Heir and Pride

Chapter Two

Hiccup was woken by the familiar noises of screams, explosions and the roars of dragons. He scrambled up and dragged his boots and fur vest on, then raced down the stairs. His father had gone to lead the defences while Hiccup also had a job to do. He snatched the door open-to see a large Monstrous Nightmare launch a huge ball of flame at the door. He slammed it shut just in time but he felt the impact and shivered. Then he dashed out, snatching up the buckets  and tossing the cold water on the flames. His father insisted on rudimentary fire precautions for all homes and Hiccup always obeyed his orders and had the buckets full each evening. Sure the house was safe, he scooted down the hill.

   

He was met by the usual scenes of chaos: Vikings fighting dragons, dragons raiding stores, houses being burnt. He ducked under two fighters and sprinted down between the houses. And the villagers were as pleased as usual to see him.

    

"What are you doing out here?"

    

"Get back inside!"

    

He ducked and ran harder. It was dangerous to be out but part of his job at the forge was to help Gobber in the shop during raids. His father was always out leading the defence of the village and Hiccup had always wanted to do his part. He rounded a corner and narrowly missed a huge stream of fire. He started and a strong hand wrenched him up by the collar. He winced as Stoick looked around angrily.

    

"What are you...? What is he doing outside?" he growled, glancing around. No one answered but the Chief didn't expect an answer. He released the boy. "Get inside!" he snarled at his son and Hiccup ran on as he heard his father get a report from Sven on the attack. Hiccup dodged by the fire beacons as they were raised into the dragon-infested sky and dashed into the open door of the forge. Gobber looked up from a twisted sword, which he was pounding with his hammer prosthetic hand.

    

"Nice of you to show up," the blacksmith said sarcastically. "I thought you'd been carried away!" Hiccup shucked off his vest and dragged on his leather apron then gave a smile. After a day when no one seemed to want him at all, it was a relief to be with Gobber, who seemed to have forgotten his earlier anger at the boy.

    

"Who, me? Nah-they couldn't handle all...this..." he replied and demonstrated his scrawny and totally unimpressive physique. Gobber glanced up as the boy struggled to manhandle a war-hammer into the rack.

    

"Well, they need toothpicks, don't they?" he shot back and the boy smiled. Runt, toothpick and fishbone were the most common insults thrown at him and while Hiccup knew he was small for his fourteen years and scrawny, the constant repetition still hurt. Though not as much as being called Useless...

    

"Always happy to help," he muttered and had to put his entire body weight into pumping the bellows and getting the fire hotter. He threw the hatch open and a dozen Vikings immediately thrust their weapons in for attention. With a sigh, he gathered them in his arms and began sorting them. Gobber stared at the boy: he could tell when Hiccup was unhappy and the boy was really troubled.

    

The blacksmith was Stoick's best friend and had helped the Chief raise his son after the boy's mother had been taken as a baby. He knew Hiccup and recognised the boy was different to the average Viking and trying to make the boy into a perfect Viking son was never going to work. Gobber knew that his friend was so focussed on making his boy a proper Viking that he forgot the boy had any feelings. A diet of criticism, shouting and humiliation certainly hadn't turned Hiccup into Snotlout-thank the gods-and it was unlikely to suddenly take effect. Gobber made a mental note to have another word with his angry and embittered friend about his son.