How to Train Your Fairy

Summary: What if Vikings didn't fight with dragons and instead their enemies were fairies. Join our Viking hero as he stops the war with help of his best friend who is the rarest fairy of all: The Night Angel!

Dragon to Fairy Alterations

Monstrous Nightmare – Blazer

Gronkle – Gardania

Deadly Nadder – Sharple

Zippleback – Gemini

Night Fury – Night Angel

Terrible Terror – Pixie Terror

Thunderdrum – Thunderling

Scauldron – Scauldra

Timberjack – Timber

Whispering Death – Deathwhisper

Boneknapper – Bonewhippers

Changewing – Changling

Whispering Death – Deathwhisper

Skrill - Skriller

Disclaimer: Terra and the fairies are my idea. How to Train Your Dragon is owned by Dreamworks Animation.

The sky is so black that you can almost see whole galaxies if you look close enough, but it's still morning. Well, really early morning anyway. The angry white-capped ocean waves crash against the shore of our island as the wind rushes through the trees and whistles through the village.

This is Berk. It's twelve degrees North of Hopeless and just a few degrees South of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. My village. In a word: sturdy. It's been here for several generations but every single building is new. We've got fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests. You see, some places have mice, or mosquitoes.

We have fairies.

I slammed the door shut behind me as a brilliantly red fairy shot a big plume of fire from her hands straight at it. I could feel the burning heat through the door as my back pressed into it, and though I wasn't strong at all I managed to keep the door shut. Then I peeked out, checked that the coast was clear, and dashed outside into the chaos.

Fighting fairies is everything around here. Most people would leave. Not us. We're Vikings. We've got stubbornness issues.

A tall brown fairy that looked like a cross between a woman and a teenager flew past me. A Viking was hanging off its head, whacking it with a stone hammer. It was having absolutely zero effect as the fairy blocks it with her arms.

My name is Hiccup. Great name, I know, but it's not the worst. Parents think a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls. Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn't do that.

I tripped over a rock and landed on my back on the grassy floor. I gasped as a large, menacing looking Viking landed almost on top of me and let out a loud battle cry. When he saw it was just me, he gave me a sloppy grin and said, "'Mornin'!" before springing up and dashing off back into battle.

I got up too and kept running, trying to find a place where I could be safe and help out at the same time. As I ran, every single person I passed yelled at me. "What are you doing out here?" "Get back inside!" "Get in the house!" I ignored them and keep going, but before I could get any further, a large hand grabbed my vest from behind and pulled me back, my feet dangling about two feet off the ground. The hand belonged to a huge Viking with a large red beard and a moustache. "Hiccup?" he said in quite the annoyed tone. "What are you—who let him out? Get in the house!" He threw me on the floor, and I quickly got up and ran away from him.

That's Stoick the Vast, chief of our tribe. They say that when he was a baby, he popped a fairy's head clean of its shoulders. Do I believe it? Yes I do. I glanced back behind me and saw him punch a fairy right in the snout. He turned to one of his men and asked in a commanding voice, "What have we got?"

"Gardanias, Sharples, Geminis. Oh, and Hoerk saw a Blazer," the Viking reeled off.

"Any Night Angels?" demanded Stoick.

The Viking shook his head. "Not so far."

Stoick nodded and absent-mindedly brushed a flaming piece of wood off his shoulder. "Good. Hoist the torches!"

The Vikings lighted large braziers and raised them on poles into the air. The firelight revealed dozens of fairies flying overhead.

I finally reached my destination and dashed inside the blacksmith's cabin. "Nice of you to join the party!" a burly Viking with a long braided moustache greeted me, using his artificial hand (replaced with a hammer) to hammer a piece of red-hot metal into shape. "I thought you might have been carried off!"

"Who, me?" I said like the idea was ludicrous, which it kinda is, "No, no…I'm waaaay too muscular for their taste." I lifted an enormous hammer into a hanging position on the wall beside me and flexed my arm. "They wouldn't know what to do with all…this…" I waved my hands around my torso, trying to conjure up a few muscles.

"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" the Viking asked innocently, grabbing a sword and a couple of axes and tossing them out the window to a few more Vikings approaching. He tugged the hammer off his hand and replaced it with a wrench to work on another project.

The meathead with the interchangeable hands and the attitude is Gobber. I've been his apprentice since I was little. Well, littler than now, anyway.

"Lower the defenses! We'll counter attack with the catapults!" Stoick yelled. There was an enormous crash, and I looked up to see one house collapse into a pile of blazing wood and metal. See? Old village, lots of new houses.

As I rushed forward to help with something, a small group of people dashed past the window, arguing and shouting. I dashed up to the window to look. They were all kids my age, about fourteen or so, swarming around a cannon, all carrying buckets of water to dump on a nearby fire. Oh, and that's Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, and—

A girl with blonde hair that was in a tight braid and secured on top with a headband dashed forward with her bucket and chucked the contents straight at the fire. As she swung herself around to walk forward, a fairy shot a big missile of fire right behind her, creating a big dramatic burst of flames behind her as she walked, almost in slow-motion, away from the cannon…


I must have looked totally stupid with my hair blowing back from the explosion and my eyes shining with the reflected fire, gazing at her slender form. Whenever that girl was around, I could hardly tell where I was standing. She was pretty, she was tough, she was brave, and she was perfect. I was totally smitten the first time I had set eyes on her, but she never gave me the time of day. It's probably because she's too determined to achieve greatness to notice me.

The kids ran past my window again, laughing and high-fiving, even though all they had done was throw water on a fire. Oh, their jobs are so much cooler. I leaned out of the window, my elbows resting in the sill, to get a better look at them, and immediately was lifted off the ground by Gobber, who pulled me back inside.

"Come on, get back inside," he said in a bored voice.

"Oh come on," I said in exasperation. "Let me out! I need to make my mark!"

"Oh, but you have made marks!" Gobber said, staring at me. "Just all in the wrong places!"

"Please," I begged. "Two minutes is all I ask, I'll kill a fairy, my life will get infinitely better. I might even get a date."

Gobber looked at me with what looked like a mixture of amusement, shock, and pity. "You can't throw a hammer," he said, not taking his eyes off mine, "You can't swing an axe. You can't even throw one of these!" He held up a bolas, a type of slingshot weapon with two round stones attached to the ends. A Viking snatched the bolas from behind Gobber and twirled it around in his fingers before flinging it into the sky and bringing down a Gardania.

"Yeah, okay. But this," I said, suddenly proud, "Can throw it for me." I lifted a tarp off something I had put in the corner and displayed my invention: a bolas cannon. I patted it fondly. My touch must have activated it, though, because it suddenly sprang to life, opened up, and shot a bolas at lightning speed past Gobber. It nailed a Viking on the head, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Now, look here, this is exactly what I'm talking about!" Gobber yelled, suddenly angry with me.

"Minor calibration issue," I mumbled. "I'll fix it—"

"Hiccup, if you ever want to kill fairies, you have to stop all this," finished Gobber, sweeping his hands in front of me.

"But you just gestured to all of me," I said, confused.

"Exactly," he said in a satisfied sort of way. "Stop being all of you."

"Oooohhhh…" I said as it dawned on me.

"Oooohhhh, yeah…" Gobber mimicked me, nodding his head.

"You, sir, are playing a very dangerous game here," I said, trying to sound menacing. "Keeping this much raw Vikingness contained?" I shook my finger in his face. "There will be consequences!"

"I'll take my chances," Gobber said sarcastically. "Sword. Sharpened. Now." He dumped a sword in my arms. I grunted with the weight of it and struggled over to the grinder to have it sharpened.

One day I'll get out there. Because killing a fairy is everything around here. A Sharple head would at least get me noticed. Gardanias are tough. Killing one of those would definitely get me a girlfriend. A Hideous Gemini—exotic. Two heads, twice the status. And a Blazer… only the best Vikings go after those. They have a nasty habit of setting themselves on fire. But the ultimate prize is the fairy that nobody's ever seen. We call it—

A high pitched whistling sound suddenly appeared, cutting through the air, getting louder and louder. I could hear the screams of the Vikings, and that was rare. "NIGHT ANGEL!" cried one of the scouts. "Get down!" screamed another. A bright blue ball of plasma came streaking through the air and exploded on impact, shattering one of the trebuchets to pieces. I gasped and raced to the window again. This thing never steals anything, never shows itself, and never misses. No one has ever caught one. That's why I'm going to be the first.

"Mind the fort, Hiccup," Gobber said, taking the wrench out of his hand and inserting a big axe. "They need me out there." He turned to me. "Stay."

I stared.

"Here," he said.

I was still staring, wondering what 'here' meant, exactly.

"In the shop," he said, looking impatient to get out into the battle. "You know what I mean." With that, he let out a battle cry and hobbled out of the shop on his wooden leg (he's lost two limbs now—I'm almost jealous), waving his axe-hand menacingly.

Seconds later, I was running outside again, steering my bolas cannon down the chaotic streets of the village, shouting apologies to the people I almost ran in to. When I finally reached the edge of a steep cliff, away from the heart of the battle, I set the cannon down on the grass, opened up the hatch on the top, and unfolded the whole thing so that I was holding a powerful crossbow/cannon in front of me. I stood up and held the sides of the cannon in my hands, steering it around in the air. "Come on," I whispered. "Give me something to shoot at, give me something to shoot at…" I had positioned myself beside the West Cannon, because I knew that the Night Angel would be targeting it next. And sure enough…

A high-pitched fairy cry cut through the air. I hunched my shoulders and scanned the area. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared, the disappearance of a fairy-shaped group of stars the only sign that the Night Angel was around. I frantically spun the crossbow around, trying to aim. The whistling sound suddenly cut through the air again, and seconds later there was a huge explosion to my left as the fairy's plasma hit its mark. I aimed the crossbow and pulled the trigger.

I was blown backward onto my back as the bolas erupted from the cannon and hurled, spinning rapidly, through the air. I quickly scrambled up just as a piercing fairy scream rang through my ears. My breath coming in short ragged gasps, I watched in wonder as the dark figure streaked towards the South of the island, falling, flightless, to the ground.

The fairy.

"I hit it?" I gasped in disbelief. Then I leaped up and flung my arms into the sky in jubilation. "Yes, I HIT IT!" I twirled around and spread my arms. "Did anybody see that?" Suddenly I smelled smoke, and a sickening crunching sound came from behind me. I slowly turned to see a bright red haired fairy with twisting black highlights staring at me with a murderous look on its face, my burned bolas cannon in a million pieces by her flames. It growled and lowered its head to stare at me with bulging yellow eyes with narrow pupils. A Blazer. "Except you," I said, sounding much braver than I felt.

The fairy chased after me, snapping its jaws at my heels as I screamed in terror and scrambled over rocks, trying to get down the hill and back to the (somewhat) safety of the village. I dashed behind one of the braziers and cowered behind it, my chest heaving. All at once the pole was hit from the back with a pounding blast of lava-like fire, and I balled my hands and put my arms in front of my face in a weak attempt to shield myself. The fire crackling, I slowly peered around the edge of the pole. All I saw was a fairy's red see-through wings. It was slithering around the other side. Which could only mean that the head was—

A blur shot past me and the fairy let out a hoarse cry of pain shockingly close to my ear as Stoick punched it right in the snout. I watched fearfully as he faced off with the fairy. The Blazer steadied its hands and tried to blast the chief with fire, but it was out of power. Each fairy had a limited number of shots at a time. The fairy burst out a tiny spark of fire and looked at Stoick sheepishly. "You're all out," Stoick whispered menacingly. Then he charged at the fairy with a mighty battle cry.

After a few hard punches to the jaw and head, the Blazer got the idea that it wasn't really such a great idea to fight with this guy and flew off, defeated. I quickly ducked behind the pillar again, out of Stoick's sight. I knew he would be mad.

Just then, the fire ate through the bottom of the brazier, and it finally toppled over like a tree, revealing me standing there behind it, staring at Stoick, at a loss for words. Me, I mean, at a loss for words. Not Stoick. The brazier, dragged down considerably faster because of the enormous supply of lighted coal in the basket at the top, practically flew to the ground and smashed into a bridge, reducing it to a pile of splintered wood and metal pile that resembled my cannon. The basket separated from the top of the column and rolled through the village, crashing into several homes, and running over a few people before rolling right into the ocean and disappearing with a hiss.

I winced at every cry of pain that came from the villagers as the flame basket did its damage.

The fairies, carrying whatever food they had managed to steal from us, were flying away into the sunrise as they all laughed in victory and began jeering at the Vikings loss. The bleats of the sheep that they carried echoed over the water. They were gone from sight within a minute. Everybody just stood and watched. Then they all turned—every single person—and glared at me.

Especially Stoick.

Oh, and there's one more thing you ought to know…

"Sorry, Dad," I said sheepishly.

Everybody just stared at me some more. I looked over at the ruined bridge, assessing the damage. The pillar was still lying in the middle of it. Some of the other Vikings began to take interest in my (indirect) destruction too. As I glanced back at Stoick, my dad, I could see that his gaze hadn't wavered from my face.

"Okay, but I hit a Night Angel," I said, jabbing a thumb at the bridge.

"This isn't like all of the other times, Dad!" I cried as he dragged me through the village by the back of my vest. I saw Gobber staring at me with a pitying expression. "I really did hit one this time! You guys were busy, and I had a very clear shot! It went down just off Raven Point! Let's get a search party out there, and then we can—"

"Hiccup, stop, just—stop," Stoick interrupted, holding up his hands for silence. I shut my mouth and winced. "Hiccup, I don't have time for this," he said in exasperation. "Every time you step outside, disaster happens. Can you not see that I have bigger problems? Winter approaches and I have a whole village to feed!"

I glanced behind me at a few of the fatter Vikings and said, "Just between you and me, the village could do with a little less feeding, don't you think?" There were a few gripes from the Vikings behind me, and I was sure they had all rubbed their bellies.

"This isn't a joke, Hiccup!" Stoick burst out, looking tired. "Why can't you follow the simplest orders?"

"I can't stop myself," I say, trying to defend myself. "I see a fairy and I just have to—" I made a violent hand gesture with my hands—"I just have to kill it, you know? It's who I am, Dad."

The anger from Stoick's face suddenly dimmed a bit, and something else appeared. Was it pity? "You are many things, Hiccup," he said. "But a fairy killer is not one of them." He strode away from me and began to walk toward the damage I'd done. "Get back to the house." I hung my head, feeling embarrassed and ignored. "Make sure he gets home," Stoick said sullenly, gesturing towards Gobber to indicate that it was him he was talking to, "I've got his mess to clean up." The crowd began to mutter, and some people gave me the evil eye. Gobber cuffed me on the back of my head. "C'mon, get going," he muttered. We started moving through the crowd of villagers toward my house at the very top of the hill.

I could hear the twins laughing at me as I trudged home. "Quite the performance," Tuffnut hissed at me as we passed the other kids.

"I've never seen anyone mess up so bad. That helped!" Snotlout added meanly. Ruffnut and Tuffnut snickered and punched each other. Fishlegs gave me the same scared look he always wore. Astrid was fingering her axe and looking down. Astrid… "Yes, yes, thank you, I was trying, so..." I said in a bored voice, waving Snotlout's insult away as I passed. I heard him cry out in pain as Gobber knocked him over for insulting me, which gave me a faint burst of satisfaction, but I wasn't entirely content. For one thing, Astrid had seen me totally mess up. For another thing, nobody had seen me shoot down that Night Angel. For another thing, I was in trouble again.

"I really did hit one," I said to Gobber as I neared the house.

"Sure you did," soothed Gobber, not really believing me. I knew he was trying to make me feel better (even he showed me some compassion sometimes; he was more like a father to me than Stoick ever has been, I shudder to say), but he still sounded false.

"I wish I could get him to believe me," I burst out as I reached my front door. I turned around to face Gobber so I could rant some more. "But he never listens!"

"Well, it runs in the family," said Gobber.

"And when he does, it's always with this disappointed scowl, like someone skimped on the meat in his sandwich." I straightened my back and held up a finger like I knew Stoick would do. "'Excuse me, barmaid!'" I mimicked in Stoick's Scottish accent, "'I think you've brought me the wrong offspring! I ordered an extra large boy with beefy arms, extra guts and glory on the side! This here, this is a talkin' fish bone!'"

"Now, you're thinking about this all wrong…" soothed Gobber, holding out his hands. "It's not so much what you look like on the outside, it's what's inside of you that he can't stand!"

I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or not. I gave him my best withering look. "Thank you for summing that up," I said, being equally sarcastic.

Gobber must have realized he had insulted me, because he quickly switched to a softer tone. "The point is, stop trying so hard to be something that you're not!"

"I just wanna be one of you guys," I said softly, entering the house and quietly closing the door behind me.

I heard Gobber sigh through the door. As he turned and began to make his way down the hill, I opened the back door, jumped out, and ran off into the woods were my fairy had gone down.