Heyo! Evening, HTTYD fandom. I've been an avid reader of fanfiction for a long time, well a reader in general, and I really enjoy a lot of the HTTYD stories written by people here considering I'm on here daily to read up on new stories written. However, a lot of them feel so, so heavy. Many of them are great, but sometimes takes away the magic of How to Train Your Dragon which is light at heart. So, I wanted to add a little something to lighten the mood with an idea I've had for almost a year now. I'll cut the spiel short here and only ask that you've watched How To Train Your Dragon before reading. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Prelude: Career Choices

I shot down a dragon...

I shot down a Night Fury!

I shot down a Night Fury and... let it go...

"Aaaargh!" Hiccup groaned and shouted simultaneously in the hands pressed against his face. His body was sat with his back against a tree not several meters from his village, Berk. The light of the moon breaking over the horizon and the torches of the village beginning to illuminate most of it. He slowly pulled his head away from his hands and stared pensively at his palms. They were worked, much of it due to his apprenticeship under Gobber's... "tutelage." However, they were far from callused in comparison to a battle born Viking that wield their weapon like a part of themselves.

They were far from hands capable of slaying a dragon...

His brows scrunched as he looked at those hands almost spitefully. Why couldn't they be meatier? Maybe then he might be able to hold a weapon properly, let alone kill a dragon with it.

And he could have killed one!

It was completely ensnared by his bola, his own creation! It was staring right at him and did nothing. He had his dagger in his hands and did nothing. Why did he do nothing? Those were the situations where you very much did something! Something like killing a dragon. Not just a dragon. The dragon! Cut out its heart and promptly deliver it to your chief who also happened to be the father you have wanted to make proud of you for the last entirety of your life. This seemed nigh impossible now especially now that he was coming home as a literal failure.

His arms fell between his legs, his head jerking back as he looked past the ocean line, the moon shining so ridiculously bright as though it were mocking him. Of course it was mocking him. His house happened to be on the highest point of Berk. It's not like there were any obstructions of him seeing it or of it seeing him. It simply rose into the sky, much like it did last night, but this time only to insult him. It was there to remind him of the day before where it was in the sky yet lent little to no help in providing proof to anyone that he hit anything at all. No, the moon didn't feel like being bright enough that night. But this night, it felt like being the sun! Bet it was jealous and is taking it out on him...

Letting a sigh drawl from his lips, he shook his head and curled a fist in his hair. What was he supposed to tell his dad? Obviously, he wasn't going to say he didn't kill the Night Fury. That was out of the question. If his dad asked where he went, he would say he went searching and that it only proved that he didn't hit anything. Solid plan in all honesty. Really, everyone, including his father, believed he didn't hit anything. Saying he didn't find anything wouldn't change much.

No, the real problem was any conversation after that, namely the one about how his goal of being one of them was an actual impossibility. How was he supposed to say he couldn't kill dragons, and how was he supposed to explain that? That was the head scratcher!

Oh, hey, so I really didn't hit that Night Fury last night. Also, I can't kill dragons for no particular reason like I actually found the Night Fury, which I didn't hit by the way, but also let it go. No, no, nothing like that! I just can't kill a dragon because... I have a bad leg?

He face palmed again with another audible groan. Lying. He was so very not good at it. Feeling frustrated again, he started scratching his head while he thought over what he could possibly say if it was ever brought up. It really was a thinker, considering not many people suddenly say they aren't dragon killers out of the blue. Hell, he doubted any Viking out there has ever said they weren't a dragon killer. He jerked his head against the trunk of the tree again, avoiding the moon and looking to the stars directly overhead. What was he going to do?

"Maybe I'll ask Gobber. He's probably got an idea at what I could be good at, because he's pretty good at knowing what I'm not." Which is a dragon killer. Hiccup picked himself up from off the ground, dusting off his pants from various tumbles and falls he had and took a deep breath. He'd at least try to figure something out before the morning. Maybe even a few days after knowing his family's conversational track record.

Walking towards his home, he couldn't help look at the moon directly across from him, so bright and honestly beautiful. He wondered to himself if the moon would constantly remind him of today. It was a pretty memorable day. Shot a dragon down. Berated in front of the entire village, though that was surprisingly common. Found said shot down dragon. Let it go. Walking home knowing he let it go. Promptly kicked out of the village because he let slip that he let a dragon go. Boy, was he not going to forget today.

The memory was playing over and over in his head as he opened the door to his house. Lost in his thought, he hadn't realized the flickering light illuminating the cracks in the door. He didn't even notice the fire very much lit in the middle of his house. No, what finally snapped him from his stupor was the burly shadow the fire was silhouetting. He immediately cringed as he looked at the door he had just opened and shut, wondering to himself if the man had heard it. Clearly, that wasn't the case because the individual had yet to turn. Then again, his father was pretty good at not noticing things, like him coming home.

Once he had noticed Stoick sat at the fireplace, Hiccup was infinitely glad he had oiled the door hinges a few nights prior. Several Viking slams here and there lead to some headache inducing creaks. It was really amazing that a door could survive a Stoick slam. His thoughts digressed as he made sure not a single noise was sounded as he tiptoed his way towards the stairs. The man seemed to be preoccupied with something, maybe some metalwork considering the caldron over the fire pit, or it was dinner. One of the two. Either way, he wasn't hungry for porridge or steel. He'd much rather proceed with the usual routine of very little contact where it could be avoided as he thought about how he was supposed to explain that-

"Hiccup."

Another cringe. Was crawling up the stairs on all fours too loud? Well, no point in thinking it over now.

"Dad!" Hiccup called out a little excitedly, mentally slapping himself about the nervous way he said it. However, this was the moment. If he could have avoided his dad, it would have been easy to buy time. However, if he was pulled into a conversation, then there was no way of keeping this quiet, not without proper preparation, and not with his father. So, instead, he was gonna attempted the Viking way... and dive in head first. "I, uh, I have to talk to you, dad." Without a paddle.

"I need to speak to you too, son." Stoick clasped both his hands together as he looked at his son. His helmet was off, which was a little jarring. Normally it was only off his head when he was off to bed. However, the helmet head did nothing to detract from the fact Hiccup's father was maybe two to three times bigger than him in height. If they were talking about width, he'd be four to five times as wide.

However intimidating his dad was at this very moment was not the point. The real point was that the man had something to say, which means Hiccup wouldn't be able to say what he had to say until the very end, and even then it would probably be one sided. He would have to explain it first!

"I've decided I don't want to fight dragons!"

"I think it's time you learned to fight dragons."

Both men's hands were stretched in front of them, their eyes going wide as they looked at each other, the words they both said coming out at the exact same time and hearing none of what the other said in turn.

His dad watched as Hiccup slowly crawled down the steps before he spoke. "Uh, you go first." Stoick said politely.

No, no, you go first was what Hiccup wanted to say out of pure courtesy, but thankfully he had stopped himself. He needed to go first.

Now, he just needed his own words to come to him.

"I-I was thinking... You know, we have a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough bread-making Vikings, or small home repair Vikings-"

"What are you talking about?" Stoick cut off as he looked down at him quizzically, trying to understand what his son was getting at. Hiccup looked up at him just as confused as he tried to piece together what he was going to say.

What needed to be said.

"I don't want to fight dragons."

The words came out as seriously as he could possibly muster. However, the words themselves were so out of place that the man started laughing lightly, assuming it was a joke. The notion was honestly a joke in Viking culture. It was so preposterous that it was funny before it was detrimental or even a terrible thought.

"Come on. Yes you do." His father continued to chuckle before lightly tapping his backhand against Hiccup's chest, which caused the small boy to stumble back a few steps. Height, weight, density... A light tap from a big man to a small twig usually did that.

Hiccup watched as his father began walking away and towards the fireplace, picking up what appeared to be the axe he was working on.

It was now or never...

"Re-Really, I don't."

"Yes you do." Stoick answered almost affirmatively, still with the lighthearted nature, but Hiccup pressed more.

"Dad..." The tone came out in almost a whisper, but the whisper somehow pierced into Stoick's head as he turned to his son, the notion finally starting to click that his son wasn't making his usual sarcastic quips. He placed the axe in his hand back down on the bench. "I'm serious." And now it was affirmed.

Stoick looked back at his son as though he were foreign. Surely it couldn't be so. His son wasn't really going to... no... He... he was raised to believe in killing dragons. He may have been born a little skinnier than... well... everyone, but he was a Viking. He wasn't going to turn his back on what was essentially in Viking blood. What was in... his blood...

"Hiccup, you... you really can't be-"

"Gobber..." His son immediately interrupted, his head hung low and his hands clenched into fists. Thankfully, Stoick paused in his speech, but it meant that he would have to finish the thought. "Gobber said... I shouldn't try to be what I'm not." He took in another breath and was about to continue, but-

"But Gobber suggested that it would be good for you to go into dragon-"

"I'm not a dragon killer, dad!" Hiccup shouted, leaving the man in shock. It wasn't the words that shocked him, but the delivery. Hiccup never shouted. "I'm... I can't kill dragons. I've... tried. I really, really have, and all of those tries failed."

Think it through, the cats out of the bag, now figure out what you can do...

"So..." Hiccup said slowly, praying to all the gods his father wouldn't interrupt the thought. "I was thinking..." think harder dang it! Think harder! "I wouldn't be good at killing dragons because..." I have a bad leg?

That's stupid, Gobber has a bad leg and he fights dragons too!

He's also got a bad arm.

Quickly, what would Gobber say?

Gobber would say he'd need a change of undies.

You're working with very little time here, brain, and that's what you got?

No, maybe not what Gobber would say.

But, what would he do?

What would Gobber do?

What does Gobber do?

What does Gobber do!

"I think I would be better as a blacksmith!" He almost shouted.

Stoick was taken aback, the look of shock more of a realization rather than woe. "A blacksmith?"

"A blacksmith." Hiccup reaffirmed while nodding his head energetically. "I mean, I can't lift a hammer or throw an axe." He started shuffling over to the axe his dad had placed on the bench, picking it up with both arms and heaving it to his chest. "But, what I can do is sharpen tools. I've also made an axe or two as well!" He almost cheered.

This could work. This would make sense. He was already an apprentice to Gobber and he already spent more than his fair share of hours in the forge helping Gobber with this or that. Sure, it might have not been a lot of lessons, but he learned a thing or two! Now that it was a possible career option that didn't involve dragon killing, directly at least, he could probably do it.

"Blacksmithing..."

"Yeah."

"With Gobber."

"Yep!"

"As your teacher."

"Mhm."

Stoick began moving towards the bench, Hiccup shuffling around him to give way, really needing to take a seat on this one. This was... this was a doozy of a conundrum. On one hand, it might just cause Berk a few less property damage, at least outside of the forge, and Gobber already caused some in there anyways. It would also keep Hiccup out of harm's way, and Hiccup really wasn't built to take on a dragon. On the other hand...

"This... fighting dragons is part of the family." Stoick gestured towards the house. "We're a line of strong and powerful Vikings who lead by example. We... Champions of Berk, as both chief and warrior." The words coming out more as passive thinking rather than being directed at Hiccup. Stoick continued to mull over his thoughts, arms now resting over his knees and looking towards the ground. Though Hiccup's idea made sense to him... for him, it didn't make sense for his lineage. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed his son's boots stepping forward. He looked up to a much more determined looking Hiccup.

"You can't help what you aren't." He said slowly, always going back to Gobber's words. Hiccup wasn't a dragon killer and he should stop trying to be what he isn't. "I... I'm clearly not good at dealing with dragons, and with how I am-" he gestured towards his spindly arms and scraggly legs. "-I may never be. However, a blacksmith? That's something I've at least showed some progress in."

The large man looked up at his son now giving his signature lopsided smile. Stoick could see in Hiccup's face that he was still conflicted, but it was a compromise that he had thought of himself and was honestly happy with. It was also a compromise that made sense and could work. After all... he was already in the process of it anyways. Might as well go the whole way through, even if it wasn't the same path as his own.

Nodding his head, Hiccup's father reached out his hand and placed it on Hiccup's shoulders before standing, his head nodding the entire way up. "Alright, Hiccup. It's clear that you've made your choice." The boy's smile was now beaming which caused him to smile as well. "We definitely could use another blacksmith..." the words came out slowly, almost heavy. The thought was still a tough one to make.

"Six limbs are better than two in there, right?" Hiccup joked lightly as he snickered, trying his best to keep the conversation not awkward.

Stoick smiled wider. "Gobber could use the extra hand." His eyes scanned down. "And legs." He began giggling as well, Hiccup following suit as they thought of the one armed, one legged tubby excuse for one of the fiercest and hard headed Vikings either of them had ever know. The light snickers grew into an eruption of laughter. Mirth now filled the air of the Haddock household. It was something the two of them needed, and honestly it came as no surprise that it was thanks to Gobber that they were laughing right now.

As Stoick's jolly roars began to subside, he turned his gaze back to his son, the serious expression dawning over him again. "Are you sure about this, Hiccup?"

Looking up to Stoick, there seemed to be a small moment after his recovery where he thought over the question. It wasn't long and it honestly didn't seem like a hard thought judging from Hiccup's face. "I'm sure."

This was the look of a man with resolution. There was no changing his choice now.

"Well, guess I'll have to break it to Gobber that you'll not take part in dragon training, but instead be a full and proper apprentice." Crossing his arms, Stoick was now looking at the boy judgmentally. "Although... will it be alright if you can barely carry an axe?" He raised a knowing brow.

Hiccup only shrugged as he leaned the axe he was carrying against the wall. "Hey, better trying to carry an axe in the forge than in front of a dragon, right?" the boy joked again. "Besides, it's not a lot of carrying anyways. It's just lifting, holding in place, and hammering, and I can definitely hold that tiny little mallet." He began flexing his arms. "You know, thanks to these solid muscles." Grunting noises immediately followed which caused Stoick to snort.

"Get some rest, son. You may be a full-time apprentice now, but it may be a little while before you get proper lessons. I've planned another expedition to the nest and Gobber'll be busy training up the recruits in dragon training." He promptly patted Hiccup on the back. "So, you'll most likely be helping him with that until we're back. It might be a while until you get proper time in the forge."

Hiccup began to fidget, a little worried he might be roped into dragon training anyways after all he had said and done. The concern was quickly alleviated.

"But, I'll be sure to have Gobber make sure you're not causing too much ruckus. Can't have you getting in the way of the recruits learning the ropes while you learn to tie those ropes around the maces and shields." Stoick laughed heartily while Hiccup chuckled softly in relief. "Gobber might have you moving things around in there, sharpening the weapons used, or even sometimes dealing with the dragons'-" Hiccup gulped. "-cages." and immediately sighed. "Make sure they're locked up tight, maybe feed them once in a while. At least until we're back, and hopefully with progress on finding the nest!" Stoick cheered again.

Hearing Stoick laugh heartily again, he determined it would be the best to finish up their discussion and go to sleep. There was no way he could deal with his dad giving him mini-heart attacks after dealing with a long conversation like that. However, it was a conversation that needed to be had. Honestly, it went infinitely better than anything he had predicted in the very limited time he had to think about it.

Saying goodnight to his dad and heading up the stairs to his room, he reached for the blanket on his bed and threw it over the side. Plopping himself onto the layers and layers of fur, it was time for him to think, really think, because this was happening. He was no longer going to be a dragon killer. He wasn't going to follow in the footsteps of his father, his grandfather, his grandfather's grandfather, and his grandfather's grandfather's great, great aunt twice removed. Instead, he'd become a blacksmith.

But, at least he's still a Viking.

Author's Note: Just to preface everyone reading, I plan to upload the preludes that will build the premise of the main story over the course of this week. After that, there might not be any updates for a good while because I want to finish the entire story before uploading it all in a consistent fashion. It's a bummer but as a reader, all I ever want is consistency with updates. What better way to do that than have the story done before uploading everything. Think of these as a teaser, and hopefully the main course comes soon!