HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON

Chapter Nine: EVERYTHING WE KNOW

At long last, we drive on the shores of Berk. Every works to bring the ships into dock and then the unloading begins. We're all beat and weary, and no one is in high spirits. I watch the faces of those waiting for us on the docks, and I can see the disappointment in them. 

Gobber meets me, and as I reach him he says, "I trust you found the nest at least?"

"Not even close."

"Ah. Excellent." He grabs some of my gear and helps me carry it up the dock.

"I hope you had a little more success than me," I say to him, feeling dejected.

"Well, if by "success" you mean that your parenting troubles are over with, then yes," he says.

I stop where I am, alarm making my breath catch, and before I can ask Gobber anything a woman runs up to me and says,

"Congratulating, Stoick! Everyone is so relieved!"

"Out with the old and in with the new, right?" says another man.

"No one will miss that old nuisance," says a third.

"The village is throwing a party to celebrate!" an enthusiastic viking tells me as the group moves on down the dock to help with the ships.

It can't be true. I turn to Gobber and voice my fears. "He's gone?"

"Uh, yeahs." Gobber says, shifting the gear in his arms. "Most afternoons. But who can blame him? The life of a celebrity is very rough. He can barely walk through the village without being swarmed by his new fans."

By his – what? I grab Gobber's arm, forcing him to look at me. "Hiccup?" I say, not sure I'm really understanding the situation.

"Who would've thought it, eh?" Gobber says with a smile. "He has this way with the beasts."

I can't believe it. He did it. All this time I've been worried about what was happening to Hiccup during his fighting classes and here I come back to find that he's excelling. I guess Gobber was right; all Hiccup needed was a chance to figure out what he was made of. If what everyone is saying is true, I don't have to worry about Hiccup anymore. He's become the viking he always told me he would. He's a dragon killer.

XXX

"Okay there, bud, we're going to take this nice and slow."

After a week of perfecting the prothetic wing, Toothless and I are ready to put it to the test. We're taking it out on a flight, and so far it's going well. We're miles above the sea on the far side of the island where we're least likely to be seen. The higher we climbed in the air, the more terrified I felt and the more excited. I've never seen the world from this point of view before, and it's amazing. It really shows you just how big and small the world is.

"Here we go," I say, checking over my teaching chart I've been making as Toothless and I practiced with the wing. "Position three – no, four."

With my foot, I shift the peddle back till it clicks into position four and the wing tightens. We level out and glide smoothly through the sky. I can't help but look back every six seconds to make sure the wing is doing what it's supposed to. That wings is the only thing keeping us in the air. If anything happens to it we'll crash.

"It's go time, it's go time," I say to myself.

I lean forward in the saddle, shift the position of the wing, and Toothless and I begin our dive toward the water. The wind rushes through my hair and beats against my face. It's completely exhilarating. The sea looms closer and closer and we move faster and faster. I stomach was left somewhere high above my head and my heart is racing in my chest. I was born for this.