HEY GUYS. I'm really sorry that it took so long to get this out. I've been busy with school and then I got really sick. But now it's here and you can enjoy the first real chapter!

I re-named Astrid's dragon Adlina because of a copyright problem with another author. But it was a simple mistake and is fixed now.

Thanks to all who replied to the first post and who subscribed. I'm actually really excited about this fic, but because I happen to have a really crappy schedule, it might take some time. I'm sorry, but be patient! XD

I do not own "How to Train Your Dragon" or any related indica, including those Wal-Mart helmets or action figures, nor do I intend to in the future. I also have no money, Dreamworks. No lawsuits.

Please R&R. Thanks!

Five years earlier

Hiccup, that bumbling boy so scrawny and pigeon-toed, trundled across the center of the village with a tiny knife in his hand. He had found it lying in a puddle, discarded for being dull and useless, but not to him. When he found an area free of living things, he jumped around and struck with the knife, cutting down invisible enemies and slaying imaginary dragons. He climbed onto the counter of a shop, scaring away the cat who had been eager for maybe just one minute of rest and peace. But it wouldn't be so for the cat.

To any passerby, this cute display of bravado might have been a sign that the ten-year old was eager and ready to be a warrior someday. But to those who knew Hiccup – and as the son of Stoick the Vast, who didn't – also knew that when he was given his first chicken to slaughter, he stopped and refused to do it, insisting on naming the hen Feathers. Well, it didn't turn out so well for Feathers in the end, thanks to the town butcher, Slagter, who had been so disturbed by the tiny Viking's squeamishness that he showed the boy how to do it correctly… to no avail.

Needless to say, were they visible enemies and real dragons, Hiccup would be the first to make a mistake. If the young boy would ever kill anything, people said, it would be by tripping and accidentally throwing the knife into its throat. But that was just a joke. He knew how to hunt, no problem. Rabbits were his specialty with a bow and arrow, even as a child. But he just had something against laying something down and then cutting its head off.

Still, Hiccup could dream of the day he would join his father and the other men in the almost weekly defense against the dragon feedings. He watched them fight from the doors of their home, so strong and brave and… Viking. To become just like them, his resident heroes, would be just perfect. If not for one thing.

"Hey, Pipsqueak, have you even touched anyone in your fantasy yet?" Snotface, the only kid on the island with a name worse than Buttlug (who doesn't get out much), came striding up to his cousin, kicking the poor cat along the way. He was only about a year older, but those ten months and fourteen days gave him all the allowance he needed to pick on little Hiccup. Yet ironically, the younger boy was taller.

"The entire army of Scotland, in fact," Hiccup retorted. "Plus Grendel and his mother."

Snotface guffawed like a donkey. "That's cute, taking on the whole world with a butter knife." He started walking off, but decided to push his cousin into a puddle instead. Then he actually walked away like he'd planned. "Loser!"

Hiccup was not a big fan of wet pants, but being his optimistic self, he supposed that he was lucky that he didn't land on the knife and impale himself, dying a horrible death, and not even at the claws of a dragon. He wondered what Snotface would've done if that happened. Probably laugh harder, that's all that he was good at.

Grumbling and feeling more frustrated than he wanted to be, Hiccup slowly picked himself out of the water, wiping down what he could and beginning the walk home. Vikings pretty much had only three outfits: work, battle, and eating clothes. There went Hiccup's work clothes. He felt self-conscious trudging down the center of town with a giant dripping stain on his back, but he had to. Maybe he'd feel better in his eating clothes, or he could just stay home in a blanket and read Rök for the thousandth time. Then again, there was always the sho-

His train of thought abruptly sailed into a rock and sank. Who cares about clothes anyways? Not Hiccup Haddock, that's for sure; at least not when the daughter of Hofferson the Sturdy walked by. She wore one of the leather vests that her mother was known for making, and a brown cloth skirt down to her knees. Her hair was tied into a ponytail, a style that she was experimenting with, and fell across her back, waving every time she took a skipping step on her way to the village well. Hiccup may have only been ten, and not known much at all about girls, but he knew enough to remember that the prettiest girl in the village would also beat you up if you made one mistake. Her father had been anticipating a son, but after his girl was born, nothing Hofferson tried gave him another child. So he settled with teaching his daughter how to swing an axe and gut an eel.

So with that in mind, Hiccup's "hello" was caught in his throat, never to come out as Astrid Hofferson skipped by without even a first look. As soon as she was out of view, wet pants was the topic of interest once again, and only now did the boy wonder if she had noticed the mess he was wearing. He really hoped not.

Present Day

"Um… Hiccup?" Astrid was leaning against one of the posts by the dragon training arena, watching her boyfriend run past as quick as he could. But he stopped dead in his tracks at the sound of her voice, and turned around to face her with a guilty look on his face.

He was also sopping drenched.

"Astrid! Hey, uh, I need to get home for just a minute, so if you don't mind…"

"Why are you wet?" Her question came out rapid, before he could finish, and he really didn't want to answer the question.

"Oh, um… Toothless hit me with his tail and I fell into the pond. Gotta get changed."

Astrid's eyes squinted at him as he tried to get away. "You're a terrible liar, Hiccup."

"I know," the boy said abruptly, spinning around and plodding with soggy boots up to her. "Just promise you won't laugh, okay?"

"I'm already laughing," Astrid smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Her boyfriend shrugged. "Whatever." Then in a kind of half-whisper, "I tried to get Toothless to swim. Little did I know that he's like a dog when it comes to getting out of the water." Hiccup held his arms out for emphasis, letting the sleeves droop down.

Astrid was having trouble not giggling. "So all that water… was from him shaking?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He tried to put on a grin, but it was hard to when his girlfriend was laughing her face off. For a moment, Hiccup was embarrassed into a tiny ball in his brain, but when Astrid had collected herself, she smiled and hugged him, getting wet herself.

"Too funny. C'mon." She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the village. "Let's get you dry. It's too cold to be as soaked as you."

Hammer was new to his job. After three years of intense dragon training, fighting the most fearsome of beasts, he earned the privilege to behead a Monstrous Nightmare while his own parents watched on, proud of their son. He knew he would be a great dragon fighter, and would prove his worth in every battle. He knew it.

Now here comes the sudden dragon revolution. All of his friends training and riding the very beasts that they had been trained to kill. And Hammer? Moved to harbor patrol. It was the most boring job on the island, just staring out at sea and making sure that the endless emptiness of the foggy sea stayed empty. He longed for adventure, it was a part of him. So, when he spotted the large ship with strange triangular sails floating towards him from off in the distance, he immediately felt in need for an adrenaline rush.

He ran over to his captain at the other corner of the harbor wall, careful not to fall off the side.

"Sir, one ship inbound."

The man in charge spun around and strained his eyes to the sea. "That's an interesting boat. One of ours?"

"I don't know."

There was only one way to find out if incoming ships were friendly or not. Procedure called for Viking ships to post a soldier at the bow wearing their largest ceremonial horned helmet, while the other crewmembers wore naval conical helmets. When the harbor could spot the unique helmet, they would allow them to enter their waters. Even friends of the Vikings followed this procedure the best they could. If there was no identifying helmet, like in the case of Hammer's ship, the whole village was immediately put on alert.

"That's not ours," the captain concluded, his voice low with suspicion. Then he shouted to all who could hear, "Enemy navy! All hands to the harbor!.. Ready the dragons!" Whoever these people were, they wouldn't expect what was coming to them.

Hiccup was finally in dry clothes, and he didn't even need to go back to his house. Astrid led him to her home, where loads of newly sewn clothes hung from ropes between the shed and the living house. Shirts, pants, coats, even gloves and boots were all the product of Iula Hofferson's steady hand. She made more than enough clothing to keep the village warm year-round and put wool back on the sheep, so it only made sense to give Hiccup a set of new fleece pants and a shirt, one of the many that Iula made simply to keep busy.

"There, you look ready for mountaineering," she laughed. The shirt was almost thick enough to be a coat, and the pants were a little baggy. Hiccup smiled and was about to thank her for everything, but as with nearly every important thing he ever tries to say, it was cut off.

The ram horn alarm was rarely blown. It had a special, higher pitched tune to it when someone blew into it, and demanded the attention of the entire island. It wasn't long before the warriors started sprinting for the harbor, while the younger soldiers made a move for the dragon pens. Astrid knew what to do, and immediately found Adlina grooming herself, looking at her reflection in a tub of water.

"Go find Toothless!" she yelled to Hiccup from atop her saddle once Adlina was pulled away from her vanity. "I'm going to check out what's going on!"

"Okay!" At his reply, she took off into the sky, axe in hand, as graceful as she's ever been. The boy watched her dart through the sky for the longest time, before his mind snapped back to reality. People were frantic, the villagers locking their doors while the warriors carried all the weapons they could towards the harbor. Something unusual was going down.

Hiccup sprinted to the back of the dragon arena, where he'd told Toothless to stay after they went for the equivalent of a swim. The Night Fury had been asleep, but was now perked up, teeth and claws out after the alarm.

"Whoa, boy. Let's get going." The saddle was an easy piece of equipment, and Toothless couldn't fly without it anyways. Before he took off, Hiccup grabbed a sword and riding helmet, turned around, and almost impaled Snotface.

"Geez, man! Watch out!" He was trying to grab his dragon, Fireworm, from the pen behind his cousin.

"Cos," Hiccup gasped. "What's going on?"

"Enemy navy," the older boy replied quickly. "Maybe Scots, we don't know, but it's military."

"How many?"

"I dunno, man! Somewhere between one and one thousand."

Snotface preferred to ride bareback, and jumped into the air in no time. Hiccup was right behind him. From the air they could see what the commotion was all about. Three huge ships with the strangest sails any of them had ever seen were making their way into the bay. The sea was foggy to begin with, but some of the dragon riders were whipping up a thick smoke to cover the area around the boats, making it even harder for the sailors to see where they were going.

Stoick the Vast was standing at the end of the longdock, sledge in hand, as the welcome party. All of the dragon warriors were gathering near him, and Hiccup brought Toothless down beside them as well.

When Stoick noticed his son, he left his post.

"Hiccup, good thing you're here." The chief was skittish, looking back and forth between the sea and the dragon fleet to make sure nothing new happened. "We've never seen these kind of ships before, but we have to assume they're hostile. I need you and Snotface to fly through the smoke and scout the lead ship. Find out who they are, what they're here for, and how easily we could take them."

The boy nodded. "Will do, Dad." After signaling his cousin, the two dragons left the men on the docks behind and aimed for the shadows in the fog. Looking around, Hiccup saw Astrid, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut poised on the bay rocks with their dragons, ready to strike. Then they entered the thick, choking veil of smoke.

Toothless and Fireworm were dragons, and perfectly fine with the toxic gases that flew into their mouths, but both of their riders were straight to coughing, and tried hard to breathe through their shirts during the scouting. Turned out the foreign sailors were sensitive to the smoke as well: the ships had stopped while the rowers and crew tried to get themselves organized and in clean breath.

Hiccup made mental notes as he observed the strange men. Spears, helmets protecting the face on all of them, definitely not a peace trip. There looked to be maybe a hundred men on the deck, maybe another hundred below. He couldn't tell who they were until he looked up to the captain of the ship at the bow.

Roman helmet, he thought. With those stupid feather things. He had the information he needed, all that was left was to signal his cousin and return to the docks. But he was just a little late.

"Draconis, draconis!!" One of the soliders shouted out loud, pointing in the direction opposite Hiccup. Within seconds, the smoke in front of the man's finger lit up in flames as Snotface panicked and landed on the side of the boat. The only part of the boy's dragon that wasn't burning was his back ridge, where the rider sat. Fireworm was always an excitable dragon, roaring into the frightened faces of the Romans, knocking a few over the other side. Hiccup knew that this would only end badly.

From the shore, the Vikings heard screams and roars, then the sound of a quick explosion as Toothless fired a precise shot through both of the sails. Not waiting around for orders, Astrid and Adlina jumped from their perch and into the smoke as well, with Ruffnutt and Tuffnutt (and their Zippleback Crunch and Punch) following right behind. Stocik couldn't believe his eyes as all of the dragon riders in the bay took aim for the Roman fleet. It was a Viking free-for all… and the chief wasn't part of it.

"All warriors, into the ships!" he ordered, and all of his soldiers did as they were told, each one that boarded more excited for battle than the last.

The Romans, unable to see very well but still aware of the danger, scrambled in every which way, trying desperately to get their hands on a weapon or to find the door below deck. The sails of the lead ship were in a flaming ruin thanks to Toothless, so they weren't going anywhere.

Hiccup and Snotface both landed on the deck and kept the soldiers off of each other's backs. The Romans went flying into the water, into each other, and one even flew far and landed on another ship. Within seconds, there was one man left, shaking at the sight of Toothless' razor-sharp teeth gnashing before him. But he swallowed and held his head up high, confident that showing bravery will keep him from harm.

"Ahge," he spat. "Fac ut gaudeam."

The Night Fury had been planning to shoot the man's head off, but instead roared as loud as he could, blowing his enemy's hair almost clear off and into the water, before deciding not to stick around any further.

In the hull of the ship, a crowd of people listened to the chaos above. They wished that they could run to the deck and jump off, or commandeer the boat and get out of there, but they were all shackled to the wall, helpless. Not even the cowardly officers who ran down there for refuge gave them a second glance. They weren't important. At least, not until one of them turned out to be free, and could use his chains to take them out. It was a short scuffle, but with only a few bruises, the young slave named Caedon was able to escape to the deck.

Astrid had the right trailing ship with another dragon rider named Oddveig, while Ruff n' Tuff, along with a boy named Taltear, took the third one. Both of the boats were smaller than the first one, and were in flames before the invaders knew what was happening. By the time the Viking ships arrived to raid, those remaining Roman soldiers were only cowering in fear. Once the smoke was cleared, and the ships were clearly taken by the warriors of Berk, Hiccup landed Toothless by his father, who was watching the Roman soldiers who could swim try to make a break for the rocks.

"Dad, is it over?" he asked tentatively. Stoick was always a thorough warrior, and never left a single rock unturned until every last thing was taken care of.

"As soon as the bellies of the ships are cleared, it will be." The chief turned to his son and nodded. "You did a fine job."

"Sir!" One of the warriors lumbered out from below deck. "We found prisoners in the hull, and this boy tried to fight us off."

Up next came a brown-haired youth with a curved nose and blood over his left eye, the work of a Viking fist. They threw him onto his knees and pointed their swords to his back, and when the prisoner looked into the furious eyes of Stoick the Vast, he looked to the floor immediately and began babbling.

"Faðer uor som ast i himlüm, halgað warðe þit nama. Tilkomme þit rikie. Skie þin uilie so som i himmalan so oh bo iordanne."

The warriors of Berk looked on and listened in astonishment. Hiccup couldn't understand a word himself, but Fishlegs, who was among those on the ships, could.

"He's speaking Germanic," the large boy noted, and everyone nodded.

"Wort dahliha broð gif os i dah. Oh forlat os uora skuldar so som oh ui forlate þem os skuüldihi are."

"Some sort of prayer."

"Oh inleð os ikkie i frestalsan utan frels os ifra ondo."

"Can you make him stop?" The chief asked.

"I sure can." Snotface interrupted and strode up to the prisoner with a hand raised.

"Tü rikiað ar þit oh mahtan oh harlihheten i ewihhet." The youth looked up the warrior-boy about to slap him. "Aman."

The Viking stopped with his hand still raised, but put it down again.

"You done?" The boy just looked at his menacing captors, silent.

Hiccup couldn't take it anymore, pushing Snotface away from the prisoner, and kneeling down so that he was level with the boy's eyes.

"Don't worry, we're not here to hurt you."

He only got the same blank stare back.

"Do you speak any Norse?"

Apparently, the captive realized the futility of it all, and coughed out a broken word. "Little."

"Okay," Hiccup said. That was a start. "What is your name?" He used his hands to emphasize what he meant.

"Um… Caedon."

His new Viking friend smiled. "Well, Caedon, my name is Hiccup. Welcome to Berk."

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

- Grendel and his mother are from the legend of Beowulf. Two hideously deformed monsters in the mountains of Scandinavia, they terrorized a king until the mighty warrior Beowulf worked for years to kill them both. In the end, Beowulf is killed by Grendel's mother's second son, the Golden Dragon.

- I mention the Scots because, by this time, the British Isles were no longer Roman-controlled (in fact, the empire is in decline), and Viking-formed nations like Norway were at war with them around the year 900 AD. Assuming that Hiccup lives around 850 AD, there are just some tensions.

- The Roman soldier spits "Go ahead. Make my day."

- Caedon is reciting the Lord's Prayer in Germanic Norse, as opposed to Icelandic Norse, which are surprisingly different from each other. Christianity is by now a very rapidly rising religion.