292Disclaimer: Dream Works and Cressida Cowell own the How to Train Your Dragon franchise.
Inspired by: "I Hear Him Scream" by Rift-Raft and "Lightning and Death Itself" by Che1st
This fic uses the stage of the first movie, but a drastically different storyline. There's also dozens of book and TV series elements that are being incorperated into the story's setting. Including characters and mythology gags. They are not important to understanding the story, but help.
In case the summary failed communicate the stated intentions of the fic, this is a transformation centric story, though no actual transformations occur for first few chapters. There is going to be plenty of transformation in this story with more happening later on. The most notable and obvious one is the sort of species reversal of Toothless and Hiccup will experience.
Update Nov 10: There has to be some sort of record. I've essentially changed the Summary like 6 times by now, because I could not decide what conveyed information the best.
This story contains plenty of different genres in it... The themes of family and friendship are a long standing part of this story. The story goes places. Angst is involved... alot, but should be bearable. There's also physical pain and suffering joined by body horror due to the unique transformation method, you'll see later on.
I hope you all enjoy the following chapter and please remember to submit constructive critism and ask questions.
"Trader Johann is here early!" I heard one of the dock workers say. Unlike other Vikings, this man had a bucket instead of a more traditional helmet. "Trader Johann!" he cried again before he capsized his own boat in excitement. His name was Bucket. It paid to know the names of your customers. The man a wide variety of talents from what I heard, artist and predicting weather among other things.
Berk was always one of my favorite stopping points. Full of a wide variety of customers willing to barter and wealthy enough to potentially take my whole stock if the need arose, there was a profit to be made in here. Unfortunately, that only applied to the best of days. A whiff and a glance of the harbor told me that a battle had happened recently, probably this morning. It would certainly explain the flock I encountered on my way.
From experience, I knew it meant three things for my little mobile store: First, it meant that people were more willing to deal with me as I probably had valuable supplies that might have been destroyed by recent events. Second, it meant that people had less to trade with. More than once, had I come to a battlescared island only to find the village had every intention of trading with me, only to not have anything to offer in return. That led to the third thing, the village might be more willing to simply take those valuables from me. Which is why I was wary as I moved my ship to dock. Though, admittedly, the cries of relief and excitement I received did make it seem like that last possibility was unlikely.
My ship stopped at one of the still functioning piers. And with as much strength as I could muster, I heaved the boarding plank onto the dock. I was getting too old for this, maybe I need to get an assistant. "Ah , Berk! My Favorite of all the islands I travel to!" I said in my most excited tone.
Bucket who had in the time I spent mooring my craft climbed up to the pier. "Where have you been this time, Trader Johann?" I could see others either rushing to my ship or to their own homes. For me, that was a good sign. And with any luck, they would tell their chieftain for me.
"Oh, Bucket!" I said as I invited the one handed man on board. "The things I have seen, the people I have met, I'd need a swig to regale you!" I turned my back to him and turned to the gathering crowd. "And fortunately, today, I have plenty of time to do that." I stepped up on a chest, which I had filled a variety of things. "All-Day today, whatever it is you're looking for, I can assure you you'll find it here!" Everyone on the docks immediately began boarding. In fact there were so many of them that they had to start a line to get on my ship. "I've got food of all sorts, spices, exotic animals, works of art, jewelry, not to mention knowledge!" I loved showman ship; not only was it fun, but it certainly made people even more receptive when trading with me.
Under normal circumstances, I would not be spending a whole day moored to a single port. Usually, I would spend at most an hour then sail off to distant lands. This was not a normal circumstance: catching a village that was both a recent victim of a dragon attack and still possessed enough goods to trade with me was not an opportunity I would want to pass up. Oh and I had a package to deliver to Stoic and I expect him to be very late to meet me. Best not to bother a man who has to manage rebuilding a village.
After one hour, it was clear that the highest selling products would be anything edible. Obviously due to the large amount of livestock taken, granaries demolished, and crops burned; dragon raids always made the price of food go up. But since I was feeling nice, I decided not to raise my prices past their normal values. Before I knew what had happened, I was starting to run low on food. "I am sorry, Berk, but it seems that I must discontinue the sale food stuffs for the rest of the day," I had to say to them. "Any more and I might have to start eating my own clothes. But don't worry, next time, I'll see about bringing a boat load!" They laughed at that, but that announcement did not stop a large chunk of my potential customers from leaving the line before getting on my store.
Soon the line thinned out before disappearing all together, leaving me with the two most awkward Vikings in Berk. Fishlegs Ingerman and Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third were the only two I know on Berk who were interested in my more… unusual materials. Books, writing supplies, and other forms of knowledge and knowledge related things were not exactly the most popular thing for Vikings, but there was always someone on every island who reveled in the stuff. The two of them took their time, knowing full well the things they were interested in were rarely fought over. They were making idle chatter over what they should or should not buy.
Fishlegs came over to me. "Trader Johann, you wouldn't happen to have any botany books would you?" he said.
"Fresh out of those, I am afraid, Mister Fishlegs." I replied. "But I can easily fix that. Would you want me to put you down for a special order?" I pulled out a note pad and a pen.
Fishlegs nodded. "That'd be great. Would you want me to pay you right now?" We both filled out the note pad with the order details and before long only Hiccup and I remained on my ship. No one else seemed to be interested in my stock and Stoic the Vast still had not arrived.
I turned my attention to Hiccup, the chief's son. "Anything catch you eye, Hiccup?"
"No, not really." I heard the teenager say. I could tell when people were feeling down and boy did he have it. As a trader, my job was to know the needs people have an provide a solution. Give people the right item and they will trade you a different item that was not worth as much to them, but might be worth more to someone else. That was how we made profits. It was slower and more tedious than simply exchanging coins, but so long as I had enough to feed myself and I had a stable job, I couldn't complain. I knew enough about him from his father and personal experience to know what was causing his depression. Unfortunately Hiccup's problem, was not something that a simple item could fix. I could offer him relief, but I could not offer him anything approaching to a true solution. "Unless you, I don't know, had a Night Fury stanched somewhere around here I could kill."
"Night Fury?" I asked for confirmation. "The Dragon Raid this morning I take it?"
"Yeah." He said, as he raised his right hand to pretend he was pinching an invisible grape. "I was this close to killing it!"
I sat down on one of my treasure chests around the ship. "Would you like to talk about it?" I offered, dropping my normally exciting tone.
"I'm sorry. It's just been frustrating…" He inhaled deeply. "Early this morning, we had a raid, I snuck out… again. I found the Night Fury attacking one of the towers and before I could shoot it down, I get attacked by a Monstrous Nightmare. In my panic, I tried to shoot it, but my bola launcher had a misfire…"
"Bola launcher?" I asked.
"Yeah, I made it… Since I couldn't, you know, throw it myself, I made something throw it for me. Based it off those crossbow diagrams I got from you last time." That was interesting. For someone so young, Hiccup had managed to translate the designs of a weapon and redesign them for a completely different use. "It got crushed by the Nightmare, but not before it entangled some unfortunate Viking." He gave a strained laugh, which I could tell was an attempt to make the event seem less painful than it really was. "Well dad saved me… and the guy did live. Apparently he, well, actually she, now has a date, too. So I guess that means, I can't even have a proper misfire."
"There's always next time. Never know you might get lucky."
"Yeah, I know...I just wish, I wasn't…" He gestured to himself. "This."
"You just gestured to all of you…"
"Trade Johann, I just want to be able to take down one dragon," he said. "Just one, and my life will be so much better. Can you offer me something to me do that, please?"
This was not the first time that Hiccup had asked me to give him tools he could use to defeat dragons. Ever since the boy turned ten, he wanted as much knowledge he could, especially knowledge relating to dragons and weapons. And at this time, I had exhausted everything in my trade route that could conceivably aid him… well… almost everything. "Wait, right here," I said as I opened a hatch to go below deck. "I might have something."
While I had the top of my ship devoted entirely to be the store, below deck was both my living quarters and extra storage. Behind the stairs I used to get down, I had a chest. A very special chest as it stored all of the items I deemed would be impossible to sell to anyone. Included in it was a fake chicken made entirely out of a strange substance that made it a rather limp statue, a hallow ball that when filled with water and heated by fire released steam and spun around, a case containing a powder that produced sparks when lit on fire and the description of how to make it, and book covered in black dragon scales.
If it were a normal book, I might have sold it off years ago, but it was not a normal book. For starters it was written in three separate languages, sometimes switching between them in the same page. This alone made it incredibly difficult and time consuming to read. The other factor that made the book an incredibly difficult to sell item was the fact that anytime I found someone who would have been able to understand it, circumstances have forced me to abandon the trade. I once had a guy nearly drown, in a desert no less, before I could have given him the book. Even tried to get rid of it once, only for a fisherman a different island to return to me as an item to barter for trade. I could swear that it was cursed, so I tried not to look into it. About the only thing I was sure of was that the book dealt with dragons based on the pictures I saw in it before I deemed it too dangerous for me to read.
I did not want to be responsible for the son of Stoic the Vast's death, but somehow, I felt that I should give at least try to give it to the lad. I sighed, making a decision. Hiccup did not need to know the almost supernatural nature of that book. If the boy by some decree of the Norns or the Fates or whoever else manipulated Destinies, was not affected by the strange curse bestowed on that volume. Then, that was that. I would be done dealing with such an accursed object being on my ship.
I took the tome and climbed back upstairs. "This Hiccup," I said in an excited tone, "is a very special book. It is the last thing I have to offer you to be a dragon slayer." I showed him the black scaled book, expecting Thor to strike the boy death or Poseidon to take the whole ship. The boy took the book and began looking at its contents at an alarming rate. No freak accidents of bad luck happened. I was somewhat surprised, I had expected something to happen.
"This is… interesting…" Hiccup said. "It's got some Norse in it… and uh a lot of… other words I can't read."
"Yes, Norse, Latin, and one other language I did not recognize," I said.
"Where did you get it?"
"It was given to me by an old man… gave him some clothes and he gave me this in return, but I could never find someone willing or able to buy it before."
"Why not?" Hiccup said as he showed me a page in the book. In it there was a dragon, a Monstrous Nightmare, a vicious and powerful beast, recoiling in fear… from a black and yellow stripped eel. That puzzled me, why was one of the most terrifying and deadly of all dragonkind so deathly afraid of an eel. "There's a ton of dragon slaying stuff in this book. It says here that most dragons are terribly afraid of some types of eel. I gotta' see if that trick works." Note to self, buy stripped eels and test that. Would be handy next time I had to go through that flock of Terrors by that one island. They always seemed to know just where I would show up and sneak onto the ship without my knowing.
"So I take it you'd like to have it?" I said lazily.
"Yes, I do. Well, what you want for it?" Hiccup said. "I don't think you want another spyglass for something so valuable…"
"Yeah, I have five, and I only got the two eyes," I joked. "Tell you what, if you find anything else worthwhile in the book, tell me about it next time. And see if you can get your father here, I have been waiting forever for him. I have something I need to deliver to him." Just the fact that book would never plague me again was all the payment I needed. That plus, giving the son of a chief a present could have several positive effects in my future dealings with him later.
"Thank you, Trader Johann." Hiccup said a bit more jubilant than before. He flipped through the pages of his new possession, looking for anything of interest to him. And suddenly, without any warning, he burst out in a sprint. "Yes, yes! This is absolutely perfect," I heard him say. Apparently he found something that was really exciting.
I saw a big grin form on his face. And then he was off, leaving me alone. It seemed, that boy can run fast with the right motivation. I complimented myself on a job well done. Though I did not really gain anything physical from the trade, I knew I gained something that was equally important. I just hoped it would not kill the boy.
Now came the reason I was really here.
The Great Hall was empty, save for myself. My best friend, Gobber, and my brother, Spitelout, had left.
I needed to think about what I needed to do next.
My son and Dragon Training did not make sense. I respect Gobber's opinions on the matter, but there was no telling the kind of damage that boy would cause. I felt sorry for what group that the one handed blacksmith would stick the boy in. As was tradition, we would divide all applicants for Dragon Training into groups of up to eight trainees, with the intention to ensure each group had an average level of skill and to form a cohesive bond as a fighting unit. This year, there was probably fifty going through Dragon Training. This unfortunately meant that, Hiccup, being the worst Viking, will without a doubt be put in the same group as that Hofferson girl and Snotlout, two of the best our generation had to offer. Everyone else in the group would be at best average combatants.
Sometimes, I wonder if my son was destined to be a Viking. He could barely lift a sword, let alone fight with one. He was clumsy and destructive. His every action outside of supervision had disastrous consequences. And I knew just how badly my son wanted to change that. That was why he was obsessed with the Night Fury. That creature strategically tore down the defenses of any settlement it hit. It had cunning and power to match it, and no one had ever seen it. It was the ultimate prize, the goal of any Viking to find and kill that beast. Any Viking, even one as bad as Hiccup, would become an instant hero the moment they slew it. After that, no one would doubt him ever again. No one could doubt him again.
In a way, I admired his zeal and determination. I just wish that innocent people were not caught in the crossfire. Things weren't so bad that I had to consider disowning him. And he wasn't a total screw up, just… only most of the time. Life was hard on both of us, especially since Val left us when Hiccup was barely just a babe. Hopefully, she was speaking to Odin about ways to help us. Who knows, maybe my son will turn out to be the greatest Viking ever and he was just going through an awkward childhood phase. A man can dream for his little boy to have a growth spurt can't he?
And not every hiccup he had ended in total disaster. After all, none of us, except for the parents, knew his victim today was a woman… Between a name like Magnus and his, er, her appearance at the time, none of us could have actually seen the difference. Now, she was considering renaming herself to Hildegard and having wedding arrangements.
I sighed. I needed to see Hiccup and tell him my plans. Which as coincidence would have it, my son came inside the Great Hall for me. He appeared to be short of breath and covered with sweat. That worried me, because I knew that meant he had another one of his hair brained schemes cooking up in his head. "Dad, I've been waiting for you. Trader Johann came by an hour ago. He said he wanted to meet you on the docks." That relieved me as it meant my son wasn't going to be something incredibly reckless and foolish.
"Oh, so what business he have for me?" I chuckled. It was fortunate for us that aid had come for us. Though why was he so early? The was supposed to come by our island near every quarter, not two weeks after his last visit.
"He just said he had something for you, didn't tell me what."
"Alright, I'll meet up with Johann, but after that, we need to have a talk."
I saw my son's face form into a frown. "Dad, if it's about today, I'll try… to make… fix things…"
"No, son," I said solemnly, "It's about your future. Don't worry, son, I know you have what it takes to to be a proper Viking, you just have to…"
"Stop being all of this," he gestured to himself. "I get it dad." I saw him try to force a small smile. Both of us parted ways.
I went to the docks and found Johann there, idly singing a tune. "Ah Stoic, you're finally here. Welcome to my store." He gave a polite bow and motioned his arms with a dramatic flair as he gestured for me to come aboard.
"I see you've done business without informing me you had arrived," I said, in a nonthreatening tone. I liked Johann, he was a good friend, a trust worthy ally, and a fantastic sailor. After all, no normal man braves the Barbaric Archipelago, in a ship stuffed to the brim with valuable cargo and proceeded to do that constantly, year after year. But as good as he was, I needed to make sure that he respected the rules of the island as its chieftain. "And you are still here despite not having any customers. You usually pack up and leave when that happens."
"I humbly apologize if my conduct has insulted you, but I needed to give us some private time. That is hard to do with a ship loaded with customers…" The merchant shook his head. "And no offense to you, Stoic, but I do not trust leaving my ship unattended in anyone's harbor."
"Your reasoning fair, and for that, I shall forgive you. Though next time, I expect you send someone to inform me. Now, my son has informed me you have something for me. I assume this matter is important." The docks were mostly empty at this time, most of the men who were normally worked there were out fishing at this time and none of them seemed to have enough free time to listen in our conversation.
"Yes, very." The trader brew a bottle and a pair of mugs from one of his chests. He tossed me one of the mugs, which I caught. By the All-Father, whatever this was it was important enough to take out drinks, strong drinks. The merchant deftly uncorked the bottle and pour the beverage down our glass. It liquid fizzed and bubbled, almost spilling out of our cups. "In the past few weeks, us traders have received reports of increased dragon activity. Far more than in years prior. Also, we can confirm two attacks happening on the same date at the same time, and sightings by witnesses claim that both raids featured a Night Fury."
I just stood there my mouth agape. "Who were hit? And how bad was it?"
"Both the Meatheads and Bog Burglars were hit hard, with the same result you face today. We would have expected a second raid today, if it were not for the heavy casualties that the Meatheads inflicted upon their attackers this season."
I drank my glass. When there was only one, it had been trouble enough as the monster took down towers and siege weapons, leaving the Viking vulnerable and forcing them to spend valuable time and resources building replacements. Night Furies were not part of every raid against every village, but they were a key component of any raid that went against the largest or most heavily defended settlements."Loki must be laughing his pants off right now."
"And that's not all. In light of this news, the Oswald the Agreeable wants to set a trap for them." I saw the trader take a sip. "Currently, their village is the only one of the Great Tribes left untouched by this season of raids. So now he's declaring a 'Thing' on his lands to get as many warriors as he can. Or at the very least, develop strategies and share information. He thinks that allowing the dragons to have this much of an advantage could prove fatal to us in the long run and wants to cull their numbers to a more manageable level. So, I was sent."
"But that's not the purpose of an Inter-Tribal Council Meeting!" I said loudly. Oswald the Agreeable was the Chief of the Berserker Tribe, self-proclaimed to be the most violent and blood thirsty in the whole of the Barbaric Archipelago. To people who did not know him as I did, the title of "the Agreeable", sounded out of place for such a vicious and blood thirsty tribe. It makes much more sense when you know about what it actually means. He was a great leader who usually listened to the counsel of others before making important decisions. He respected everyone's opinion, including the ones of those who disagreed with him. However, if you ever disagreed with him, you had to be prepared to defend it, both physically and mentally.
"So then… what is the purpose of the Thing? I thought you Cheifs all did planned violent things at those meetings."
"That we do, but mostly, the meetings are there to reconfirm Alliances, proclaim deeds made, and signing treaties… among other things. It's just that it normally is not used to form a war council and form a warband before the Thing is called." And because it meant I had to abandon my plans of searching for the dragon nest in order to attend. And because, by law of the chiefs, Hiccup and Snotlout had to attend alongside me. This meant a serious change in my original plans… which also meant I needed to reconvene the Hooligan Tribe in the Great Hall for another meeting, less than a few hours from the last. I drank from my mug again, thanking Johann for his foresight. "What are the terms of the invitation?"
The merchant pulled out a small envelope, which was kept closed by the wax seal of the Berserker tribe. I broke the seal and read the letter.
In light of recent events, it has come to my attention that we need to gather our military resources together. The dragons have become more daring. Their numbers have grown more numerous as of late, potentially allowing them to form attacks with both greater frequency and with more ferocity than ever before. If the normal movement and patterns are the same as they usually are, then I expect my Tribe to be the last of the Great Tribes to suffer an attack from the enemy. Therefore, I propose to you all to give up your yearly searches for the Dragon Nest and instead deal with the immediate matter of the Dragon Hordes.
For this purpose, I invite you all to my home, Fort Sinister. On my honor, I shall grant you shelter, protection, and food under the Code of Hospitality for up to the maximum duration of two weeks after the arrival of the latest chief or to three days after the Dragon Raid has been routed, whichever is more appropriate. In exchange, I offer food and wealth proportional to the number of dragons slain, accounting for differences in size and power for each breed, divided evenly between the Tribes who participate and an additional sum, specific to each tribe, proportionate to the forces brought, with respect to fallen warriors and destroyed warships.
We must cull their numbers before they grow too powerful,
Oswald, the Agreeable
Great High Chieftain of the Berserker Tribe.
"As you can see," Trader Johann said to me as he finished his drink. "He's very serious."
I nodded. Now I had no choice but to accept his invitation. While I had wanted to take the fight directly to the dragon's home and permanently end the war, it was far more important to me that I ensured the future of the Hooligan Tribe. Our food stores were pillaged and destroyed and I knew this winter would be hard on all of us. And I knew that the Berserkers were a tribe that was seemingly blessed by Freya to always have bountiful crops, allowing them to be one of the largest harvests in the Archipelago. Even with all of those things, I knew that Oswald would be hard pressed to fully pay every tribe who attended this… Thing, blessing by a fertility goddess or not. He was desperate. But, my tribe needed every advantage it could get. We needed the payment Oswald was offering, even if in a small part. I finished my drink and handed the empty mug to Trader Johann. "Will you be coming with us?"
"No, I've deviated from my scheduled route too much already. I have to get back to it now." I nodded and left the Trader alone.
Even after parting with dad, I still couldn't help but be excited. How could I not when I had the chance to fix everything? I could finally be the Viking my father always wanted, and it was all right in the bag I carried under my shoulder.
I've always been ridiculed by how strange and un-Viking like I was. I am scrawny for a Viking, barely able to lift all but the lightest of weapons; I should have been like my father who when he was my age broke rocks with his skull. I am I am a walking disaster waiting to happen, it seemed my every action left someone on Berk in the infirmary; I should have been able to live up to my preferred title: "Hope and Heir to the Tribe of Hairy Hooligans". And today, I will be as I should have been.
I had only needed to skim through the book Trader Johann had given me before I had an idea of how it was organized. Inside the book, there were a variety of articles. Each article took up about two pages even, with no deviations and each article was set up so that both pages could be read at the same time. Typically, the left page contained an exposition describing the benefits and the right page contained the instructions. The problem was the languages used. Trade Johann had been right about that the book have used 3 separate languages, sometimes all of them in the same page. There was no pattern I could discern and it all seemed to be completely random. I could easily tell that a solid fourth of the articles were Norse enough for me to use. Unfortunately for me, I only knew Norse. Which made me slightly regret that dad had opted not to send me to Rome when I was little, well, littler so I could have learned Latin. And I had no clue what the third language was.
Based on the fact there were tiny boxes of text scattered, again at random, throughout the whole of the book, my best guess was that it was notebook of some sort. Probably written from the notes of multiple people who all spoke different languages, and it was haphazardly assembled into a single dragon scaled tome. The only thing I was fairly sure of was that the book, with one out of place exception, spoke about nothing but dragons and dragon related subjects. It was like the Book of Dragons, but covered the parts which were not in that book. Such as that striped eels cause a sort of panic reflex in dragons and that a certain type of tall grass can be used to knock out dragons. Everything in it… so many dragon related facts and I got it for practically nothing. Once I figured out this book enough, I decided I would show it to Fishlegs first, to help me understand it better. He would be estatic… Then I would probably show it to Father.
Of course, that was not the most important thing to me right now. That one seeming exception to dragon related subjects I found, was the recipe to a some sort of potion. According to the parts I could read, the potion "enhanced physical performance: heightened coordination and boosted physical strength". Its name and a large chunk of its description were in some other language than Norse, but thankfully, I could see that everything on the recipe was in the language I could read. For a moment I thought it was strange that a book that offered nothing but dragon related information would offer such a thing. Of course, then I read that the description featured mostly dragon related materials in its recipe. Such as, shavings from a Gronckle's horns, a Deadly Nadder spike, and blood from a Monstrous Nightmare. The ingredients and their preparation were… unusual. I mean what kind of normal use of chemistry requires you to inscribe a pot with chalk before using it? This told me whatever I was about to do wasn't a purely physical use of chemistry the same way metalworking was. It was… magic, sorcery. But if it got my dad to respect me more, I think I could live with it.
Gathering the ingredients, except for the last one, was uneventful. I only needed to go pick some random plants, loot remains from the slain dragons, or get salt. In fact, the only thing that was difficult for me to get was the last ingredient, a berry from a deadly nightshade. And I only know of two people in the whole of Berk who had berries from that plant. Unfortunately, they were the twins. I walked up to the porch of Ruff and Tuff's house and knocked the door. "Well, would you look who the cat dragged in?" Ruffnut said.
"I know, he does look like some sort of hair ball!" her brother said.
"Uh… Hi!" I said, trying ignore the statement. "I need a favor…"
"No," the brother said, "we're not helping you do something incredibly stupid and dangerous."
"Unless we get front seats," said Ruff, which got her a thumbs up from her brother.
"Tell us what you need, but make it good."
I did not want the twins involved in what I was about to do. Not the least because several of the ingredients my potion needed were extremely poisonous. That and because they had a track record of being bad at keeping secrets. "Uh. I would like one of those deadly nightshade berries you keep." I knew they had them, they liked to brag about it.
"Oh, are you going to poison someone?" Ruff.
"Or are you going to eat it? " Tuff.
"Cook it then eat it…" I said dryly.
"Yeah, we should definitely watch that." Tuff.
"Nothing quite like a good suicide." Ruff. This conversation brought up many uncomfortable questions that I sincerely believed I did not want to have answered. At that point both of them slammed their heads together.
"Hey, look, I'm sure you both have got very busy schedules." I said to them. "You should probably groom your yak or polish your axe or use your axe to polish your yak."
"That's a great idea," Ruff.
"But we still want to watch you kill yourself." Tuff.
"Look, I kinda want to do this without anyone watching, you understand?"
The twins looked insulted so they turned their backs to me and began discussing something. "Fine," the brother said. "But we want something for our services."
"We want what's left of your bolas launcher," the sister said.
"Yeah, so we can finally make it clear to everyone that Ruffnut is a girl." At that point the brother received a boot to the foot. "Ow! Ow!" he said as he leapt up and down while holding his damaged foot in the air.
I nodded in agreement and returned a few minutes later returned to the house with a wheelbarrow full of the discarded parts and pieces of my machine that died in the line of duty this morning. "Pleasure doing business with you. Ow!" said the twins at the same time as they had apparently engaged in a slugfest the moment I left.
They only broke their fighting long enough to point their fingers at a jar, which contained a single swollen black berry swimming in a green liquid. Trust the twins to pickle an extremely poisonous berries and place one of them in a jar. Best not to think about why they have them in the first place too much, Hiccup. I left the twins and went back home.
The Chieftain's home was one of the longest standing structures in all of Berk, one of only a handful of buildings that had been around for more than a decade. People said that my father used his tremendous strength to build the home for his bride to be with his bare hands. Did I believe them? Yes. And I knew for a fact that this same strength had been used to fend off dozens dragon attacks. It had been hard to believe growing up. I wanted so much when I was kid to be strong like that, yet as I grew older, I learned I could never do the things he did. And tonight that's going to change.
Father had apparently not returned home yet, which was fine by me. It gave me as much time as I needed to do what I needed to do. I lit the fire place. Before, I did anything else, I sat down and prayed to Odin, the All-Father. While it was true he was a powerful warrior, I also knew he was a great magician and wielded vast power. And whatever it was I was attempting to do, I believed it fell under his domain. And I needed all the help I could muster. "Please, please, just this once, help me, All-Father. Let me be stronger, just a little. I'll take even average strength if you want," I prayed. I continued this for a few minutes until I decided the god had enough from me.
Then I began the potion. I took one of the older cooking pots in the house, one of the ones we did not use any more due to its age, and wrote chalk inscriptions in it that were described in another entry in the book. I did not want to accidentally poison my father so I needed a pot that he was unlikely to use again. I prepared the ingredients as the book described. The only trouble I had was with trying to shred the Gronckle horns. I used a metal file to slowly grind the Gronckle horn away. Unsurprisingly the file broke by the time I had collected enough dust from it. I threw the remains of the file away.
I placed the contents of the pot on the fireplace and waited patiently. I could hear the liquid simmering and bubbling inside the pot. The sound grew louder and louder until it the pot started to violently shake. I grabbed the pot and poured its contents into a mug. I was not expecting the resulting liquid to be so… viscous. For starters, it had an orange glow and poured slowly like molasses out of the pot. It resembled molten metal more than something I should drink. And for a moment I thought it was, if it weren't for the surprisingly sweet smell and the steam.
I took the cup and raised it to my lips. Unfortunately, this was going to be the most uncomfortable part in all of this. And that was when I realized the catch. If I failed to properly prepare the drink, dad would come home to find himself without a son… I tried to keep my mind off of the possibility that he would have been better off if I failed. I drank it all. My insides burned. Everything went dark.
Then I felt… a pressure against my shoulder. I awoke slowly, my head felt like something was running around through it and my vision was blurry. I could make out something red. I blinked a few times, clearing the weariness from my sight. Each time, I saw my father a bit clearer than last. "D-daad-d?" I said wearily.
"I need to speak with you, son."
I lifted my head up and tried to rub the sleep from my eyes. I felt so tired. Other than the fact my head felt like it had been hit by Snotlout and that my stomach felt like I had bricks for dinner, I didn't feel any different. "Yeah?" I said with a groan. "Go ahead…"
"Are you alright?" My dad showed some concern and placed his absolutely huge hands on his forehand. "You don't feel like you have a fever."
"Oh, that's just lunch… Really bad lunch." I sorta lied, but sorta not. "Now what were you saying?"
"You get your wish," my dad said. "Dragon Training, I will be your teacher." That surprised me. Wasn't Gobber supposed to teach dragon training class? And wasn't dad supposed to go off searching for the Dragon Nest again? Maybe it had something to do with what Trade Johann had me get my father for.
"Uh, what?" I said, becoming more coherent with every breath.
Dad ignored me and gave me a heavy axe. "You'll need this."
"But dad, how are you going to train me when you're off sailing?" I said as I stood up.
"Change of plans, you'll be coming with me!"
"Where?" I said sheepishly. "And why? Isn't Gobber supposed to teach the Dragon Killing stuff?" I haven't exactly traveled far from home, mostly because dad, and everyone else, liked keeping me in a place they could keep track of. But I have been to other islands before, visiting other chiefs.
"You're old enough now, you have to attend the Thing when it's called. Oswald the Agreeable has called for us and we are going. And because of that, I decided I should have a more… direct hand in your training, at least until the Thing is over." The 'Thing', or as it was more formally called the Inter-Tribal Council Meeting, was a meeting of various Viking Tribes for a variety of reasons. To my knowledge, there was not a regularly scheduled time for it, and Vikings just called them when they wanted to show off. Mostly for peaceful purposes, but there were times and occasions they were called for war… and dad wanted me to be part of that. I had never been there to my memory, though I knew some of the people who likely would be attending. Specifically, because Oswald was calling which meant it'd be on his land, that meant I'd be meeting Dagur, again. I really hope he became less psychotic since the last time I saw him.
"So why call the Thing now…?"
I saw my dad sigh. "Oswald thinks he'll be the next target of the Dragon Raids and he wants us to stand by his side." I gulped like I was trying to swallow a stone.
"But dad," I said.
"Remember," my dad said as he picked up the waraxe for a moment only to return it to me. "When you carry this axe, you carry all of us." My dad then went on a spiel about walking, talking, and thinking like a Viking.
"The conversation is feeling very one-sided," but I did agree with my dad. I didn't want to be me anymore. He ignored my statement and continued on.
"Now, do we have a deal?" I nodded. My dad gave me a smile as he picked up the old cooking pot that I used earlier tonight. "Good, we'll set sail in the morning. And… Boy what'd you make?" He showed me that the pot's bottom had completely vanished, as if something took a bite of it.
"Don't know, but that pot was falling apart anyways." I lied, well partially. I have no idea why it melted like that. "Musta melted." My dad put the cooking pot away and drew a newer one.
That was when I noticed two very important details: First, we were going to intercept a Dragon Raid, meaning I had another shot at the Night Fury. And this time, if I downed it there, I would get the respect of not just my tribe, but every Tribe in the Barbaric Archipelago. Second, I was holding the large and heavy axe my dad gave me with a single hand. The weight was still there, but it just felt… less than I was used to. I was so wrapped up in my dad's "conversation" that I hadn't noticed what happened. Thanks, Odin. I owe you one.
"The Hunters have returned!" "All Glory to the Flight!" I heard as we flew into our Home. My Kin's cheers and howls of joy rebounded all over the Nest. I turned and looked behind me, seeing those that flew with me proud and content, happily carrying our haul. In all, it seemed like every other member of our Flight had a mouth full of food, one of those Herd-made wooden cases that held it, or the body of fallen prey. Our Lord was going to be pleased with us, I thought. Maybe mother, too. No, do not get too hopeful.
As mother told me, the Herd, though fierce and vicious as the Kin, offered glory and food unlike any other. And our Lord and the Flight Commanders thought it the best use of our time and lives to pit our Flight constantly against the Herd. I did not understand their reasoning why, since we often lost many of the Kin in our Hunts against the Herd, but that was what was done to receive honor and glory in my Flight. My mother says that I was young and naive, and that time will let me understand things more. I did not doubt her, when she could hear me that is.
Long ago, the cavern had apparently bled fire and liquid rock, now it was a place full of roosts. I landed at one of the ledges near the roof of the massive cavern and looked at what was to happen next. I was not part of the ground Hunting team, so I was not expected to take anything from the Herd in the Hunt. Those Kin that had been my Flight had began emptying their mouths of food, dropping the contents into a massive pit in the ground. Even in the darkness, I could see that our King opened his massive maw.
Our Lord was truly massive. A beast far larger and far greater than any other Kin that I had seen or heard. His body seemed to be nothing short of an impervious armor, his sheer size alone gave the impression of great and boundless power, and his voice was nothing short of… beautiful. It had this charm to it that you had to hear it to be believed. Yet, the whole Nest knew he was trapped here, unable to escape. That did nothing to stop our loyalty to him. From him came things such as names, gifts, and power each prized greatly in the nest. I do not know how or why he was trapped in the Nest, but he promises one day to be set free and that on that day, those who serve him will be rewarded. And until day comes, we make these offerings off food.
"Yes, very good,"I heard our King roar. "Your second Hunt as a Squire was very plentiful, Night Fury. Your mother raised you well." I flinched a bit when I realized my King was speaking to me. There were a over a dozen other Squires and Knights in the Flight with me, all of which had more seniority that I did. The fact that our Lord went out of his way to notice me was important. I was frozen, unable to think of what to make as a proper response.
"Ha-ha-ha. My Lord, you have scared the newest member of my Flight," I heard a new voice laugh. I knew who it was. I turned to my left to see one of the Kin land down near me. He was a Monstrous Nightmare. They also had a nasty habit of lighting themselves on fire, sometimes for defense, sometimes because they felt like it. While Nightmares were always expected to be strong and powerful, I knew the one beside me was that and more. Because he was so old, he had many names since served the King faithfully, but his most well known name was One Eye. True to that name, his left eye had been gouged out so badly it left a vicious scar on his face. "Most of the Kin, even a rare and elusive Night Fury, cannot stand beneath your gaze without being reduced to a statue."
Our Lord only just laughed at his servant's jest. "How could I not take note of a potential future Flight Commander?" As my King said those words, I had images, ideas, and thoughts form inside my head. And I had the distinct feeling they were not my own. I saw myself, older and stronger, standing over a mound of smoking bodies, both Herd and Kin alike. The one nearest to me was that of my teacher's, burned to a smoldering husk. Which was the perferred method of succession for new Flight Commanders. Behind me were… these small, round objects made of this yellowish metal. I did not understand what they were or what they meant. Apparently my King understood my confusion and replaced them with salmon and trout and then I understood he meant wealth.
"It was my honor to serve you my King," I bowed my head as I pushed the thoughts aside. As a Night Fury, I was born to be one of the most powerful and respected Kin under the service of our King. As a Night Fury, I had black scales that offered both protection and stealth in the night sky and Breath that could demolish small hillsides. In my short time Hunting the Herd, those two things made me feel nearly invincible. No one could see me, let alone fight me. By virtue of my race, I was automatically raised to status of Squire when I came of age only a moon ago. But now my King had hopes high enough for me to replace One Eye. I gulped. I was suddenly less proud of myself.
"Now, if only there were more of you," said our King, referring to the fact that me and my mother were the only Night Furies in the whole nest. And as far as I knew, in the whole ocean. "In time, I will offer you power and glory, maybe even a name of your own." A name… issued from our King was a great status symbol. A congratulatory sign that came with it great distinction and honors. I normally did not need one as the only other Night Fury in the nest was my mother, who already has a name of her own.
"A name my Lord?" I asked cautiously. But a name was a mark of prestige, a sign of favor from our Lord.
"Yes, but you have still yet to earn that honor, this good haul only serves to make up for your previous blunder." he said flatly. I reeled back, ashamed of myself. My first Hunt produced many casualties by accident as I failed to understand how to defeat the stone and wooden spires the Prey built. That soured my reputation within my Flight and required that temporarily commoners had to be diverted from a healthier Flight. "The other Flight Commanders will be returning soon and we have things to discuss that do not concern you yet."
"You are dismissed for now, Squire," I heard my master say. "Go and see to your needs." I bowed my head again and flew out of the large hole in the Nest's roof.
I flew to one of the beaches that surrounded the Nest. Though I knew my Lord's intentions were well meaning, I could not help but feel the images he gave me were nothing short of horrifying. Though I was young and strong and my teacher was aged and weakening with each moon, I just could not wrap my mind around having to kill my aging teacher. And what if One Eye knew of that intention? Would he take preemptive measures to protect himself? Best not to think about that.
I landed near the water's edge. I saw other Kin there. I beheld two heads of a lone zippleback, amidst the small crowd of Gronckles and Nadders. All of them approached me cautiously, slowly as if I were a fragile egg. I went closer to them, and they reeled back. They were commoners, lowly Kin who did not distinguish themselves by blood, merit, or creed. And I was on the path to Knighthood, they were beneath me. All I had to do is remind them that, right?
As I drew closer, they backed away again, but only the Zippleback stayed. "Do you have something to say to me?" I snapped at him. Or was it her or it? I could never understand that part.
"The King took notice of you," a Zippleback head said with a bow.
Its twin then followed it up. "We wish to congratulate you."
At least they were respectful. I smirked at them back. I knew they were probably just rubbing up to me just to gain a small degree of recognition, even if it came from association, but I did not care about those things. If they made themselves useful to me, I did not have any problem with that. "Then I thank you. If-"
"Not all of us are here to suck up to you." I turned my head to the source of the voice. It was an aged Gronckle whose scales were a faded old bronze. The Gronckle stepped forward, causing the Zippleback to step back and the kin cleared around us. "You may have been born into the Knighthood, but you are still unworthy of the King's attentions."
"Is there something you want to say to me?" I spat. To put a long story there were a lot of Kin who did not like that I was automatically made into a Squire by virtue of my being a Night Fury. My detractors state that had I been born as anything else, it would have been clear I was a poor candidate for such a position. Typically, they were commoners, other Squires, and Knights.
"Aye," the bronze scaled Kin said. "Have you made any kills in the King's service?" I blinked at that. This was… new. No one had ever criticized me about something like that before.
"Well, I of course, I have made kills. Those giant wood and stone spires that the Herd," I stated proudly. Those were the
"No," the Gronkcle cut me off. "Not that, those things do not bleed, they do not scream. You haven't killed anything of honor have you?"
"I'm sure that I slew some of the Herd when I destroy their spires."
"I doubt it, Prey is hardier than you give them credit for," the Gronckle scoffed. "But even if you did, those were orders given to you by One Eye and the intention was to destroy the spires. Kills made by those actions do not count."
"What are you getting at?" I approached the old one, but he did not so much bat an eye or even flinch.
"Have you killed Herd or Kin of your decision?" he said calmly.
"Um, no I have not. I fail to see how that is important."
"You are a warrior now and as a warrior you must also be expected to do battle against the Herd and against rogue and honorless Kin. A kill, made of your own volition is proof of your lethality and prowess as a warrior. You have proven you have no bloodthirst."
"I have plenty of bloodthirst." I said that on pure reflex. Only after I had said it have I realized how childish I sounded saying that. And the Gronckle knew it based on the look his eyes. I could tell that the attention of the large group of Kin by me were focused on the old one. "And I have nothing to kill for honor."
"But you do, you may kill me and redeem your honor," he said, unafraid.
I considered that for a moment. I could kill him, quite easily now that I thought about it, and shut up one of my detractors, permanently. On the other hand, there was just no point to it. He was just an old, old Gronkcle. Not a threat to me. Plus, I could respect him, he was unafraid of dying by my paws. "I do not need to kill you," I said. "I will simply instead kill one of the Herd when I have the chance the next raid. I can wait that long."
The Gronkcle nodded, my answer apparently contenting him. "Then I will look forward to your return." He then walked away for a few steps before something large and black land on him.
"Dead Wings has returned!" "Run for your lives!" I heard screaming coming from every direction. My Kin and I ran away from the Gronckle in droves. I leapt and hit behind a rock, having no intention to look at the grisly scene that was playing out just out of my field of vision. The Gronckle was screaming in raw agony and I did nothing but hid. I could save him, I told myself. But I was simply too scared to get out of my hiding place. The worst part was, I knew he was going to live.
"This is a warning, next time, I will not be as merciful," I heard the dark thing speak.
"I do not fear you," I heard the Gronckle croak as he stopped screaming. I could see the glowing eyes of my Kin looking as the scene had concluded. I peered alongside them. The Gronckle's wings were torn into ribbons and I could see blood pouring out from the wounds. He likely wasn't going to fly again without having sort of healing done to him. I saw the Gronckle get up and slip away, the creature that attacked it having done what it intended.
"Which is such a shame, it would have made that all the more enjoyable." Then I saw the creature turn its attention to me giving me both a better picture of the scene. "Hello, child," said the female Night Fury.
"H-hey mom," I said sheepishly. My mother is a Night Fury, obviously, but she is somewhat bigger than me, by somewhere around the length of my own head. Her only name was Dead Wings. While she was a Flight Commander, she was the only one of them to not have more than one name. She did not need to have more than one name, when her only one had so many different meanings. And right now, I had just seen one of them.
"You should have defended your honor when that commoner questioned you, child," my mother stated. "Now others see you as weak. And now that others see you as weak, they see me as weak." And that was why she wanted to make an example. By disabling and not killing the wizened Gronckle she had made him suffer. His injury would be no excuse to his task of getting food for the King and given he lacked flight, he would have been very vulnerable and easily slain. It was not about killing, it was about suffering.
"Sorry mother," I said. "It… won't happen again."
"Good," she smiled and went on her own way. All things considered I got off lucky, if she wasn't punishing me.
I looked around and saw that the remaining Kin who were still staring at me. I did not like the fact they all saw what had happened, my relationship with my mother was none of their business. "What are you all staring at?" I roared. "Get away!" They ran.
I was alone. And I preferred it would stay that way.
Author's Notes:
Now that I built enough confidence up to write a story and got a solid idea, I started this. Anyone who has read my other story "This is not Berk" will probably be familiar with some of the content that will end up in this fic. I can assure you all that it isn't the exact same thing as what ended up there, but you will see some overlap.
In case any of you failed to understand what Trader Johann has in that secret chest of his. The items are a rubber chicken, a very primitive steam engine, and gunpowder with a recipe. This is a deliberate case of "It Will Never Catch On" meant to be a gag.
Yes, in this fic's verse, baby Magnus is actually older than Hiccup and gang. I thought it would make for a funny "off screen" gag if Hiccup actually fixed her issue.
The reason why Hiccup and Stoic's chat at home went out differently than it did in the movies is because Hiccup failed to shoot down Toothless and thus never learned that he could not kill willingly kill a dragon.
Toothless's snippet was the hardest to write for because his is the only one who deals with himself and dragon kind Plus… I needed to explain how dragon culture works in this fic.
Yes, I used feudal terms to describe dragon society. And Herd is what they use to describe the Viking Tribes, and Hunts to describe their attacks. That should give you an idea of what they think about humans.
One Eye may share his name with a dragon in the books, but is otherwise, not related or based at all on him.
Basic hierarchy breakdown: Commoners Squires Knights Flight CommandersKing/Lord