The Heir's Odyssey

Chapter 2 – Gazing into a Mirror

Hiccup Haddock

With the rest of the tribe too busy assessing and repairing the damage done by the raid, it wasn't too hard for Hiccup to sneak out. He crept along the outer edges of the upper village, passing the west side of Huginn, one of the two peaks of Raven Point. Built into its south side, near Haddock Hall, was Berk's main dining space, meeting place, and political chamber — the Great Hall. Even from a distance, Hiccup could see the stern faces on the pair of seventy-foot tall statues fronting the building. On his more bitter days, the boy felt like the displeased expressions on those carved, stone faces were directed at him.

Pushing deeper into the woods around the foothills of Huginn, Hiccup soon lost sight of the village. As Hiccup had chosen to walk along the west flank of the mountain, its wilder and less developed side, he found that there were no paths for him to follow. Instead, Hiccup relied on the map of Berk sketched inside his journal and his view of the mountain to guide him to his destination. It took him around half-an-hour before he reached Odin's Valley, a small but deep depression located between Huginn and Muninn. Consisting of a long and narrow strip of meadows and grasslands, with a stream winding along its length, Odin's Valley served as prime pasture for Berk's livestock.

As the dragon raid had ended at sunrise, the farmers had deemed it safe to let their herds and flocks out into Odin's Valley to graze. Herds of red cows grazed near the stream, each herd divided into groups of two or three animals. Flocks of white sheep fed in the meadows, each member of the flock not straying from the group. Herds of white goats browsed the foothills, each herd spread out, with the animals grazing individually. Protecting the livestock and keeping them separate from one another were a few herding dogs. The farmers were, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. The last thing Hiccup needed was someone telling his father that he had snuck out of the house mere moments after Gobber had taken him home.

The fifteen-year-old had to slowly wind his way around the livestock, making sure not to approach too closely, lest the dogs start barking. The long, narrow valley ensured that any loud enough sound would resonate and be heard from the farms outside the village. Hiccup hoped that he was far enough away from the animals for the dogs not to care about his presence. He also hoped that they remembered him from the times that his dad had taken him to see the herds. It wasn't like he was a threat to the animals anyway. Not only because he was the skinniest, weakest Viking around, but also because most of the livestock in the valley belonged to his family anyway.

It had taken him about twenty minutes to cross the length of Odin's Valley and walk across a wooden bridge to the other side of the stream. From there, it was only a short hike to get around the east side of Muninn and into the forest behind Raven Point. The hour-long trip hadn't been as time-consuming as he had thought it would be, but it had still taken significantly longer than if Hiccup had been able to use the paths on the east side of the village. However, he knew that the trip would be worth it once he found the Night Fury and showed his father what he had accomplished. He just needed to find the downed beast now.

The only problem with his plan was that the forest near Raven Point was massive, and all he knew was that the dragon was somewhere amongst the trees. He explored the eastern parts of the woods first, as the route he had taken from Odin's Valley had led him near there anyway. It was time-consuming work, searching the forest. He made sure to look over every rocky outcrop, into every dried-up gully, and behind every fallen tree. He couldn't risk accidentally walking right past it and missing it, not when he had told his father very publicly that he had shot down a Night Fury. All the while, Hiccup needed to make sure that he didn't do something stupid and get hurt, or worse. His father would kill him if he got hurt while sneaking out of the house, even if he managed to find proof that he shot down a Night Fury.

After a good hour of searching, Hiccup gave up on the eastern side of the forest behind Raven Point and headed north. That course of action didn't pan out either. At one point, Hiccup had even managed to encounter a pack of wild boars and then subsequently fled from them. They were definitely not the kind of beast he was looking for. It had occurred to him that maybe he wouldn't find the dragon anywhere on Berk. It was possible that the dragon hadn't been badly hurt when it was shot down, and that perhaps it had already escaped and gone back to its nest. Hiccup hoped that wasn't the case. If he didn't find proof of what he had done, nobody in the village would ever let him forget that he bragged about shooting down the deadliest beast known to man.

He tried the south side of the forest next, getting closer to the foothills of Muninn. By that point, it was getting close to midday, and he still hadn't found anything. The thinning woods near the foothills of Muninn made the search easier, but Hiccup still hadn't found any evidence of his kill. He had gotten his hopes up when he heard the noise of a branch cracking, but, in the end, it turned out just to be a doe and her fawns. Upon seeing him, they spooked and ran deeper into the forest. The boy was starting to lose hope of ever finding that dragon. Maybe this would end up being just another one of Hiccup the Useless' failures.

Still, Hiccup gathered what little was left of his patience and headed west. His stomach growled as he continued his exploration of the forest. The boy had skipped breakfast to search for his prize, and, by now, it was likely past lunchtime, but he figured that he might as well finish what he had started. A half-hour later, nothing had changed. The boy crossed off yet another location off the map inside his journal. Frustration welled up inside him, and he began crossing out the entire map with the piece of charcoal he had been using to mark his movements. Putting the writing implement between two pages of the journal, he slammed the book shut with his hand.

"Oh, the gods hate me." he muttered to himself.

Hopping over small boulders in his path and avoiding clumps of feather moss on the ground, Hiccup made his way down the gentle slope of a hill. The fifteen-year-old had already combed through most of the forest near Raven Point and just couldn't find anything. Hungry and tired, he had half a mind to just give up and go home already. It really was starting to look like this would go down as being another one of Hiccup the Useless' failures. If the gods could only grant him a small favour, the villagers would be too distracted repairing their homes to even remember his claim of shooting down a Night Fury. It wasn't likely to happen, but it was all he dared to hope for.

"Some people lose their knife or their mug. No, not me." Hiccup mumbled to no-one. "I managed to lose an entire dragon."

Out of frustration, he shoved a tree branch that was in his way, only to have it bend back and slap him in the face. Yelping in pain, he put a hand on his injured face and glared at the tree in question. It was then that he noticed that the tree next to it was split in two, its trunk completely splintered, and coated in a thin layer of red. Blood. Taking his hand away from his face, he carefully examined the scene before him. Something massive would have had to hit the tree to cause that much damage. Shiny, black scales littered the ground at the base of the conifer, and the soil was stained red with blood. There was only one dragon that could blend in seamlessly with the dark. These scales could only belong to that dragon. The Night Fury.

The impact of the falling beast had created a groove multiple feet deep in the forest floor. Along the gash in the ground lay a trail of destruction, gore, and scales. Jumping down into the trench, Hiccup followed it to the summit of a small hill. Using his arms to pull himself out of the ditch and onto the summit, he looked down into the forest below and saw something which made him gasp. The sight of the beast had him retreating back into the relative safety of the trench, the boy dropping to the ground to ensure that he couldn't be seen. Slowing his rapid breathing, Hiccup gathered all his courage and timidly took another peek at the dragon below.

At the foot of the hill lay the beast he had been looking for. Its large, prone body was caught between the tangled ropes of the bolas he had launched at it. The dragon was smaller than Hiccup would have imagined, with its sleek shape suggesting that it was built for speed rather than brute force. With its wings folded up and tangled with rope, he couldn't make out how large its wingspan was. However, based on the amount of folded flesh he saw and what little he had seen during the raid, Hiccup would say that the beast had sizeable wings. For the first time since he had fired the bola-launcher at the beast, Hiccup realized the depth of his actions. He had actually done it! He had downed a Night Fury! And now, he had proof.

This was the same beast that had been terrorizing his village for years. This was the same beast that all Vikings had believed to be invincible. And, Hiccup — the skinniest, weakest Viking on Berk — had shot it down. With the beast's carcass as proof of his deed, he could finally gain the respect of his father. He could finally gain the respect of his peers. He could finally gain the respect of his village. Maybe the gods didn't hate him after all. Maybe all of his trials and tribulations had just been a test of some sort. A test that he had finally passed when he shot down the biggest threat to his village.

Steeling himself, Hiccup then patted his vest until he found his dagger and took it out. Holding it firmly with both hands, he jumped out of the trench and headed down towards the carcass. Hiccup wanted to get proof of his success so that when he got back to the village, his father would have no choice but to believe him. When he reached level ground, the boy stopped for a moment with his back against a large boulder. Some part of him thought that maybe this was all some kind of illusion, that he hadn't actually managed to shoot down the deadliest dragon known to man. Nevertheless, Hiccup gathered his courage, and slowly made his way around the boulder, his dagger now clutched in his left hand.

A few yards away lay the beast's carcass, tangled amongst weights and rope. The young Viking finally took a good look at his kill. It was about twenty feet in length, with four relatively short legs and a long tail. Affixed to its body was a large, primary set of wings followed by a much smaller, secondary set. On its head were several fin-like appendages which may have served as ears. The shiny, black scales that covered the dragon gleamed in the light filtering through the cloudy skies. By the looks of it, its tail had suffered the brunt of the damage from Hiccup's bola-launcher, with the appendage covered in gashes and blood.

"Oh, wow. I did it!" the fifteen-year-old said to himself. "Oh, I did it! This-this fixes everything!"

A deep sense of relief filled him as he took in the sight of the Night Fury caught in his trap. Seeing the dragon lying prone just a few feet away from him proved to the young Viking that this wasn't some kind of illusion. The doubtful part of his brain that had been so active, mere moments ago, quite quickly became silent from this realization.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, raising his foot to place it atop the carcass. "I have brought down this mighty beast!"

As soon as he placed his right foot on the beast's side, the dragon groaned and used one of its ear flaps to slap his boot away. This action, and the ensuing shock that it brought to Hiccup, made him take a few steps back and fall back against a nearby boulder. The Night Fury was still alive! The young Viking hadn't managed to kill it, after all, only capture and wound it. Hiccup's breaths began to quicken, and he used both hands to point his dagger back at the beast. Though, that may not have been necessary given that the beast seemed quite weak from its injuries and was therefore unlikely to attack. Still, it wasn't a bad idea for the fifteen-year-old to be wary of the dragon. Trapped or not, it was still the deadliest dragon known to man.

The beast must have been moving ever so slightly all along. Hiccup had just been too distracted by the possibility of not being the village failure that he hadn't noticed. Cautiously approaching the ensnared dragon, Hiccup noticed that its breathing was now faster. It must have been resting earlier so that it could recover from its injuries. When the boy had placed his foot on its side, he must have roused it from its slumber. Examining the ropes, Hiccup saw that they were solid enough to hold the weakened beast. As his eyes passed over the dragon's wing and onto its head, Hiccup saw that its eyes were now open.

With the beast on its side, the boy could only see one of its eyes, but the sight of even one of them was chilling. Moss green with a slitted, vertical, black pupil, it stared accusingly at him. It was as though the beast somehow knew that Hiccup was responsible for its injuries. A series of quiet growls came from the beast, an attempt to ward him off, perhaps. The vocalizations weren't all that convincing, and Hiccup approached with his dagger anyway. The noises stopped as the boy reached his prey.

"I'm going to kill you, dragon." Hiccup said. "Then, I'm going to cut out your heart and take it to my father."

The boy didn't know whether he was saying this to convince the dragon or himself of his ability to kill. Never before had Hiccup killed anything. He didn't have the physical prowess required to kill something, nor did he have the ability to stand the sight of spilled blood. It wasn't very Viking-like, but Hiccup had never been the best Viking. And, in all likelihood, he would never be. Truthfully, the young man had been hoping to find a dead Night Fury, not an injured one. It would have meant that he had killed a dragon without ever having to swing a weapon or see any blood spilled. Unfortunately, if Hiccup wanted to gain the respect of both his father and village, it looked like he would need to make his first kill.

"I am a Viking." he declared. "I am a Viking!"

Clutching the dagger in both hands, Hiccup raised the weapon high above his head. He could do this. He just needed to close his eyes and drive the dagger down with all the force in his body. The blade would pierce the dragon's scales and plunge deep into its flesh. It would be over before he knew it. All he would have to do then is go back to the village with proof, and that would be the end of the story. The beast seemed to realize that its life would be over soon, and it let out a series of heavy breaths. Hiccup knew what he had to do and closed his eyes to avoid seeing the deed. It was over before he knew it.

A few pitiful sounds, that was all it took to break his resolve. That was all it took for Hiccup to open his eyes and fix them upon the Night Fury's own. Staring into green eyes only a few shades lighter than his own, Hiccup felt as though he was gazing into a mirror. The boy saw intelligence gleaming back at him in the eyes of the beast. The Night Fury knew that it was at Hiccup's mercy. It knew that it would only take a single swing of his dagger for the boy to end its life. The anger and defiance that had shone in its eyes earlier were now replaced with fear and sadness. They were many of the emotions that Hiccup himself often felt.

Those few fleeting moments with his gaze locked with the Night Fury's allowed him to feel a sense of kinship with the dragon. This was the dragon that had plagued his village for years, destroying all manner of Berk's defences. It should have been easy for the young Viking to swing his blade and end the dragon's life. And yet, Hiccup found that he couldn't kill it. He wouldn't kill it. It had always been so easy to get riled up and want to kill a dragon during raids, but now, with the Night Fury at his mercy, Hiccup didn't have a single ounce of righteous fury in him. The boy only felt like there was a connection between this wild animal and himself. Even the deadliest dragon known to man felt the same fear and sadness that Berk's worst Viking often felt. Suddenly, it felt wrong for Hiccup to have ever wanted to end this beast's life.

Hiccup brought his hands down from where he had been holding them high above his head, the hilt of the dagger clasped between them hitting his head. Pulling the weapon away and grasping it in one hand, Hiccup stared at it for one moment before letting his gaze shift back to the trapped dragon. How could he have wanted to spill the blood of a creature which felt the same emotions as himself? How could he have wanted to kill a beast which he had already wounded so severely? A sense of disgust and shame now filled the boy when he thought about what he had wanted to do.

"I did this." Hiccup said, examining the sight before him.

During the time that the boy had been agonizing over what he had seen, the Night Fury had already closed its eyes and lowered its head. The dragon had accepted that its fate would be decided by the young Viking. The only problem was that Hiccup didn't want to be the arbiter of its fate anymore. He couldn't be, not when he saw so much of himself in the dragon. He no longer saw a dangerous beast which needed to be put down. He saw a helpless, intelligent creature which was injured and trapped by one of his own inventions. Hiccup had been so busy trying to show everyone that he was actually useful that he didn't even consider just how callous and cruel his inventions could be.

The young Viking couldn't bear the sight of the ensnared creature any longer and turned away. He only took a few steps away from the trapped animal when it let out a pained noise. The sound was so soft that it was almost undetectable, but Hiccup had managed to hear it and turned back to face the Night Fury. It was clearly in pain. Though most of its body was unharmed, its tail, which, although was no longer bleeding, looked seriously injured. He couldn't just leave the dragon trapped there, where it would be easy prey to predators or any passing Viking. Hiccup sighed as he realized what he would have to do. It would be the stupidest thing that he would ever do in his entire life.

Running back to the Night Fury, Hiccup grasped his dagger in his left hand and took a good look around to look for any potential witnesses before taking a deep breath and getting started. Pulling the ropes away from the dragon's body, one by one, Hiccup sawed away at them until they went slack. He had just barely finished cutting the last rope when the Night Fury moved with unimaginable speed and had him pinned back against a boulder. One of its legs pressed firmly on his collarbone, the Night Fury's sharp talons digging into his flesh. As his heartbeat and breath quickened, Hiccup dared to look up at the dragon above him.

The moss green eyes that had been full of fear just a few minutes earlier were now filled with anger. It seemed like the dragon hadn't been as weak as Hiccup had believed it to be, and now it was going to exact its revenge on him. Staring intently into Hiccup's eyes, the Night Fury let out a low growl. This was going to be the end of him. There was no way he would survive an attack from the deadliest dragon known to man. Hiccup could already imagine how angry his father would be when he found whatever was left of him. He felt like his father would somehow find a way to bring him back to life just so that he could kill Hiccup himself for having been so stupid. Hiccup should have just walked away from the dragon and let nature take its course.

As the Night Fury opened its jaws, the young Viking turned away and prayed to Odin that his death would be quick. The blast of fire that he had been waiting for never came. Instead, the Night Fury roared deafeningly into Hiccup's face before turning around and leaping away into the air. Slowly regaining his faculties, the boy looked up to see the dragon flying away from him. At least, it looked like it was trying to fly away. The Night Fury wasn't having much luck with that course of action and hit a nearby ridge as it tried to flee. It seemed like it was still too injured to take flight just yet. As he tried to bring his heart rate back down to normal and slow his breaths, Hiccup grabbed his dagger and stood up. The dragon wailed in the distance as it tried and failed to gain altitude. Hiccup turned away and only managed to take a few steps in the direction of the village before he collapsed from shock.

The young Viking didn't know for how long he had been unconscious, but when he had finally woken up, the sun was no longer overhead. As the sky had started to take on an orange tinge, Hiccup guessed that it had been hours since he had fainted and that it was likely nearing sunset. He would have probably recovered from the shock sooner had he actually eaten anything before setting off to find the Night Fury. Rising to his feet, he checked that both his dagger and journal were both on his person before running back towards the village. His father's day usually ended at sunset, and Hiccup would need to hurry if he wanted to get home before him.

As he raced across the forest in the direction of Odin's Valley, Hiccup couldn't help but think about what had transpired that day. He had found the deadliest dragon known to man, trapped and at his mercy. However, instead of killing it and taking back a piece of it as a prize, the young Viking had instead found himself sympathizing with it. So much so that instead of leaving it to the mercy of the gods, the boy had freed it. But the most surprising thing that had happened was that when the dragon was free and had Hiccup at its mercy, it chose to let him live. The deadliest dragon known to man had chosen to let him — the skinniest, weakest Viking on Berk — live. Hiccup would have concluded that the entire thing had just been a dream or a fantasy had he not seen the evidence of the Night Fury's presence on his way back home.

Having reached the eastern edge of the forest behind Raven Point, the fifteen-year-old made his way into Odin's Valley. The livestock that had been grazing there during the day were now nowhere to be seen, having been taken back to the farms on the outskirts of the village. Crossing the wooden bridge across the stream dividing the valley, Hiccup headed east rather than west to ensure that he took the fastest route back to his house. Given how close it was to sunset, there wouldn't be too many people outside to witness him disobeying his father's orders. Leaving the valley, Hiccup rejoined the paths of Berk and made his way around the east side of Huginn. Although taking the paths had shortened his trip, it hadn't been enough to get him home before sunset.

It was about twenty minutes after dusk when Hiccup finally made it back to Haddock Hall. He was tired and hungry after having trudged through the wilderness without having eaten anything all day. Hiccup desperately wanted to head over to the Great Hall and grab himself the biggest leg of mutton he could find, but he knew that being seen in the village's main eatery would result in his father finding out that he had sneaked out. He would just have to make do with a piece of smoked salmon for dinner and wait until breakfast tomorrow for a more substantial meal. He really shouldn't have skipped breakfast, or better yet, he should have taken something, anything along with him to eat during the day.

Opening the door to Haddock Hall as quietly as he could, Hiccup spotted his father sitting at the hearth in the main room with his back to the door. That was a rather welcome sight since it meant he could still try to get to his bedroom before his father went up to check on him. Sneaking in and closing the door softly, the young Viking tried to make his way upstairs to his room where he could wait for his father to go to bed and then finally get something to eat. He managed to make it halfway up the staircase before his father spoke.

"Going somewhere, son?" his father asked, stoking the hearth with an iron poker.

Hiccup winced, realizing that his father had already gone up to his room to check on him and had noticed his absence from the house. Making his way back down the stairs, Hiccup tried to think of something which he could say to appease his father's impending anger. Regrettably, Hiccup was too tired, hungry, and still too much in shock of what had transpired earlier to think of a good enough lie. As he reached the bottom of the stairs and faced his father, the boy noticed that the chief had a neutral expression on his face. But anyone who knew Stoick the Vast knew that the man's temper could flare up at any moment.

"Dad, uh…" the boy said, his voice trailing off for a moment. "I just went out for, uh, a walk. You know how, uh, nice the village looks at sunset."

"Come on, Hiccup," his father said, crossing his arms and staring down at him. "You and I both know that you weren't out admiring the village at sunset."

He didn't even try to refute his father's statement because, honestly, that had probably been one of the weakest lies Hiccup had ever told. It wasn't like there was much to admire about the village anyway, given that most of its buildings still bore the marks of the recent attack. He should have chosen a more believable lie. He would just need to suck it up and suffer through yet another dressing down. As if one hadn't been enough for the day. However, the gods must have been taking pity on him because his father's next words weren't ones of anger or disappointment.

"Look, son, I wasn't waiting up to scold you for having disobeyed my orders yet again. Though I probably should." his dad said. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I was actually waiting up so that we could talk about something much more important."

The fifteen-year-old sighed in relief. He had at least managed to make it through the day without receiving more than one scolding. "I need to talk to you about something too." Hiccup said shyly.

"I think that it's time you learned how to fight dragons." his father said just as Hiccup was trying to tell him the opposite.

Had he heard his father correctly? Had he just said that he wanted Hiccup to learn how to fight dragons? Well, that would certainly be a change from his father's previous policy of having him stay inside the house, no matter what, during a dragon raid. Unfortunately for Hiccup, his father's change of mind couldn't have come at a more inopportune time. It had to come just a few hours after the boy had not only failed to kill a trapped dragon but had also set it free.

"You get your wish, son." the chief told him. "I signed you up for the next class at the Warrior Training Academy. You'll start training in the morning."

"Oh gods, dad. I don't know if that's such a good idea." Hiccup said as he realized what this meant. "You know, I think that Berk has a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough bread-making Vikings? Or even small-home-repair Vikings?"

His father didn't listen and instead tossed him a battle-axe. The boy almost fell over from the weight of the weapon thrown at him. "You'll need this." Stoick said.

"Dad," Hiccup stated as firmly as he could manage. "I don't want to fight dragons."

His father chuckled in response. "Oh, come on. Of course, you do."

"I'll rephrase. Dad, I can't kill dragons." the young Viking said, trying to get his father to change his mind. Hiccup knew that he definitely couldn't kill dragons, not after he had witnessed the Night Fury's intelligence and mercy.

"Maybe you can't now, but, one day, you will kill dragons." his father replied.

"No, dad." Hiccup insisted. "I'm really, very extra-sure that I won't."

His father left the dining table and turned back to face him, a serious look appearing on the man's face. "It's time, Hiccup." the man said. "You've wanted this opportunity for a long time, and I've denied you that opportunity for just as long a time. I won't be denying you your chance anymore, son."

"Can you not hear me?" the boy asked, exasperated at not being listened to.

His father frowned at his repeated objections and approached him, putting his hands on Hiccup's shoulders. "This is serious, son. When you carry that axe into battle, you carry all of us with you." the chief said. "Which means you think like us, you talk like us, and you fight like us. No more of… this."

The man let go of his shoulders momentarily to gesture in Hiccup's general vicinity. It was the same thing Gobber had done in the early hours of the morning. It almost felt like déjà vu.

"You just gestured to all of me." he complained.

"Understood?" his father asked, the man's forest-green eyes staring into Hiccup's own.

"This conversation feels very one-sided, dad." Hiccup remarked.

"Understood?" the man asked more firmly.

"Understood." Hiccup sighed, realizing that there was no talking his father out of a decision he had already made.

"Good. Meet Gobber at his shop tomorrow morning. Train hard, son." the chief said, grabbing a sack that had been leaning against the dining table. "The council has decided that we should make one last attempt at finding the nest before the ice sets in for the winter. We set sail tonight."

Having gotten his way, his father slung the pack over his shoulder and grabbed his helmet from where it hung on the wall. The man had almost reached the door before he turned back to face his son. "I'll be back, probably."

"And I'll be here, maybe." Hiccup replied dejectedly as his father walked out of their home and shut the door behind him.

The fifteen-year-old found himself standing alone in Haddock Hall, holding a new weapon and contemplating what his father's decision would mean for him. Hiccup had been desperately trying to convince his father to sign him up for classes at the academy, but now, he wasn't sure that was a good idea anymore. He had already faced one dragon, the animal completely at his mercy, and had chosen to let it go. He had witnessed the Night Fury's own mercy when it had him pinned down to a boulder. How could he reconcile what he had done and what he had witnessed with training to kill dragons? Suddenly, Hiccup no longer felt hungry, wanting nothing more but to go to bed and rest.

Stoick Haddock

As he made his way through the village, Stoick took note of all of the structures that would need repairing. The fires that had been burning had long since been put out by the fire brigade, leaving only charred ruins behind. The lower village, nearer to the coast, had been the hardest hit by the attack. Five houses had burnt down completely, seven would need extensive repairs, and eight had made it through with only minor damage. There was also the matter of cleaning up after the catapult shots that he had ordered over that part of Berk. In the upper village, the homes there had, thankfully, been spared from the worst of the damage. Only a few of the houses there had faced any damage at all, his own home included. The worst of it was just a bit of light charring on the walls. All in all, it wasn't the most destructive raid they had faced, but it certainly wasn't the least damaging either.

Satisfied by his survey of the village, he returned to the main square where many of his people remained gathered, even after the end of his son's public scolding. At the very least, they seemed to no longer be whispering about Hiccup, with the villagers instead worrying about the damage done to their homes in the raid. However, Stoick suspected that the few who had almost been flattened due to his son's mishap with the brazier would still be grumbling about it for a while. Thankfully, that accident had only resulted in a few dragons escaping, and a few burnt walkways, instead of bodily harm or loss of life. The chief made his way to the centre of the plaza and called for the attention of his tribe.

"Attention, everyone," Stoick bellowed, the crowd quickly becoming quiet at his words. "I am calling for a meeting of the Council of Berk in half-an-hour. I ask that all houses consider attending this gathering. The healers, the woodcutters, and those with damaged homes are excused from attending. For the duration of the meeting, the younger children who cannot be watched are to remain in the care of Gothi and her healers while the older children shall wait outside the Great Hall."

His announcement caused a new series of murmurs to erupt from the gathered Vikings. They were now trying to make arrangements regarding who would be attending the council meeting. Typically, council meetings were attended by the eldest man from each household, along with their best warriors and shield-maidens. However, in the last few years, it had become more common for some families to send their eldest woman in the place of their oldest man, as well as only sending one representative. The increased presence of women at the council was both a sign of social progress and of how dire their war with the dragons had become.

Crossing the main square, Stoick headed over to Gobber's workshop to borrow a few supplies. He would need them to repair the damaged front wall of his house. A long line of villagers had formed outside the workshop, Vikings waiting to have their weapons fixed. It wasn't that surprising to see as the forge was always busy after a raid. Bypassing the line and using the side entrance, Stoick entered the workshop to find his best friend hard at work. The man would have a lot of orders to fill for the day and wouldn't have the help of his apprentice. He wanted to go home and tell Hiccup to come and help Gobber deal with the workload, but he restrained himself from doing so. Hiccup had been disobedient, and his son's actions had nearly resulted in serious injury to his people. His son would need to face some form of punishment for his actions, and the villagers wouldn't appreciate the chief ending that punishment before it had even begun. Gobber was just going to have to handle the day's workload alone.

"I wasn't expecting to see you here, Stoick." the blacksmith said upon seeing him, hammering away at an axe blade on the anvil.

"I came by to ask if I could borrow a hammer and chisel, as well as some oil stain." the chief told his friend. "I want to fix the front of my house before the start of the council meeting."

"Like you even need to ask." Gobber replied. "Go ahead and grab whatever you need. You might also want to grab a bit of pumice to smooth down the wood before staining it."

"Thanks, Gobber." Stoick said, heeding his friend's advice and grabbing the supplies he needed. "I'm going to have to hang on to these for the day. I'll be busy with the council meeting in half-an-hour, and I'm probably going to help out with the clean-up, too, but I'll make sure to get them back to you by the end of the day."

"Don't worry about it." his friend replied. "I'll be closing down the shop to attend the gathering soon. If you put the supplies outside your house, I can pick them up myself on the way back from the Great Hall once the meeting is over."

Thanking his friend for his kind offer, Stoick headed back up the paths of the village to his home, supplies in hand. He would need to work fast if he wanted to be done before the scheduled council meeting. While someone else in his position might have assigned this task to some villager, Stoick felt that it was important for him to work as all his people did. His father had taught him that a chief needed to be fair and just, they couldn't just abuse their authority. It was a lesson that he would, one day, teach Hiccup, though the boy had already witnessed it in effect. Arriving home, the chief started chiselling away at the blackened wood on the front wall of Haddock Hall. Once all of the burnt wood was removed, Stoick followed Gobber's advice and used a large piece of pumice to smooth down the wall. Satisfied that the wooden wall was now smooth, he painted over it with oil stain, ensuring the wood was protected from water seeping in.

He had managed to finish his task within the thirty-minute window he had given himself, standing back for a moment to admire his work. Putting away the supplies he had borrowed near the front door, Stoick stared up at the upper floor of his house. He wondered whether he should go inside and speak to Hiccup, to try to get the boy to see that, as chief, he couldn't let his son's public failures go unpunished. He didn't get the chance to make a choice as the sound of a horn echoed through the village, indicating that a council meeting was about to start. Stoick turned away from his home and ran up the steps to the Great Hall, passing groups of older children sitting on the stone stairway.

Pushing the large doors open, he found himself faced with representatives from most of Berk's households, all assembled around the council table. He estimated that there were around one-hundred-and-fifty Vikings in attendance. Making his way around the crowd, he took his seat at the head of the council table near the back of the hall. Seated around the table were his second cousin, Spitelout, his best friend, Gobber, as well as Egill Hofferson, Helga Sigridsdóttir, Gunhilda Sólveigson, and Frida Blódsdóttir¹. The seat opposite his own, traditionally reserved for the village elder, Gothi Heilsdóttir², was empty. The elder and her healers were too busy tending to the wounded and watching over the younger children to attend this meeting. Though the mute woman never actually participated in the council meetings, it was tradition to allow the village elder to attend.

"Order!" the chief called, causing the Vikings in the room to quiet. "I call this meeting of the Council of Berk to order. We gather here today to discuss the damage done to the village in the last raid, how we will go about repairing and rebuilding, and what we will do to stop future attacks. Before we begin, I am asking for volunteers to go out and tend to bodies of our fallen warriors."

A few of the villagers standing around the council table voiced their willingness to perform the task. The chief looked around the hall and picked out the more responsible Vikings who could be trusted with this solemn task.

"Björn, Gunnar, Hákon, Idunna, Ingrid, and Sólveig, search for the bodies. When you have found all of our fallen, inform their families, and begin the preparations for their funerals." the chief said. "Ask the woodcutters to provide you with their best wood for the pyres and the shipbuilders to give you their best canoes for the funeral boats. The funerals will be held an hour before sunset on Valkyrie Beach, east of the academy."

"Yes, chief." the men and women chorused in response to his commands.

They quickly left the crowd gathered around the council table and went out the door of the Great Hall to complete their assignment. With that sombre task taken care of, Stoick moved his attention to the issue of the damage done to the village during the attack.

"The first item on the agenda today is finding out how much destruction was caused by the beasts." the chief announced. "Based on what I've seen walking through the village, most of the damage is concentrated over the lower village. I saw five houses completely burnt down, seven which were substantially damaged, and eight which only had cosmetic damage. The houses in the upper village just had a few blackened walls, at most."

"I'd say that's about right." Gobber said.

"Yes, but the damage wasn't just limited to the village." added Spitelout. "The Night Fury took out quite a few of our catapults, and the other dragons burnt down quite a few barns as well."

"Thank Odin they didn't get any of the boats this time." said Helga.

"Yes, and they also didn't get the chance to set fire to any of our crop fields." Gunhilda added. "I've also gotten word from the farmers that the harvest remains untouched."

Stoick was pleased to hear the women's words. At least some of Berk had gotten through the raid unscathed. With the boats safe, they could go out and catch more fish, as well as launch more expeditions to find the nest. With the fields still standing, they could harvest more food. And with the storehouses untouched, they wouldn't have to worry so much about how much food they had stored for the approaching winter.

"Alright then, so we have five houses to rebuild, fifteen homes to repair, and much of the lower defences to reconstruct." the chief concluded. "Now, let's discuss the second item on the agenda. We all know that restoring the village to its previous state will take a lot of work. Last night, those of us who were on night patrol discussed this, and Gunhilda came up with a good idea that could speed things up."

"Let's hear your suggestion, Gunhilda." said Frida.

"Yesterday, Egill raised a good point about how our building materials are located far away from the village, which will mean long trips carrying wood back from the forest." Gunhilda recounted. "Helga suggested we task the older children to do this so we can avoid having tired builders and too many Vikings work on the reconstruction."

A few villagers began voicing their unease with the plan, but the mother of two quickly silenced the crowd and continued her explanation.

"Like many of you, Egill and Spitelout were concerned that this would delay the start of the next class at the academy, so I came up with a compromise." said Gunhilda. "Only the older children who aren't enrolled in training will be asked to ferry wood back from the woodcutters' camps."

"That seems fair." said Frida. "It gives us more workers without having to ask too much of the builders or reassigning others to the task."

Many in the crowd voiced their agreement with the Frida's reasoning, the villagers now in favour of Gunhilda's suggestion. Not waiting for them to have the chance to change their mind, Stoick picked out a Viking from the crowd to serve as a messenger.

"Arne, go break the news to the kids." the chief ordered. "And tell the ones who are enrolled in the academy that they have the day to themselves."

The man in question nodded and left the hall. Arne wouldn't have to go far since the older children had been sitting on the steps leading up to the hall. There was only one more thing for the council to deal with, the expedition Stoick had wanted to lead. It was going to be difficult convincing them to approve another expedition, especially one so close winter, but Stoick knew he had to try. There was no way the chief would just sit idly by and do nothing while his people were mercilessly attacked by monsters, time and time again. If they didn't find a way to get rid of the dragon problem within the next few years, the chief believed that Berk would be overrun. That would mean an end to three-hundred years of the Hairy Hooligan tribe living on Berk. It was a fate that Stoick hoped to avoid by finishing off the monsters before they finished off his people.

"The last thing on the agenda today is deciding how we respond to this attack." the chief announced. "I say we gather all the warriors and shield-maidens we can muster and set sail to search for the nest tonight."

Anxious murmurs went up around the room. His people were, understandably, unwilling to risk more lives. Especially since the bodies of the fallen warriors from the early morning raid were only now being collected.

"Chief," Egill said. "You know that I would always follow you into battle, and, that I would never seek to challenge your authority, but is it really wise to send out another expedition this close to winter?"

"Egill makes a good point, chief." Frida remarked. "It's getting colder with every passing day, and it won't be long until sea ice forms around the island. What if we send out the boats and they get trapped out there?"

Some in the crowd voiced their agreement with the two council members. Egill had always spoken his mind, even when his opinions may have been unpopular, and Frida had always been an analytical kind of woman, always seeking the wisest solution to a problem. They both had good reason to doubt the wisdom of his plan, but Stoick knew that they had no other choice but to find the nest. This war had gone on for far too long, and Berk wouldn't be able to keep going like this for much longer.

"We need to strike back!" exclaimed Stoick, unfurling a map of the archipelago onto the council table. "Either we finish them, or they'll finish us!"

Looking down at the map before him, he surveyed all the marks that had been added to it. They indicated places where the Vikings had searched for the nest and found nothing. The archipelago was a big place, and even though most of it had been mapped, the location of the dragons' nest still eluded them. Somewhere on the unmarked portions of that map was the location of the dragons' nest. They just had to find it.

"It's the only way we'll be rid of them." the chief said, trying to convince his people to listen. "If we find the nest and destroy it, the dragons will leave. They'll find another home! Come on, one more search before the ice sets in!"

No-one on the council voiced support for his plan. In the crowd, nervous whispers broke out in response to his call to arms. A few of them looked like they wanted the ground to open up and swallow them to avoid the glare that Stoick was sending their way.

"Those ships never come back." one of the more brave villagers standing around the council table said.

"The only things that come out of those expeditions are lost sons and daughters." added another.

"We're Vikings," Stoick roared, unhappy with the cowardice displayed by his people. "It's an occupational hazard. Now, who's with me?"

There were no immediate replies. They all seemed to be mulling over what he had said. But if the looks on their faces were anything to go by, not many of them had been convinced by his argument. He needed to find a way to convince them to go for one last attempt before the winter. He had an idea of what could convince them, but it wasn't the most appropriate.

"Alright," Stoick said. "Those who stay will look after Hiccup."

That got their attention immediately, with many Vikings now clamouring to go on a search. Some were calling for them to board the ships immediately. It hurt quite a bit to see just how little faith they all had in his son. He may have been skinny, weak, and clumsy, but Hiccup was still heir to the throne. More than that, his son was still a member of their tribe, and that alone should have been enough for them to try to help Hiccup rather than be pleased with sailing away from him. As a father, Stoick had always felt like he was tugged between being too stern or being too lenient with his son, but when he witnessed things like this, a fierce, protective instinct roared to life inside of him. So, it was rather unfortunate that, as chief, he couldn't do anything about it without risking the disapproval of his people. Calming himself, he turned his attention back to the point of the meeting.

"I wasn't being serious." the chief remarked. "But I am happy that this has made many of you rethink how you feel about another search."

"So, when do we leave?" asked Spitelout.

"We set sail one hour after dusk, once all of the funerals have been completed." Stoick said. "Anyone who wants to come can board the ships, but I want at least half the council to remain on Berk. It would be too dangerous to have all of us gone at once."

Some on the council nodded their approval, but others looked miffed. He understood that feeling. As Vikings, they were proud to head into battle and would gladly give their lives for the safety of their village. But Stoick knew it would be foolish to place all of Berk's council members on the same voyage and leave the village without any leaders.

"Who amongst us will be staying back?" Frida asked.

"Egill, Gobber, and Gunhilda will remain on Berk." Stoick announced.

The council members in question immediately started protesting, but the chief quickly silenced them. He didn't want the meeting to descend into a debate about who would be more qualified to be on the expedition.

"Egill, I know that you have a cousin whose house was destroyed. Stay and help your family rebuild." he said. "Gobber, I need you to teach the next class at the academy. I am entrusting you with raising our next batch of warriors. Gunhilda, you went on the last three expeditions, let someone else have a go at it. Enjoy some time with your family."

The three Vikings nodded their approval at his directions, though they still looked a bit put out about being told to stay behind. It was always difficult to convince a Viking to stay out of a fight. Though it had taken the better part of an hour, Stoick had gotten through all of what he had to say for the meeting.

"If there is nothing else, I think we're done here." the chief said, looking for anyone who had something to add. "Well then, I hereby adjourn this meeting of the Council of Berk."

One by one, the Vikings began to leave the Great Hall. Some would be spending the day rebuilding homes, others would be preparing for their journey, and all would be cherishing the time they had with their families. Soon, the only two Vikings left around the council table were him and Gobber. The blacksmith was still nursing the cup of ale he had poured himself before the start of the meeting. It was nice to have some time alone with his best friend. Gobber was the only one he could talk to about Hiccup or the village without feeling like he was being judged. And right now, Stoick desperately needed to vent his frustrations.

"I hope you don't mind that I've asked you to sit this one out, Gobber." the chief said. "But someone needs to be here to teach the kids at the academy, and there's no-one I trust more than you."

"That's not what I'm worried about, Stoick." replied the blacksmith.

"Then, what is it?" he asked.

"Did it occur to you that if I'm teaching at the academy and you're gone on this expedition, then there will be no-one around to watch Hiccup?" his best friend asked. "Do you expect him to work in my shop alone? A forge where he will have access to molten-hot steel, razor-sharp blades, and lots of time to himself? I mean, what could possibly go wrong?"

Stoick groaned in frustration. It had escaped his mind that by leading the expedition and having Gobber teach at the academy, Hiccup would be left without anyone to watch him. It wasn't like the boy was still at an age where he could get Gothi and her healers to take care of him. And Stoick doubted that any of the villagers wanted his son to be foisted on them.

"What am I going to do with the boy, Gobber?" the chief asked.

"Put him in training." Gobber suggested.

"No, I'm serious, Gobber." the chief replied.

"So am I." his friend said firmly.

Stoick whirled his head back and stared at the blacksmith. Gobber couldn't possible be serious about this. They were talking about Hiccup. Stoick may have loved his son dearly, but that didn't blind him from the fact that Hiccup was the worst Viking on Berk. Putting his son and dragons together was a recipe for disaster.

"He'd be killed before you let the first dragon out of its cage." he stated.

"Oh, you don't know that." Gobber said, waving his flesh hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I do, actually." the chief replied.

"No, you don't." his friend insisted.

"No, I do." Stoick said stubbornly.

"No, you don't." Gobber repeated loudly.

"Listen, Gobber," he said. "You know what Hiccup's like. From the time he could crawl, he's been… different. He doesn't listen, and he had the attention span of a sparrow. I once took him fishing, and he went off hunting for trolls!"

"Trolls exist!" protested his friend. "They steal your socks!"

Sometimes, Stoick really didn't know whether Gobber was joking when he said things like that. Maybe that wasn't Gobber's first cup of ale, after all. But that was hardly the point. It didn't change the fact that Hiccup wasn't a very good Viking, and would likely get himself killed if he was put into training. The boy hardly ever followed instructions! How could Stoick put his son into the academy knowing that?

"When I was a boy, I never disobeyed my father like Hiccup does with me. I always listened to what he said, and by listening to him, I learned all about what Vikings could do." Stoick complained. "Even as a boy, I knew who I was and who I had to become. Hiccup is not that same boy."

"Of course not, Stoick." Gobber said. "He's his own person. You can't expect him to be just like you."

His best friend was right. He couldn't ask Hiccup to be a carbon copy of himself, but part of him thought that everything would be so much simpler if he was. If Hiccup was like him, then he'd be capable, strong, and confident. If Hiccup was like him, then Stoick wouldn't have to worry each time his son set foot out of their home.

"You can't stop him, Stoick. And you won't always be around to protect him." Gobber told him. "Let's face it, that boy has probably already snuck out of your house. You can't stop him from doing what he wants. You can only prepare him as best you can so that he is safe while he's out there."

"I understand what you're trying to say, but putting him in the academy, Gobber?" Stoick said. "I'm just worried. He could get hurt, or worse."

"He could get hurt when he disobeys you and sneaks out of your house, too." the blacksmith pointed out. "Besides, if he's in training with me, I can watch over him. I can make sure that he, at least, learns how to protect himself."

"Let me think about it?" replied the chief.

"Of course, old friend." sad Gobber. "I'll keep a spot open for him. If you decide to put him in training, just tell him to meet me at the shop tomorrow morning, and we can head over to the academy together. Now, I've got some supplies to pick up and a shop to reopen."

With that said, the blacksmith left him alone with his thoughts in the Great Hall. Should he actually put Hiccup in the academy? Would that be wise? Gods, it was difficult being a single father. Had Valka been there, she would have known just what to say. Alas, fate had been cruel, and the dragons had ripped his wife away from him. Shaking himself out of his anguished thoughts, the chief headed out into the village to help rebuild. It wasn't doing him any good to just sit there and wallow in his thoughts. He ended up working with Egill Hofferson on rebuilding the house that belonged to Egill's cousin. Though many in the village had avoided the family after the whole affair with Finn Hofferson, the chief had not distanced himself. The family had always been loyal, and Egill's tendency to speak his mind, even when his opinions would not do him any favors, led him to respect the man. Though they worked hard all day, they hadn't been able to do all that much. Much of the day had been spent clearing away the debris from the destroyed house, and then they relaid the foundation. They had only taken one short break for lunch at the Great Hall and then immediately returned to work. By the end of the day, they had only managed to put up a few of the beams that would support the house. Still, the work had been a good distraction from his thoughts. But, before he knew it, it was close to sunset, and he had to stop working.

Saying his goodbyes, the chief headed over to funerals taking place at Valkyrie Beach, east of the academy. While most Viking tribes outside the Barbaric Archipelago would bury their dead under mounds of dirt, the relative scarcity of space on islands meant that the Vikings of the archipelago preferred ship burials. He had always hated going to this side of the island, for it brought back too many memories of dead loved ones. Stoick's dislike of the place only increased after his dear wife, Valka, had been killed. Though it had been fourteen years, he could still remember the day of her funeral. As Valka had been a chieftess, the entire village had been present for her funeral. Gobber had held Hiccup while Stoick fired the first flaming arrow at his wife's funeral ship, tears blurring his vision. He remembered asking Gobber to take Hiccup back to the village so that he could say goodbye to his beloved wife alone. That day had been made even worse by the fact that Valka's funeral ship held no body as his wife had been carried off by the monsters.

Arriving at the beach, the chief shook himself out of his melancholy thoughts and focused on the task at hand. There was no use reliving the worst day of his life. His full attention should have been on the grieving families anyway. Their grief was fresh and biting while his sorrow was old but no less painful. Amongst the crowd was Gothi, the village elder, and Berk's priestess. She must have been done tending to the wounded if she was here to officiate. Upon seeing him, Gothi had everyone get into place for the ceremony. The priestess had the gathered Vikings recite a prayer to Odin, asking the god to send down his Valkyries to collect the souls of the fallen. Next, the families of the dead placed grave goods onto the boats of their respective loved ones, ensuring that their journey to Valhalla would be pleasant. Then, the eldest members of each family, along with their closest relatives, pushed the canoes out to sea with all their might. The boats drifted slowly, at first, but were soon caught in the gentle current that went past the island. Finally, Gothi signalled for Stoick to perform the part of the ceremony. Stepping forward, the chief took a deep breath before reciting the speech featured in traditional Viking funeral rites.

"May the Valkyries welcome you and lead you through Odin's great battlefield. May they sing your names with love and fury, so that we might hear them descend from the Halls of Valhalla, and know that you have taken your rightful place at the table of kings, queens, warriors, and shield-maidens." Stoick said sombrely. "For great men have fallen. Warriors. Friends. Fathers."

Once he was done reciting the speech, the man stepped back and watched as the eldest child of each family stepped forward with a bow and arrow. A piece of cloth was wrapped around each arrow tip, and, one by one, they were set aflame and launched towards ships on the horizon. These were immediately followed by more flaming arrows shot by the families and friends of the dead. Before long, the funeral ships were burning brightly, looking like beacons as they drifted further away. Many of the people in attendance had tears flowing freely down their faces, with the fallen's closest relatives near inconsolable. They stayed on the beach, watching the canoes disappear over the horizon, a signal that the souls of the fallen had begun their journey to Valhalla.

With the funeral now over, Stoick left the families of the fallen warriors to grieve in peace and headed home. If his son had obeyed his orders, Hiccup would be waiting safely at home where he couldn't get into any more trouble. The man thought about what Gobber had told him after the council meeting, that he should enrol Hiccup in the next class at the academy. He tried to imagine his son as a warrior, killing a dragon in the ring, but the vision never fully formed. Hiccup wasn't much of a fighter and had never really been one, and if Stoick enrolled in the academy, he would likely have a hard time adapting. However, his best friend had also been right in pointing out that he soon wouldn't be able to stop his son from doing whatever the boy wanted. Gobber had said that while he couldn't stop the boy, Stoick should at least make sure that he was prepared to live in a world filled with monsters.

He didn't know what to do. He desperately wished that his wife, Valka, was still alive. The village might have thought her to be a bit strange, but to him, she had always been a fierce, protective, and strong woman who could always be counted on for good advice. If he could have his way, Stoick would protect the boy until the day his son breathed his final breath. But that wasn't a very realistic prospect. The chief was already an old man, and he wouldn't be around forever. Maybe Gobber was right. Maybe it was time for him to stop shielding Hiccup from the world and instead prepare him for it. It wasn't like he had a better idea for what to do with his son.

Reaching his house, Stoick went inside and took off his helmet, placing it on a hook attached to the wall of the main room. His son wasn't downstairs, so the man went up the staircase and knocked on Hiccup's bedroom door. There was no answer. Sighing, he opened the door to find the room empty of all persons. It looked like Gobber had been right, after all. Sometime during the day, Hiccup had disobeyed him and had snuck out of the house. Part of him was impressed that his son had managed to get away undetected, especially given how clumsy the boy could be. The other part of him was worried that his son would somehow find himself in danger and wouldn't be able to protect himself.

The chief went opted to go back downstairs and prepare for the coming expedition to find the dragons' nest. They would be leaving tonight, and Stoick figured that he might as well use the time he would spend waiting on Hiccup to return home doing something productive. He made sure to pack a few knives, bandages, and some preserved food for the journey into a large sack. Stoick also packed a few extra clothes, as well as a map of the Barbaric Archipelago. Placing the bag next to the dining table, Stoick went to his bedroom and put the seal of Berk on top of a chest. If he didn't return from the expedition, it would become Hiccup's to use as the next chief. With all of his preparations complete, Stoick went back to the main room of the house and started a fire in the hearth. The chief sat down on a nearby chair and waited for his son to return.

It was a short while after dark when Hiccup finally made his way back home. The chief had been sitting near the hearth in the main room of the house, waiting for his son to arrive. He heard a small squeak from the front door, indicating that it had been opened, followed by a few quiet footsteps of someone entering the house. His son had closed the door quietly behind him, and Hiccup's near-silent footfalls on the staircase indicated that the boy was trying to make his way up to his room without Stoick noticing. Unfortunately for his wayward son, Stoick had already checked his bedroom when he had gotten home and had noticed Hiccup's absence.

"Going somewhere, son?" he asked, stoking the hearth with an iron poker.

In the corner of his vision, he saw the boy wince at being caught and slowly make his way back down the stairs. Hiccup had a panicked expression on his face as he reached the ground and faced him. His son probably expected him to start yelling almost immediately, but his talk with Gobber had been enlightening. Stoick was willing to forgive the fact that Hiccup had disobeyed his orders yet again. At least now he knew what he was going to do with the boy.

"Dad, uh…" his son said, his voice trailing off for a moment. "I just went out for, uh, a walk. You know how, uh, nice the village looks at sunset."

"Come on, Hiccup," the chief said, getting up to cross his arms and stare down at his son. "You and I both know that you weren't out admiring the village at sunset."

The boy didn't even try to argue with his statement, instead just standing there waiting for him to dole out a reprimand. Well, at least Hiccup hadn't tried to lie to him again. That was progress, he supposed.

"Look, son, I wasn't waiting up to scold you for having disobeyed my orders yet again. Though I probably should." he said. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I was actually waiting up so that we could talk about something much more important."

The fifteen-year-old sighed in relief, likely thanking the gods that he wasn't being scolded twice in one day. "I need to talk to you about something too." Hiccup said shyly.

"I think that it's time you learned how to fight dragons." Stoick said.

Hiccup seemed shocked by his statement. He understood why given that he had always told Hiccup to stay inside, no matter what, during a raid. This would seem like an about-face in how he treated his son. The shock would wear off soon enough.

"You get your wish, son." the chief told his son. "I signed you up for the next class at the Warrior Training Academy. You'll start training in the morning."

"Oh gods, dad. I don't know if that's such a good idea." Hiccup said, panicked. "You know, I think that Berk has a surplus of dragon-fighting Vikings, but do we have enough bread-making Vikings? Or even small-home-repair Vikings?"

He didn't know whether his son was trying to joke with him or if the boy was genuinely trying to tell him that he didn't want this opportunity anymore. The more he thought about it, though, the more it looked like Hiccup was just feeling a bit of fear for the unknown. Hiccup would have to accept that he was growing up now and that his decisions would have consequences. There would be no more disobeying orders, and there would be no more of Stoick fixing his son's messes. He was sure that his son's fear would be gone soon enough.

"You'll need this." Stoick said, tossing the boy a battle-axe.

"Dad," Hiccup said. "I don't want to fight dragons."

Those words made him chuckle. It looked like his son was still a bit too fearful of growing up. So much so that he was willing to pass up the opportunity he had been begging for.

"Oh, come on. Of course, you do." he replied.

"I'll rephrase. Dad, I can't kill dragons." his son said.

Well, that was true, but the whole point of training at the academy was to teach young Vikings how to kill dragons. And with Gobber responsible for teaching this class, the chief was sure that his son would at least have a chance to succeed.

"Maybe you can't now, but, one day, you will kill dragons." he replied.

"No, dad." Hiccup insisted. "I'm really, very extra-sure that I won't."

"It's time, Hiccup." Stoick told his son. "You've wanted this opportunity for a long time, and I've denied you that opportunity for just as long a time. I won't be denying you your chance anymore, son."

"Can you not hear me?" the boy asked.

The chief frowned at his son's repeated objections and approached him, putting his hands on Hiccup's shoulders. "This is serious, son. When you carry that axe into battle, you carry all of us with you." Stoick said. "Which means you think like us, you talk like us, and you fight like us. No more of… this."

The man let go of his son's shoulders momentarily to gesture in Hiccup's general vicinity.

"You just gestured to all of me." Hiccup complained.

"Understood?" he asked, ignoring his son's complaint and staring back at the boy.

"This conversation feels very one-sided, dad." the boy remarked.

"Understood?" the man asked more firmly.

"Understood." Hiccup sighed.

"Good. Meet Gobber at his shop tomorrow morning. Train hard, son." the chief said, grabbing the sack that he had prepared earlier. "The council has decided that we should make one last attempt at finding the nest before the ice sets in for the winter. We set sail tonight."

Stoick slung the pack over his shoulder and grabbed his helmet from where it hung on the wall. The man had almost reached the door before he turned back to face his son. "I'll be back, probably."

"And I'll be here, maybe." Hiccup replied dejectedly as Stoick walked out of their home and shut the door behind him.

1: According to the University of Texas at Austin's Old Norse Dictionary, fridr means handsome or beautiful, blód means blood, and dóttir means daughter in Old Norse. The name Frida is derived from the word fridr. When used as a suffix, dóttir becomes sdóttir. Therefore, adding the suffix -sdóttir to the word blód creates blódsdóttir, meaning daughter of blood. Given that the How to Train Your Dragon franchise takes quite a few liberties regarding the historicity of its depictions of Viking society, I felt that it would not be too anachronistic to showcase egalitarian membership for the Council of Berk. Thus, I created the minor, original character of Frida Blódsdóttir.

2: According to the University of Texas at Austin's Old Norse Dictionary, heill means healthy and dóttir means daughter in Old Norse. When used as a suffix, dóttir becomes sdóttir. Therefore, adding the suffix -sdóttir to the word heill creates heilsdóttir, meaning daughter of the healthy. Gothi is Berk's healer and religious leader so I thought Heilsdóttir would be a fitting last name.

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