The Eel Raid

A.N: I'm alive! this is just a one-shot I doubt I'll continue. I just had this image in my head and hope you find it amusing too. Anyway ignore me, please:
Enjoy.

Hiccup left the cove feeling invigorated. He didn't even care about the slimy eel hidden just beneath his coat. After Toothless' reaction to it, he felt it cruel to leave it there.

No; he just couldn't get this thought outta his head.
He had been flying!
His invention worked!
His invention worked!
Nothing he makes ever works!
He had gone flying! On a dragon's tail! And was still in one piece.

What Viking could say that?

It was after Dragon Training when he went to see the Nightfury he'd named Toothless. He had fallen behind in the forge and was dragged into the ring with an agitated Zippleback with only maybe two hours' worth of sleep.

To say that class hadn't ended well would be a gross understatement.
He felt sunburned all over and had to throw out the ruined rags of his clothes after that blast. Though interestingly the dragon only snorted and returned to its cage rather than finish him off. Perhaps he seemed too pathetic, cowering at the two-headed dragon's feet, to do so.

That was Snotlout's theory anyway and Hiccup wondered if he was right, to some degree.

His musings were cut short as he heard the horn all Berkians knew and dreaded with every fibre of their being.

A dragon raid.

He ran. He had to get to the forge. Even if what little he could do to help was stay out of the way, it was safer there than in the forest. Dragons who raided were known to also hunt in the forest and encountering one that was actively hunting wasn't on his to-do list. Plus a good way to get eaten without anyone around to witness it.
He might've bonded with Toothless but he wasn't ready to face a freaking raider.

He swiftly reached the edge of the forest—the sight of a raid: in full swing. And the only weapon on him was a basket and an eel.

Wait...

_________________

Astrid was dousing a house when a Nadder flew overhead. A boom was heard and the house across the street was lost in an instant. Warriors ran past and she itched to join them. Gobber was completely clear they weren't ready—well, the others weren't ready anyway. Gobber had pulled her aside and told her that she still had to keep the others in line.

Of course, she hadn't seen Hiccup reemerge from the forest, or heard disgruntled Vikings shouting at him to 'get inside'. Did he encounter a dragon out there? Was the idiot in trouble?

She turned to another fire. "Snotlout, move it! Fish take the twins; get that house on the west!" She barked clearly. She tossed another bucket at the blaze then-

She heard it.

A screaming she was both familiar with yet was completely different.

She looked up and saw the dragon.

A Monstrous Nightmare.

Scurrying over the flaming house with a clear look of dreaded fear before taking to the sky.

Another dragonic scream was heard, she threw her bucket and sprinted around the corner.

To find maybe the oddest sight to ever be seen on Berk.

The dragons were cowering in fear. Taking off as the shouting figure approached.

It wasn't a great warrior that could match Stoick the Vast. Not a Viking welding some great war hammer in gleaming armour.

No, it was Hiccup. In his soft warm furs. Waving a large stick at the fire breathing beasts.

And it was working.

The dragons wouldn't come near Hiccup as he guarded the sheep pen. He wasn't even attempting to look big and scary. He was just there. Waving the stick with a nervous expression, like he knew how stupidly insane he looked.

As another fire caught behind the figure, she saw the full details. At the top of the stick, lay a pierced dead eel.

She saw other Vikings looking on in puzzlement as the dragons continued to flee from the entirely underwhelming display: from the entirely unintimidating Hiccup.

It wasn't long before she had to quench another fire and soon the dragons left. With a lot fewer sheep than they usually make off with, she noted.

When the last fire was gone she and the others returned to the square for a mandatory headcount with the rest of the village.

"What've we got?" Spitelout - Stoick's half-brother and second-in-command - asked Hoark.
"We lost fish stores five and six, no casualties and Silent Sven counts all his sheep present. Thanks to..." He trailed off as everyone turned to look at a rather stunned-looking Hiccup.

Still holding the broken branch with the skewered eel in a death grip. Wide-eyed as everyone else, that one of his ideas had worked. And it was the most moronic one of the lot.

"I-I-I-I-I I did it? It worked?"

Shocked silence met him.

"It worked!" He threw his fists in the air. The stick still in his hand jostled the eel and caused the dead fish to fall on his face. "Gahh!" He gagged as he peeled the slimy dead fish off his face.

"What... in the name of Thor's beard?" Gobber lumbered up to look bewilderedly at his apprentice. "Why in 'he God's name's, did you think runnin' at em' with an eel would work?"

"Because dragons are apparently scared of eels? I uh, was eating lunch and a Terror ran away when I held up an eel." Hiccup answered with the obvious hint of a lie. Though it satisfied the curious Vikings.

.

.

.

Stoick was very bewildered when he and his men arrived back to berk with nearly every house sporting an unsightly dead eel nailed to the door.