When Snow Meets Lightning (Httyd x Male!oc)

part 1

This is Berk. It's twelve days north of Hopeless, and a few degrees south of Freezing to Death. It's located solidly on the Meridian of Misery.
My village. In a word, sturdy. And it's been here for seven generations—but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests.

A dragon swoops in, snatching a bleating sheep right off the ground. Its twin casually resumes grazing, unfazed.

You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have... dragons. Most people would leave. Not us. We're Vikings. We have stubbornness issues.

Ludic Glamsson stands atop a slope overlooking the village as flames and dragons light the night sky, his eyes narrowed beneath a fringe of black hair tugged by the wind. His dragon-scale armor glints faintly in the firelight. He watches as Hiccup stumbles out of Gobber's forge, dragging a contraption behind him.

Ludic exhales sharply through his nose. "Dumb kid," he mutters, gripping the hilt of his sword. "When will he learn he's more snack than warrior?"

Without hesitation, Ludic takes off down the slope, his tall, broad frame moving with unexpected grace. Sword drawn, shield strapped to his arm, he races toward Hiccup—not to join the chaos, but to pull him out of it.

He's going to get himself killed. Again. If Stoick sees him out here...
...No. If I don't step in, there might not be anything left to scold. ludic thinks to himself

My name's Hiccup. Great name, I know. But hey, it's not the worst. Apparently, the more hideous the name, the better it is at scaring off gnomes and trolls.
Because clearly, our delightful Viking charm isn't terrifying enough.

Hiccup weaved between brawny Vikings, barely dodging swinging axes and barrels rolling loose from the chaos. He ducked just in time as a teal Gronckle launched a ball of molten rock that exploded near the forge, sending debris and a wave of hot air through the village. The shockwave knocked him off his feet.

"ARGGHHH! Mornin'!" Ack roared over him with a grin, his beard singed on one side.

"What are you doing here?!" Hoark snapped, his arm shielding his eyes from the smoke.

"Get inside!"

"Get back inside!" Phlegma shouted from somewhere near the goat pens.

Hiccup scrambled upright only to be snatched by the collar. Stoick, massive and furious, yanked him away from the fray like a sack of potatoes.

"Hiccup?!" Stoick roared. "What is he doing out again?! What are YOU doing out? Get inside!" He shoved Hiccup back toward safety.

Then another voice approached through the chaos—calmer, but firm.

"Chief."

Stoick turned. Ludic Glamsson jogged toward him, sword in one hand, shield in the other, his long black hair tossed by the wind and ash. His striking blue eyes were locked onto the chief.

"Back to work," Stoick growled, though there was a flicker of trust behind the order.

Ludic gave a respectful nod, then turned sharply toward the incoming danger.

The Gronckle—massive and enraged—looped around again, its mouth glowing with molten fire.

Ludic moved.

Fast.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed a nearby bollard and hurled it like a war hammer. It struck the Gronckle's wing with a bone-cracking crunch, sending the beast spiraling to the ground in a cloud of dirt and snow.