𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍'𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 - httyd

01| Good Morning, Berk

Naig.

A village to the far east of the Barbaric Archipelago, where the weather blessed them with no snow, hail, or cold. It lay on a beautiful explosion of extensive greens and exotic, fruitful vibrancies–that's what Mum always says.

She loved it. And I would have, too! Us Naigans, we're exceptional when it comes to music. My mum and I can play almost any instrument, and the village was the same.

Music was everywhere: people sang and performed everywhere and anywhere, holding concerts, honouring people at funerals and weddings, comforting people with lullabies. Some people also used their talents for kulning, singing beautiful herding calls for the livestock.

As impressive as Naig is, my story doesn't begin there. Not this time…

So, welcome to Berk!

It's twelve days north of Hopeless and a few degrees south of Freezing-To-Death. It is located solidly on the Meridian of Misery. My new village—in a word, sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problem here is the pests.

Most places have regular things like mice or mosquitoes, but in Berk, we had something worse: Dragons. Most people would leave, but not us. We're Vikings, and we have major stubbornness issues.

You might be wondering, who is this young Viking girl telling you about one exotic and one bizarre village?

My name is Elspeth Rydenmere, but everyone calls me El. Compared to some of the other names you'll hear in Berk, I think I got pretty lucky! That’s what happens when you’re born in another village.

“El.”

Parents here believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls, not that I've seen any. I always thought the typical Viking demeanour was frightening enough.

Now, you might be thinking, where exactly am I? When I look around, all I see are screaming Vikings with their maces flinging in the hot air and swarms of dragons growling about us—a typical morning. But I'm not part of the action. I never have been.

My mother, Rhona Rydenmere, is well-known across the village for her musical capabilities. She often holds entertaining evenings to cheer up the people of Berk after a particularly tiresome day, but don't let those niceties fool you. You wouldn't want to get on her bad side.

She is one of the fiercest Vikings on Berk, coming second only to the village chief: Stoick the Vast. She always coops me up in my room when the dragons are being their usual fire-breathing bothersome selves and raiding the village.

My mum says it's to keep me safe from them, but she always says so bitterly. Everyone in Berk deals with dragons every day—it's just how our lives are! The only other excuse I can think of is that my mum thinks I'm incapable of being useful. I know I shouldn't feel this, but the voice in my head can be pretty loud when it wants to be.

Since my mother intends to keep me away from the dragons until I die, I sneak out. I'm good at that. An expert, if I may. If sneaking out to help in the village is the only way not to be ‘the useless, weak girl who can barely hold her own’, so be it.

“El?”

Things aren’t so bad, though. I’m not the only teen banned from charging into battle and enduring a deadly fight with dragons. There's Hiccup—Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of the chief. Everyone knows neither of us should be outside when it's fiery chaos, but we're treated very differently.

If anyone catches me outside, they warn me that my mum would not be pleased. Some of them even pretend not to see me. I don't experience this a lot, though, because I've become so good at sneaking around. When the villagers spot Hiccup outside, there's a chorus of groans, grumbles and Vikings yelling at him to go away.