Disclaimer: How to Train Your Dragon and all related characters and events belong to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks Animation.

Prologue:

This is Berk. In the past, it has been described as difficult, problematic, uncomfortable, even miserable. True, life here is a constant struggle for survival: where once we contended with dragon raids and tribal hostilities, we now face such mundane problems as crop failure, frozen wells, house fires, and domestic troubles.

But life isn't all toil, sweat, and hardship: there's the sweetness of familial love, the satisfaction of individual accomplishment, the daily wonder of living with dragons, and the excitement of the annual Dragon Races. These have become a cornerstone of our society and a highlight of the year: every summer, the youth of the village, led by its completely irrepressible chief, mount their fiery, winged steeds for several rounds of healthy competition. Dragon Races mean village holidays, a break from daily drudgery, and a chance to let it all out in wild, whooping exuberance.

It's been over a year since I last participated. Sometimes I miss it, the thrill of the chase, the rush of adrenaline, the euphoria of victory. But it is for the best, and I shouldn't be wistful; my priorities have changed with time. Stormfly races with my sister Brenna: she's talented, driven, and determined to carry on the family reputation. This is her first summer competing, and she is doing her training proud. As for me, I have two much bigger responsibilities to look after: my husband Hiccup, who will take any risk and try any daredevil stunt just for the adrenaline rush; and our beautiful son Erling Stoick Haddock, six months old, healthy, and full of energy. Giving up Dragon Racing was a small price to pay for such a gift.

Chapter 1:

Astrid sat on the chieftain's platform, her babe in her arms, hearing the roar of the crowd, the whistle of wind over dragon wings, and the occasional soft thump of a sheep hitting the nets. The final Dragon Race of the summer was the most exciting the village had seen for some time. Hiccup was winning, but only just; Gustav, Brenna, Gunnar, and Ingmar were close behind, all of them vying to outdo each other and their chief. They were the crème de la crème, the best that Berk's Dragon Academy could offer. And they were doing their teacher very proud.

They raced around the island's perimeter, buzzing rooftops, narrowly avoiding sea-stacks, trading insults and friendly jibes when they got close enough. The sun shone high in the sky, its rays alighting on wings and faces streaked with vibrant and barbaric racing paint, and glittering on the water. The day was perfect, the sunshine reflecting the general mood and painting Berk in the vivid colors of late summer.

From the stands, the villagers cheered and roared, gasping at every feat of aerial skill, urging their favorites on, here and there passing friendly wagers back and forth. Fishlegs Ingerman, as the headmaster of the Dragon Academy, officiated from the center of the main platform, his head bobbing up and down in excitement as he counted off each lap in succession. Snotlout Jorgenson sat next to his father Spitelout, drinking and laughing and occasionally sparing the race some attention. The Thorston twins lurked in the crowd, popping up in a new location from time to time, Tuffnut keeping a running commentary on the events of the game.

Astrid grinned broadly, bouncing the baby up and down and cheering just as loudly as the rest of the village. At the end of a long, warm summer, with her husband soaring triumphantly over the sea of faces and her child giggling with delight, it was a good day to be alive.

Astrid woke early the next morning, her arms stiff and hair all awry. The baby was fretting softly in his cradle, proclaiming his hunger to the new dawn. Astrid rose and lifted him gently, settling herself back on the bed and unlacing her nightdress to suckle him. Her movements woke Hiccup, who stirred and yawned.

"Good morning, beautiful," he croaked, rolling over to look up at her face. "Both of you."

"You're looking rather handsome yourself," she returned drily. His hair, ordinarily windblown, was a riot of wiry spikes, stubby braids, and flattened waves, his eyes gummy from sleep. The effect was something akin to a yak in a rainstorm. Astrid stifled a laugh at the thought.

Seeing her smile, Hiccup raised himself on one elbow and kissed her before plopping back down and stroking the baby's fuzz of red hair. "Good morning, Erling, pride of our lives," he whispered and kissed the baby's head.

"Don't you think that's a big expectation for our son to fill?" Astrid asked, rocking back and forth as her child nursed.

"No," Hiccup returned, quietly but firmly. "Just telling him that I love him and I'm proud of him, no matter his size or his skill or his strength."

Astrid understood; Hiccup had few regrets in his life, but the greatest of them concerned his relationship with his own dead father.

"So," he said, rising and changing the subject abruptly, "what monumental tasks lie before us today?" There was eagerness in his voice.

Astrid shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Have you forgotten what day it is?"

He paused in the process of attaching his metal foot and regarded her quizzically.

"Hiccup, it's the first day after the second full moon after Mid-Summer," she explained patiently. When her answer met with a look of confusion, she gave up and baldly stated, "The first day of harvest. I knew you would forget."

"Well then, it's a good thing I have you to remind me," he teased, snapping the last buckle into place and standing up with an air of unconcerned nonchalance.

Finding Erling asleep, she rose and laid him back in his cradle. Then, approaching her husband, she embraced him from behind, laying her head between his shoulder blades.

"I was hoping we could start the harvest together," she murmured, breathing in his scent. "Like starting a family tradition. What do you say?"

At this Hiccup turned and put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Astrid. Fishlegs is busy today, and with winter coming we'll soon run out of opportunities for Dragon Training." He paused. "I promised to take the top class to Changewing Island today for a training mission."

"Oh," she said in a small voice. Then she frowned, thinking. "Changewing Island? I thought you decided nobody could go there. It's too dangerous."

He shrugged. "They won't know to avoid if they don't know where it is. The last thing we want is another 'stone of good fortune' incident."

Astrid grimaced, remembering all too well. That had been a disastrous day. "What happened to 'occupational hazard'?" she asked, attempting to lighten the mood somewhat.

"We're not gonna' disturb the Changewings, just look at the island and go over a few relevant points."

"Don't forget to mention 'invisible' and 'hot acid-spitting death' and 'extremely maternal'," she reminded him, emphasizing each point with a poke in the side.

He wriggled, dancing away from her finger before catching her around the waist and drawing her close once more. "I hear and obey, m'lady," he said gallantly, "and I'll be back in time for dinner, as long as you're not cooking."

"Oh, you-" she growled, attempting to punch him. He caught her wrist and drew it toward his mouth, kissing her fingers lightly.

"Don't worry, Astrid," he assured her, "I'll take good care of the students, and we'll be fine."

She withdrew her hand. "You're the chief, I suppose. But be safe," she said, giving him an earnest look.

"I will," he replied, "I promise. And I'll see you later." With another quick kiss he was off, descending the stairs as swiftly and softly as his metal foot would allow.

With a tiny sigh of mingled amusement and disappointment, Astrid went about the business of preparing to face the day.

Hours later, she straightened from her work, wiping a film of sweat from her brow. A few feet from where she stood in the grain field, Erling cooed happily in his basket. It was late afternoon, and the first day of harvesting was drawing to a close. Astrid inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of the earth, the sea, the freshly cut herbage. Around her, the other harvesters also stood, stretching their aching backs and calling friendly jibes to each other. They had done a good day's work, she and the men, women, and children of the village. When Hiccup returned with the young dragon riders, he would be so pleased: judging from the state of the day's crop, it was going to be a prosperous harvest, with more than enough to keep them all through the winter.

Grasping her short scythe loosely, Astrid lifted Erling's basket over one shoulder and made her way to the stream that flowed parallel to the field. She knelt at the water's edge, cupping her hands to drink deeply and splash cool liquid on her face. Around her, the others chattered happily, their laughter ringing off the stones at stream's edge. The first day of harvest was a day of celebration, when those normally occupied by other tasks and duties pitched in together; after today, they would return to their normal jobs, leaving the tasks of drying, threshing, and grinding to the farmers and millers among them. But for one day at least, they all worked together. Mostly. Lifting Erling out of the basket and setting him on her hip, Astrid sat down on a large boulder to rest.

Sitting there, she watched the last few men leaving the field, her gaze drawn by a tall, muscular young man wielding the largest and heaviest of the scythes. He swung it in one final wide arc, shearing the grain off close to the ground. Laying the scythe down carefully, he knelt and gathered the loose stalks into a rough stack to be retrieved later. He stood then, his long dark hair coming loose from its braid, and lifted his scythe before walking back down the hill toward the village. As Astrid watched him go, she was approached by one of the village women, one whom she knew well.

"Mind if I join you?" Ruffnut asked.

Astrid shifted to make room for her friend.

Ruffnut leaned over to tickle the baby's soft cheek; he gurgled, scrunching his eyes and wiggling to evade her searching finger. Ruffnut chuckled and withdrew her hand, watching as Erling stuffed his thumb into his mouth and sucked contentedly.

"He's such a happy baby," Ruffnut commented, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

"He is, thank Odin," Astrid agreed. "I don't know what we would do if, on top of everything else, we had a frail, fussy child to look after. As it is, Hiccup's so busy I hardly see him from day to day."

"Where is he now?" Ruffnut asked, her long braids swinging as she surveyed the newly-harvested field.

"Oh, he's not here," Astrid answered quickly. "He took Fishlegs' students to Changewing Island today."

"Speaking of students, do you hear much from the Academy?"

"A little bit now and then," Astrid responded, shifting Erling so that he sat on her lap. "Hiccup doesn't have time for much more than the occasional training flight with the older students, but Fishlegs is doing quite well as instructor. And Valka is helping so much; she just...knows them. The dragons, I mean. So when she's not helping me with Erling, she's either in the stables with the dragons, or assisting at the Academy."

"And the students?"

"By all accounts, much sharper than we were in Dragon Training."

"Hm." Throughout their conversation, Ruffnut had been fidgeting constantly, by turns chewing on a braid, tapping her fingers on the boulder they shared, or stealing fleeting glances at field, stream, and villagers.

Astrid had noticed. "Ruffnut, are you okay?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?"

Ruffnut's face flushed and her ears turned pink. "No, nothing's wrong," she said quickly. "Everything's fine, why would you think something's wrong?"

"You don't seem yourself today, that's all," Astrid remarked, attempting to placate the other young woman.

Ruffnut stood abruptly. "I need to go, Astrid," she said quickly. "I'll talk to you later."

"Goodbye, Ruff," Astrid called as her friend trotted away down the field, wending her way between the neatly piled stacks of harvested crops. Astrid lingered a bit longer, enjoying the sun's last rays before it dipped behind the island's western hills. Standing then, she lifted her child up and twirled him around, eliciting more giggles. The two of them were still twirling and laughing when a small boy from the village picked his way through the chatting workers and met them at the water's edge.

"Astrid, ma'am," he cried, clutching at her skirts, "they sent me to find you. You need to come quickly!"

"What is it, Calder?" Astrid asked, recognizing Ingmar's younger brother. "Who sent you?"

"Ingmar and the other riders," the boy responded, clearly upset. "There was an accident; you need to come now."

Without another word, Astrid tucked Erling back into his basket and followed the boy toward the village, cold dread settling like a stone in the pit of her stomach.

A/N: This story is written in its entirety and will be updated on a regular schedule, probably on Tuesdays and Fridays. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!