A/N: So, I had this crazy idea the other day that maybe, just maybe there is another world on the other side of the mirror. And it got me thinking about things. Somehow, this little piece of...stuff was born from my thinking. I don't own the characters. Enjoy, I guess?

It is not fair.

Every child at one point or another says such things. Usually, it's said when being grounded. Being forced to stay in your room, no television, no friends, just you and the set of jacks you have hidden away under your bed for these type of occasions. Sadly, he only wished he was grounded; to stay in his room for forever – in kid years – to do nothing but stare at the four walls he had grown up with. At the moment, he was anything but grounded. The clouds were only a foot or two away from the window he sat next to.

Hendrick crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks in frustration. This was completely unfair, having to move. What was wrong with his old house? The country he lived in ever since he was born? There was no war, no real reason he saw to move. His father could've easily found a job back home. Why would he want to get one so far away?

He picked up his small legs, leaning them up against the seat in front of him as he slid down his own seat, almost trying to hide from the world. His father, who sat next to him, frowned and patted the top of the ten year old's flip flops. With a long sigh, he did as his father silently commanded and dropped his feet.

The flight from Iceland to America was longer than expected. Hendrick expected it to be no longer than an hour or two, depending on the weather of course. But, the weather was fine; seemingly clear skies, the sun just perfectly coming into sight. He yawned and glared out the window. They should have been in Burgess by now, unpacking what little stuff they brought with them. Which was only a few sets of clothes, family heirlooms, a toy or two, and all important photographs. Sadly, no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he begged, he was unable to stuff his friends into his suitcases. If one were to ask Hendrick's mother about the situation, she would laugh and go on about how he laid his best friend in the small case, jumping on the top while he tried to zip up the last few inches.

Slowly, he started to fall asleep, leaning his head against the window. The vibrations from the plane's engines seemed to lull him even deeper into the neutral darkness until he was finally asleep. His mother continuously turned and smiled every five minutes, taking a picture here and there. After all, her son was the cutest thing when he slept; face as soft as cotton, his mouth open just a tiny bit. It wasn't but two hours later that his face changed from bliss to fear. This being his first time in an airplane, the landing completely terrified him. He could feel as they slowly lowered closer to the ground, each and every mile between the grass and the clouds shot his heart. With tiny hands, he gripped the armrests hard, his knuckles turning white. His eyes darted from the window to every other passenger on board. How did they manage to keep this calm?

Hendrick practically pulled his father back down when they had finally landed and everyone began leaving the plane. He held onto the strong arm for dear life, his knees shaking as he left with his parents.

The sun beat on his face and arms harshly. Summer in Iceland was never this warm. Warm, but never like this. Even though he was wearing shorts, a thin t-shirt, and flip flops, it still was too hot. He rubbed his arm across his forehead. Sweat had already began to bead on every part of his body and he had hardly taken five steps onto American soil. Holding his father's hand as tightly as he could, he followed his parents into his uncle's car.

His Uncle Griffith – or Gobber as Hendrick had come to know him – lived happily in Burgess with a missing leg, arm, and slightly lazy eye. It bothered the child at times to look at it, forcing him to look at people's lips whenever he talked with anyone. His father would push his head a bit and tell him to look people in the eye.

"It's polite." He would say to his son. But, a habit was a habit and his father ended up giving him the same lecture every time the two talked. Which wasn't very often to begin with.

Griffith smiled as he drove, telling the three what he could about the city. He looked into the mirror and stared at Hendrick's reflection. "There are some kids down the road from your house." He said, trying to cheer the poor kid up. "About your age."

Val, Hendrick's mother, smiled and tapped her son's bare knee. "You hear that?"

Hendrick looked up at her and blinked, clearly not hearing his Uncle. She smiled and continued. "Kids your age not too far from the house."

The news didn't seem to make him any happier. In fact, it caused his depressing gaze to move from the window to his feet. The action made his mother frown. "Hendrick, I know this is hard for you."

"You don't know, mom." The child played with the hem of his shirt, twisting it around his fingers and rubbing the base of his nails against the stitching. "Nobody will want to be my friend." His accent was still thick and made many of the words sound odd.

Val rubbed her child's back, sending him a small – rather forced – smile. "I'm sure somebody will want to be your friend. It's a new land, full of wonders."

"America is not mystical, mom. There's nothing special about it."

Steinn looked over at his mopping son, shaking his head. He was silent when it came to such things as soothing the boy. His wife was much better suited for the job as he would just seem to make it worse. Even when Hendrick was only a few months old, it was hard for him to rock the baby to sleep. After years of wondering, he figured it must have been his hulking size scaring the poor thing.

Griffith's smile became smaller as he pulled up into the drive way. "Well," He sighed and turned to look at the three. "here we are. Home sweet home."

"Thank you, Gobber." Val said happily.

Hendrick did not hesitate climbing out of the car and looking up at the three story building. It was rather old, the white paint chipping off the wonderful designs that were carved into the centuries old wood. The front door shined in his face and gracefully showed off it's stained glass. Twisting the brass knob, he gawked at the rugged stairs and beautifully crafted ceilings. This wasn't a house; it was a masterpiece. If anything, this house should be shown to the public.

He ignored the three adults talking as they walked in, heading straight into what he could only guess was the living room. The fire place was perfectly sculpted from marble and was what every child sees in Christmas time cartoons. Underneath him, the floorboards creaked. Great. There goes every chance of ever sneaking down to watch television at night. He sighed and rolled his eyes, walking into the next room. It was small but long, containing a table for at least sixteen people. He could already imagine it now; all those empty seats and spaces between each other.

The kitchen itself wasn't all too grand. It was simple; white walls, new appliances, the sort of kitchen he had back home. With a slightly heavier heart, he walked up the stairs as quietly as he could. His parents and Uncle laughed as they sat down in the dining room, not noticing the child move to the bedrooms.

Each one held a fireplace, a wardrobe, and an overly extravagant bed. He raised an eyebrow as he walked into one room, looking all around. It wasn't small, but not big enough to seem bare. The velvet curtains felt soft under his touch and it actually made him smile.

Tha-thump!

Hendrick jumped at the sound the ceiling made. Ceilings don't usually make noises and it completely caught him off guard. He stared up at the spot he heard the noise, waiting, almost daring for it to scare him again. Sure enough…

Tha-thump!

He tilted his head to the side and walked out. There were four more doors in front and beside him, only two had been opened. With shaking knees, he made his way around the fenced hole the staircase made and stood in front of a small, narrow door. It was plain, nothing too exciting. So, why did it make his heart rush and beat as fast as it was? His hand shook with anxiety as he grabbed the knob. Taking a deep breath, he pulled it open as fast as humanly possible. A bathroom. There was no way anyone could feel as foolish as he felt in that moment.

Tha-thump!

His eyes traveled to the door beside him. It was the same as the others; big, dark oak with carvings all around it. "This is crazy…" he mumbled to himself and rolled his eyes. "Maybe just a cat."

The house was old, after all, and maybe nobody has been here for years. The grime on the windows sure showed the neglect. He sighed and walked over, opening it with sarcastic movements. The sound stopped and left him in silence. He couldn't even hear the adults downstairs if they were still in the house at all. It made him shake a little and he stared to back away. In front of him was a set of stairs leading up into the attic. They looked even older than the house, dust caked on every step. He looked all around for the signs of a cat but saw none.

"H-hello?" He stuttered. "Thumping noise?"

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder made him scream. Val jumped and looked over her child, repeating the same questions over and over. "What's the matter? What happened?"

Hendrick shook his head and held onto his mother. "I-I heard a noise!"

"What's going on up there?!" His father called from downstairs.

"Oh, Hendrick just got a little scared! I jumped him by accident!"

The ten year old frowned and watched as his mother closed the attic door. "Let's not play around upstairs." She said, smiling down at him. "Now, come on. Uncle Gobber is taking us out to dinner."

American food tasted…different. There was a sort of sweetness and saltiness to it unlike the food back in Iceland. He took a sip of his water and nibbled on the end of a chicken strip, his legs swinging ever so slightly.

The atmosphere was different as well. Even though the lights were dull, the place seemed to jump with excitement. Popular music played and words scrolled at the bottom of a television that was hanging next to the bar. Most of the waitresses were nice, peppy, and polite while others were not so much; rolling their eyes as often as they could.

Every time a child passed their table or was seated not too far away, Val would tap Hendrick on the shoulder and smile, pointing over at the possible friend. He, in turn, would shake his head and return back to his dinner. It wasn't until dessert that she finally said something as she pointed.

"How about that girl right there?" She asked, smiling as she rubbed her son's shoulder. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Hendrick rolled his eyes. "Mom, really? I don't want to go over there. If she wants to be friends, she can come to me."

Val pouted. "But sweetie…please? Do this for me at least."

He looked up at her with fierce eyes, trying his hardest to stand his ground. He was not going to go over there. He was not going to talk to that girl. And he was not…going to say no to his mother. He did sigh and get up. He did walk over to the blonde girl about his age four tables away. And he did stumble over his words before an acceptable greeting flew out of his mouth. His accent seemed thicker than normal, causing him to blush and rub his arm when the girl asked him to repeat what he had said. They talked for a moment, just simple things really; each other's names, each other's ages, what school they were going to in the fall. But, he still seemed overly nervous. He backed away and waved his goodbye, bumping into one of the crankiest waitresses he ever did see.

"Watch where you're going, kid." She hissed, picking up the cups she had dropped. "Now I gotta go bring these back. As if today wasn't bad enough."

Hendrick looked down and tried to sink into himself, wishing some vortex would swallow him up. He quickly sat back down and shoveled the chocolate ice cream into his mouth. Steinn rubbed the side of his head and looked over at Griffith.

"Are you almost done?" He asked, looking down at his best friend's half eaten banana split.

The man nodded and dabbed the remains of whipped cream off his mustache. "I am. Once the waitress comes back, we'll pay and leave."

Thank the Gods. Hendrick didn't know how much more he could take. People at other tables laughed and chuckled, making him think they were talking about him. Some even pointed his way. Finally, their waitress came by with the check and a mop. She waited for them to pay – mostly waiting for the tip, no doubt – and began walking away. The boy looked up at her and mumbled an apology before leaving, hiding behind his mother's arm. Of course, Val patted his head and climbed into the backseat with him.

The ride from the restaurant to their new home didn't seem long to the adults. Possibly ten, twenty minutes tops. But, to any child, it was long enough for them to fall asleep and slip away into a fantastic dream. Where nothing embarrassing happened and everything was the way it should be.

"Looks like everything tuckered the little guy out." Griffith said as he pulled into the driveway, looking over at Hendrick through the mirror. "Poor little man."

Val smiled and unbuckled both herself and her son, gently picking him up. "Haven't held him like this since he was a baby." She whispered to her husband.

He nodded. "Thanks, Gobber. We really had a fun time." Steinn whispered before closing the car doors.

"Anytime! I'll come by tomorrow to help you with getting furniture."

The family waited and waved as he pulled out, driving off into the night. She looked down at Hendrick, holding him close to her body as she walked inside and up the stairs. The poor boy looked absolutely adorable curled up in his mother's arms. His tiny hands clutched swatches of her shirt as she laid him down, his father taking his flip flops off.

"Do you think he'll like it here?" He asked in a whisper, looking up at his wife. "He looked angry when we got on the plane."

Val shrugged and pulled the covers up over Hendrick's chin. "It will take time, Stoick." She said, using her nickname for him. "Everything will work itself out in time. It may take a week. Maybe even a month. But, he'll love living here sooner or later. Just you watch." She turned to him with a smile and held his hand, leading him out of their child's room.

Everything was silent after that. Even the boy's breathing and the wind outside could not be heard. His chest fell and rose at a slow pace, showing just how deep in sleep he truly was. Nothing could wake him up. Not the tapping of a tree branch against his window at midnight. Not the creak of the floorboards as the house readjusted itself at two in the morning. It seemed he could sleep forever without a care in the world. That is, until his throat began to tingle and his stomach began to curl.

He blinked his eyes open and looked around the room. For a moment, he had forgotten where he was. He began wondering what happened to his small bed, his toy chest, and his various dragon drawings. The panic attack slowly left him as he remembered the terrifying airplane trip and the embarrassing introduction at the restaurant. His cheeks flushed red as he slipped out of his bed, making his way to the bathroom first. It was small with a checkered tiled floor. The mirror seemed to be part of the wall, it's frame painted all around. It made him smile slightly after his business was done. Even if the colors were faded, it was still very pretty.

Hendrick yawned as he walked down the stairs. It was a surprise his parents didn't wake up from the constant creaking from each step he took. He let his hand skim the wall as he walked in, taking in the small details he couldn't see through the darkness. As soon as the doorway to the kitchen passed his fingertips, the carvings stopped and everything was smooth. His arm dropped to his side until he needed it again to open the cupboard and pull out a glass. He twisted the cold knob on the sink, yawning once again as he started filling his cup.

Tha-thump!

The ten year old jumped at the sudden sound, nearly throwing the glass cup across the room. He stared up at the ceiling as he thought of possible ways the sound could have been made. The house was old, so it might have just been the pipes from the water. His parents could have heard him and maybe just woke up. Perhaps something fell down in the attic.

Tha-thmp!

Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he just stood there, listening for the thumping again. He took a sip of water, placed the glass down, and played with the hem of his shirt. "H-hello? Mom, dad?" He called, coming out into the hallway.

There was no answer. Everything was silent save for the water flowing from the tap in the kitchen. He held his breath, waiting, listening for the sound. Slowly, he started climbing up the stairs, not even bothering to stay quiet as he did so.

Tha-thump!

He gasped, his head going back as he felt the familiar tug and snap inside his throat. Really? Was now really the best time to get the hiccups? Hendrick sighed and rolled his eyes, opening the attic door.

"Hel-lo?" He called out, hiccupping halfway through. "Is any-one up here?" His head snapped back slightly, earning a groan as he walked up the filthy stairs.

There was no sound of a breeze blowing through a cracked window or a cat running around the floor. There was just the subtle of deaf flowing. As if he was underwater, his ears completely exposed to the liquid. He rubbed both ears for a moment before continuing up the cheap, old steps.

He had expected to see boxes everywhere. Maybe a desk in the corner, perhaps a chair or two. Something almost everyone has in either their attic or basement. But, as he finally reached the top of the stairs, there was none of that. No boxes or desks, not a chair to be seen. The only thing in the dusty, old, moonlit attic was a body length mirror; it's glass clouded from the fading silver.

It stood there, not making a single sound. The more he walked up to it, though, the deeper his heart sank. His reflection was no where to be seen. Hiccupping, he looked behind.

"Hello?" The voice sent a chill up Hendrick's spin and caused him to scream.

"Whose there?!" He fell to the floor, looking down the stairs.

"Hey, this is my house. I should be asking who you are." The voice sounded muffled and it waved as if it came from underwater.

Slowly, he turned to the mirror, seeing a teen stand staring at him with breathtaking blue eyes. He gasped and hiccupped all at once, causing him to look down. This was a dream, right? There was no possible way for a…a person to be in a mirror. Unless…unless this was one of those haunted mirrors his friends back home used to tease him about.

He looked back up at the strange seeing glass expecting to see his own, nervous reflection. Instead, he saw the same teen; his leather cape coat and white hair waving as if he was hit by a breeze Hendrick could not feel. His lips were blue and his skin overly pale. The child hiccupped as he stood up, trying to swallow back the bodily function.

The teen smiled and gave out a chuckle. "Well, Hiccups, what are you doing here?"

Frowning at the nickname, he glared at the mirror. "My name isn't Hiccup, it's Hendrick. And what are you doing in the mirror?" He reached over and touched the glass. Ice cold.

He shrugged. "I don't know…" Placing a hand on his side of the mirror, he looked straight into the child's eyes. "I don't remember how I got in here. All I know is, I can't get out."

Hendrick stared up at him and tilted his head. This teenager whom had scared him looked frightened as he rubbed his hand against the glass. Only the Gods knew how long he had been trapped. And if he was alone the whole time, it could have seemed longer than his actual sentence.

"Who are you?" He asked, taking a step closer.

The other smiled, his eyes twinkling like snow against the sun. "My name's Jack. And if I could, I'd shake your hand." Jack chuckled.

The brunet nervously tried his best to laugh back but saw that Jack wasn't buying it. He rubbed his arm and looked down at his bare feet, embarrassed as he hiccupped once more. Not as bad as earlier, but embarrassed nonetheless.

"So, Hiccup."

"Hen-drick."

"Hiccup. What are you doing up here? It's way past your bedtime, isn't it, kiddo?"

He pressed his lips together in fury. Kiddo? No way. He was ten years old. Soon to be eleven in October. He was a preteen and should be treated as such. His hands balled into fists and he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll have you know," He started, very matter-of-factly. "that I am ten years old."

Jack tried his hardest to suppress his laugh. Oh, this was just too much! "Ten years old, huh?" He kneeled down to look into the other's green eyes. "Well, if you were ten, then you should know you shouldn't be wondering a creepy house at night."

"Yeah, it's creepy. But, I live here now. So I have to get used to it sooner or later. And I choose sooner because I don't know when I'll get to go back to my old home. It could be years. I don't want to wait years to get used to the creepy thumps; I'll get gray hair like you!"

"It's not gray, it's silver." He rolled his eyes. Man, this kid could talk something fierce. If he hadn't interrupted, the little guy could have gone off on a tangent.

Hendrick raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "Were you those thumps?" He asked, yawning a little.

"Well, yeah. I heard voices and decided to make some noise." He stretched out his hands, seeming to grab something on either side of him. Then, with tongue slithering out between pure white teeth, the mirror began to move back and forth.

Tha-thump! Tha-thump! Tha-thump!

"Okay, that's enough!" The child whispered. "You'll wake my parents and I'll get in trouble!"

Jack smiled, pulling his hands away and up to his chest. He stared down at the boy and noticed the bags under his eyes, sleep goop forming on his lashes. By the looks of it, he was ready to go back to bed. But, all he did was cross his arms back over his chest and give a sort of glare back up at him. It had been years, no, centuries since he had last seen a human being. The sight of Hiccup relaxing made him flutter with excitement and he sighed.

"Hey, you alright?" Hendrick asked. "Are you tired?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm not. But you are. Get back to bed."

"But-"

"No buts, Hiccup. Get to bed."

"Are yo-"

The mirror started rocking back and forth again, a clear sign that he should high tail it out of the attic. He took the sign and ran down the stairs, accidentally slamming the door shut with such force, a picture shook as it hung off the wall.

Val very sleepily opened her bedroom door and stared at her son. "Hendrick?" She whispered. "What in the world were you doing upstairs? Didn't I tell you not to go up there yet?"

He stared at her. "I'm sorry, mom. I won't go up there again without asking."

She nodded and looked down at the staircase, looking like she was thinking something over. Finally, she looked over at him, watching as he tip-toed over to his bedroom. "What were you doing up there?"

Hendrick blinked and looked up at her. "Nothing."

A/N: It doesn't seem that long on here, but, on my word document, it's about ten pages. Which is a lot considering I usually write about five or six. Should I continue or what? - ADAM

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