me just..." Hiccup got on top of Toothless, and then the four of them took off from the academy and flew off into the sunset.

Chapter 3: Theater of Johann

Summary:

Trader Johann is known for his rambling stories about his adventures. But how does he prepare for his exaggerated performances on Berk? And where does he get his stories from?

Johann is such a great character. I always thought of him as being a theater kid at heart and thought it would be interesting to explore that idea. This takes place during some unspecified time probably during Race to the Edge.

***

"Ahh, Master Hiccup! You wouldn't believe it if you had been there. There I was, standing next to the Teacher's Rock that the philosopher Homer himself once taught upon. Nestled on the coast just above the waves, it was the perfect place for the Ancient Greeks to ponder the mysteries of the world and guide each other on the path to philosophical enlightenment. And let me tell, standing there on the beach below a tree hunched over from years protecting the island of Chios from the cool ocean breezes that swept over the sunbaked land, it was as if I had been transported back in time. It didn't hurt that all of the locals had come to peruse the exceptional goods I had collected throughout the Mediterranean over the course of my voyage. A strong people, the Greeks, with absolutely magnificent hair if I do say so myself. They were so...no no no, that's not it!"

Shattered glass cascaded down on the wooden floorboards, breaking apart even further into a mess of larger shards and smaller, powdery flecks. In the middle of the broken glass lay the dagger that Johann had thrown.

"No no no," Johann muttered. He ignored the glass and his dagger and walked around the dimly lit space that served as his quarters on his ship. He strode up to a second mirror that hung beside the first one. Looking at himself, he fixed his cap and swept a loose strand of hair from his face. "That's not the story. Let's try again."

Johann stood still. He breathed once, twice, three times, centering himself. His shoulders moved forward and he slouched, making himself appear smaller and weaker than he knew he was, but just as small and weak as those pathetic Vikings back in the Barbaric Archipelago believed him to be.

Johann forced himself to smile. "After many moons spent wandering the great Mediterranean sea, exploring the offerings of the Empire of Rome and dining with the Pharaoh of Egypt, I made my way to the great land of Greece! Oh, the stories I could tell you, Master Hiccup! And Snotlout, you in particular would appreciate the Greeks. Why, while I was there, I feasted every night with the Spartans themselves, downing caskets of the finest wines and dining on pita and feta cheese. And once we had all digested, the Greeks put on fine shows, fine shows indeed. There were fights between the strongest Spartan warriors, between plays put on in my honor. For a man of your acquired tastes, Sparta would feel just like home."

That felt better. And when he threw in a jovial point and swish of his hand at the imaginary Snotlout, Johann knew he was getting close to finding the right performance for his anticipated audience. He could picture them all now, Hiccup and his gang. They were some of his harshest critics. That Gobber the Belch was especially challenging. But before all of them could be regaled by yet another of his fabulous tales, his current audience of one owed him some feedback.

"Well," Johann said, addressing the man chained to the wall beside him, "what do you think? Did that last one seem believable to you, Stavros?"

The man named Stavros coughed. "Please," he said in a deep, heavily accented voice. "Let me go home. I have nothing to offer you."

"Oh but you have offered me so much! I've never met a trader from Greece before. With your accounts of your homeland, you've given me an entirely new setting to explore. I just need to make sure that my performance is believable. So again, what do you think?"

Long ago, Johann had posed the same question to his parents. His mother and father were both traders who had become business partners before that partnership led to something of an entirely un-businesslike nature. Shortly after setting sail, the two had a child, Johann, who grew up being shuttled between the dull islands of the Barbaric Archipelago. It was no way to live. There was little to do onboard the ship, and when he was onshore he was busy helping his parents move boxes onto the boat or off from it. Bored, Johann had taken to imagining the lives of the Vikings he encountered and pretending to be them on the deck of the ship. Voices and movements flowed from him like a waterfall, and at a young age he could imitate almost anyone he encountered to a satisfyingly convincing degree. It felt good to pretend. It felt so natural, so enticing, and it wasn't enough to put on shows for only himself and the gulls that perched on the sides of the ship.

However, his parents never seemed to think much of his "antics". They didn't mind his love of acting, of taking on a life unlike his own for even a minute, but they didn't encourage him either. He was a creative kid, and that was it. Kids did things like that. His dreams of performing in the theaters of Greece and Rome were fun ideas and nothing more. People could have dreams as long as they didn't waste their lives pursuing the imaginary. What was real was the need to make a living in this crazy world plagued by fire-breathing dragons, and trading was how Johann's parents expected him to make his living.

Stavros cried into his chains. "I don't know," he said. "I am far from home. I would like to go back, to go home."

"When I was speaking, did it feel like I had actually been there?" Johann asked, ignoring the man. "Could you see the scene?"

Whimpers. That's all the noise Stavros managed to make.

An audience really should be prepared to give honest and open feedback after a performance. Thinking about it, it was rather rude for Stavros to be this ungenerous with his critiques. He had been handpicked by Johann to provide a new story and help Johann get all the details just right. Maybe this story wasn't the one he would tell the next time he met Hiccup and the scrawny boy's friends and their dragons. No, he'd find a better story and a better audience to help him hone his craft. He heard of a ship that had recently come into the archipelago all the way from Mesopotamia. He'd find that ship, ask the captain and whatever crew to divulge all the details they could about their homeland, and then piece together a narrative from what he learned. Acting was easy, but writing was a whole other beast. Fortunately there were plenty of traders and stories out there. Whenever someone fell through, like Stavros, another trader would appear shortly afterward. And when those traders never returned to their homes, well, dragons served as good alibis if nothing else.

"I want to go home," Stavros whimpered again.

"And I will gladly send you home," Johann replied. The man stopped his crying and looked up at Johann with big, brown eyes. Johann took a step towards him and placed a hand on his chest. "I will set you free."

Stavros gasped as one of the many small knives Johann kept hidden in his sleeves pierced Stavros' chest. Still chained to the wall, the dead man's body wasn't even given the chance to hit the floor.

Johann turned back to the mirror, breathed once, twice, three times, and centered himself. He would need to rehearse before he went back to Berk.

Chapter 4: Wherever You Are and Wherever You Might Be

Summary:

Heather debates whether or not to join the Dragon Riders at The Edge. She's been sending letters to Fishlegs for a while, and he keeps inviting her to stay with them all.

This takes place in Race To The Edge before the gang finds out that Fishlegs has been slyly sending terror mail to a secret pen-pal on the sly. It's super rushed. I took about an hour to write it during lunch, but I love Heather and wanted to write something with her as the focus, and since I literally started law school yesterday I won't have much time to write going forward. Heather is one of my favorite characters and I connect with her so much. I just want her to be happy and to know she's loved by the other dragon riders. If you enjoy this story, please check out my creative writing podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons" where my friends and I workshop our original stories, interview authors, and chat about books and movies like HTTYD. Have an excellent day!

 

***

 

They seem to really want me to stay, but...we all know that's never going to work. At least, it shouldn't, right? I mean, come on, it's me, Heather. When have I ever not been alone in some fashion? Alvin the Treacherous kidnapped my adopted parents and forced me to infiltrate Berk to learn more about the dragons and their riders. Then that disgusting deranged Berserker killed those very same parents. I've been island hopping with Windshear, never staying in any one place too long, never stopping to call a new place home. No place, no person, wants me. I don't want to be alone, but that's what I am. Alone.

Fishlegs has been sending me letters more frequently. I'm not sure why he started sending me letters to begin with. We were never that close. He was nice, sure, though I spent most of my social time talking with Hiccup, or talking with Astrid about Hiccup. Maybe he just wanted to be able to talk to someone who wasn't Snotlout or the Twins. Living with those three must be an absolute nightmare. And Astrid wouldn't be interested in his topiary gardens or rock collection. She was too...warlike. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but it's sometimes a little difficult getting her to focus on anything other than her ax. On the other hand, Hiccup would be more than interested, but running the edge and being heir to the Chief of Berk has to be busy. Finding someone to really share his passions with must be hard for Fishlegs. I can relate.

I have to admit that sometimes I'll day dream about what it might be like staying on The Edge for an extended period of time. Flying on Windshear above the clouds, I'll imagine having a wing-mate, or riding in formation with the others before scattering to sink a dozen Dragon Hunter ships. Our enemies would fire a net at me that would burst into flame as Stormfly shot it out of the sky. After our target was eliminated, we'd quickly recover Snotlout from the water before heading back to The Edge for a victory meal of yak chops (after throwing out whatever salt-encrusted terror the Twins had prepared for us). And then maybe I'd do a quick run in the boar pit, go for a late night walk around the island, and finish the night looking at the stars with Fishlegs from his meditation garden.

Of course, Windshear. You'd be there too. You'd have to be there.

But, obviously, I'm not on The Edge. There are no other humans on this island. If there were, they'd probably have chased me away by now. I'm alone.

Back when I was imprisoned on Berk when Astrid discovered I had stolen the Book of Dragons, Stormfly, and was on my way to the Outcasts, I heard someone say something that stuck with me. I think his name was Grover. Gerard? Garbonzo? No, Gobber! That's it. He was talking to one of the Vikings guarding the cell I was being held in and said, "You know what my great great grandpappy used to say? First of all, don't listen to anthropomorphized weapons with cutesy names. But more importantly, wherever you are, that's where you are. And wherever you might be in the future, well, you have a whole lot of work ahead of you before you get there!"

That man, Gobber, was right. I'm here, on this dark, cold island, alone other than the dragon I found abandoned and injured. That's where I am, I guess, and The Edge is where Fishlegs and the others are. I'm not there, and they certainly aren't here.

So then why does Fishlegs keep sending letters asking me to visit The Edge? Like Gobber said, I'm not there, I'm here. And yet, Fishlegs keeps asking. I mean, look at this one letter he wrote. "Dear Heather, The Edge has a relatively small population if you think about it. Most Viking populations are quite small when you compare them to Rome or many of the places Trader Johan likes to monologue about, but even so The Edge is particularly small. There are only six humans here. There's plenty of space for one more. I know you've been feeling lost and like you have nowhere to go, but our island is open to you." Lost? I'm not lost. I know exactly where I am, Fishlegs. I'm on this island. I'm alone. I'm wishing I were with you.

What was it that Gobber had said again? Not the part about being where you are, but the part after that? That it takes work to get to wherever it is you'll be in the future? Well, that doesn't make sense. Not really. Wouldn't you just end up somewhere? I never thought I'd be here, I didn't "work" to get to this island. I just ended up here.

I never tell Fishlegs the truth. Not the entire truth. I don't want him to know that I'm lonely, that I want to see him again, I really do. He'd just worry. Maybe he'd even search for me with the other riders. Thor forbid Snotlout be the one who finds me.

Maybe, maybe I should tell the truth. Or part of it. Let him know me a little better. It might be nice having a friend I can talk to. And maybe, if things go well, I might take him up on his offer to stay at The Edge for a little. I don't know anything for sure yet, but if I don't do something, then maybe I'll never know. Alternatively, if I start peeling back the layers now, even if only a little bit, then maybe nothing will also happen, but maybe something will.

What do you think, Windshear? It would be nice having some company, wouldn't it?

Chapter 5: Fishlegs's Speedstinger Recovery Log

Summary:

Fishlegs and Meatlug do their best to help the young Speedstinger recover.

This story takes place during Race To The Edge when the gang finds the injured Speedstinger. I always wished we got to see Fishlegs bond with the Speedstinger. From my understanding, Speedstingers are supposed to be untrainable, so what happened? Again, this will be kinda rushed. I just want a break from law school reading and want to have fun with these great characters, so I won't have time to edit/proofread and it certainly won't be my best work. But I hope you enjoy!

 

***

 

Speedstinger Recovery Log:

Entry 1:

We found the Speedstinger on a nearby island. Hiccup wanted to try the flight suit he built and the island had the ideal landscape for a test-flight: a cliff overlooking a long river bordered by tall rocks, essentially creating a channel for Hiccup to fly down. The tests were mostly unsuccessful, but I have to say, there's some promise there. It would really help us all if we had a way to fly to safety if we're ever unseated from our dragons in battle. But I digress.

During the final test flight, Hiccup found the Speedstinger. It appeared injured and was unable to walk. Speedstingers hunt in packs, and so when they're separated from their pack they become vulnerable to all sorts of predators (note to Snotlout, just because you can't best a lone Speedstinger doesn't mean no one can). We couldn't just leave it there, so we managed to secure it in a cage despite the twins trying to help, and then took the dragon back to the Edge.

It's always been assumed that Speedstingers aren't trainable. As the resident Dragon expert, it now falls to me and trusty nurse Meatlug to learn how to help this particular dragon get back on his feet and back to his pack. In order to help it heal, I'll have to get close to it. This will be dangerous, but if I can figure out how to keep the Speedstinger calm and keep Meatlug and myself safe, then maybe we can use the knowledge we gain to help other more dangerous species of dragon.

Ooooh, I can't wait to start!

 

Entry 2:

When we got back to the edge Meatlug placed the cage carrying the Speedstinger in the dome. The Speedstinger was a bit restless at first, but possibly due to exhaustion or Meatlug's soothing lullaby it quickly stopped thrashing in the cage and fell asleep. It must have expended a lot of energy since sustaining its injury.

While it was asleep, I gently opened the door to the Speedstinger's cage so that I could better evaluate our patient. Meatlug stood by the door, ready to slam it shut if the little guy woke up. His leg was clearly broken. After taking some measurements, Meatlug and I left to find Hiccup and have him forge a custom splint for the Speedstinger to replace the makeshift one we had attached earlier. I left plenty of food and water for him just in case he wakes up, but I think we'll be back before that happens. We'll let him rest for a while. Meatlug and I need to come up with a plan to train him anyway. Training a Speedstinger will be absolutely historic!

 

Entry 3:

The splint works! Once again, Hiccup's genius shows itself. He added some extra arch support and now the Speedstinger is up and walking. The little guy even seems to have calmed down a lot since the other night (the dragon-nip may have helped a little as well). I think he realizes that we're trying to help it. We need to work on developing that trust a little bit more, but the splint really helps us out a whole lot. The Speedstinger has been walking around his cage nonstop and keeps flexing his leg. He's still clumsy and needs a lot of work, and I'm confident that we'll be able to get him up and running in no time!

Here are some ideas that Meatlug and I came up with after our daily meditation today:

a) Have Hiccup do the hand move.

b) Feed it some fish. But don't just leave the fish in a pile in the cage - actually feed the dragon. Sharing a meal is a great way to get to know a fellow Viking, and I don't see why that can't work with a dragon.

c) Trust falls

d) Tell it some stories. The more it hears from me and gets used to my presence the more likely it is to trust me when we start physical therapy.

e) Meatlug exposure. No one can resist my little Meatlug. If the Speedstinger sees that Meatlug is comfortable around me, maybe that will help prove to him that he can trust me as well.

We have a few more options to think through, but I think we're off to a good start. And as we help the Speedstinger it will trust us more and more.

 

Entry 5:

The balancing beam that I was building mysteriously disappeared last night. I'm sure the twins probably took it and used it for some scheme of theirs. I really don't have the time to be worrying about them right now. I have a duty to my patient and need to prioritize helping him get better right now.

 

Entry 7:

In my last entry I wrote about the Speedstinger's progress and how we finally were able to let it out of its cage for the first time without worrying that it might try to sting us. Our trust exercises really seemed to work on it, especially the trust falls. It was truly delightful seeing him take his first steps around the dome. Thankfully no one accidentally opened the dome and let the Speedstinger out. Not that it would get far with a broken leg, but we still don't want to take chances or risk it hurting itself even more. Snotlout walked by a few moments ago with a bit of a devilish grin on his face, and I for one am relieved that Astrid and Stormfly agreed to guard the dome. I'll have to recruit those two to keep Snotlout away from me more often.

We started off the night with a leisurely walk around the dome. Meatlug went first, showing the Speedstinger the route. He was slow, though I am happy to note that he did make it around the dome three times despite his wobbly legs. This dragon is tough and clearly wants to get better.

Next, I had him step up onto a platform then step off of it. This proved more challenging. The injury limits his leg's upward movement much more than his horizontal movement. Although I believe Speedstingers aren't readily capable of moving vertically to begin with. Their speed is dependent on staying low to the ground and moving in a straight line. When they do need to move up or down they can hop, but this Speedstinger isn't ready for anything that vigorous.

The session ended with some stretches and then some leg strengthening exercises. We'll work on agility more as his leg continues to strengthen. For now, we need the leg to heal and can't have him move around too much.

 

Entry 11:

I saw Snotlout leave the twins' house today. Get this: he was singing to himself. Singing! I don't think I've ever seen him that happy. I guess I should just be grateful that he's been spending so much time with Ruffnut as she continues to heal from the Speedstinger's venom. I've been meaning to check in on her but haven't been able to find the time.

 

Entry 15:

Late night of training. Meatlug started snoring and the Speedstinger fell asleep right next to her. It was adorable. I love working with dragons.

 

Entry 20:

Note to self: remember to bring a shield next time.

 

Entry 21:

Dragon bones mend very quickly. It makes sense if you think about it. They're out there in the wild, flying into things, landing on hard surfaces. I'm sure dragons are injured all the time. Unlike humans though, they can't always stay in bed with a nice bowl of soup until they're better. If their bones don't heal...well, I don't even want to think about it.

The good news is, the Speedstinger's leg seems to be healing nicely. He's certainly limping a lot less, and he's moving through the exercises quite nicely. It's adorable really. Every time he completes an exercise he looks at Meatlug with this wide grin and starts wagging his poisonous tail. You can tell he's proud of each new accomplishment, and Meatlug is proud of her patient! She started bringing him little rocks as snacks, probably not realizing he's not a fan of granite or rocks in general. But that didn't stop him from using the rocks as weights. We've even incorporated them into the physical therapy sessions and have him using his foot to move the rocks to various places. Maybe that's what Meatlug was thinking when she brought him the rocks. She's just the sweetest. Speaking of which, it's time for our evening stroll around the topiary garden.

 

Entry 23:

I think it's nearly time to take off the splint! The Speedstinger is running around the dome like a an entirely new dragon. He made it around the dome five times in a matter of seconds. Meatlug got a little disoriented watching, and there may have been some gas issues. Despite that, I could tell she was impressed with our patient. He's also doing excellently on the balancing beam and in the obstacle course. He needs a little more work on his hopping skills before he's ready, but I'm confident that we're getting there. I'll have to schedule a date for the others to come and see all the progress the Speedstinger has made. They'll all be so impressed! And then with any luck, we'll be able to get him back into the wild and with his pack! It will be sad to see him go. I know Meatlug will miss her new friend. But we will cherish these memories and celebrate helping a member of our Archipelago!

They said Speedstingers were untrainable, but this proves otherwise. We'll have to amend the Book of Dragons to reflect that. Even now, years after ending the war with the dragons, we're still learning so much and correcting old falsehoods. If there's ever been a reminder not to rely solely on what older generations have passed on to us, this is it. Like Gobber once said, "we need to be able to listen to our elders like we listen to a yak. Auntie Hildegard once told me that a moo is never only a moo, but you need to realize that at the end of the day it's still a moo. A moo can tell you a great deal, but it can't tell you what we're doing on this earth of ours." I didn't understand then but I think I do now. We can listen to a yak and do our best to respond to the yak, but we don't need to treat the yak's moos like an instruction manual. A moo is a moo and...a moo's moo...no...well anyway. Be open to change is what I think that meant.

I have to get back to the Speedstinger now. Meatlug has been leading him through the obstacle course, testing his ability to quickly get through a maze of objects. Once she gives me her report I'll take over for the rest of the night. Let me find some good Berk granite first though. She deserves a treat.

 

Entry 24:

I found some granite in my hut, and when I came back Snotlout was leaning against the dome. He said he was looking at the stars. I didn't know he was interested in astronomy. Good for him for getting a hobby! It's about time.

I'm dallying now. Time to do some more training with the Speedstinger!

 

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! My friends and I run a creative writing podcast called "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." We workshop original stories, analyze books and movies like HTTYD, and interview published authors and other creative people. if you are enjoying my HTTYD fanfics, consider listening to the podcast! You can find it wherever you get your podcasts.

Chapter 6: The World According to Snotlout: A Short Story

Summary:

During the events of Chain of Command, Snotlout comforts Minden. He may be rebellious, frustrating, and self-absorbed, but at his core he knows who he is.

So I guess I'm falling behind on law school homework this weekend. Here's a quick story about Snotlout! I loved the maturity and self awareness he showed in "Chain of Command", and I wanted to try to get into his thought process a little bit after Minden decides to quit. We talked about him on our podcast in our HTTYD episode on youtube, and I was surprised by how much Julie and I had to say about his character. We joke about him all the time, but he has a truly exceptional story arc and becomes a great person. He was one of my favorite characters in the books, and I think the movie and show version does him justice. So, without further ado, here is my Snotlout story! It's short and unedited (again, this is just a fun break from law school), but I hope you enjoy it!

 

***

"I have failed, Snotlout. I have failed Atali, and I have failed my tribe."

How many times had he heard that before? Truthfully, Snotlout couldn't remember anyone else every expressing that particular sentiment. Well, anyone that is, other than himself.

Failure, a disappointment, untrustworthy, a muttonhead. That's what Snotlout was. That's what the people around him had called him. That's what Spitelout had called him. His own father thought he wasn't good enough.

And it was true, wasn't it? How many times had he messed up? Hiccup may have been heir to the chief, but after Hiccup came Snotlout. People expected great things from him. He was supposed to be the best at dragon training, the annual Thawfest Festival champion. Almost losing his title and being passed over by both Astrid and Hiccup in dragon training wasn't supposed to happen. He hadn't even been able to deliver the Jorgenson ceremonial ax to the wedding in time (though that fiasco wasn't entirely his fault), he had almost gotten his fellow riders killed dozens of times, and his plans almost never worked. If anyone failed, it was him, not Minden.

"Yeah okay, we can talk about that later," Snotlout said, "but now..."

But she wouldn't listen. Minden had her back turned to him, her baby Razorwhip clung to her back. With a sigh, she took the dragon and placed it gently on the ground. With a squeal, it scampered over to Hookfang and climbed onto the larger dragon. Hookfang looked at Snotlout then nodded at Minden. He was right. A Viking, or Wing-Maiden in this case, should never be separated from her dragon. Snotlout knew because he had almost lost his own dragon once.

Hookfang hadn't been well. Snotlout remembered it like it had been yesterday. He would never forget what it was like to watch Hookfang slowly lose his fire. Normally energetic and fiery, Hookfang had become languid. He stopped moving and eventually stopped eating. When Snotlout told him to light himself on fire, Hookfang couldn't do it.

And what had Spitelout said at the time? That when a Viking's sword was no longer sharp, a Viking got a new sword.

A real Viking would have gotten a new sword. But Snotlout wasn't a real Viking. No. He had been afraid when a real Viking would have been fearless. He had been without answers when a real Viking would have known exactly what to do. He had been directionless when a real Viking would have never been lost. Spitelout had only ever wanted him to be a real Viking, a proud bearer of the Jorgenson name, and Snotlout had let him down. Above all else, he was a failure.

"You were right, Snotlout. It is pointless to try. I shall be a Wing-Maiden no more."

It was like reliving the earlier drafts of Snotlout's memoir. He recognized Minden. Not in the sense that he knew her name and face, though he certainly recognized her in that way. It was more that he recognized what she was feeling because he had felt all of that himself. Trying? What was the point when you weren't good enough? Being a member of a group? No thank you. Hiccup was the leader and the best flyer, Astrid was the greatest warrior they had, Fishlegs knew the most about dragons, and the twins...well...

And if failure was familiar, quitting was Snotlout's closest friend. Whenever anything became too hard or it became clear he wouldn't succeed, Snotlout quit. Everything he had worked for, everything he wanted...no, everything Spitelout wanted for him, Snotlout had given up. Snotlout wasn't the best Viking or the best warrior. He was something else.

Snotlout was free.

He gave up being the best Viking. He didn't get a new sword like Spitelout had suggested. He didn't quit on Hookfang. Instead, Snotlout had brought Hookfang to Fireworm island and saved his best friend. When he gave up trying to be a success in the eyes of his father and decided to be his own version of a success, Snotlout realized that he had gained so much more than he ever would have achieved on his own. Being bonded with a dragon was more than having an armored steed to ride into battle on. It was having a partner who would be there for you no matter what. And Snotlout would be there for Hookfang no matter what. Hookfang wasn't just a dragon, but a friend. The two of them had been through so much together, and until the day they stepped foot into Valhalla, Snotlout knew that they would continue to be there for each other.

Maybe Spitelout wouldn't say that Snotlout was the best Viking, but Snotlout knew that wasn't true. The best Viking was the one who never gave up on himself and what was important to him. Snotlout was a Dragon Rider. He was Hookfang's best friend, he was a writer, he was skilled at sewing, he was an "S" enthusiast, he was the ambassador to Wing-Maiden island, and he was Hiccup's, Fishlegs', Astrid's, and the Twins' friend. He was free to be whomever he wanted to be. He had given up a life of unrealistic expectation and chosen compassion and community. And though part of him still had difficulty admitting it out loud, he was happy. Maybe someone else would say that he quit, but Snotlout knew that he hadn't quit at all. He had found his own path and what it truly meant to be Snotlout Jorgenson.

And now Minden needed help finding herself. Snotlout wouldn't tell her who to be or what to do, but he could tell her what he knew of himself.

Snotlout smiled and patted Hookfang. Vulnerability wasn't something the old Snotlout would ever allow himself to express. But this Snotlout wouldn't give up on who he was. He may not have the best words or be as wise as Gobber, but he knew who he was: Snotlout Jorgenson! Oi! Oi! Oi!

He took a deep breath and turned to Minden.

"Quitting, as good as it feels, as little effort as it takes, it never works."

Behind him, Hookfang purred. It was hard being himself sometimes. And though Snotlout had quit trying to be the Viking his dad wanted him to be, he knew he would never quit being himself, no matter how hard it was.

 

*** Hope you enjoyed! It was so much fun writing about Snotlout. He comes across as goofy and shallow sometimes, but I think there is a lot of depth to him. He is brave and loyal and though he talks a big game he knows who he is and what he brings to the group and will do anything for them.

Chapter 7: Dear Oswald

Summary:

Heather finds comfort in the mysterious messages she's been finding adrift at sea. She doesn't know who is writing them, but they're all addressed to someone named Oswald...

Hope you're doing well! Here's my Dagur the Deranged story! Spent a decent two hours writing this. It was a spur of the moment decision. Was not expecting to have the energy to write anything tonight after a long week of law school, but here we are! As always, please excuse any sloppiness as it is hard finding the time to write but I've been having so much fun doing it that I've been making time for it. Dagur is a great character, and I'm hoping this captures just a little of his deranged-ness. This takes place before Heather reconnects with the Dragon Riders.

 

***

 

Perhaps it was the darkness of the sky or the relentlessness of the snow, but it was on nights like this that Heather read the note.

She and Windshear had been flying when the storm barreled in. One moment the sky had been clear, and the next she had to pull her hood over her head to avoid the onslaught of snow from getting in her eyes and mouth. She was used to bad weather, but this...this was unusual, even by Viking standards. Her vision was almost useless and she had felt Windshear lean as up and down began to lose all meaning. With a yell she had lunged forward, grabbing her dragon's neck so that she wouldn't fall off. Windshear's scales were shiny and cold and Heather's hands were in pain just holding them. They were going to die out there in the snow, so far away...

But she hadn't died. Windshear had flown through the storm and somehow managed to find an old shipwreck. Well, not an old one. It was a ship she and Windshear had incapacitated about a year ago. There wasn't much damage - Windshear had only sliced the mast and forced the ship ashore. The sailors could have repaired it given time, but they had decided not to stick around. They had abandoned their home, and Heather and Windshear had adopted it. They sealed up the hull, changed some of the décor, and made it at least habitable. There was plenty of space to sleep in, to cook, and even to train. Supplies were stored below in the hold, allowing them to stay there for a number of weeks if they ever need somewhere to hide.

It wasn't home, but nothing was.

Heather gathered some logs from the pile she stored in one of the rooms of the ship and brought it to the main room. There was even a chimney built into the deck above her, angled in such a way as to keep out the water and snow. When the logs were arranged neatly in the center of the room, Windshear set them on fire. Heather sat nearby the fire and began to feel herself warm up. The muscles throughout her body began to relax, and the water droplets hanging onto her silver armor began to evaporate.

"Thanks, Windshear," she said, patting her dragon. Windshear blinked her acid green eyes and purred.

The wind still howled outside the boat, but sitting there next to the fire and Windshear, Heather felt comfortable. It was peaceful in a way. Heather wasn't very familiar with peace, so when it did show itself she did her best to capture it for as long as possible. Away from the raids on pirates and the reminders of her isolation, she could let herself relax.

Windshear was snoring. Not wanting to disturb her, Heather slowly got to her feet and creeped towards one side of the room. There was a closet with some different outfits full of various rips and tears from dragons and axes. At the bottom of the closet was a pile of old boots. Heather scrounged through the boots and then found one that felt a little harder then the rest. She reached into it and pulled out a glass bottle with a yellowing piece of parchment. Taking the bottle, Heather made her way back to the fire and sat back down next to her still sleeping dragon.

Uncorking the bottle, she tipped it over and she teased the parchment out from inside it. It was rough in her hands but seemed to be in good shape. There were no tears or crumbling corners. It was as if it had just been written on yesterday. She knew it hadn't been. She had found it back when she was a kid. One day while she was out playing, she had seen the bottle sticking out from the sand. When she noticed it had a letter inside of it, she couldn't help but pull it out and read it. Since then, she returned to the letter whenever she had a quiet moment like this. It was comforting, and Thor knew she could use some comfort in her life. Windshear was fantastic, but it wasn't the same as having another human being around to relate to.

Heather unrolled the parchment and began to read.

"Dear Oswald,

"Hey dad. It feels a bit funny to say dad. I mean, the name I hear whenever anyone refers to you is Oswald. There's no one else left around here to call you dad."

Dad, Heather thought. In her case, there was no one left to call dad. Her dad had been killed by that horrible, loathsome Berserker.

She read on.

"I have done my best to keep the tribe going, but I wish you were still here. Being a leader isn't what I thought it would be. There are people who look up to me and expect me to make all the right decisions, but how can I show them what's right when the person who should be showing me isn't here? Everyone is looking to me, and I am looking at an empty chair where my father once sat.

"When I was a child, everything felt so easy. I knew the rules, I knew the boundaries. I knew what I could do. If I made a mistake, you told me. The others knew that I was to be respected, and there was nothing I had to do to earn or maintain that respect. You did that all for me. Who needed directions when I had you?"

Poor kid, Heather thought. She knew what it was like to be directionless. Even now she had no idea if what she was doing was right or what she should do next. Her tribe had been there for her for most of her life until they weren't.

"But now I need to figure that all out on my own. I can't let my tribe see any sign of weakness or they might kill me. 'Only the strong belong!' It's an old phrase that isn't said much these days, but you know what our tribe is like. They don't say it anymore, but they live it. When you left there was a hole in our tribe. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to claim the title of Chief for themself. There were bound to be fights. If no one stepped in, people were going to die. So before anything could happen, I rose up. I told them all that I had killed my father, and that I was taking over as the rightful chief.

"Where did you go, I wonder? What was it that took you away from me? You and I both know that I didn't really kill you. I needed to say it. For the good of the tribe. If I'm strong, then the tribe is strong. Isn't that right? I can't let anyone see any weakness, any hesitation! I am the Chief! This is my tribe! My strength will be the tribe's strength, and together, we will persevere. Because if I am not strong, then someone else will rise up and take control. Our people have tried it before. We have a rich history of beheading the leaders. I won't let that happen to me. Not before I find you."

Heather tried to imagine being alone in a village bred from violence. Her people had never been violent, but perhaps they should have been. Perhaps if they had been warriors, they never would have been decimated. She wouldn't be alone. Though she supposed the writer felt alone too, even if he still had his tribe. Perhaps there were many different ways of being lonely. She had Windshear, her constant companion, and the writer had his tribe. But neither of them had their parents.

"It is taking everything I have to keep myself together, but it's hard. You always seemed to know exactly how to hold yourself and how to keep everyone's hearts and minds focused on the wellbeing of the tribe. I don't know how to do that. Everyday I feel their eyes on me, waiting for me to slip. And I feel myself slipping. My mind is being weighed down by the position I find myself in. The clarity of purpose to which I approached every situation has been dulled. I have become the Chief, but I don't know who I am. With each passing day I feel less in control of my own brain, more unhinged, more...deranged. There is a venom inside of me that wants to poison the world around me and deprive them of what I've been forced to live without. It is wrong, and I know its wrong, but I am the Chief and I need to be strong and how can you be strong without showing the world what you are willing to do in your own name? When dragons burn our homes and blizzards decimate our crops and other Vikings raid our shores what else is a leader to do other than be strong? And there is no one I can tell, no one I can speak my fears to, for if I speak my fears then someone might hear and use them against me and tear away the only thing of yours that I still possess - your chiefdom.

"I don't know why you left. I don't know if it was on purpose or if there is something out there that you need to do. I don't know if you meant to come back. Oswald...dad, I wish you had told me. I wish you had left me with some guidance. All I have is my head and my heart and I cannot trust either of those.

"I'm going to do my best to find you, dad. I have ships now, an entire armada! Someone must know where you went. It's impossible to get very far without encountering someone. I'll scour the archipelago if I have to until I discover where you went. And then I'll give you back the Chiefdom and you can lead us once more.

"I know it probably won't, but I hope this letter finds you. If I don't find you first that is. I've sent out more. If I knew where to look I'd spend less time writing, but I don't know where to look, so here's a letter.

Your Son"

The writer didn't leave his name. Heather wished he had. She needed to know who this person was. He was in pain, that was clear to see. He needed help. And maybe she could be the person to help him. Why not? She was alone too. Her heart ached every day and sometimes she felt as if she were living in a body that wasn't fully her own. Her parents were dead, but she could help him find his parents. She could make sure one less person suffered the way she did.

Maybe she'd look for the mysterious writer one day. For now, she had to do her best to keep a low profile. Drawing too much attention to herself would be dangerous, and she had to make sure she lived long enough to kill Dagur the Deranged.

 

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, be sure to check out my creative writing podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons" wherever you get your podcasts. We workshop original stories, interview authors, and analyze books and movies like HTTYD!

Chapter 8: In the Arms of Valkyrie

Summary:

Wing Maiden Island is under siege. Unfortunately for Atali, there are only two people who can help.

I had a fun idea for a twins story, so here it goes. I needed a break from studying for finals anyway. This takes place during Race to the Edge after the Dragon Riders have met the Wing Maidens.

***

 

Everything was on fire.

"Retreat! Head to the forest!" yelled Atali. An arrow thudded into the charred wooden bridge she was standing on, causing her to jump back. It was just as well, for a moment later a boulder crashed through the wood where she had just been standing. The bridge collapsed, sending Atali falling to the earth far below.

Falling was nothing new to the Wing Maiden. She simply relaxed, allowing the young Razorwhip that had been clinging to her back to take over. It spread its wings, and Atali felt her descent slow down, and then reverse as the small dragon carried her higher into the sky.

"Thank you, Wingnut," Atali said, glancing over her shoulder at her savior. Wingnut chirped, but remained focused on his task.

Atali paused, and looked out over the village. The dragon hunters had been attacking for days now. She had sent a letter to Hiccup to ask for his help, and hoped that he would show up soon. Any help from him and his riders would be helpful. Well, most of the riders - she wouldn't mind if Snotlout or the Twins remained behind. Her fellow Wing Maidens had managed to hold off the dragon hunters for a while, swooping in to disable their weapons and steal supplies, but it hadn't been enough. Somehow, the dragon hunters had caught them, her, off guard. The assault on the village had been swift. Before Atali could do anything to stop it, the hunters had breached the outer defenses and launched flaming projectiles throughout the raised wooden buildings. Now, the fires had spread to most of the buildings. It was so bad that she could hardly breathe. Smoke swirled all around her, threatening to completely encircle her...

Through it all, she saw something shiny in the corner of her vision. Down below, a figure was crawling out from a collapsed building. It was a Wing Maiden. Atali could see that she was clutching a small Razorwhip that appeared to be injured.

"Down!" Atali called to Wingnut, who sped towards the fallen Wing Maiden.

The smoke was less powerful down amidst the flames, but the heat was much worse. Atali's skin felt like it was burning. Wingnut deposited her onto the intact wooden platform surrounding the collapsed building. The platform was teetering ominously, but it was still standing.

Thankfully, the Wing Maiden didn't appear injured. She was disoriented from the suddenness of the attack and the amount of fire and smoke. Atali reached out her hand and helped the Wing Maiden to her feet. The younger woman looked at her. "Atali," she said, "I...the dragon...she's injured."

Indeed, the small Razorwhip the Wing Maiden was holding appeared to have a bruised wing. It wasn't serious and could be healed easily, but it also meant that it wasn't flying anywhere any time soon.

Without any hesitation, Atali signaled to Wingnut. Wingnut leaped from her back and grabbed onto the other Wing Maiden's back.

The Wing Maiden glanced between Wingnut and Atali. "But...how are you going to escape?"

"Don't worry about me, I'll find a way," Atali replied. Before the other Wing Maiden could argue, Atali whistled, and Wingnut took to the air, carrying both the Wing Maiden and the other dragon. The three of them flew away towards the hatchery. Hopefully there they'd be able to regroup with the others.

The fire was closing in. Below her, Atali felt the wooden platform groan with the strain of holding itself together. It buckled, and for a moment it seemed like it would topple, but then it stilled. Atali sighed in relief.

Then, another boulder dropped from above, hitting the platform and sending wooden planks and Atali flying through the air.

Ordinarily, Atali enjoyed being off the ground. There was a comfort in floating above the trees and feeling the wind on her face. But that was when she had a dragon to help her. Now, she was alone, and nothing would stop her from hitting the rocks below.

She closed her eyes and whispered a prayer to Thor. If she were going to die, at least she would die after saving one of her people.

Through the roaring of the flames and the shouts and the catapult impacts, she heard something else. It was familiar...like the batting of wings. It was another dragon! No doubt Hiccup had gotten her message. He had come to save her and her people! Everything would be alright. If there was anyone she trusted to pull off a last-minute save, it was Hiccup Haddock. She whispered to Thor and his Valkyrie one last time, and then opened her eyes.

There was no Hiccup. She couldn't see toothless either. In fact, she didn't see any dragons. She felt herself begin to panic again, and then a shadow began to form in the smoke above her. It was hard to make out exactly what it was, but as it got closer she could see that it had two heads...

"Oh no..." Atali whispered.

There was an explosion, and Atali could now clearly see the green scales of the Zippleback and the dull metal of the two riders' helmets.

The Zippleback reached out its claws and grabbed Atali before she hit the ground.

"Did we catch her?" one of the riders asked in a scratchy voice.

In a voice that was only slightly lower, the other rider said, "well, I think Barf and Belch caught her. I didn't have anything to do with it."

Whoever had caught her, Atali was no longer plummeting to her death. She was still shocked that it hadn't been Hiccup to save her. When she saw the dragon through the smoke she had assumed it would be him.

They flew towards the hatchery, following the path Wingnut had taken only moments before. When they reached it, the Zippleback didn't even land. It simply released Atali near the ground, letting her gracefully drop down to the dirt. She looked up at her saviors. Behind them, the fires at the village still burned, glinting off of their helmets.

"Hey, Atali, you okay?" asked the rider on the Zippleback's right head.

Atali nodded. "Yes. Thank you, Ruffnut. But where's Hiccup? I thought he was going to rescue me. I wasn't expecting-"

"You weren't expecting us to save you?" Tuffnut interjected.

"Well...um, no. I sent a message to Hiccup asking him for help. Is he here?"

Tuffnut shook his head. "It's just us. Ruff and I were in the area and wanted to stop by and visit Wingnut. This isn't exactly the welcome we had in mind."

"So no help is coming?" pressed Atali, her heart pounding. "It's really just you two?"

The twins looked at one another.

"No one ever expects us to rescue them," said Ruffnut.

"And why would they?" asked Tuffnut. "We certainly don't live up to the heroic image our fearless leader, H, has painted of us."

"And we can't seem to build that stupid watchtower..."

"And we may have set The Edge on fire a few times..."

"And we may have set Snotlout on fire a few times..."

"Wait, I thought we were listing bad things?"

"Oh, right, my bad," said Ruffnut. "But at the end of the day, when things get serious..."

"We get serious," Tuffnut finished. The twins both began to snap their fingers around their heads.

Atali glance down. "I know...you're both right. I just thought..." but she didn't know how to finish.

"Hey, it's fine," Ruffnut said. "I wouldn't normally trust us either. Like we just established, our track record is not good. But we both love Wingnut. We love this island! And we're going to help save it. In this situation, when our friends are being threatened and we have the power to do something about it, you can absolutely count on us."

"What she said!" Tuffnut replied. The two of them banged their heads together.

And then, they took off, leaving Atali to watch them go. The Zippleback flew them back to the burning village, back to danger. It was now up to them and the other riders to save Wing Maiden Island.

"Atali!" a voice called out from behind her. It was Minden. She was leading a group of Wing Maidens, all of whom had on their helmets and were holding spears. "What should we do Atali?"

"Protect the Hatchery. Make sure no dragon hunters hurt our Razorwhips." Atali watched as the Wing Maidens fanned out, forming a perimeter around the hatchery.

Between the Wing Maidens and the Twins, the island was in good hands.

 

***

 

I hope you enjoyed! I wanted to capture a moment in which the twins are heroic. We get so many wonderful heroic moments from them in the show, but I think we still generalize them as being the comic relief (which they often are). Here I really wanted to highlight just how dedicated and competent they actually are. Atali might not be thrilled that they're the only ones there to help, but we as fans all know that that's more than enough.

If you enjoyed, consider checking out my other stories or my creative writing podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." You can find it wherever you get your podcasts. We mostly workshop original stories and interview authors, but we also analyze books and movies and shows every so often, including HTTYD!

Chapter 9: Scauldy

Summary:

Late at night, a shadow breaks into the fish hut and sneaks down to the docks for a scheduled rendezvous with a mysterious visitor.

Hi! I'm really procrastinating these last few days, but law school is truly terrible. I mean, I like it, but it's not easy, and I'm running away from it a little bit. We all need some breaks to have fun once in a while. So here's yet another story about one of my favorite Dragon Riders and one of my favorite dragons. This takes place before Race to the Edge and after the episode "Free Scauldy" (I can't remember if it was from Riders of Berk or Defenders of Berk).

 

***

 

It was a quiet night on Berk. Sure, the sound of Vikings snoring was akin to a small earthquake, but around there, that qualified as quiet. There were no dragon attacks, no invading armadas, no Roman galleons deploying soldiers on the docks. The sky was cloudless and there was no wind to rustle the trees nearby. No whispering deaths were busy tunneling their way under the island, and no outcasts were conducting any kidnappings. No Berserkers were howling at the moon and there was no Mildew around to damage property and blame it on the dragons. Even Hiccup and Toothless, a dragon whose species were literally named after the night, were asleep. So, therefore, it was quiet.

It was quiet, except for one thing. If someone had, oh, I don't know, woken up in the middle of a bad dream and decided to walk over to their window, perhaps they would have heard the sound of something clanging to the ground. Perhaps, if they focused, they would intuit that the sound came from something metal being dropped over by the fish hut next to the wood storage area. And if they really focused, and I mean focused, then maybe, just maybe, they would hear the sound of someone squealing near the source of the clanging sound.

But it was a quiet night, and I can't say that anyone was awake to hear her.

Over by the fish hut, the individual who had dropped the metal held her hands over her mouth. For a moment, she stood there, too afraid to move. She listened, waiting to hear if anyone had noticed her. The seconds passed. Snores rang out from nearby homes, and the ever-present sound of the waves lapping against the docks down below continued as it always did, but there was no indication that anyone had woken up. Admittedly, some Vikings could be very stealthy when they chose, but they were few and far between, so it wasn't likely that she would be bothered.

And so, she collected the fallen metal bowl, grabbed a particularly oily fish from the storage building, and went on her way.

Ordinarily, no one would try this on such a cloudless night. The moon was so full and bright that it felt like a spotlight was being trained on her as she slinked between buildings and towards the docks. But this was the regularly scheduled night, unbeknownst to the rest of the village. If she wanted to see him, she would have to be extra careful. And she was. Every time she passed near a window, she ducked, just to make sure that if anyone happened to wake up and glance outside, they wouldn't see the light reflecting off her helmet. She made sure that each time she took a step forward, she stepped on the edge of her foot and then rolled onto her full foot, just as Gobber had taught all the youngsters during tracking class. I'd have to put in a good word to the old teacher. She was careful.

When she reached the last line of houses, she breathed a sigh of relief. The metal bowl was still in her left hand and the fish was in her right. Now, all she had to do was walk down the long and rickety path to the docks below. Once she began the journey downward, the quiet night added the sound of creaking wood to its symphony. She didn't look behind her because no one was paying attention. No one noticed her as she made her descent.

Finally, she reached the water.

Down there on the docks, the sounds of snoring Vikings was drowned out by the small waves. The birds that squalled from the cliffs during the day were replaced by the fluttering of bats. She soaked in the quiet, letting it calm her. Life on Berk could be so loud. And yes, she was responsible for a good thirty-seven percent of that noise on a good day, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy some peace now and then, or that she didn't need some peace. Life wasn't all fun and maces every minute.

A moment passed. When she was ready, she walked to the edge of the dock and poured the contents of the bowl into the water.

The fish oil began spreading in the water. This particular oil was smellier than the usual. Thankfully, Vikings were so used to bad smells that she never worried about waking anyone up with the smell alone. She put the bowl on the dock and then looked up, peering through the night, scanning the sea before her.

Something began bubbling underneath her. She looked down. The water was boiling right where she had dumped the fish oil. Heat emanated from the spot, warming even her. She took a step back, holding onto the fish that she still carried.

From the water, a green horn emerged. Then a head. Then a long neck.

It was a Scauldron.

But what happened next would surprise any Viking, even one who had been awake and focusing very hard. The girl, ordinarily loud, chaotic, and the very opposite of gentle, raised her free hand. She left it hanging there, allowing the sea-monster to smell it. This occurred without her looking away or appearing to be nervous. In this moment, she was not the Loki loving prankster who approached every situation with the grace of a mace being used to butter some toast. Here, she was someone who had spent countless hours training to interact with dragons. She was a Dragon Rider.

And more importantly than even that, she was someone who loved this dragon.

The Scauldron touched the base of its horn to her outstretched hand.

"It's good to see you too, Scauldy," Ruffnut Thorston said, her voice carrying in the quiet night. She smiled as the dragon nuzzled into her hand. Its throat pouch inflated and deflated, not because it was boiling water, but because Scauldy was excited to see her.

Ruffnut laughed. "It's been a while. You look good though. How's the wing?"

Scauldy lifted both his wings out of the water. The splint that had once been arranged on his right wing was gone. It had been gone for months now. Scauldy had broken his wing after some rocks fell on it, but now he pushed his wing forward and Ruffnut felt a blast of air rush around her.

"That's awesome!" she cheered, careful not to be too loud. "You're like, a whole new Scauldy, Scauldy!"

Scauldy gulped up some water and sprayed it into the air like a wet firework. I always thought that it was uncanny how dragons seemed to be able to smile just like humans. When Scauldy smiled, so did Ruffnut.

For an hour or so more, the two of them stayed together. Ruffnut sat on the dock while Scauldy floated beside her. What transpired between the two, who can say? After stumbling upon their reunion, it was clear that I should leave them be. No pranks were forthcoming in the morning. At least, no pranks arising from this particular situation. And while a Chief would be obligated to prevent any pranks before they could be pulled, a Chief would never dream to get in the way of a dragon and its rider.

 

***

 

Free Scauldy is one of my favorite episodes in the HTTYD saga. We don't get a lot of character development for Ruffnut, especially in the original shows, but this episode began hinting that she might one day become a great dragon rider. She's still clearly not taking the role very seriously, and she's not paying attention to Hiccup's teachings or anything beyond her love of Barf and Belch. But when she finally connects with Scauldy and realizes that she has the potential to befriend dragons and do what all the other riders can do, I think she begins to more fully embrace her own power and initiative. She isn't just the clueless girl who makes noise with her brother. Like the others, she is a Dragon Rider, and she is skillful and valuable and intelligent even if she couldn't recognize it at first. Ruffnut should never be dismissed.

 

I hope you enjoyed the story! This is a reminder to check out my other stories and check out my podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons" wherever you get your podcasts for writing workshops featuring dragon-themed stories, book and film analyses, and interviews with published authors.

Chapter 10: A Drop In The Bucket

Summary:

Bucket tries to find his place on Berk after being attacked by a dragon.

Hi! It's been a while. Finals were exhausting, and break was even more so. I'm starting classes in two days and should be making a dent in the two books I need to read, but I had an idea for a story about Bucket and Mulch that I wanted to write. So, without further adieu, let's return to one of our favorite duos on Berk!

***

"Get away from there Bucket!"

Bucket looked around. The metal bucket that he wore on his head didn't sway at all as turned this way and that, trying to find the person who had spoken. Wasn't he alone? It was just him and the rope he was trying to untangle.

The voice called out again. "Let go of it!" And then, there was a thud as a heavy Viking pounded onto the deck of the ship. The Viking was a foot shorter than he was, but that was usual. Most people were shorter than Bucket.

Bucket now realized he wasn't alone. But what did the Viking want? He thought he should ask the Viking a question, something easy that didn't require too much thinking. As he tried to think of a question, Bucket was distracted by just how red the Viking was. He said, "You look a little red, if you don't mind me saying. Like a tomato. But...maybe a little pinker. Like you've been left in the sun a little too long."

At this, the Viking turned even redder. Bucket didn't realize people could change colors so much.

The Viking stomped his foot. "I'm not a tomato, Bucket!"

Bucket looked around, scanning the deck. "I don't see any buckets," he suggested. "Do buckets usually go on ships? I wouldn't know. Perhaps you could borrow one from somewhere?"

If it was possible, the Viking got another shade redder. He grabbed his horned helmet and threw it to the deck where it bounced with a clatter. "I'm not looking for a bucket, Bucket! I'm looking for you! Bucket!"

"Oh, I'm a person. Not a bucket."

"Bucket!"

Bucket didn't know how to help the Viking, so he went back to untangling the rope. It was all knotted up. If he had to guess, it had been that way for a long time.

As he began picking at the thick knots, the Viking swatted at his hand and hook. "Leave it!" the Viking yelled. "That's my good fishing net! Caught myself thousands of cod with that! You're going to ruin it."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to ruin it," replied Bucket. He eyed the ropes. "But those are a awful lot of knots."

"Leave it!"

The Viking reached for the ropes, and Bucket released them. Maybe the Viking would have better luck untying them than he had.

"I never should have agreed to bring you! But Stoick said I had to."

"I like Stoick," Bucket stated. He didn't know why the large man was always running around Berk telling people what to do, but Stoick seemed to be kind, and he always said nice things to Bucket. If Stoick said something, Bucket didn't think much about it. He just did it.

The Viking snorted. "Of course you would. Chief always always interfering with my life. Well, I won't have it. When we get back to Berk, you're off my ship!"

True to his word, when the ship pulled alongside the pier, the Viking almost pushed Bucket onto the dock. It was earlier than Bucket had expected. He thought he would be spending the whole day out on the water. The sun hadn't even reached the middle of the sky.

"Bucket!"

Bucket turned around. There, walking down the long ramp that lead from the village to the water, was Stoick. His beard was just as magnificent as it always was, and the metal scales he wore were coated in dirt and grease.

"Maybe you should talk to the ship captain," suggested Bucket. "He was looking for a bucket too."

Stoick laughed, and Bucket laughed with him. It was nice to laugh with him out there on the pier. He didn't know why he was laughing, but Bucket didn't need to. It was always good to laugh every now and again.

With a shake of his massive beard, Stoick said, "I see fishing with Mynar didn't work out for you."

"I was wondering what his name was," replied Bucket. He scratched his head with his hook. There was an earsplitting scraping noise. Bucket yelled, and ducked down. It sounded like the scraping of teeth on bone, like a dragon, like the teeth of a dragon...bone...teeth...his head...the dragon's mouth...teeth...

"Bucket," a firm voice said. Bucket looked up. It was Stoick. He had crouched down so that his eyes were level with Bucket's. "You're okay, Bucket. No dragon will get to you. You're safe."

"I'm...I'm safe?"

"Yes, Bucket. You're safe."

Bucket breathed. He felt his heart beat a little slower. Carefully, he stood up. Stoick stood up with him.

"There you go," Stoick said. "That's it. Feeling better?"

Bucket nodded.

"Good." Stocik grunted. "Now, come with me. There's someone I want you to meet."

"I don't think I can," Bucket replied. He wasn't sure why Stoick was being so nice to him, or why he wanted him to keep meeting people. The ship captain was the twenty-fifth new person Stoick had introduced him to since the accident. All of the new people seemed to want to spend as little time with him as possible. At this point, meeting another new person didn't sound appealing to Bucket.

Stoick grunted. "Why's that?"

"I don't think I do very well around people. They seem to get angry around me. I don't know why." It was the truth. Bucket met people and did his best to be helpful, but no one ever seemed to actually think he was helpful.

Gently, Stoick placed a hand on Bucket's shoulder. Bucket didn't know how to describe how he felt. Sturdy? Solid? A little less shaky in the knees? It didn't matter. Stoick said, "Bucket. People can be cruel. Especially Viking people. But you're a member of this Village, of this tribe. And no matter what people say or do, that is never going to change. You're one of the bravest men I know. That dragon got lucky. It happens. He may have taken your wits, but he can't take that big heart of yours." With a smile, Stoick clapped Bucket on the back. "I know that for a fact, even if you don't. Now, come on. We're running late."

Feeling a little lighter, Bucket followed Stoick up the wooden walkway and into the village. No one paid him much mind. A few people nodded, some others waved, but they mostly left him alone.

Stoick led him from the village and out to one of the farms. Animals called out to each other from a nearby field that was fenced in. The smell was a bit nicer than the usual smell that hung over the village.

"I'm going to leave you here," Stoick said, stopping at the edge of the field. "Wait here. Someone will come and get you."

"Who am I waiting for?" Bucket asked, but Stoick was already walking away.

Bucket thought to follow Stoick, but Stoick was really a nice man. It would be rude to ignore what he had said. So, instead, Bucket waited next to the fence. He waited so long that he forgot why he was waiting. It was nice out there away from the village. The air was clearer, his head was quieter, and the breeze felt wonderfully chilly. The animals seemed to enjoy it as well. He watched as they roamed around their enclosure, munching on the grass and braying at each other as they found even better patches of grass. There were taller animals with shaggy black coats of fur, and smaller animals with feathers that walked around like they were constantly stepping on something sharp. Bucket didn't know what exactly they were, though he was happy standing there watching.

Then, one of the mid-sized animals called out. It was a guttural thing, like the creature was in pain. The creature shook its head and stomped its feet, shaking the white pillow looking globs covering its body. One again, it threw back its head and groaned into the air.

Bucket leaped over the fence and approached the creature. "What's wrong?" he asked. The creature didn't reply. He shook his head, remembering that was typical of animals.

"Don't mind the beast," someone said from behind Bucket. A short Viking with a hook in place of one hand and a wooden plank in place of one of his feet entered the field from an open gate. He closed the gate behind him and limped over to Bucket and the animal. "This one here is just impatient. She knows it's sheering day. You'd think she would wait a few minutes while I go about my day, but no...she wants things done on her own schedule."

It didn't make much sense to Bucket, but he chuckled along with the man. The man smiled at him. "So you're Bucket?" the man said.

"I think I'm a person, not a bucket," replied Bucket.

The man chuckled again. "I didn't mean that you were. Only, that's your name isn't it?"

"My name?"

"Yes, the thing people call you."

"Oh. Well I suppose that is my name then. People seem to call me Bucket, though I'm not sure why."

"Might it be because of the bucket you wear on your head?" the man asked. He gestured to Bucket's head with his hook.

Bucket reached up and touched his head. There was something metal on it that felt oddly like a Bucket. "Oh, that's right. I do have a Bucket on my head. Maybe that's what all those people were looking for."

The man laughed. "Maybe. Well, in any case, it's nice to meet you, Bucket. My own name's Mulch. My mother was a farmer. Liked the soil quite a bit, she did. So, I've got Mulch for my name."

Mulch. Bucket quite liked it. It suited the man, he thought. Mulch was low to the ground, and his width meant that he covered a large area, just like mulch. He even smelled like mulch.

"Nice to meet you, Mulch," Bucket said.

"Likewise," replied Mulch. He extended his hook. Bucket mirrored Mulch, extending his own. The two shook hooks. "Now, would you like to help me sheer the sheep?"

Bucket looked around. "The sheep? I'm not sure where to find you the sheep."

With a smile, Mulch pointed down to the medium sized creature with the white globs covering its body. "This one here is the sheep. It's the one that we get wool from."

"I thought we got wool from the chicken?"

"No, that's the one we get eggs from. I should know, I enjoy those eggs."

There were a lot of different animals to remember. Not only did Bucket have to remember their names, but he had to remember what to take from each one. It seemed hard. Maybe Stoick would know how to help Mulch, but Bucket certainly didn't.

"I'm not sure I should be helping you," he admitted to Mulch.

Mulch looked surprised. "And why's that?"

"Well, I never seem to be much good at helping, though I'd like to help very much. And the names of the animals...I've already forgotten which one is which."

He expected Mulch to yell at him, but Mulch didn't. Instead, Mulch smiled. "Well, it's a good thing I remember the names of the animals then, isn't it? I can keep reminding you so you get them right. How does that sound?"

It sounded good. Bucket couldn't remember, but if someone else could do the remembering for him, then he could do more to help. Remembering on his own was difficult. The idea of having a sort of partner was appealing.

Bucket nodded. "I like that very much," he said.

"I'm glad," Mulch said. Even Bucket could see that he meant it. He extended his hook and Mulch extended his own, and the two shook hooks once more. "Now, let's finally sheer that poor sheep!"

"Okay," said Bucket, "but first, which one is the sheep, Mulch?"

"This one right here," Mulch replied, pointing to the medium sized animal with white globs covering its body.

***

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story about Bucket and Mulch! The two of them are wonderful characters, and I love seeing them work together.

If you liked this, then maybe check out my podcast, "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." My friends and I workshop original stories, analyze books and films like HTTYD, and interview authors. You can find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Chapter 11: Tea With The Chief

Summary:

Stoick and Gobber chat over some tea.

“There you are, Chief! I was wondering what was keeping you.”

Stoick grunted as he pulled up a chair next to the fire. Maybe a little roughly, he slammed the chair down the floorboards, adding a few more scuffs to the already scuffed floor.

Gobber chuckled to himself, brushing his mustache with his remaining hand and using his hook to hold a kettle in the fire. He pulled the kettle out and poured boiling water into two of Stoick’s most voluminous wooden mugs. The sweet aroma of tea filled the room – no doubt acquired in a trade with Trader Johann. Gobber always loved his foreign teas. “Another one of those weeks, eh?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Stoick replied. He thumped down into the chair and leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. He took a sip from the tea Gobber placed in front of him, but it did nothing to ease the headache. It tasted like hot water that someone had accidentally dropped some pine needles and loose dirt into. “What am I going to do Gobber? It seems like this village is falling apart. Everyone needs help but no one wants to listen. I’m the Chief, for Thor’s sake! They should have to listen to me.”

Gobber took a sip of his own tea, pinky raised delicately into the air. He lowered his mug to the table, and sighed in delight. “Sorry Chief, can’t say I was listening. This tea is divine. Johann said he picked it up in Japan himself. Something about receiving it as a gift for retrieving something from the peak of Mt. Fuji. Now, I don’t believe it of course, though this tea is still remarkable. But anyway, what was it yea were saying.”

With a growl, Stocik repeated, “No one on Berk wants to listen.”

“Well, who can blame them?” Gobber said, matter-of-factly. “From the day a Viking is born they’re taught three things. First, how to fight. Second, how to smell. Poor yaks must not know what hit them when a Viking steps out into the pasture. And third, how not to listen. Frankly, I’m amazed we still have a chief, what with all the free-spirits we have around here.”

“You mean with all the Jorgensons we have around here,” Stoick corrected.

“Aye. Only way to make a Jorgenson happy is with an axe.”

“So what am I supposed to do then?” Stoick asked. “Use my axe on every Jorgenson until everything is right in the world? Mind you, I’ll do it. I can’t wait for Spitelout’s visit to Outcast Island in two weeks. Things will be a lot quieter when he’s gone. But that won’t solve all the issues. He’ll have to return eventually.”

Stoick tried sipping his tea again, but the flavored water was anything but relaxing. He slammed his mug down, sloshing tea all over the table. Aggravated, he began pacing in front of the fire while Gobber watched on. He continued, “I mean, with Dagur out there building up his armada again, things are only getting more dangerous by the day. We need to be on top of our game, ready for everything. Instead, we have Gustav and Fanghook sneaking off to do who knows what when they should be patrolling the island, Bucket and Mulch can’t catch a decent fish, Sven doesn’t seem to understand how to organize weapons properly, and Gothi can’t even plow a field.”

“You have Gothi plowing a field? Isn’t that, well, cruel?”

“The word you’re looking for is simple, Gobber.”

“Interesting word. I think I’ll keep looking though.” Gobber unscrewed the hook he used instead of a hand, replacing it with a small set of scissors. In between sips of tea, he used the scissors to trim his eyebrows. “You know Stoick, there’s something my old Grandmammy used to say in times like these.”

“And what is that?” Stoick asked.

“Oh, she’d say, ‘Gobber! You can’t make the world do whatever you want. Put up a roof over your head, but the moon will still shine. Build a boat to travel across the seas, the wind will still blow that boat wherever it pleases. The snow will fall even if you shoveled a day ago, and the sun will shine no matter how much yea want to stay in bed. The world does what it does, and there’s no fighting it. You can try, and maybe you win some small battles, but you’ll never win the war. Not really.”

“But we’re not talking about the moon, Gobber! We’re talking about weapons not being organized properly, fields not being plowed. These are things we all know how to do but can’t seem to manage. If everyone just did what they were supposed to do and stayed here then maybe we’d get some work done.”

Stoick sighed. He breathed deeply, feeling his chest heaving as he drew in huge amounts of air. With one hand grabbed the helmet he always wore from his head, and his other hand he placed on his left shoulder pad with its dragon insignia. He could feel the stylized outline of a Thunderdrum dragon beneath his fingers.

“Hiccup is out there doing what he needs to be doing, Stoick,” Gobber said in an undertone.

And Gobber was right. Stoick knew that. Hiccup couldn’t rest, wouldn’t rest, while there were new dragons to discover. And now that Dagur was back, Hiccup would feel even more duty-bound to stay at the edge and make sure the deranged Berserker never grew as powerful as he once had been. Keeping Berk safe was a daunting job, and there was no one as up to the task as Hiccup. Only, Stoick wished that his son didn’t have to be so far away.

With a nod, Stoick said, “You’re right. Right now, Hiccup is needed out on The Edge.”

“And you’ve got a village to lead, even if said village is filled with the most stubborn Vikings you’ve ever set eyes on.”

“Aye.”

Stoick placed his helmet on the table and sat back into his seat. More carefully than he had before, he picked up the mug of tea and took a small sip.

“Feeling better?” asked Gobber.

Stoick swallowed the tea and shivered as it went down. “This tea is terrible.”

“And what do you know about tea, eh?”

“I know enough. It’s just water and leaves.”

“Every time it’s the same with you. I bring exquisite tea, and you have to criticize it.”

Stoick smiled. Fighting and stubbornness. It could be frustrating at times, sure, but it really was the Viking way. Whether it was Hiccup leaving to explore the Archipelago, or Spitelout getting on everyone’s nerves again. And he wouldn’t exchange it for anything. Certainly not for any of Gobber’s tea.

****

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I also have a podcast you should check out called "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." You can find it wherever you get your podcasts. We workshop original stories, analyze books and films, and interview published authors.

Chapter 12: Where You Go, Viggo

Summary:

The Dragon Riders prepare to attack their latest target, but can they get the drop on Viggo?

Hello! I wrote this out really quickly before my property law class (which is in like 12 minutes). I just had an idea and wanted to run with it. I hope you enjoy! If you do, check out some of my other stories, or my podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons" which you can find wherever you get your podcasts.

***

“Alright gang!” Hiccup called out to his fellow dragon riders as they landed on the island they had picked out. “Make yourselves comfortable for the night.”

“I call the cave over there!” Snotlout yelled. “I’ll need to find a nice boulder to seal it off so I can enjoy some peace and quiet for once.” Hookfang growled, and Snotlout quickly added, “And of course you’re invited.”

Behind him, Tuffnut and Ruffnut walked forward carrying the large hammock they had sewn together (with Snotlout’s help). “Well, we call those trees right over there,” said Tuffnut.

Hesitantly, Fishlegs said, “But your hammock still isn’t-“

“-Oh, it’ll work alright,” Tuffnut cut in. “Ruffnut and I are positive that we’ve designed the perfect hammock that will hold the two of us and Barf and Belch. You can’t get the strength of a hammock wrong seventy-three times without at least one success.”

Fishlegs shook his head. “You two are going to hurt yourselves. Or worse, you’ll hurt your dragon.” He picked up a small rock and tossed it into Meatlug’s waiting mouth.

“Trust the Nut,” replied Ruffnut.

“Believe in the Nut,” added Tuffnut.

“This is why I called being sealed inside a cave,” muttered Snotlout.

The four of them continued arguing about where they would all set up camp. Toothless looked sideways at Hiccup and rolled his eyes. Hiccup put his face in his palm and shook his head.

Fortunately, Astrid stepped forward, and with a raised voice said, “Hey! This is just a reminder that we’re not supposed to stay here very long. Tomorrow morning we need to wake up before dawn if we want to surprise Viggo and his dragon hunters. We already went over the plan like ten times, you all know this.”

The twins stepped apart, each holding one end of their hammock. “And that, my dear Astrid,” explained Tuffnut with a flourishing of his hands, “is why we will be residing in the sky this evening.”

“When morning arrives – and oh, it will arrive – we’ll be that much closer to getting the drop on our friend Viggo,” said Ruffnut.

Tuffnut looked at her excitedly. “Viggo is our friend now?”

“No, bro, it’s a metaphor.”

“A meta for who?”

Astrid sighed, and walked back to Hiccup. “They’re lucky I like them,” she said.

“Hopefully it stays that way,” replied Hiccup.

“You have to be open to change in this world.”

Once the sun had set, everyone finally settled down and claimed their own space. Snotlout agreed to leave the cave unsealed so they could wake him if he overslept (which no one doubted he would). Meanwhile, the twins decided not to bring Barf and Belch up to their hammock with them, though Hiccup suspected that was more because the dragon refused to land on it, and there was no moving a dragon that big when it didn’t want to be moved. Astrid and Hiccup and Fishlegs, on the other hand, set up their own bedrolls near the tree line away from the campfire they had set earlier.

Hiccup managed to fall asleep early enough, but when he woke up, dawn was still hours away. He turned over to his side, and nearly screamed.

Viggo and Ryker Grimborn were standing right there.

“Oh good! You’re awake. I didn’t really want to disturb you,” said Viggo with a smile. Beside him, Ryker scowled, and rolled his eyes. Behind him, dragon hunters had bound Astrid, Fishlegs, and Snotlout, and all their dragons had been caged.

Without Hiccup needing to ask him, Viggo dove into his monologue. “No doubt you’re wondering how we got the drop on you,” he said. “Well, it was trivial, really. You’ve been searching for one of my projects, and I knew you found it and were planning an attack. The only time that would make sense to attack is the morning, and this island was the best place to stage an attack from. From here, you’d reach us by the time the sun rose, and we’d have to contend not only with your fire, but with the sunlight itself. A bad deal, if I’ve ever seen one. So, we had to change the terms and write out a whole new contract, one which involved your capture and defeat here.”

Raising his voice slightly, Hiccup said, “I think you’ve missed a few clauses in that contract of yours. Maybe you’re not quite the businessman you think you are.”

Viggo laughed. Then, he drew his sword and held it so the point was just above Hiccup’s chest. “Never, ever, insult my business acumen again, or I will end this all for good.”

Seeing the look of terror on Hiccup’s face, Viggo smiled. “Oh, this is good. We’ll finally have open trading lanes unencumbered by you and your friends. Business will boom, and we’ll hav-agh!”

Viggo smashed to the earth as two Vikings landed on him from above.

“Tuffnut! Ruffnut!” Hiccup yelled.

The twins didn’t respond. They swung their axes, chopping through the ropes that held the rest of their friends. By the time the other dragon hunters got over their shock of their leader being jumped on, it was too late. All the dragons had been freed, and there was no longer any element of surprise. Ryker grabbed his brother, lifted him over his shoulder, and started running towards the shore.

Jumping onto Stormfly, Astrid called out, “Alright, let’s burn their boats then head out on our original mission!”

Once the boats were destroyed and the hunters left on the island, the group proceeded to their target. On the way, Hiccup had Toothless fly over to the twins and Barf and Belch. “So,” he said, “that hammock came in handy after all.”

“See? We told you it was a great idea, but no one wanted to listen,” said Tuffnut.

“Viggo’s business may have taken a hit, but this idea firm is on the rise!” added Ruffnut.

Tuffnut nodded. “We knew Viggo would know what you were up to, and it was up to us to stop him.”

Hiccup shook his head in surprise. “But how did you know he would be there?”

“My dear Hiccup,” replied Ruffnut, “have you truly learned nothing these past seasons? After all of our adventures?”

“Clearly he has not,” declared Tuffnut.

Together, they said, “Where you go, Viggo.”

Chapter 13: The Freedom to Contract

Summary:

Viggo may be a dragon hunter, but he is a businessman at heart.

Hello! This is probably the quickest story I've written, and possibly the strangest. I really love the idea that Viggo is really obsessed with business more so than fighting dragons or making money or power. He just likes being a businessman. And now that I've taken contracts in law school, I think he would really like writing and thinking about contracts. I try to make all of my stories fit within the canon, and I think this does, but Viggo is certainly very exaggerated here. Truthfully, he's not my favorite of the villains, and I don't find him all that compelling (if you do, that's amazing. One of my friends adores him more than any other character in the show or movies). But I did have fun writing this more comical and contracts obsessed version of him. I hope you enjoy, and please forgive all the contracts language. And consider checking out my podcast, "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons," where my friends and I workshop stories, chat with authors, and analyze books and films.

***

Some people enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. Others enjoyed the final deadly battle between human and dragon. They enjoyed the fire, the claws, the nerves and daring it took to face such a beast head on and make it out alive. At any moment, it could all be over if they didn’t make the right move. There was glory to be had when one returned with a new dragon hide to hang on their wall, and people enjoyed that.

Not Viggo Grimborn. His favorite part of hunting dragons was writing up the contract afterward.

“Oh yes, this contract has all the consideration I need,” Viggo whispered, running his finger down the list of clauses he had written for his next deal. Most buyers didn’t come prepared to negotiate their own terms, and Viggo’s thorough preparations usually led to him having the upper hand. He’d sell the dragons, and when the shipment wasn’t exactly what the buyers expected, he simply pointed them to the contracts that they had signed without fully understanding. Anyone could hire someone skilled in such matters to look over the contracts for them, but they rarely did, leaving him free to negotiate however he wanted. There was no duty to negotiate in good faith; the only duty that existed was to fulfill the terms of the contract in good faith. And the terms were usually in his favor.

“Must you do that here?” Ryker asked. Viggo’s taller and more muscular brother was standing in his usual spot at the side of the desk.

Viggo didn’t even look up. “Excuse me, brother, but I do believe I have the freedom to contract. And contract I shall.”

A knife pierced the desk, cutting into the corner of the contract. Viggo tore his eyes away from the document and looked at his brother. Ryker glared back at him.

“We should be out there looking for the dragon riders,” Ryker grunted. “Instead, you have us waiting around while you play with paper.”

For a moment, Viggo continued to glare at Ryker. Then, he laughed, causing Ryker to take a step back. “Play with paper? Is that what I’m doing, dear brother? Playing with paper…oh no. No no no. This mere paper is the key to our success. Catching dragons is one thing, but selling our catches to our advantage only works if we are very clear about what it is that each deal entails. If we misstep, then the hard labor put into this trade doesn’t pay such high dividends. It’s because of my planning for every possibility and stating in no uncertain terms what we’re providing and what we expect that we’re able to continue in this business at all. And what kind of business do we run if we can’t be relied on to follow through on our deals to the letter?”

Ryker glanced around the room and scratched his head. “Well,” he said, “all I know is-“

“-All you know is nothing,” Viggo interjected. “I know. I direct. You use your muscles and nothing more. We’ve been over this, brother.”

“But couldn’t we just give them the dragons, and then if they don’t do what we want we can take their gold?”

Now, Viggo was really mad. He stood up and slammed his fists on the desk. His entire face glowed red, and he bared his teeth at his brother. “Are you suggesting a contract that is implied-in-law. In other words, a quasi-contract?”

“No, I would never-“

“-Because you know how much the very idea of a quasi-contract sickens me,” Viggo spat. “We are not here for justice, or to fix mistakes of parties who should have contracted. I have the freedom to contract, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Ryker was now leaning against the wall, looking between Viggo and the door. “Fine,” he finally said. “I’m going to check on the latest batch of dragons.”

“You do that,” Viggo called out as Ryker made for the door. When he was finally alone, he sat back down at his desk and returned to his contract. He slipped the knife from the paper’s corner and placed it to the side.

Looking over the contract, Viggo felt himself calm down. Yes, this is where he wanted to be. Any fool could go out there and face a dragon, but not everyone could write a decent contract.

“Let’s put in an express condition, shall we?” Viggo said. And with that, he began to write.

Chapter 14: A Book About Dragons

Summary:

Hiccup and Astrid find out about a new book about dragons and try to discover who the mysterious author is.

Hello! I have a final paper due Friday, so this was a fun break from working on that. As always, I know this isn't very polished, and I hope you can look past that. The goal here is just to have fun and do some writing unrelated to the law.

I'm not going to spoil anything here, but my friend and I thought this scenario would be really funny. Someone has been publishing their own book about dragons, and Hiccup and Astrid need to find out who the mysterious author is. This takes place after the dragons leave and Hiccup and Astrid marry and have kids, but probably before their visit to see Toothless and Stormfly. I hope you enjoy!

***

It was a quiet day on New Berk. Small snowdrifts had formed against the sides of house, waves lapped against the docks, and Vikings yelled and argued just a little more quietly than normal. There were no attacks, no former outcasts seeking vengeance, no deranged teenagers threating to attack with an armada, no traitorous traders, and certainly no conniving businessmen who cared more about Capitalism than the well-being of dragons.

"It's just such a nice day," Hiccup said, letting out a sigh of comfort as he sank into his chair at the end of the day. "A peaceful day on New Berk. Imagine that! If someone had told me we Berkians could ever have a quiet day, why, I would have tied them to a mast and shipped them off!"

"Anything's possible when Snotlout's away," replied Astrid, settling into one of Stoick's old chairs besides him. The two of them laughed. Being the leaders of Berk could be challenging, but it was always nice knowing that they could return to each other at the end of every day. There would be occasions for commiserating, occasions for working through ways to resolve whatever issues the tribe may be facing, and, every once in a while, occasions to sit back and relax.

The door opened, letting in a cold gust of air. Two small kids, Zephyr and Nuffink, ran inside.

"Mom! Dad!" Zephyr yelled, running to Hiccup and sitting on his lap. She had a book with her, and was rapidly flipping through its pages. "Did you know that there was a dragon that could shock people with lightning?"

"Zap!" said Nuffink. He threw his arm into the air for emphasis.

Hiccup smiled at his children. "I do know about that dragon. You'll have to ask Uncle Dagur about it the next time he visits."

"Uncle Dagur is visiting?" asked Nuffink, barely able to keep his feet on the ground he was so excited.

"Well, no, not any time soon, I just meant that-"

"I read that the Skrill is the most intelligent dragon," Zephyr interrupted.

Astrid glanced at Hiccup. "You wrote that?"

Shaking his head, Hiccup said, "Of course not. It's intelligent, sure, but we all know Toothless-"

"-And Stormfly."

"And Stormfly, are the smartest dragons." Hiccup looked at Zephyr. "Are you sure that's what the book says?"

Zephyr nodded. "Absolutely. It says in A Book About Dragons that the Skrill is the most intelligent dragon."

Without thinking, Hiccup corrected her. "You mean The Book of Dragons."

"No, it's A Book About Dragons. It says so right here," and she held up the book for her parents to read the title. Indeed, it wasn't The Book of Dragons. It even had a stylized drawing of a Skrill on the front cover.

Astrid and Hiccup looked at each other. "A Book About Dragons?" Hiccup asked. "What other Viking would write a book about dragons?"

"What other Viking would write?" wondered Astrid.

Zephyr lowered the book and looked at the cover. She flipped it over to read the back, an then reported, "It says it was written by someone named 'GGG,' and that they like to play Maces and Talons."

"I want to play Maces and Talons!" exclaimed Nuffink.

"Are you going to stay awake this time?" asked Hiccup.

Nuffink thought about it for a moment, then shook his head. He yawned, and crawled onto Astrid's chair, fitting comfortably between her and the arm rest. No one in the house could manage to completely fill one of Stoick's old chairs all on their own.

When the kids had fallen asleep and been carried to their beds, Hiccup and Astrid found reconvened next to the fire. Hiccup poured some tea Gobber had given to them, and then sat opposite his wife.

"What do you think?" He asked.

Astrid held the book Zephyr had brought home. "The book is pretty good. Whoever wrote it really knows their dragons," she said.

Hiccup agreed. "And yet, it's been years since the dragons left. Which means it must have been someone who spent plenty of time around dragons before then."

"And clearly someone with the patience and skill to sit down and write a book."

"That doesn't leave us with too many options."

"No, it doesn't."

For a moment, the two of them sat there, sipping on their teach and listening to the fire crackle.

Hiccup looked at the back of the book again, staring at it, as if he could peer into its history. "The author likes Maces and Talons," he repeated in a whisper. "Maces and Talons... But that would be crazy? Right?"

"How many of our enemies did we think were dead, only for them to show up later and help us?" Astrid replied.

She had a point. And yet, Hiccup found it hard to believe that all these years later, one more foe might have survived.

***

After months of investigations and asking their sources from around the Archipelago, Hiccup and Astrid found themselves on a ship pulling into a dock on an island far to the north. It wasn't heavily populated. In fact, there appeared to be very few permanent structures at all. Tents and hastily strung up hammocks and makeshift market stalls filled the area just behind the dock. Vikings milled about, filling the air with chatter. Most of the people walking by seemed to be nothing more than visitors, stopping by the island for some sort of event.

"Do you think this is the right place?" Hiccup asked, taking in the scene before him.

Astrid leaped onto the dock, taking a rope with her. She tied it around a mooring, securing the ship there. She looked at Hiccup and said, "I think so. There's definitely something going on here. Nothing here looks normal."

Just then, a burly Viking decked in armor and with a mess of black hair almost hiding his head stumbled over to them. "I can't believe it! He's here, he's really here!" The Viking spun around as he spoke, and held a book in the air.

"Who's here?" asked Astrid.

"The author! They say he used to be a Dragon Hunter! That he even fought the great Nightfury of Berk! My friend says it's all just a tall-tale, but I tell you it isn't so! The author is the real thing. Look, he even signed my book!"

The Viking held out the book to Astrid, nearly ramming her in the face with it. She jumped back. "Yep, very neat." She looked at Hiccup, nodding ever so slightly to him.

"Can I see?" Hiccup asked. The Viking walked closer to the boat to show him the book, and Hiccup could just make out the three "G"s written on the first page.

The Viking quickly pulled his book back closer to himself, hugging it tightly. "Now, I just need to learn how to read. Excuse me," he said, and promptly skipped away.

It wasn't very hard to find the author. There were no signs, but there was a line of Vikings outside of a large, purple tent. Most of those waiting had a copy of the book with them, as well as an axe or two. Some individuals even wore the green and red hides of Zipplebacks. They were all wearing thin, as there had been no accessible replacements of such hides for years.

A bell rang, and the next group of people in line entered the tent, their faces bright with excitement. Every few minutes, the process repeated itself as eager fans completed their time with the author.

"Are you okay?" asked Astrid when she and Hiccup made it to the front of the line.

"Define, 'okay,'" Hiccup said. He was bobbing on his feet and craning his neck to try to see inside the tent.

"It'll be fine. It probably isn't him, you know. I'm sure other people like playing Maces and Talons."

Hiccup showed no signs of calming down. "And what if it is him?"

He felt Astrid's hand on his shoulder, and he stopped moving. "Well," she said, "maybe he'll ask you to write a review on the back cover."

Two large Vikings left the tent, and the bell rang once more. Hiccup breathed, and squeezed Astrid's hand. The two nodded at each other, and walked into the tent.

They were immediately welcomed by the sight of a man with graying hair and scars covering his face and arms. Some, Hiccup knew, had been caused by lava, and the others appeared to be electrical burns.

The man looked at them, and smiled.

"My dear Hiccup, I've been wondering when you'd show up."

Chapter 15: Alvin's Advice

Summary:

A young Viking seeks advice on how to exact revenge against the Chief of the Meatheads.

Okay, I probably had way too much fun writing this. I won't spoil anything, but I thought this was really funny. HTTYD Fanfic is so much more enjoyable than legal writing. I have finals for the next few weeks, then a few other things, so this is probably the last story for a while. I have a few more ideas for stories, so hopefully I'll share those over the summer. And as always, if you enjoy these stories, check out my podcast, "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." My friends and I share more of our writing and talk about books and movies and interview some really wonderful authors.

****

“And that’s why I need to do this. I need my revenge! He humiliated me. He stole my chances at becoming Chief of Meathead Island, he stole my family’s honor, he stole my favorite sheep! Well…I’ll show him who the real Chief should be…and I’ll also show him his bones after I’m done filleting him and burning down everything else in this world that he loves! He will taste my wrath! He will feel the fires of a thousand dragons light up his tangled mess of a beard! He will develop a persistent cough in the dead of winter! And he’ll know…oh yes, he will know…that it was I who brought about his downfall! Death to the Chief!”

The young lad started cackling. He lifted his face and hands to the sky as if he beheld something beautiful that needed to be witnessed. His smile was wide and displayed his cracked teeth, and his eyes shone with a light that couldn’t be traced back to the torches adorning the walls. To all those assembled, it seemed like he would go on forever laughing at what only he saw.

But the lad was interrupted by a trollish figure sitting on an uncomfortably chiseled throne of gray stone adorned with dragon skulls. His head had been crammed into a helmet topped with horns from a Monstrous Nightmare, and his armor was adorned with a myriad of spikes. From his belt hung a small skull from something no one could get close enough to properly identify. When he leaned forward, a chill came over the room that had nothing to do with the building’s inadequate insulation for being this far north.

The man glared at the young lad. His eyes were angry and his mass of dark black hair was as greasy and unkempt as ever. The lad and the onlookers waited for him to speak with baited breath.

“Have you ever tried talking with him?” The figure said.

The lad drew back a little and shook his head. “Umm, excuse me?”

“Well, I’ve found that talking out our problems instead of punching out our problems generally leads to better outcomes for all those involved. Much less expensive too. I’ve lost meself a lot of good ships, and even some good men, all because I couldn’t talk about my feelings.”

“I’m sorry, there must be some sort of mistake. I’m here to see Alvin the Treacherous. You know, the feared Outcast? Slayer of the Strangulator? Exterminator of the Exterminators? Breaker of hearts and lobster claws? The Viking hero who almost destroyed Berk with the mighty Screaming Death? Rival to Stoick the Vast? Winner of the most horrible beard at the Battle of the Amber Prison?” The young lad looked around, as if expecting the real Alvin the Treacherous to pop out from behind a nearby chair or door.

Alvin leaned forward. “Speaking.”

For a moment, the young lad simply stared at Alvin. Then, he smiled, and laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t…you were telling a joke. Good one, Alvin! And while I’m at it I might as well tell him how I feel.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” replied Alvin. “Have you heard of ‘I statements’?”

“I…what?”

“Oh, they work wonders. You say something like, ‘when you steal my sheep, I feel,’ and then you tell him how you feel. So instead of focusing on him and making him feel bad, you make it about how you feel. It’s much less confrontational than a pike, I’ll tell you that!”

The young lad looked around the room at the various attendees, trying to catch their gazes. “But…if I don’t use a pike, where am I going to mount his head?”

“Oh, I have just the thing for you!” Alvin reached behind his throne and pulled out a shield. On the shield was a painting of what was clearly a younger Alvin and a large man with a brilliantly braided, red beard. Each smiling man had an arm around each other.

The young lad studied the shield. “Are you suggesting I don’t use a weapon? I use my bare hands and then carry his body out to the villagers on my shield?”

“I can see why you might have come to that conclusion, but that’s not exactly what I was going for. I just think a painting is much nicer and better decoration than an actual head. More hygienic too.”

“Hygienic? But…” the young lad spluttered. It was like watching a fish struggle to breathe on land.

“What is it you want, son?” Alvin asked.

“I want that fiend dead and-“

But Alvin interrupted him. “Yeah, I heard that part loud as a Thunderdrum. But what is it you really want? Do you want to be Chief?”

“Well, no, not really…”

“But you want your family’s honor to be recognized?”

“Yes.”

“And you want your sheep back?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” boomed Alvin, clapping his hands together. “It sounds to me like you have some reasonable goals that don’t have to involve the killing of anyone. Honor doesn’t come from violence and war. Sure, I sent the Screaming Death to destroy Berk, but what did that get me? My favorite patch of cabbages was destroyed! And a man losing his cabbages just isn’t worth it.”

“But he-!”

“Is human, just like you. Everyone makes mistakes. But imagine what this world would be like if we killed people just because they made a mistake. You’re upset. Okay. That doesn’t mean you should go to war now. And besides, imagine what the two of you could do together. It sounds like you were friends once. Is that something you really want to throw away?”

The young lad remained quiet for a moment. He looked down at the cold stone floor. After releasing a deep breath, he looked back up at Alvin. “You’re right. We were friends.”

“Well then. Let him know how you feel.”

“But how do I do that?” the young lad asked. “I just…say words? That I’m upset?”

“That’s it. Let him know how his actions have impacted you. If he hears that all from you, and you remember to stick to ‘I statements,’ then he’ll be more receptive to changing his behavior and reconciling with you.”

With a nod, the young lad said, “I suppose I can try.” Alvin gave the young lad an encouraging smile filled with broken teeth. In the light of the torches, the scars on his face and arms from hundreds of past battles stood out on his pale skin. The young lad smiled in return, and was then led out from the hall by one of the attendants.

Alvin took a hearty swig of some ale, and brought the mug down on the arm of his throne with a smash. Ale sloshed all over the place.
“Who’s next?” Alvin asked the nearest attendant.

The attendant unfurled a scroll of parchment. “Cami from the Bog-Burglars of Bog-Burglar Island. Her mother says she’s having trouble with stealing things.”
“Stealing?” Alvin said, rubbing his hands together as he smiled. “Well, she’s come to the right place.”

He glanced up at the wall opposite him. A sign hung there. It read, “Outcast Island: Home of the Barbaric Archipelago’s first Remediation and Violence Prevention Center.”

Chapter 16: Hiking Retreat

Summary:

Heather and Astrid go for a hike.

Hoping you're well! I just had my Constitutional Law final today, and wanted to quickly finish this short story. I imagine this takes place while Heather is staying with the gang on The Edge. I don't remember when Hiccup got his amber safety goggles, so that particular detail might be inaccurate, but I'm going for fun and not law related and I'm not concerning myself with some of those smaller details.
I ship Hiccup and Astrid and I fully support their eventual canon marriage, but I love the idea that Astrid and Heather had something going for at least a little while during RTTE. I don't think it was long, but I definitely think there was something there. So, I wanted to write about it. And love is so much more fun to write about than what types of officers from what agencies a president can appoint/remove.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! And if you have any ideas for characters I should write about or any situations characters I've already written about might end up in, let me know in the comments. I won't promise to using any of those suggestions, but I'd love to hear what other people are interested in.

***

Hiccup was standing over his workbench when she entered his hut. He wore his amber safety goggles as he directed Toothless to send small plasma blasts to chip away at whatever it was he was working on. By now, Toothless knew exactly what Hiccup needed and could be relied on not to blast apart or melt the target. Astrid smiled to herself. The two of them worked well together.

“Hey!” she called out between blasts.

Hiccup turned. “Astrid! What brings you here on this fine day?”

“Just wanted to check in with you before I head out,” she replied.

Hiccup frowned. “Head out? Head out where?”

“Hiking. Heather and I were going to go train for a few days, remember?”

“Oh, right. Hiking. I totally forgot about that. Toothless and I were just busy with our latest contraption. I’ll have to show it to you when you get back.”

“That would be great,” said Astrid. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

“Say hello to Heather for me. And if you need anything, you can always-“

“I know, Hiccup.” Astrid hugged him, and Hiccup patted her awkwardly on the back. “We’ll be fine. Stormfly and Windshear will be there with us. And even if they weren’t…”

“You two can handle yourselves. I know.”

The two pulled apart. Hiccup smiled once more, and then went back to his work. Astrid watched him for a moment longer.

He’s really sweet, she thought to herself. Then, she turned and left the hut.

***

Astrid had been the one to find the mountain. It was on a nearby island. Before she and Heather decided to hike there, she had made sure to check it out and determine it was safe and didn’t have any mysterious mind controlling insects or poisonous plants. The Dragon Riders had landed on a few too many islands completely unprepared for her tastes. Aside from the occasional monstrous nightmare or hideous zippleback hiding in a cave, this island was free of any nasty surprises.

Stormfly and Windshear set them down on the coast just outside of the forest. The two girls jumped down from the dragons.

“Ready to head out?” Astrid asked.

“You bet,” replied Heather. “I haven’t been hiking in ages. It should be fun climbing a mountain instead of flying to the top. My parents and I used to do stuff like this all the time. It’s actually kinda nice hiking again with someone I care about.”

Astrid placed a hand on Heather’s shoulder. “I’m so happy to be able to do this with you. Thank you for coming.”

Together, the two Vikings and two dragons headed into the forest.

It wasn’t a particularly tall mountain, but they took their time hiking it. They did some combat practice, dueling with their axes. They climbed trees, climbed boulders, and even befriended a typhoomerang that happened to be passing through. Astrid felt more energetic than she had been in a while. Training to be a Dragon Rider was hard work, but she hadn’t been training to hike long distances nearly as often as she should have been. If she ever got knocked off Stormfly in a battle, she’d have to be prepared to walk for a while.

But more than training, it was also fun. Being alone with Heather was just as invigorating as the training. And it was so nice seeing Heather smile and let loose in a way she didn’t back at the Edge. Even clad in heavy dragon-scale armor, she seemed to carry herself with a lightness and sense of ease. Out there, away from all their responsibilities, away from Snotlout, they could be themselves.

On their last day, they made it to the peak of the mountain. The trees had gotten shorter the farther up they climbed until there were no trees at all. Instead of hiking over pine needles, they scrambled up rocks and inched across ledges over sheer cliffs. At one point in her life Astrid would have been terrified. But now, she had Stormfly with her. If she fell, she trusted that Stormfly would catch her. And of course, Windshear would never let Heather fall.

When they finally made it to the top, they lay down on the rocks and looked up at the sky.

“That last mile was rough,” Astrid said. She stretched her arms and grabbed a water pouch from Stormfly’s saddle. “Don’t tell the others I said this, but I’m actually tired.”

“I wouldn’t dream of telling them even if I wasn’t also tired,” Heather replied. The two of them laughed.

Astrid sat up and looked out at the forest below. The trees faded away and became the ocean, and she could even see another island off in the distance. She rarely took the opportunity to take stock of the world around her when she was flying on Stormfly. She was always training or fighting. There wasn’t time to sit back and admire the view. Up there, on the top of a mountain hundreds of feet above the rest of the world, she felt weightless. She was fully a part of this world.

“So much for being unstoppable Viking warriors,” Astrid mused. “Almost defeated by a mountain.”

Beside her, Heather shifted to look at her. “Well, being unstoppable doesn’t mean you shouldn’t stop every so often. Even we need a break sometimes.”

“A break? Us?”

“Yes, we need a break,” Heather chuckled. “We can’t always be dominating everyone in battle all the time. We should be able to enjoy going for a hike, seeing the beauty in the world and not just strategic landmarks, following our hearts…”

“That all sounds wonderful,” replied Astrid.

“It does. And that’s why I got you these.” Heather stood up and rummaged around in a bag tied to Windshear’s saddle. She pulled out three flowers. One was a light blue with yellow tipped petals, the second was almost gray and looked sharp, and the third was green and speckled with black and red dots. She extended the flowers to Astrid. “For you, mi ‘lady.”

“These are beautiful!” exclaimed Astrid. “Where did you find them?”

“Back in one of the caves we were exploring there was a patch of flowers. I thought they looked pretty and wanted to grab them for you. I remembered how much you liked those other flowers back on The Edge, and thought I’d find a few more for you.”

Astrid took the flowers, noticing the way her hand grazed against Heather’s. “Well, I did like the flowers you got for me that one time. And I love these! No one knows this about me, but I really like flowers.”

“Don’t worry, that secret is safe with me too,” said Heather. She looked into Astrid’s eyes, and Astrid couldn’t help but notice just how green and gorgeous they were.

“Among other secrets,” added Astrid. Still holding the flowers, she put her arms around Heather, careful not to accidentally poke herself on any of Heather’s armor. She looked into Heather’s eyes for a moment longer, then leaned forward and kissed her.

When they pulled apart, the two of them laughed. “Who said an unstoppable Viking warrior can’t enjoy herself every now and again?” said Heather.

Astrid responded with another kiss.

Chapter 17: Surprise at the Library

Summary:

A mysterious collector of ancient books sneaks into the Meathead Public Library.

This story is a little different from my other stories. It is the only story I've published here that includes a character that isn't in the movies, shows, or books. This story was written for my friend, Julie the Jocund. It probably takes place after the second movie but before the third movie.

*****

A lone guard stood at the gate of the Meathead Public Library. If he was honest with himself, he was bored. There wasn’t much to do as a guard of the library. No one ever attempted to break in and steal any of the ancient tomes housed there. Vikings weren’t particularly keen readers. Sure, that Hiccup kid from Berk was known to be a bit of a reader, but here on Meathead Island, people were respectable. They didn’t get caught up in things like books when there were ships to raid and villages to plunder.

The guard sighed. His cousin, Bjorn, was out there right now fighting the Romans. It sounded like an exciting life.

A distant flash of lightning caught his attention. It was quickly followed by the crack of thunder. There was even less time between the next bolt of lightning and its accompanying thunder. Storm clouds migrated across the sky and towards the library.

It wasn’t much, but the guard would take what little action he could get. He walked over to the gate behind him and began ringing the rusted bell that hung there.

“Storm! There’s a storm coming!” he called out. A second bell began tolling from the other side of the gate. His job done, the guard walked to a stone bunker next to the gate. There, he would wait out the storm, never suspecting that it wasn’t a storm at all.

“It sounds like they bought it!” Ruffnut yelled from the back of Barf and Belch, the Hideous Zippleback she rode with her twin. “Yep, I definitely hear the storm bell ringing.”

“There’s a bell just for storms?” asked Tuffnut. “Are there bells for different types of storms? What do you think the difference between a lightning storm bell and a blizzard bell are?”

Ruffnut considered for a moment, then lit up when she had the answer. “One has three words and the other has two!”

“Hmm, are you sure? Perhaps we should ask our Master of English over here?”

Both twins turned to look behind them. A skrill casually beat the air with its wings and sent intermittent lightning bolts downwards from the clouds. As it did so, a hooded woman in a long navy-blue robe worn over her golden plated armor balanced on the dragon’s back. A braid of brown hair was draped over her right shoulder. She was calm, and seemed unaffected by the sparkles of electricity that jumped between the dragon’s scales and sizzled out of existence on her robe.

“You’re right,” the woman said with a light smile, “but perhaps we should continue with our mission.”

“Right, the mission!” Ruffnut said. She looked at her brother.

Enthusiastically, Tuffnut asked, “What mission?”

The woman sighed. “The one Hiccup sent us on. Just follow me.”

And with that, she leaned forward, and the skrill dove down through the clouds and towards the library. Barf and Belch followed closely behind.

No one saw them approach. The dragons passed over the gate and angled towards a tower in the center of the library. There was plenty of space for both dragons to land. On one side of the tower was a trapdoor just wide enough for a single human to pass through. Not that that would be a problem.

“You know what to do,” the woman said, pointing at the trapdoor.

Barf and Belch quickly made short work of the door. Hopefully the guards wouldn’t notice, or would imagine the explosion was more thunder. Either way, once it was wide enough for the riders and their dragons, they all made their way through the opening.

The inside of the library felt more like a tomb. Torches lined the empty stone hallways, though only some of them were lit. Doors were interspersed between the torches. The doors led to cavernous rooms filled with shelves of dusty books. If not for the fact that they were trespassing and only had a certain amount of time allotted to the mission, the woman would be happy spending her days combing through all the tomes held there. Alas, they had to continue on.

The woman drew a double-bladed axe from her belt and held it out to the skrill. The skrill sent sparks shooting out at the metal. The sparks raced along the metal for a moment, but when they went out, the axe itself was glowing bright blue, illuminating the hallway ahead.

“Your axe glows?” Tuffnut said, staring at the weapon. “Do our axes glow? Can we get axes that glow?”

“Don’t you see what happened, brother?” Ruffnut interjected. “Hiccup must have passed on some of his magical secrets to her. Now there are two of them!”

“This is getting out of hand.”

“Ready?” the woman asked.

“The name’s Ruffnut. Not sure we have a ‘ready’ with us.”

That was good enough for her. The woman led the way forward, followed closely by the twins, the skrill, and Barf and Belch.

After traveling for a few minutes, the pathway forward was abruptly blocked by metal barrier. The twins tried everything – running straight at the barrier with their heads lowered, chanting in Portuguese, and even tickling the barrier – but nothing they tried seemed to work.

Meanwhile, the woman examined the barrier. It was easy to miss, but words had been etched into the top of the barrier. She took an old book out from a bag attached to the skrill’s saddle, and hurriedly flipped through the pages, glancing up at the barrier every couple of seconds as she read.

“You’re reading at a time like this?” Tuffnut asked.

The woman pointed to the words on the barrier. “Yes. I’m translating what that says. It’s in Russian, but I think it means that it can only be opened with heat.”

“Heat?” Ruffnut repeated, her face falling. “Where are we going to find that?”

Behind her, Barf and Belch let out a cloud of gas and clacked their teeth together, igniting it.

“I found the heat!” Tuffnut exclaimed while Ruffnut brushed soot out of her hair.

The woman and the skrill looked at each other, and both shook their heads. Meanwhile, the barrier retreated sideways into the stone wall, leaving their path clear.

The group encountered several more obstacles as they ventured deeper into the library. A bored guard wandering the halls had been knocked unconscious with the flat side of the woman’s axe, a pit of fireworms had been put to sleep with a weak current of electricity, and a Death Song trained to guard the deepest dungeons turned into their newest friend when it heard the woman sing acapella. In what seemed like no time at all, the group stood outside the final door in the heart of the library.

“Well,” the woman said, “time to see if the book is really here.”

“Yeah, and hopefully there are no surprises inside,” added Ruffnut.

Tuffnut nodded vigorously. “That would be a surprise.”

“I’d be surprised.”

“Because it would be surprising.”

The woman smiled, and opened the door.

The room was dark, even with the light from her axe. She proceeded forward cautiously, feeling the uneven tiled floor carefully. It wouldn’t do to disturb any traps that might be waiting for unsuspecting invaders.

In the center of the room was a stone pedestal. Atop of the pedestal was a single book. The edges of the pages were ragged with age, and the colors of the cover were faded. She ran her hand along the cover, feeling the frayed leather. Taking a breath, she opened the cover and looked at the first page.

There, written in big, messy handwriting were the words:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIE THE JOCUND!

Suddenly, light flooded the room as a monstrous nightmare set itself on fire. From all around the room Julie the Jocund heard people yell, “Happy Birthday!” Torches were being lit using the monstrous nightmare’s fire, and Julie could see everyone who had been waiting there: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid, Stormfly, Heather, Windshear, Dagur the Deranged, Shattermaster and Sleuther, Snotlout, Hookfang, Fishlegs, Meatlug, Queen Mala and Throk, Valka, Cloudjumper, Smidvarg, and even Viggo Grimborn with a skrill of his own.

“I’m amazed the twins didn’t ruin the surprise,” said Hiccup, nodding at the two of them with approval. “Pana thought they would be good distractions.”

Beside Hiccup stood another individual Julie the Jocund hadn’t noticed earlier. They wore a simple brown robe and leaned on a hefty walking stick. Their dark purple hair fell to their shoulder on one side and was cut short on the other.

“Happy birthday!” Pana repeated.

*****

I don’t really know how to end a story like this, but happy birthday Julie the Jocund! I hope you enjoy it. Have an excellent birthday filled with happiness and dragons and all sorts of other good things. You have an actual present coming your way soon, once I get to a post office.

You’re awesome, and I’m so grateful you’re my friend. Looking forward to many more adventures together in the years to come. Who knows, maybe we’ll actually find dragons one day?

Chapter 18: Nightmares and Stitching

Summary:

A hero faces a nightmare

Hello! I didn't intend to step away from this for so long. Law school really keeps you busy. Anyway, I had an idea that I really wanted to write. It could definitely use some work, but again, law school is keeping me busy and I'd rather just share these than spend hours and hours finetuning them. I like the basic premise even if there's things I could improve.

****

Snotlout wasn’t afraid of fire. He was a dragon rider! And not just a dragon rider, but a rider of a monstrous nightmare, the kind of terror that set its own body on fire from time to time. He was not afraid of fire. He wasn’t afraid…

“It’s too much! Get out of here!” Hiccup yelled.

Clouds of smoke billowed into the sky from the inferno below. Sparks leaped into the air, trying to latch onto whoever they could find and burn through their armor. It was chaos like Snotlout had never experienced before.

Screams echoed through the smoke, and unseen singetails flew through the smoke shooting balls of fire every which way. Hookfang did his best to dodge the blasts, but he couldn’t avoid all of them. His scales we smoldering with a fire that wasn’t his own. Snotlout’s own shoulder was charred, and his legs were burning. Dire as their circumstances were, there would be no help for the rider and his dragon.

Their formation had completely fallen apart. It hadn’t been supposed to end like this. Snotlout’s plan had been a good one. It was supposed to work.

A deadly nadder darted past Snotlout and Hookfang. Her saddle was empty.

“No,” Snotlout muttered. “No… my friends… I…”

There was a burst of light in front of him. He could see the silhouette of a gronckle carrying a familiar heavyset Viking. The first ball of fire missed. The second hit the Viking in the chest.

The Viking began to fall…

“NO!”

Snotlout woke up.

His eyes shot open and he flung himself forward in a sitting position. There was no fire, there was no smoke. There were no singetails trying to tear Snotlout’s friends from the sky. He was home in his bed, away from any battles, away from the villains who wanted to see the demise of his tribe. Here, back on Berk, he was safe. It had only been a nightmare.

A nightmare was enough. Snotlout pushed aside his blanket and stood up. Carefully, he tiptoed past his parents’ room, down the solidly built staircase fit for a Jorgenson, and into the hall.

There was a fire. Snotlout wanted to scream, but something held him back. He gazed at the flames a moment longer. They were in the fireplace where they should be, not in the sky consuming his friends. No. The flames here were contained. And sitting just beside the flames was his mother.

“Can’t sleep?” Snotlout’s mom asked. She looked up at him, and Snotlout saw that she held a sewing needle. Laid out on the table before her were all sorts of different colored fabrics and leathers and metal odds and ends. When Snotlout shook his head in response, his mom smiled softly and nodded to the chair next to her. Snotlout took it, and watched his mom continue her work.

“What are you making?” He asked her.

She smiled. “Something you’ll like, I think. I thought you and your father could use hardier pillows for your travels. These should be soft, compact, and able to handle a fair amount of wear and tear. What do you think?”

“That sounds perfect,” Snotlout replied. “Thanks.”

“Would you want to help? The stitching here needs to be very fine, and your fingers are far nimbler than mine. I swear, I’ve never seen such fine stitching. You’ve a real knack for this, let me be the first to tell you.”

She always knew how to make him feel better. Where Spitelout yelled and tried to force Snotlout into what he believed a proper Viking should be, Snotlout’s mom had a gentler approach. Here, late in the night, Snotlout could be the kind of Viking he wanted to be – one who enjoyed stitching with his mother.

“I had another nightmare,” Snotlout said while the two of them worked. “The same one I’ve been having. They all died. Because of me.”

“I see.”

“I know I’m not a leader, and that’s okay, but I thought I’d be a better dragon rider than I am. I thought I could keep my friends safe, that I wouldn’t send them headfirst into a trap. I thought I’d be a Viking that future generations of Berkians could be proud of. But I’m not. I’m just a muttonhead.”

Snotlout’s mom put down her needle and the pillow she was working on. Looking directly at her son, she said, “Aye, you can be that at times. But you know what else you are? Loyal. Kind. Spirited. You’d do anything for those friends of yours. And you have. Hiccup, Astrid, Fishlegs, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, they’re all alive today because of you. They’ve saved you countless times, and you’ve also saved all of them.”

“No, I hav-”

“Yes you have. Who used his brilliant stitching skills to make armor out of screaming death scales for a night fury? You did. Who braved a hive of fireworms to save Hookfang? You did. Who risked his life to save Fishlegs from Thor Bonecrusher and his gang of dragon hunters? You did. Who defended thousands of baby dragons from a ravenous cavern crasher? You did. Who sent that titan-wing monstrous nightmare bully packing when it terrorized girl-Hookfang? You did. Who rescued Heather from that shipwreck? You did. Maybe you’re not the Viking you believed you should have been, but you and I both know that Hiccup and the others can only do what they do because they have you. Sure, Hiccup is the one who slayed the Red Death, but he never could have done that without some help from his friends. You, Snotlout, are a hero, even if you don’t always see it.”

“Well,” Snotlout said, looking away to hide the tears that had started to form in his eyes, “I’m glad that you’re always there to point it out to me.”

“My dear, nothing brings me more joy.”

For a while longer, the two Jorgensons continued their stitching. Snotlout showed his mom some of his work from The Edge, and she taught him a new technique for keeping leather and cloth together. And though Snotlout still worried about his place in this story, he knew that he was right where he was supposed to be.

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. I also have a creative writing podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons" where my friends and I workshop original stories, interview authors, and talk about books and movies. You can find it wherever you get your podcasts.

Chapter 19: May The Best Candidate Win

Summary:

When the Uglithugs request that a new trade agreement be negotiated between them and Berk, Berk must decide who will represent the tribe in the negotiations.

Hoping you all are well. So I had no classes today because of election day. I'm also super stressed because of election day. So, I thought I'd write my own election themed HTTYD story. As always, it's a bit rushed and I'm not going to do much editing since I need to get back to homework. This takes place right after the second movie while Berk is recovering and the rest of the Viking world is learning that Hiccup is the new chief. When some neighboring tribes decide that they want to renegotiate their previous trade deals, it's up to Berk to decide who will represent them in the negotiations. At least, it's up to Berk according to Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

Hope you enjoy!

*****

While Berk had survived Drago Bludvist’s attack, the island had not completely recovered. Most of the ice had been cleared, and the damaged buildings had mostly been repaired, but the abrupt change in leadership meant that many of Berk’s trading partners decided that the time was ripe to renegotiate older arrangements that just didn’t make the cut in these modern times. At least, that was what those partners claimed. Gobber had been quick to inform Hiccup that many of the other tribes would jump at the chance to make new deals with a leader they saw as young, naïve, and not exactly the picture of what any Viking should aspire to be.

“But Toothless and I just defeated Drago Bludvist!” Hiccup exclaimed. “We defeated the Red Death! What kind of Viking are they looking for? And what on earth does that have to with trade agreements?”

Gobber, while picking at his teeth with his hook said, “Oh, you know Vikings. I’m not entirely sure most of them are living in the real-world half the time. If you want a Viking who’s going to spend some time thinking, I recommend you sail past the edge of the world and then some. You won’t find any here.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of Vikings out there who think. The problem is, too many of them are only looking out for themselves.”

From her seat next to Gobber, Valka said, “You’re both right. Stubbornness, greed, an inability and unwillingness to think. Our neighbors have all those traits.”

“So what do we do?” asked Hiccup. “Thanks to our allies, we’re not in dire straits yet. But given that we sill haven’t found a trader as good as Johann was, and all these new calls to renegotiate, we’re going to be in trouble soon. And let’s not forget, Drago’s whole army is still out there. I can’t leave Berk at a time like this.”

“Perhaps….” Valka mused, “someone else could go instead? As your representative?”

“Oh, I already don’t like where this is going,” said Gobber.

“Why not?” asked Valka. “There seems to be plenty of fine people here who could do the job.”

With a deliberate shake of his head, Gobber replied, “You’ve really been away for a very long time. Sure, someone could do a decent job, but that’s just not how things work around here. Mark my words, finding the right representative could be quite the task.”

Hiccup held up one letter in particular. “And some of these tribes aren’t the friendliest. The Uglithugs won’t be easy to talk to.”

“Well,” said Valka, smiling at her son, “I’m sure you’ll find the right person to send.”

*****

“I’ll go!” Snotlout roared over the clamoring crowd. The Vikings nearest him groaned. As usual, he ignored them, and continued addressing everyone who had gathered in the Great Hall at Hiccup’s request. “I’m the strongest, bravest, most charming and most Vikingly Viking here! The Uglithugs would be honored to negotiate with me. We’ll build up a strong trade deal, and let me say this now, it’s going to be so good that the Uglithugs are going to pay for it!”

From her spot next to Hiccup at the front of the crowd, Astrid groaned and put her palm to her temple.

Hiccup coughed. “Umm, Snotlout? That’s not how trade agreements historically work.”

“That’s because historically I haven’t been the one to make them.”

Gobber, who had replaced his hook with a gavel, hit the table. “Would anyone else like to represent Berk in our talks with the Uglithugs?”

“Gustav!”

“Anyone other than Gustav?”

Fishlegs raised his hand. “I’d be happy to go. In order to represent this new age, we need someone a bit more civilized, someone with manners, who will treat the Uglithugs firmly, but with respect. We can’t just send someone whose only muscles are below their neck.”

“Are there any muscles above the neck?” Snotlout asked a Viking next to him. The man simply shrugged.

“Well,” said Hiccup, “If there’s no objections, I think I know who I’ll be sending.”

“I object!” yelled Tuffnut. He climbed on top of the table and addressed the crowd. “Before us stand two heroes of Berk! They have braved countless dangers, only some of which were created by them. And now, they face yet another challenge. This time, however, instead of cleaning up their own messes, they are being asked to represent Berk, to represent all of us! And we, my fellow citizens, are being asked to simply be okay with whoever Hiccup decides should represent us! In this matter that affects us all, we should have a say! We should have… a vote!”

Hiccup sighed. “Tuff, this isn’t a democracy. This is a trade negotiation between two Viking tribes.”

A second Viking emerged from the crowd and clambered onto the table. Ruffnut said, “I agree with my brother! We should get a say! This negotiation affects all of us. Depending on how it goes, I may never get another Uglithug poety book again. We need the best Viking on the job!”

“And who is that?” Hiccup asked.

“Snotlout!” declared Tuffnut.

“Fishlegs!” belted Ruffnut.

Immediately, the twins looked at each other. In unison, they yelled “Traitor!”

“We need a Viking who isn’t afraid to ruffle some non-chicken feathers!” said Tuffnut.

“Yeah?” said Ruffnut. “Well, what happens when your tough champion over there has to go over the agreement and the Uglithugs realize that he can’t count?”

“I can count!” piped Snotlout. “I’m just not great at getting the numbers in the right spot, is all.”

*****

The next morning, Hiccup woke early and headed outside. He had plans to check in on the fishermen before they headed out for the day. He opened the door, breathed in the fresh morning air, took a step forward, and slipped on a cod fish.

“What the?” Hiccup muttered, getting to his feet. Under the fish was a slimy piece of paper that had probably said something at some point before it was completely destroyed by fish juice.

After having Toothless confirm that the fish wasn’t poisoned in some way, Hiccup continued down to the docks. On his way, he saw Snotlout and Tuffnut walking alongside Hookfang who was carrying two large barrels of cod.

“Let me guess,” Hiccup said, approaching the group, “you’re the ones who left a cod fish outside my house?”

“Vote for the Snotman!” replied Tuffnut. Snotlout then handed Hiccup one of the flyers he was carrying, presumably identical to the one that had been left at Hiccup’s house along with the fish. It had a charcoal drawing of Snotlout with exaggerated muscles and a slain, unidentifiable, creature at his feet.

Later that afternoon, while checking the dragon training academy, Hiccup was surprised to see that a small crowd had gathered there. Fishlegs stood on a raised platform beside a beaming Ruffnut. A hastily written sign hung on the wall behind them reading “Fishlegs for Representative! Ask the candidate your questions!”

As he approached the crowd, Hiccup heard Bucket ask, “I keep losing my sheep. What will you do to fix the problem?”

Fishlegs raised an eyebrow at Ruffnut, and she gave him two thumbs up and an encouraging smile. Fishlegs cleared his throat and said, “While the negotiation between Berk and the Uglithugs won’t have anything to do with livestock, I can promise that I’ll help you look for your sheep once I return.”

That seemed to satisfy Bucket. “Thank you. Only, can you tell me what I asked you for help with? I seem to have forgotten my question.”

*****

Events like these continued for the next three days. Hiccup couldn’t go anywhere without being bombarded by something or someone telling him that Fishlegs or Snotlout was the right person for the job. Other Berkians began speaking to crowds about who they should vote for. Snotlout received a big boost in public opinion when Silent Sven announced his support for the candidate. Fishlegs, meanwhile, got a surprise endorsement from Heather and Dagur (who happened to be visiting) which ended up backfiring when Tuffnut began sending out fliers stating Fishlegs was secretly a Berserker who would sell out Berk to their enemies.

“You Berkians have a weird way of doing things,” Heather told Hiccup while she and Dagur were preparing to leave.

“I think you mean that Tuffnut and Ruffnut have a weird way of doing things,” replied Astrid.

At the end of the third day, Tuffnut and Ruffnut had organized one final event in the Great Hall where everyone on Berk could cast their vote for their preferred candidate. Fishlegs could be seen showing his supporters detailed plans sketched out on large roles of parchment that had been spread out on one of the walls, and Snotlout was shaking hands and kissing babies who mostly responded by crying. All the while, people wrote their votes on small slips of paper and handed them over to both Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

Hiccup and Astrid strode through the crowd to the table at the head of the hall.

“Ah, our Chief arrives at last!” Tuffnut declared.

“Have you come to vote and make your voice heard?” asked Ruffnut.

Throughout the hall, everyone went silent. They all wanted to hear who their Chief would vote for. Even Snotlout and Fishlegs stopped what they were doing to listen.

Astrid nodded to Hiccup who said, “I have come to make my voice heard, actually.” Everyone leaned forward a little. “I’ve decided that the person who will represent us in our negotiations with the Uglithugs is… Olga.”

“Olga?” roared Tuffnut. “Is there even anyone named Olga here on Berk? She’s never on any of our adventures.”

“What about democracy?” implored Ruffnut.

“Like I said, this isn’t a democracy. Snotlout is totally inexperienced and has no idea what he’s doing-"

“I have concepts of an idea!” shouted Snotlout, convincing no one.

“-And with all due respect to Fishlegs, the Uglithugs are less interested in niceties and more interested in beating each other up. There are plenty of other negotiations he could have in his topiary garden, but not this one.”

“So that’s it?” asked Tuffnut. “You’re just going to silence us like that?”

“Oh, I have no doubts that I’ll be hearing from you constantly over the course of the rest of my life. But for now, any concerns you have can be addressed to Astrid. Do you have any concerns?”

Ruffnut and Tuffnut glanced at Astrid, then at each other. “Perhaps the time isn’t yet ripe enough for democracy,” reasoned Ruffnut.

“I absolutely agree, sis,” said Tuffnut.

*****

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed. You can check original stories of mine on Medium (https://medium.com/@detdeldragons). Also, consider checking out my podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." My friends and I workshop original stories, interview authors, and talk about books and movies like HTTYD. You can find the show wherever you get your podcasts.

Chapter 20: I'm Not Fighting To Win; I'm Fighting Because It's Right

Summary:

After Grimmel The Grisly sneaks onto Berk and confronts Hiccup, the entire Tribe prepares to relocate. Valka and Gobber reflect on the fight so far and what's ahead.

Well, going to class Wednesday morning was tough. Things feel really overwhelming right now. And I wrote this to kind of express how I'm feeling. If you read the story, you'll see what Gobber has to say. To briefly summarize though, even if things feel overwhelming, even if it feels like goodness and decency will never win, I think it's worth it to keep on fighting. If you're a Star Wars fan, there's a wonderful quote by Qui-Gon where he says something along the lines of "I don't turn toward the light in order to win some sort of cosmic game, I turn toward it because it is the light." This is my hastily scribbled version of that.

Hope everyone reading this is doing okay. We got this.

***

All of Berk filed out of the Great Hall and got right to work. If Grimmel was going to come after them, they would have to be quick.

It was a testament to how much the Berkians had come to love their dragons. Valka never thought she would see the day when Vikings would leave their home for the fiery reptiles, yet here they were. Everyone went about their tasks with a determined purpose about them. Tools were gathered, food stored in barrels, animals herded onto ships, and personal belongings tucked into whatever extra space remained. Most of the Vikings would ride on the ships themselves, so they had to organize everything in such a way as to provide space to walk around and sit down in.

Though their work was efficient, that didn’t mean everyone was happy about it. It was the right thing, sure, but it was also difficult. As Valka moved around the village with Cloudjumper, she saw people saying one last goodbye to the homes they would be leaving behind. For generations, they had defended this island from dragon attacks, rebuilding year after year, generation after generation. It was only a short while ago that their lives all changed and they found peace between themselves and the dragons. And through it all, this land had been where they made their lives. There were memories here that made it challenging to walk away.

Again, Valka marveled at the strength these people had to leave despite those memories, despite the history of work that had built this great tribe. Through all the hardships they had endured, they still had the courage to continue onward.

“I never thought I’d see the day,” said a voice behind her. Valka turned and saw Gobber walking towards her. He dragged a cart behind him filled with all sorts of weapons, yet Valka knew that the cart was nowhere near representative of all the weapons he had stored at the forge and in his home. Grump waddled along beside him, looking more awake than usual. “I was born on this island, and I thought I’d die on this island.”

“Life is full of unexpected paths,” Valka replied.

Gobber chuckled. “It sure is. I thought the path was a clear one right along the ground. And then, one day, the path took a turn towards the sky. And I got to travel along that path with a dragon. If my grandpappy could see me now… he’d probably ask what happened to my hand.”

Now it was Valka’s turn to laugh. There was so much that she had missed during her time away from Berk and with the Bewilderbeast. Gobber’s ability to make her laugh was definitely one of the things she missed most. Even when he had been training Berk’s young Vikings how to kill dragons, he had always been kind and understood the power of laughter. Perhaps that’s why he and Stoick had gotten along so well. Stoick had always been, well, stoic, and Gobber helped ensure that he never lost perspective.

“Thank you, Gobber,” Valka said. “I don’t know what we’d all do without you.”

“Get some rest finally, that’s what you’d do,” said Gobber.

“Do you think we’ll ever get some rest?”

Gobber’s smile didn’t entirely fade, but it certainly diminished. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“Oh, just that we’ve been fighting this war our whole lives. First it was us against the dragons. And then when I was out there saving dragons from Drago, you all had to face Alving the Treacherous, Dagur, Viggo Grimborn, Krogan, and Trader Johann.”

“Half those people are our friends now.”

“But you know what I mean,” Valka said. She sighed. “Even when we win, someone else just comes along. I worry for the future, Gobber. I worry for my son and his friends. What if we can never fully defeat evil? What are we supposed to do if it’s just going to keep coming back over and over again?”

It was unusual for Gobber to take a moment to think, yet that’s exactly what he did. He and Valka watched their fellow Berkians hurry about their business, seeing their village quickly emptying out.

Finally, Gobber said, “I’m older than you, Valka. I’ve been in this fight for a long time. I taught Stoick how to face down a Gronckle, and I was there for him when his father was killed. I trained Hiccup and the dragon riders. Well, not to ride dragons, but you know what I mean. I’ve done a lot during my time here. And during that time, I’ve seen people and dragons alike do awful things.

“And I’m tired. I really am. I’m getting older, and my back aches and my foot hurts. Fighting over all these years has taken an arm and a leg, literally! I don’t move like I used to. I don’t have the same bright-eyed optimism that your boy and his friends have. Part of me wants to lie down and take a nap and never wake up. I don’t know if things will ever be perfect, or if we’ll ever defeat evil once and for all.

“But I’m not in this fight to defeat evil. I’m in this fight for my friends, for the people I love. Tired as I am, I’ll never stop fighting if it means I can keep the people and dragons around me safe even if it’s only for a moment longer. I’m not fighting to win; I’m fighting because it’s right. Though, if we happened to win, I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Once more, Valka laughed. But this laugh was deeper than her earlier laughter. Maybe Gobber felt tired, but she felt more energetic than she had before he had wheeled his cart full of weapons over to her.

“Thank you, Gobber,” she said. She reached down and grabbed his hand. It was rough after years of fighting and smithing, and warm like a fire burning at just the right temperature. “You always know what to say.”

Gobber grinned. “Make sure you tell that to Hiccup! He really should listen to me more often. I know a thing or three about this life business.”

The two friends laughed. Valka never considered walking away from this next stage of the fight, but now, she felt ready to take it on headfirst. Whatever happened with Grimmel, she would be beside her son and her tribe, fighting.

***

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. You can check out original stories of mine on Medium (https://medium.com/@detdeldragons). Also, consider checking out my podcast "Determination, Deliberation, and Dragons." My friends and I workshop original stories, interview authors, and talk about books and movies like HTTYD. You can find the show wherever you get your podcasts.