It Was Always There

Prologue

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. It’s been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunset. The only problem are the pests. You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes, we have…

A girl at the age of fifteen slid into a building filled with weapons of all types. As she did, needle-like projectiles followed her in, sticking into the wood around her. As she turned around and pushed herself up, a heavily built man with a wooden right leg and a hook replacing his left hand quickly shut the door she came in just as fire was about hit them.

“Dragons.”

Most people would leave. Not us. We’re Vikings. We have stubbornness issues.

“Glad you made it alive! Seems the beasts won’t have human in their diet today!”

My names Runa. Not a common Viking name, but it could be worse. Parents believe a hideous name will frighten off gnomes and trolls.

The girl opened up a set of windows to see a bunch of burly Vikings rush over to her. “I need an axe! Freshly sharpened to end a Nadder!” One of the men in the group shouted.

Like our charming Viking demeanor wouldn’t do that.

“So, what do we have today?” Runa asked, rushing to get the axe the man requested. A woman answered her, “Gronkles, Nadders, Zipplebacks.” “And Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare!” The man wanting the axe added on. The teen gave the man an axe before he turned and charged off, giving off a war cry as he did so. Moving a strand of her wheat-blonde hair behind her ear, she struggled to lift a sword a Viking handed her as the door to the blacksmith’s shop opened and a skinny, auburn haired boy her age ran in. “Ah! Nice of you to join the party!” The heavily built man said, watching as the boy removed his fur vest to put on his apron. “I thought you’d be carried of.” As the boy maneuvered around the shop, he spoke back, “What, who me? Nah, come on. I’m waaay to muscular for their taste. They wouldn’t know what to do with all,” He paused momentarily as he gestured to himself, “this.” As the man worked on a weapon he replied to him. “Well, they need toothpicks,  don’t they?”

The meathead with attitude and interchangeable hands is Gobber. Hiccup has been his apprentices for as long as I can remember. And yes, his name isn’t the best either, but as I mentioned before with mine, it's not the worst. As for me being at the blacksmith’s shop? Well Gobber's been in my life since I was a babe. He helped in raising me along side my mother since my father died before I was born. Aside from Stoick the Vast, he’s the closest one to a father figure I’ve got!

Runa rushed around, doing her best to exchange weapons as fast as she could. Her figure wasn’t what you’d expect a Viking’s to be. She was skinny, with only a little meat on her bones. Very similar to Hiccup. Both would help each other out as they worked on larger projects such as large maces and broadswords. A loud explosion was heard, causing a couple of weapons to shake or fall off the walls. Hiccup rushed to another window and push them open, watching as a dragon caused another, smaller explosion.

See? Old village, lots and lots of new houses.

Runa looked towards the window, watching from a small distance as she carried a few pieces of metal that were now scrap. A group of teenagers rushed to the fires carrying buckets of water. There was a hefty, short legged male with blonde hair.

That’s Fishlegs Ingerman.

Another male with brown hair with a now smug look on his face threw his water on another flame, putting it out.