A/N: Well, I'm back. Kinda. I'm just gonna drop this off here while no-one is looking _ _ and then sneak away into the chaos of college life once again. On the positive side, while I can't promise to begin updating regularly I am deliberately carving out a bit of time to start writing again. Hopefully I can fill this little collection of ramblings up a bit over the next couple of months.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except my car, and that's not in this story. Everything belongs to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.

How a Child of Death Celebrates a Night Devoted to Fear and Evil.

Life on Berk was made better in nearly every way by the addition of dragons, but there was one particularly odd part of life that changed drastically for the worse: Every Halloween, or All Hallows Eve, from the day the dragons arrived and forever onwards became the date of the worst hauntings in the Northern hemisphere, a maelstrom of chaos that consumed the entire island with the eye of the storm, the only safe haven, being Hiccups bedroom. Throughout all the years of terror, his room was never disturbed in the slightest, supposedly under the protection of death himself at the request of the boys Night Fury companion (lending a great deal of credit to the idea that he truly was born of the supernatural). Unfortunately for Stoick, that same protection did not extend to the rest of the house...

This story starts with a tremendous shout.

"Hiccup!" bellowed the large reddish mountain standing in the entryway to the Haddock Household. The reply coming from up the stairs was much easier on the ears.

"Hello dad, welcome home and whatever broke I won't fix it and I probably didn't do it…" This reply gave the giant pause, but his dim spark of curiosity was quickly overcome by a much more primal need.

"Where did my clean underwear go? I haven't been able to find any for days, and this pair is getting a bit worn out" A moment's pause as a sound quite similar to retching was heard from above. Hiccups voice drifted back down the stairs, sounding notably queasy.

"How would I know what happened to them when I can't even keep track of my own left leg?" was the curt reply. As the giant prepared his speech on responsibility, one of the candles across the room went out with a hiss. Grumbling, Stoick moved to rekindle the wayward flame.

"Only one working door in the whole house, and the wind still finds its way to the flame. Now, where's the… Ah! Matchbox, come to me." A quick strike later, and the candlelight fills the rooms corner once again. "Now stay lit until I finish my dinner, or I will have you exiled to the cellar." Chuckling at his own wit, the giant turned back to prepare his supper… Only to have his hopes of an uneventful night dashed by a peculiar sight.

"Hiccup!" The giant bellowed again. "Did you move the dresser in front of the door?"

The reply with enough sarcasm to kill a whale. "Oh yes, I regularly move the furniture. Especially from across the house. In fact, I was thinking of competing in the annual chair throwing competition just to show off." Unfortunately, viking have a much higher tolerance to sarcasm than whales.

"Well, if you did this then come down and undo it. Also, I forbid you from moving the downstairs furniture from inside your bedroom, forever. This night is already bad enough without you helping." Stoick returned his attention to food preparation, completely missing his bed in the rafters above. He ate slowly, thinking of the coming night. All Hallows Eve was falling on a new moon this year, which promised even more horrors than the last years full . Despite this threat, he was confident that his people would be secure. Their homes were all intact, their weapons sharp, plentiful and at the ready, and nearly every home had a dragon somewhere nearby. Overall, he couldn't have asked for a better state of preparation, and the spirits of the night would almost certainly think twice about haunting Berk this year. And with Toothless watching his son, he wouldn't have to keep a constant eye on him this time. Speaking of Hiccup…

"Hiccup! Stop moving the furniture, it's beginning to worry me!" Cried a Stoick who had just realized that while he had been thinking the entire table had moved from the center of the room to become wedged against the cabinet that had joined the dresser guarding the door. Stoick waited several seconds for a reply, but when nothing came he turned to look for his dinner, which had vanished from the table when he was looking away, and muttered to himself

"Lad must've slipped off out the window. He should know better than to go running around on a night like this. Ah well, Toothless won't let the demons take him. If Hiccup is gone, though, who stole my chair?" Here he paused a moment. "Hmm, maybe he did it before he left. It certainly couldn't have been the spirits, not with the devil-dragon guarding the house. Except…He isn't anymore... not if Hiccup is gone." Feeling increasingly uneasy, Stoick continued to search the room for his food, eventually discovering it underneath his shirt, which had been removed from his body at some point and thrown on the floor, though he couldn't remember taking it off in the slightest.

The seed of unease solidified into dread as he spotted the arcane shapes and figures that had been carved into his fish, along with a symbol of a horned skull eating the Haddock crest. His dread became a spark of fear as he realized that everything in the house not bolted down had become piled against the doorway, including the pants he was no longer wearing. He made his way slowly in that direction, wary of the pools of shadow that had begun to form as the candles around the room slowly blinked out. By the time he realized he couldn't move any of the furniture the only light left was coming from the brazier.

Realizing the room was cooling rapidly and finally noticing that he had been relieved of his undergarments, he moved toward the warmth of the fire. He put out his hands to the heat, only to realize that the closer he got to the fire the colder he became. As his eyes widened in what was rapidly becoming terror, the fire flared blue and instead of logs the flame burst from the eye sockets of a scorched, horned skull at the bottom of the fireplace. Jerking rapidly, Stoick gave a very un-chiefly cry as the skull seemed to rush forwards and explode in a bright burst of light.

Blinking rapidly, Stoick struck a match and examined the brazier, only to find that it was empty. Not just empty of fire and skulls, but of anything at all. Even the ashes had entirely vanished. Reaching in, he pressed his hand against the stones. He jerked back quickly, realizing that they was bitterly cold, as if they had come from the depths of the ocean.

Realizing he was bordering on frantic at this point, Stoick closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. He was the chief, and no one messed with the chief, spirit on not. His mental pep talk took the edge off the fear, and he stood up ready to face down whatever had dared enter his home. He steeled his resolve and opened his eyes, looking for the spirit… Only to come face-to-face with a dead man hanging from the rafters. Stoick called on his inner little girl and let out a scream so exceptional that there were stories written about it for generations. The man in the rafters jerked, his eyes snapped open and his voice joined Stoicks in a chorus of screams, ending suddenly as both men dropped in a faint on the spot.

Waking up the next morning, Hiccups first inkling that something was off was when Toothless was not in the room. The second clue was that his father was not yelling at him. But both these things only registered in passing as he made his way downstairs, where he was greeted by one of the most scarring sights of his life. His father and another grown man, lying on top of each other, naked except for a pair of clean underwear on each of their heads. Hiccup made a hasty retreat to his bedroom, finding Toothless heating up his rock in preparation for a long day's rest.

"Did you see what the spirits did down there bud? He had fallen asleep a bit early last night, eager to shut out the inevitable chaos that came with every Hallows Eve, but based on the state of the dining room this year was much worse than ever before and he was in for a long day of fixing things and repairing sanities.

Toothless, for his part, slept in late that day. he had had a busy night after all. The only thing that roused him was the sound of Stoick rambling madly as he was taken to the Elder. It was almost enough to make him feel regretful.

But then, what should Stoick have expected to happen, given his decision to invite the child of lightning and death into his home to celebrate a night devoted to fear and terror.