Disclaimer: I do not own this. All rights go to Cressida Cowell and DreamWorks. I hope you enjoy this short rambling of mine. If you have any suggestions please comment.

Onwards…

Hiccup climbed the small hill away from his village. Berk lay sprawled out behind him as an old scar of brown wood against the otherwise green cliff side. Well, the term 'Old' was relative here. Hiccup's village had been around for centuries, but the only building that was more than three years old was Mildew's, the rest had been burned and rebuilt, only to be burned again. Leading to the uniquely Viking phenomena of an old village with all new buildings, but Berk didn't settle for being uniquely Viking. No. Berk was uniquely Viking in a unique sort of way.

All of its buildings were painted in dull colors; the normal lustrous sheen you might expect of Norse architecture had been faded black by centuries of dragon fire. That was really the only problem about living in Berk. Berk's pests were dragons: dragons the size of a house that could light themselves ablaze with even the slightest provocation; dragons who raided Berk's food stores and could burn down dozens of houses in a single night.

Last night there had been another raid. This one actually hadn't been quite all that bad. The only food that the dragons had managed to steal was from the chum buckets, and that could be easily replaced, and the only building that had been completely burned down was Dogsbreath's and in all honesty Hiccup was not overly upset about that.

Dogsbreath was a bully. That was all that could be said about him. He was a year older than Hiccup, and he picked on the young-chief-to-be whenever the opportunity arose. Dogsbreath had not been home during the raid, he had been picking on Hiccup and Fishlegs, Hiccup's best and only friend, in the evacuation shelter before the raid started.

That created an unpleasant night. Hiccup would have much rather spent the evening with a Gronckle than with Dogsbreath. Dogsbreath had been especially angry last night, he kept going on and on about how he knew that Hiccup had done it. Which was ridiculous. Dogsbreath had no proof that it was Hiccup.

Finally, the hill ended and Hiccup was able to see Fishlegs. Fishlegs was like Hiccup in many ways, both boys were not ideal Vikings, they both preferred to talk rather than fight, and they both thought that reading was a more vital skill than axe-throwing, but above all the thing that united them was their size.

Hiccup was small even considering he was only six years old. He was thin and short, not the best combination of traits when you are growing up on an island filled with hungry dragons. Fishlegs on the other hand had a slightly different size problem. He was even shorter than Hiccup, by about a head, but he was also substantially larger around his waist than Hiccup. Fishleg's parents were both enormous warriors, so it was expected that he would grow into a great warrior as well, and he certainly grew. The only problem was that he grew outwards instead of upwards.

"Which do you think did that?" Fishlegs asked upon seeing Hiccup. Fishlegs was referring of course to Dogsbreath's house which lay on the to the other side of the hill to Hiccup's right.

"I think a Nadder," Hiccup suggested. He had overheard his father talking this morning about how much trouble a Nadder had been last night.

"My bets on a Nightmare. See the burn marks around the building? They look like claws."

Hiccup's friend pointed towards a series of scorch marks that encircled the charred husk of the building. If you squinted your eyes just right they did indeed look like the tell-tale claw marks of an ignited Nightmare, but if you squinted your eyes in any other way the blackened grass looked like any other patch of flame riddled grass on the island.

Hiccup sat down beside the blonde headed boy and together they watched the reconstruction. There really was not much to do on a small island like Berk. Hiccup himself had already crawled and clambered around almost every nook and cranny of the island.

"Err… that can't be good," Fishlegs mumbled.

"What? Oh…." Hiccup caught a glance of the Thorston twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut.

The twins were always up to something. They preferred to think of themselves as light-hearted pranksters that brought laughter to the disheartened Berkians, but almost everyone else viewed their antics with anger and disappointment. Today the twins were scampering away from the village as they hauled a large bundle of rope into the forest.

"What do you think they're up to now?" Fishlegs asked his friend who was gazing out over the ocean; evidently he had already forgotten about the twins and had something else to occupy his attention. "Hiccup?" He reached out and prodded his skinny friend. "Err…"

Hiccup quickly glanced over at his friend. He had been lost in thought. That was his mind for you. 'Less attention than a sparrow' was what his father always said. Hiccup thought that he had seen a black dragon flying out over the waves heading towards the village. But that was impossible, dragons only attacked at night, and it couldn't be a black dragon. Those were just a myth.

"How do we know that a Nightfury is black if nobodies ever seen one?" Hiccup asked. It didn't make sense. He heard that they were the 'unholy offspring of lightning and death itself' but that wasn't very descriptive. That was just some poetic description to epitomize how deadly the illusive fury was. A Nightfury had never even been seen raiding Berk, so how did they know what it looked like?

"Somebody must have seen one," Fishlegs shrugged. "Why?"

The black dragon that had previously been fast approaching the island flitted close enough to be revealed as just another raven.

"No reason. I was just—"

"Well, if it isn't my favorite cousin!" Snotlout boomed out from behind Hiccup, causing his favorite cousin to cringe while Fishlegs jumped in the air.

"Uhh… hey, Snot," Hiccup mumbled. He turned around and saw that Dogsbreath was following close behind his less-than-favorite cousin. Those two were never all that far apart from each other and they only approached Hiccup when they were looking to cause trouble.

"Oh, err… look at that, its err… time… for err…." Fishlegs wobbled to his feet and tried to walk away nonchalantly.

"Nonsense, Legs, why you were just the boy I was—" Snotlout coughed, keeping his voice deep and all manly-low was a strain on his young throat. Hiccup didn't know why he did it. Snotlout's voice wasn't all that high to begin with, and Hiccup's was certainly higher.

Dogsbreath took a step in front of his coughing friend. "What he means is that you don't need to—"

Snotlout pushed his friend aside. "We just want to—" He cleared his throat, and regained his manly-six-year-old-timbre. "Talk is all. We have better things to do than mess with you today."

Now that was a lie. Snotlout and Dogsbreath had absolutely nothing better to do than mess with Hiccup and Fishlegs. It was between that and run water to the workers who were busy below, and given a choice, could you really blame Snotlout for choosing to mess with peers? Yes. Yes, you could. Hiccup decided. In his short life, Hiccup had already broken his arm twice, both times at the hands of his cousin, and Hiccup was tired of it. He just wanted to be left alone with his friend.

"As future chief," Hiccup's only and least favorite cousin continued. "I need to be prepared to handle delicate situations delicately, and I think that—"

"But you're not an heir," Fishlegs interrupted. "You're not going to be the next chief. Hiccup is."

Hiccup shot his friend a look that clearly meant 'Stop talking before you get snotface over here to attack us.' Unfortunately, Hiccup's glare went unnoticed as Fishlegs continued to go into detail about how the chief's successor would be his son, because it was Hiccup's birthright and since Hiccup was older.

"Only by two weeks!" Snotlout complained. "And I'll be the next chief, Legs. And you know why?" Snotlout took a menacing step towards Fishlegs who was trying to hide his head behind his back as he shrank before the imposing bully in front of him. "Because I can actually do stuff! That's why. What can he do that I can't?"

"He can read," Fishlegs mumbled.

Why did Fishlegs have to say that? Hiccup complained to himself. Couldn't his friend see that he wasn't helping? If anything he was just making this whole ordeal last longer than it needed to.

"Reading's useless," Dogsbreath supported his friend. "Why should the chief need to read?"

"See! He can only do something that's useless," Snotlout jabbed a finger at Fishlegs doughy physique. "And you know what that makes him? Useless. Hiccup the Useless," Snotlout leaned back and laughed. "Only six, and you've already got your Viking name: Hiccup the Useless!"

Dogsbreath clapped his friend on the back and joined in his laughter.

"Hiccup the Useless." Dogsbreath snorted. "Ha! Chief Useless!"

Snotlout elbowed his friend in the gut. "He's not chief remember? I'm the next chief."

"Oh, yea. Just Useless then," Dogsbreath smiled showing his crooked teeth in the morning light.

"I would have LEFT the chief part out if I were you." Hiccup returned Dogbreath's smile, and his bully's smile vanished and was replaced with a snarl.

"See! I told you it was him!" He shouted and leapt at Hiccup.

Hiccup was anticipating this reaction and dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the surprisingly muscular seven year old. Hiccup tried to crawl back to his feet only to be ripped from the ground by Snotlout's boot. He rolled onto his back and started retching.

Snotlout bent over and hefted him back onto his feet by his collar. "I wanted to do this delicately." He snarled in his cousin's face.

"That's a big word you got there snotface." Hiccup spat back. "I'm surprised someone as young as you can handle it."

Snotlout bellowed in rage and threw Hiccup down the hill. He hated the fact that Hiccup was older than him. He hated the fact that Hiccup was destined to be chief. He hated the fact that his father was second even to the crippled blacksmith. But above all, he hated that Hiccup didn't seem bothered by him. He hated that he couldn't hurt Hiccup. Every time he was knocked down he stood right back up, and he never told anyone how he got hurt, he never told Uncle Stoick how it had been his cousin that beat him up. He never cried, he never called out in pain, and it infuriated Snotlout. How could Hiccup be stronger than he was?

Snotlout ran down the hill to chase after Hiccup who was groggily rising to his feet, Dogsbreath followed close behind, and Fishlegs had disappeared. Snotlout was right on top of Hiccup; he kept running, aiming to knock his cousin back to the ground before he could fully rise again.

Hiccup lashed out, swinging his loosely closed fist in a high arc against the charging boy. Snotlout raised his arm blocking the blow and struck Hiccup in the temple with his shoulder and chest, which sent the smaller boy sprawling back to the ground. Snotlout followed him down and pressed his knee against Hiccup's chest.

He leaned forward, steadily applying more pressure. "I want you to apologize to Dogsbreath." He hissed. "And say that I will be the next chief." Snotlout pressed harder against Hiccups ribs. He thought he could feel them bending beneath the weight, but he did not care. Hiccup was going to admit that he was weaker. He was going to say that he was the worse Viking.

Hiccup locked eyes with his tormentor. For a moment it seemed like he wasn't going to give in. His eyes were filled with the green intensity that was complete loathing.

"Fine," Hiccup relented. "You will be –"

"Eat my dust!" Two voices harmonized from behind the hill, their shout intermingling with the bleats of a dozen sheep.

"I'm winning!"

"Na-huh! I'm winning!"

A white wave cascaded over the hill. It seemed like all of Berk's sheep were running in a stampede towards the village. At the front of the wooly wave rode the twins. Long circles of rope held them tied onto the backs of two sheep each that they had hurriedly lashed together. Tuffnut bent down against his fluffy ride and slapped the left sheep's flank urging it to go faster, and causing his sheep vehicle to swerve against his sister's.

"Watch where you're going!" Ruffnut yelled.

"You watch it!" Tuffnut shouted back.

"Run!" Dogsbreath and Snotlout shouted.

The sheep stampede reached Hiccup who was enveloped in a raging sea of wool and hooves. He curled himself into a ball, for a moment he was protected. The sheep parted their path around him as the one's leading the valiant charge could identify the obstacle that blocked their path. The next sheep plowed ahead and struck against hiccups chest with a thud.

I opened my eyes slowly and lifted a black wing to look at my hatchling. It was awake, but it kept its eyes closed. This was its morning ritual. For the last two sun-risings it had lain awake without waking fully. It refused to see the light of the new sun, but instead chose to remain in a fetid pool of self-deprecation.

My hatchling was strange, even for a two-legs. But that was not always a bad thing. It was strange when it found me in the woods and saved me, but that definitely was a good thing. I still could not believe it. My hatchling had saved me. Me! A… what was the two-legs term…? Toothless. That was it. A Toothless. My little-two-legs saved me, a Toothless, one of the most feared dragons in the entire archipelago, and it had not killed me.

I looked down at my pretending-to-be-asleep-hatchling who was curled against my legs for warmth. It had found me, caught in the embrace of a two-legs-flameless-shot, and it removed the vines from my body. It peeled the stones from my chest and now –now it was even growing my tail back!

I shifted the trunk of my tail; the right fin splayed out against the rising sun, its blue-black membrane shone as the light streamed through the thin velvet, while the left fin….

"I'll fix this." My hatchling made a noise. It sounded strange to my ears, it was a high melody of morosely cascading notes, and for the thousandth time since meeting my hatchling, I wished that it could rumble in my draconic trill. I would take anything, even a simple hello, but it was not to be. I would not hear it speak my own tongue.

We had tried communicating. My hatchling had wandered around my cove pointing at the rocks and the trees, saying 'Rock' and 'Tree.' But it was no use. I understood that these rocks were 'Rocks' but when I told my hatchling rock; it did not seem to recognize my own words and instead repeated 'Ro-ock' slowly as if hearing 'Rock' any slower was going to help me.

In turn I had tried to communicate with my hatchling by thought-touch. I even considered reaching out to it in the Ginnungagap, but that was forbidden so I refrained from that endeavor. Instead I brushed my thoughts against its own while it was awake. I could feel its deep sadness, but I could not get past its emotions. And I felt like it could feel my own emotions because it responded in kind to my anxiety, but it never reached out to me. My hatchling never tried to envelope my mind with its own.

"I'll fix this," It repeated.

I looked down and stared into its small green eyes. They were no longer the fierce eyes of defiance that I had seen in the Ginnungagap, no. These eyes were… sad. They looked back at me, but they did not glint or crackle as my hatchling's jaw and lips spread apart revealing its teeth. They seemed to be fixed on something in the past, on something that haunted my poor hatchling.

It sighed, rolling its miniscule shoulders against my rough hide. "There's dragon training today," It sounded upset. I reached out with my muzzle and pressed against its chest. "I know Toothless, but I have to go," My hatchling laughed and I felt a stab of joy pierce the darkness of its thoughts. "But I'll be back tonight."

My little-two-legs placed its forelegs around my head and I helped it onto its feet. It rubbed its oddly soft claws against my forehead, and then it was gone. My little-two-legs climbed out of my cove; it turned around once it had ascended out of my prison and raised its foreleg, pausing for a brief moment while it stared down at me in my cove, before turning and disappearing from my sight.

I snorted and stood. This had all started when I tried to get my hatchling to eat its fish. Ever since then it had been visiting me more and more often. It ran about my small cove, but it brought tree-eggs filled with food so I tolerated its presence. At first it had been annoying, just like all hatchlings. The hatchling had tried to get me to play with it while I was trying to sleep, it tried to play with my fins, but then ran away from me on the few occasions that I actually wanted to play with it; then something changed. It stopped being annoying. The hatchling's behavior stopped being aggravating. I stopped dreading its scent wafting into my cove and instead began to yearn to see my hatchling's speckled head pop out from amongst the imprisoning stone. It had become my hatchling.

I could not tell when it became mine exactly. I spent many of my long hours here trying to decide, and I had narrowed it down to two possibilities.

The first was the time that my little-two-legs and I had actually played together. It was carving a rut into the ground and I had reciprocated its pattern, and then the two-legs had followed it! It spun its way through the carvings and found me on the other side. I think that is when it became my hatchling; but I cannot be sure.

The first time that I remember actually calling it my hatchling though was after I had knocked it off of my tail and into the lake. After I had floundered out of the frigid water, I remember turning and seeing my hatchling shivering from the water trapped within its wet fur. "My hatchling!" I had crooned before rushing over to envelop the little form in my wings.

But I did not have a revelation then that I had just called this two-legs my hatchling. It felt right at the time and I didn't even blink when I said it. It was only after my hatchling had left that I thought about what I had called it. It was true. It was my hatchling. I had sheltered it, given it food, played with it, and now, as of this sun-rising I had even shared dreams with it.

My hatchling and I had fallen asleep together. I had wrapped my wing over its small body and together we had drifted into Ginnungagap, the primordial essence that connects all dragons to each other. As far as I knew us Toothless', I actually rather liked this two-legs word… Toothless… we are the only dragons able to do such things, but for all I know every dragon can do it. I would have asked them, but the other dragons –they did not talk to me much.

I was an outsider from hatching. I had hatched on an island, completely alone. The two-heads that found me took care of me for a while. She brought me fish, and for a few seasons she raised me. She could never stay long though, she would just fly overhead and drop food on my little outcropping, or land to prune over my scales before heading back to her queen. One sunrise she didn't return. I waited for her, but….

I was bigger then. I could fly on my own. When I made it to the queen's island I was met as an outcast. I was without a brood, without merit and without friends. That was when the dreams started.

I began to see into the minds of those around me. I could see what they had experienced; I could peek into their past, I could even talk to them. But, I only did that once. After waking up the queen called me. She told me that what I had done was wrong, it was forbidden, so I contented myself to merely listen, to learn about what they were, who they are, what made them happy, what made them sad…

I looked back at the wall of stone that separated me from my hatchling. "I will find out why you are sad," I promised. "I will help you."