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The Sting of Spring: Ch1

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Part II of The Seasonal Series


The Sting of Spring


Chapter 1: "The Bigger World"


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Spring was a time for renewal, generally speaking. Plants and flowers would find their way to the sunlight through the thaw of winter and bloom beautifully. Animals would emerge from their warm burrows and introduce their young to the bigger world.

Hiccup always knew there was a bigger world, he could see it stretch beyond the horizon when he and Toothless flew high into the sky on clear days—most of what he saw was ocean and sea, spotted with islands just like the one he lived on, but still he knew there was a bigger world out there.

For Berk, and its people—spring was a time of raid or rather a renewal of raiding. During the winter the bay was frozen and their goods dwindled so why not start off the new year by going out into that bigger world and taking some other's goods to kick off the celebration of melting snow?

It had still been chilly of course, the air nipped at everyone as a biting reminder not to get too used to the warmth for spring was also a tease of a season—often having a pleasant sunlit day turn into another slushy shower of what was the unholy offspring of snow and rain itself. Their only chance for comfort was to take shelter and pray that their ceilings had no leaks.

The russet-haired Viking sat atop his dragon, his knuckles white and clinging to the seat of the saddle as the dragon glided unseen through the darkened pre-dawn sky. The air was pleasant in temperature but he could begin to hear the not-so-pleasant distant roars and shouts of people, of metal clashing and then unseemly piercing screams. They were drawing nearer. To a place they were not supposed to be.

A few weeks earlier, Hiccup sat on the floor of his lodge, roughly twisting a bolt in to his new prosthetic lower leg to keep it from wriggling apart The night fury laid next to him, with his long body curled around the lad comfortably as he napped—still apprehensive to step foot into the season that couldn't make up its mind to be warm or cold. Toothless hated the cold.

Hiccup was angry, he was infuriated and it was an emotion so rare within him that he didn't know what to do with himself. He was the only Gods forsaken Viking his age left on the Island—and he shouldn't have been. He was not allowed to join the spring raid, just because he never finished final training. He thought that if he could construct a better prosthetic, then maybe he could prove to his father that he was up to it. He wasn't a seasoned warrior like Gobber, who had for many years proved to be an able fighter despite his missing limbs. But how did Gobber get the chance prove himself? There must have been one battle, one raid he had the chance to do so while the opportunity for Hiccup remained unseen.

He and his dad had an all out, blow up argument a few days earlier, right before the rest of the Vikings departed. Everyone heard them shouting at each other, noting how alike in stubbornness they were. If it wasn't apparent before, it was slowly becoming known that Hiccup was truly 'his father's son.' Despite the obvious physical differences, the phrase was being more and more recently used by the people of Berk.


He refused to believe he was anything at all like his father. He actually never had his heart set on the act of raiding, he just wanted to go to make sure they would be okay. All of his friends had gone, and even Astrid—whom he was sure could take care of herself but still, something deep within him wanted to be there to protect her if anything should go wrong. The stupid raid had interrupted an important time in Hiccup's life. He finally had the lass that he had always wanted, a lass who equally was glad to have him. Now she was off fighting, and even though she was a capable warrior, he had missed her company and her death still wasn't altogether an impossibility. That thought caused a emotion of fear and anger to squeeze at his heart every time he reminded himself that she was only human.

He could see the dull orange glow of a fire, lighting the underside of a black smoke cloud that hung over the area. He took a breath and coughed, getting a lung-full of it. He was used to smoke, being practically in the blacksmith's stall everyday since he was big enough to fan a billows, but the air there was ten times too much. Toothless exhaled through his snout in a displeased snort.

"Let's get a little lower there bud," he instinctively shifted the foot of his prosthetic and leaned forward so that the under-wind flowed over Toothless's prosthetic tail fin, letting them to descend from their higher altitude. He was so very thankful to have the night fury as a friend. The dragon had proved to be more accepting and understanding than most humans. And though Toothless couldn't speak human nor understand the language he did understand the universal language of emotion and tones which was how the dragon and his human communicated.

Hiccup shouted in frustration and threw the wrench across the room. It hit against the boiling pot that hung over the hearth.

Toothless had perked up at the sound of metal clashing with metal and then turned a concerned eye on the young man.

Stoick the Vast, the chieftain of Berk's Viking Clan, and also known as Hiccup's dad, had been occupied at planning the spring raid as he was to lead it. Stoick was growing older but no weaker and no less bristled with anticipation at what he did best—being a Viking.


The Southern Islands had been the target—it had been planned since even before the last Viking raid. The Southern Islands contained a formidable foe—those faerie worshippers, those emerald enemies—the Celtic Clans. The rivalry had been established long ago.

Since then, every decade or so the Vikings from Berk would sail to join the conglomerate Viking clan alliance in fighting the Celts. A successful raid upon the Southern Islands brought riches and food a plenty for the Vikings. The battles were matched evenly, victory changing from side to side with each warring occurrence. The last time the Vikings tried raiding, they had been unsuccessful and returned home demoralized.

The Celts had stone fortresses that were difficult to breach and leather armor that even the sharpest spears had trouble penetrating—so Hiccup, caught in the excitement, had designed a new catapult system that could lift heavier tons and launch them further and faster. He hoped it could be used to break through those walls.

And he thought for all his contribution and help, not even for that—but for the past three years, that Stoick would let him go with them. Hiccup deserved to go.

That morning of their departure, Hiccup watched hopelessly while he stood on the stairs of his lodge as his father packed a rucksack with provisions.

"I could, you know come with you and fight."

"You can't go, and that is final," Stoick gruffly replied, not looking up. He had said that line at least ten times to his son within the last two days. The ships were ready, the warriors were anxious, but in his opinion—his son was not.

"Can't you make an exception?" Hiccup descended the stairs and approached his father from behind.

"No. It's clear that you must pass all of Viking training to be included in the raids."

"But Dad, I really actually think that I've proven myself capable of handling battle-like circumstances—"

"I said NO, Hiccup!"

"WHY NOT?"

He had finally erupted in an angry shout. He had tried to be patient and civil but his father's lack of cooperation was infuriating.

Stoick grabbed Hiccup by the front of his tunic, growling beneath a glare at his son's impudence, "Because I say so."

Hiccup tugged out of his father's grip and smoothed out his shirt "Troll dung! I'm not a child anymore and you know I can handle whatever they throw at me!"

"Do I, Hiccup?" Stoick turned and pointed at his son accusingly, "Because from the last that I knew you pulled yourself out of training because of your leg—if you couldn't handle training what makes you think you can fight in a real battle?"

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek with frustration before answering, "You know it was because the leg needed replaced. I built a new one, a better one! Just like those catapults you're taking with you—I built those!"

In his anger the iron base of the lad's prosthetic became hooked in a crack in the floorboard and he stumbled backward with a clatter. He sat up with embarrassment flooding in his cheeks, knowing that the action would be used against him to drive his father's decision further away from the one Hiccup wanted him to take.

"So what if you built a better one? It can always be broken—and in battle you don't have time to fix what is broken. You can't raid with us son. You're staying here." Stoick said, though he had a touch of sympathy in his tone at his son's expression of heavy disappointment. Still he hauled his rucksack over his large shoulder and said, "I'll be back, probably."

Hiccup sat on the floor where he fell, still with a furrowed brow, "And I'll be here—maybe."


Every part of him had been itching to go after them, but what was the use? As soon as his father saw him he would send Hiccup straight home. The only way to get there in time was by dragon, for the ships sailed far on good wind and when there was no wind they would bring out the oars and row the longboat in swift, steady strokes.

Hiccup knew Toothless would get a kick out of the far flight plus it was warmer in the Southern Islands and that was always a perk for the cold-blooded night fury.

The raid did not involve dragons. True, the dragons were fearsome and now a great asset to Berk but Stoick thought it best not to lead them so far south and risk their lives on behalf of Viking qualms. Vikings had been victorious without dragons before, they could do so again. So the dragons stayed around the island that Berk was located, handy for defense though if any other enemies decided to attack while the militia was away. In fact, there might have been more dragons than Vikings at the moment.

Hiccup had put a hand on his knee and stood, while looking over his new prosthetic—made for rocky terrain and faster movement. It was a pretty awesome device, though sometimes he would try to wiggle his toes on that foot and nothing would happen—an odd sensation still after a few years of getting used to their absence. Instead, he'd wiggle the other ones, the five he had left to make up for the loss.

"I can't stay here," he grumbled, mostly to himself and half to Toothless if the night fury happened to be listening. He felt a bump to his side and looked over his shoulder to see Toothless had been listening for he held his saddle in between his teeth, encouraging Hiccup. Hiccup sighed and took it in his hands, it was detached from the steering line and artificial tail fin as Toothless had stayed indoors most of the winter season and had no use for Hiccup to fly him. He felt the rough texture of the material, taking note that he was the one who had crafted it those three years ago, he was the one who had re-built a better leg, and those were the catapults that he had designed that were to be used in a raid that he wasn't a part of. He looked toToothless, who seemed to be waiting for an answer of sorts. Fly or don't? Obey or don't? Hiccup gave a small, lopsided grin to his dragon.


The ends of his hair whipped at his brow from beneath his helmet as they lowered in closer to see a battlefield. What had been intended as a raid was something much more complicated. He wished to have been there sooner but it was actually hard to stalk by air, a fleet of longboats out in the bigger world. From the look of matters below, a lot had gone wrong. He saw toppled structures, fires burning untamed and yet still the Vikings and Celts fought. They circled in the sky and no one bothered to look up as all were adamant on killing one another. The air was so smoky and the conglomerations of battle cries were too loud to notice the young Viking and his dragon above them all. He saw the broken rubble of wall that had been the north side of a fortress, secretly pleased to know his catapults had done their job well.

Though, all his pleasure was short-lived as he spotted the bodies that were sprinkled about the land—from both sides. He gulped, nearly everyone he loved was down there and he prayed—prayed to Odin the All-father that they were still alive. How could Stoick have refused Hiccup's help to fight, and if not to fight at least to protect those he loved?

He managed to hear a particular roar of command through the noise—his father's voice. It sounded ragged, but still intent on a victory and boisterous as ever. It was the Vikings turn to win, they could not be deterred twice—or else they would lose their will to raid that land, that land that held many riches.

"Go!" Hiccup commanded and shifted his foot again, enabling Toothless to fly faster, farther away. He couldn't let his father see him—no—that wasn't right.

Hiccup, you coward. He held his breath in his cheeks and glared into the first rays of light. The sun was rising in the east, casting a clearer view on the carnage of the night.

"Turn around!"

His stomach pitched into his throat as Toothless made a quick in-air loop to oblige. He had to show his father that he could do it, prove to Stoick that he was wrong. Hiccup was not a broken Viking, he was a man—and he was able to handle what was on a battlefield.

They sped along the air until Hiccup saw the bright red beard of his father's as he pulled a sword blade from a downed Celt.

"Dad!" Hiccup called as they flew above the Chief's head.

Stoick looked up briefly then back to where his attention had been. Though, he just as quickly realized what he had seen and his eyes widened.

"Hiccup? What is he—what are you doing out here? Get down!" He commanded. Hiccup was looking for a spot to land Toothless. The majority of the battle had momentarily moved down the hill towards the fortress. Toothless perched on an overturn wagon and Hiccup unbuckled his foot from the stirrup.

"Stay low, Toothless," Hiccup ordered and the dragon crawled under the toppled wagon, keeping a lookout for enemies. "Dad! I'm here to help! What happened? It looks like you ran into trouble!"

"Hiccup! You can't be here!" Stoick started in, marching towards him. A horrible threatening glower fixed on his face. "Thor almighty you don't even have proper armor! Go home!"

"I have my breast-hat! I'm ready to fight!" He argued and pointed at the horned helmet on his head. He began to look around for any fallen weapons to use.

"Helmet!" Stoick corrected as he finally stood in front of his son and grabbed him hard by the shoulders. "I told you to stay in Berk, you deliberately disobeyed me! The consequences for this shall not go unpunished. When we get home—"

Hiccup raised his brows, not understanding why his dad had abruptly stopped chiding him. That was until Stoick slumped forward and Hiccup saw a lingering Celtic soldier with a dirt-streaked face withdraw a blade from Stoick's back. No one had seen him coming from behind the chieftain's massive shoulders, and also with such distractions.

"Dad?" Hiccup's eyes widened as he caught his father. He felt a sticky liquid and realized with horror it was his father's blood. The Celtic soldier began to dart away, not even paying the scrawny youth a second glance.

"Augh!"

He used all his might to keep Stoick from collapsing to the ground, but his father was just so—vast that Hiccup's knees buckled and he had to carefully let his father to the ground. He saw the wound or the impact of it. A great red was spreading through his father's shirt. He began to undress the armor for it was of no use any more.

Panic set in his chest, though he had heard stories of vicious wounds inflicted upon Stoick the Vast he had never seen one actually come to pass on the man. Spitelout, his father's first general and own brother plus those left in his command came upon them from the South. They had fought their way through a brigade of Celts to report back to their leader.

"What has happened?" Spitelout cried at seeing Stoick crumpled on his stomach. Stoick had his teeth gritted as he struggled through breaths. No even bothered to ask how Hiccup suddenly appeared in battle. There was no time to wonder, but they knew with Stoick out of commission and Hiccup there, Hiccup was now the one in charge.

Hiccup looked at the ground, it was his entire fault—though he realized it wasn't just him that could be broken in battle, anything could—even his own father. Hiccup would make time to fix it though, he had to. He knew his uncle was the best Viking to tend wounds, and so commanded, "Wrap his wound. I'm putting an end to this."

He took a breath and picked up his dad's sword. The sword was probably one he had reshaped during his time at the forge all last season, and if he lived through this it would be shaped again. He looked down to his injured father—if he should live through the sting, Hiccup would face the fury of Helheim itself. He'd gladly face his father's rage over his father's death any day though.

Hiccup fell to his knees in front of Stoick to face him in the eye, "I'm sorry Dad,"

The chieftain regarded his son and sighed through his teeth, "I am too." His tone was an utter shock to the lad. No doubt his father was furious at him, but there seemed to be regret in the man's tone, as though he knew all along Hiccup could handle himself in battle but refused to let him go for his own reasons.

Hiccup began to stand, to go, not knowing if he would succeed—not even knowing how for he was but just one person in the middle of hundreds. Perhaps he was just a fool and always had been. He was a joke not fit for any kind of leadership on a battlefield, and three years ago was fluke. He was still a screw-up, still useless. A battle with dragons was vastly different from a battle with humans. Human enemies were wicked, they acted with deceit and could strategize fully. Dragons were clever in nature but at least they were true. Stoick reached up and grabbed his son's hand to stop him.

"If I die—"

"You won't, I promise you won't—you've claimed to have worse anyway. I'll stop this, somehow." He knew the gist of the next line his father would say, but cut him to it, "I'll be careful." He did not promise a victory for he knew that was well impossible at that point.

He said his words fast on an exhale and on his next inhale, gave a shrill whistle to get Toothless's attention. The dragon split apart the wood of the cart that he had taken safety under and rushed to Hiccup's side attentively.

A nearby Viking yelled in precaution, "Night fury!" and those around him scattered to make room.

Hiccup hoped to all the Gods that Stoick would pull through, for in the back of his mind—a dread rose, knowing he would become chieftain if his father expired—a responsibility he was far from handling. That's when it struck him that Stoick didn't allow him to raid because if they both had died in the fight, then no one would be alive to lead the Vikings of Berk. He had made Hiccup stay to ensure that someone would at least be left from the Haddock line. A deep feeling of guilt rose within his chest.

They could spot the soldier that had assaulted his father running down the hill towards the bigger battle, near the broken wall of the fortress—assumedly, to the rest of his fellow warriors. Hiccup felt a great rage replace the guilt in him and of how that man had stabbed his father in the back, a rather despicable and cowardly move; his eyes narrowed—knowing in his heart that the soldier would pay—he gripped the hilt of the sword tighter in his anger. Hiccup would make him pay.

Maybe, after all, the young Viking was more like his father than he thought.
Next -------->[link]

Quick-Chapters:
1: You are here
2: [link]
3: [link]
4: [link]
5: [link]
6: [link]


Beginning of Series [Part I]
-The Winter Haul-: [link]
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Heyo. This is part II of the seasonal Series, going right into Spring.

SYNOPSIS:
"Spring is all about renewal but for Berk it is the raiding season. Now that they are of age, our favorite Vikings must fight not only a battle, but also the ones within themselves"

'How To Train Your Dragon' characters (c) Dreamwork Animation & Cressida Cowell
© 2010 - 2024 ch4rms
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SkyFire117's avatar
A nice sequel you got here. Way to go Hiccup. But man I hope his dad's gonna make it. Anyway I very curious to read the rest and to see there expressions when they see Hiccup fightin' :)