Why Hiccup Wears Long Sleeves

Why Hiccup Wears Long Sleeves P2

It all started with a minor burn when Hiccup was twelve - one of the worst years of his life. It was in that year that Hiccup had first tried one of his dragon killing inventions. In short, it didn't end well. While Hiccup never seemed to be able to impress his father or anyone in the village, after that incident, every time he was looked at it was with a 'disappointed scowl'.

This - just as it would to anyone - hurt Hiccup beyond comprehension. He spent every day with a large weight on his chest. He walks aimlessly through the woods knowing that no one cared whether he would return or not. But that burn changed it all.

It was one of those small injuries where if you looked away the pain would vanish almost immediately, but if you keep staring the agony would increase ten-folds. Hiccup had been working on a dagger for himself, he felt that with the new habit of venturing into the woods it would be nice to have some defence. Just as he was hammering at it, the dagger slipped on the anvil pulling Hiccup's arm along with it. He pulled up in time to avoid any serious injury but his right wrist had nicked the edge of the hot anvil earning Hiccup a nice little burn.

Looking back, Hiccup would never be able to tell why he continued to look at it. Just being able to stare at the burn and be able to control the amount of pain, it gave Hiccup an odd sensation of relief. He could control nothing in his life, except for this pain. This sudden realisation seemed to make that heavy weight on Hiccup's chest vanish. He could control this! It made him joyed beyond compare. It would only be years later that Hiccup realised how stupid he had been for thinking those thoughts.

Later that week, the heavyweight returned - and it hit Hiccup hard. He went back to having no motivation, no reason to be happy, and the fact that no one noticed the change in attitude made it worse. So, Hiccup went back to what had made the weight go away in the first place - pain. It was late that night that Hiccup pulled out his newly forged dagger, and without hesitation, he dug the blade into his skin. It was strange, he didn't even feel pain, well not until he had cut a fashionably large cut into his right wrist. Hiccup smiled as he saw the blood oozing out the wound. The weight was gone.

This soon became a habit, and a bad one at that. For the first day or so he could easily walk around the village with short sleeves knowing no one would notice him, but soon Hiccup grew rather self-conscience. He knew what he was doing wasn't right, only crazy people cut themselves, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the habit. Soon he started to think what would happen if people did suddenly notice. Would they tie him to the mast of a ship, label him as possessed, and be shipped to the edge of the world? Or would he simply be killed there and then?

Hiccup didn't like either option. So, he did the best he could to cover it up by changing his tunic to short sleeves to long ones. And this, is why Hiccup wears long sleeves.

As time went on the weight returned more frequently, and soon Hiccup was cutting himself every day. He would run deep into the forest and mark himself with long lines. He let the blood run, relishing in the feeling of the thick liquid run over his skin. As wrong and strange as it was, Hiccup couldn't stop. It was the only way the weight ever went away.

When the boy turned fourteen, he once again attempted to use one of his dragon killing devices. And just like the two years prior, it didn't end well. He earnt a scolding from his father, and the other village youths as well. The nickname Hiccup the Useless started to circulate, people like the Twins and Snotlout would regularly beat him.

"This is what you get for being so useless."

"Hiccup! Will you stop acting so useless!"

"Come on Useless, we've got some plans for you."

Useless. Useless. Useless. Hiccup was useless. He ran into the forest determined to make sure he never forgot who he was, to never forgot that he was nothing but useless. And so, Hiccup cut the word into his arm. It would now be there forever. Everytime he bathed, every time he changed, every time he rolled up his sleeve, and even when he finally proved that he meant something.