Post by mokyn on Apr 4, 2010 16:34:27 GMT -5
Yep, I am just this crazy for fan fiction, that the very night I finish watching a movie, I have an idea, and then spend the next two days non-stop editing. This a short story about Hiccup growing up, and contains only mild spoilers. Forgive me if Hiccup’s mother does have an official name somewhere, but since they never said it in the film, I decided to give her the name Oleander. I hope you enjoy the fic, and any constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, or pointing out mistakes I most likely missed.
===
The day Hiccup was born, a storm was raging outside. The house had creaked from the force of the winds, and the thunderclaps could be felt within his mother’s and father’s very bones. They took it all as a good sign; he was coming into the world amidst a flurry of activity and strength.
His mother, Oleander, had chosen the name, deciding it would be good at fooling any creature he would face, unlike the name Astrid. Oh, it was a fine name for the girl who had been born almost a year beforehand, but it was much too easy to distinguish as a name, not at all good at confusing enemies.
Stoic had found him a bit... different at the beginning, but Hiccup was still a baby, he would grow out of it eventually. If he cried more often than other children and clung to his mother, it was something they could deal with.
And in all honesty, Stoic was glad to see his son standing out from the crowd.
*
*
*
Things started to get difficult after Oleander and Stoic decided it was high time Hiccup was around other children. He was a year old by that time, getting much better at walking and was even beginning to talk.
They took him to see Astrid, since Stoic needed to speak with her father about upcoming plans anyway. The children did well at distracting each other away from the adults, until Hiccup reached over Astrid’s shoulder for something she had, saying, “Wanna see. Wanna see.”
She shoved him away and stalked off to continue playing by herself. Hiccup started to whimper almost immediately, while Astrid stuck her tongue out at him. The boy cried harder at his injustice until Oleander consoled him.
“His name suits him,” Astrid’s father said, trying to joke about the sounds the boy made as he calmed down, but it only embarrassed Stoic.
“He is still young,” Oleander said as they went home, their son walking between them.
“He won’ be young forever,” Stoic argued. “Now, listen up, laddie.”
Hiccup looked up at him, his eyes bright and innocent.
“You live in one of the strongest villages in the world, where a shove is nothing more’n a summer breeze. If someone or somethin’ pushes you down, you show them how weak they are by gettin’ right back up. Understand?”
His son nodded. “Yes, Dad.”
*
*
*
“He’s still having trouble fittin’ in with the others,” Oleander said one morning, out of the blue. She was sewing new clothes for Hiccup, as he was fast outgrowing his old ones. Stoic stood at the window, watching from a distance as his son followed along with the group of children as they played a game of Vikings and Dragons.
“I know, I know! Just because he isn’t as happy to swing a wooden sword around, they treat him different. There’s nothin’ wrong with his drawing all the time, he could become a great mapmaker when he’s older, and then they’ll wish they’d been nicer.”
His wife finished her stitching, snapped the thread, then turned the shirt right-side out. “You could’ve fooled me,” she said.
Stoic turned to look at her, but she picked up more fabric as if she’d simply commented on the shape of the clouds.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I’m happy you’re proud of our little boy, but you’ve tried to make him as rough and tumble as the others for years now. Just admit you’re worried.”
“He’s just a bit scrawny for someone his age, that’s all!”
“Of course it is.”
For a while neither of them spoke, Oleander comfortable with the silence, and Stoic pacing about the house. Finally he said he was going out to speak to someone, and she wished him luck in whatever he planned to do.
He followed where he thought the children had gone, and finally found them shouting and whooping in the middle of the village. None of them noticed him, not even Hiccup, who held his hands at chest height and pleaded, “Can I please play too?”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut looked him up and down before one of them said, “Okay.” Hiccup smiled at this. “You can be a dragon.”
Hiccup’s smile became a frown. “But I’m always a dragon and they never win!”
Tuffnut countered with, “Would you rather be a sheep?” and Ruffnut jumped onto Hiccup, ruffling his hair and making obnoxiously loud eating noises.
Hiccup tried to to shake her off, but Ruffnut only laughed.
Stoic left them alone, not wanting to be discovered, and went back home. Around sunset, Hiccup returned and started to go to his room.
“Hullo, son!” his father called out, stopping him halfway on the stairs. “How did it go today?”
Hiccup’s smile somehow seemed too big as he replied, “Oh, it was lots of fun! I’m, um, feeling kind of tired, actually, and thought I’d take a nap before supper.”
The boy then bolted up the stairs before his father could say anything more. He never mentioned that day to anyone else, not even his wife.
*
*
*
In spite of the noise of hissing steam and clanging metal, Stoic found Gobber’s shop to be the easiest place for him to talk. The man who ran the shop most likely helped. Gobber was almost always willing to listen, even if he was still busy working. All someone had to do was raise their voice, and for everyone in the village this was such an obvious response the blacksmith never had to ask them.
“So how’s the boy doin’? I heard he caused some trouble the other day.” Gobber had been working on an axe as he talked, turning it over and flattening each side with a hammer.
Stoic sat off to the side, watching as his friend worked with more dexterity than a man with both hands.
“The boy got lost yesterday deciding to chase after pixies.” Stoic groaned and rolled his eyes at the thought.
Gobber finished with the axe, inspected it to make sure it was perfect, then placed it in water to cool.
He said, “Well, pixies are devilish blighters, you know. Or is that fairies I’m thinking of? I never can tell the difference between them.”
Stoic sighed. “I dunno what to do with him.”
Gobber came to stand beside him, thinking for a moment as he fiddled with his appendage. He had adjusted well to his handicap, giving himself an array of things to use when the environment called for it. He seemed to like it more than the hand he’d been born with, and his only complaint was how he got strange looks asking for a work glove instead of the expected pair.
“A good bit of work always set a kid right, from what I’ve seen,” he said. “Some learn to fish, some herd sheep... You’ll think of something to do.”
Stoic sighed again, holding his chin in the palm of his hand as he ran the tips of his fingers through his beard. Suddenly an idea struck him, making him raise his head back up.
“Have you thought of getting help in here?” he asked the blacksmith.
“Well, no, I haven-” Then Gobber saw the grin on the viking’s face. “Oh no. No, no, find somewhere else to send your son, I can work just fine myself, thank you.”
“I know you can do the work, but wouldn’t it go faster with someone else to do the smaller tasks?” Stoic was grateful it was only the two of them there, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to show his face after practically pleading for help. He added in, “He’s good with his hands, too, as long as you get him to sit still.”
Gobber looked around the walls of his forge, at all the work he’d done and still had to complete. Making up his mind, he gave in.
“I’ll put him through a test run. For one day, then we’ll see what happens.”
Stoic told Hiccup and Oleander about the idea that night, and was up in time the next morning to see Hiccup take off. Both parents worked for most of the day, cutting down trees to help fuel fires and rebuild the houses that had been destroyed in the last attack. No one interrupted with a cry of catastrophe, so they assumed the day had gone well for everyone else as well.
They returned home to find the house empty. Oleander told Stoic he should go get Hiccup, and he reluctantly agreed. But before he left, he turned his wife’s face gently towards him, holding his thumb to her chin.
“Your name suits you,” he told her. “You’re beautiful to look at.”
“And dangerous too,” she returned, trying to sound threatening but failing as she smiled. This had been their own joke for years now, and it had never failed to amuse them.
She then pushed her husband out the door, telling him to find out how the day had gone or else he’d find truth in what her name meant.
When Stoic reached the forge he found Gobber and Hiccup rearranging tables and benches as the smell of burnt wood permeated the air stronger than before.
Hiccup turned to see him enter, and gave a nervous wave. “Hey, Dad.”
Gobber looked up as well, and Stoic felt worry in his gut as he saw the man had singed eyebrows and beard.
“What happened?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Gobber replied, “Don’t ask me how, but somehow he-” and here the blacksmith pointed to Hiccup, who smiled sheepishly, “-tripped over a bench, which knocked over the swords, which knocked over the embers. Nearly burnt the place down.”
“But I put the fire out,” Hiccup said in defense.
“That you did, that you did. And you did what I asked without complainin’.”
“So I can work here?” Hiccup was nearly bouncing on his feet in anticipation.
“When I ask for it. Just learn to be lighter on your feet.” The last part was nearly lost amidst a chorus of thank yous and Stoic’s exhale of relief.
As they left for home, Gobbler called out, “Just let him outside with some furniture and our pests will be taken care of!”
Hiccup was too excited to care about the joke, happier than his father had ever seen him as he said, “I can’t wait to start. I even have some ideas of what to make after I learn more.”
Stoic just nodded, not sure what to say.
*
*
*
The last dragon attack had been brutal, leaving the village with four losses that would be felt for years to come. The funerals had ended, and now Stoic walked around the house with a sort of listless purpose. Here was where Oleander would discuss defenses and previous victories with him. There was where they’d wondered whether they would have a son or daughter in a few months, though they hadn’t cared much either way.
Never again would they be able to speak or even argue with each other. The only consolation Stoic had was that his wife had died in the midst of a fight to protect everyone, just like she would have wanted to go.
Hiccup hadn’t spoken all day, though his father hadn’t bothered him about it, letting the boy have a moment to grieve along with everyone. His father sat in his chair, thinking of the way his son had stared out with a look of determination. Or maybe he’d been holding back the tears. That was more likely, and he couldn’t be blamed for it.
He hadn’t been aware of falling asleep until there was a loud knock at his door. He jumped to answer it and was met with the sight of a man holding his son by the back of his completely drenched shirt. The boy was soaked through, his hair dripping onto the ground.
The man let go of him as his father continued to wonder at what was in front of him.
“I found your boy down by the dock,” the man explained. Hiccup just stood there, his shoulders tensed as if he wanted to disappear. “He’d probably be sailin’ away by now if I hadn’t heard him fall overboard.”
Stoic was still contemplating if maybe he was dreaming. How could someone as klutzy as his son have made it out the door without his noticing?
“Uh, thank you... For bringing him back.” he said to the man, and put a hand on Hiccup’s back, leading him into the house. The man gave a quick nod and then left them for the night.
Stoic closed the door and turned to the boy who stared at his shoe as he shuffled it on the floor. Now that his father could get a better look at him, he noticed he had a small shield on his arm and a knife in his belt that was used to gut and clean fish. He also rubbed at the back of his head, mindlessly running his fingers through his wet hair.
“What were you thinking?” Stoic asked his son, his voice raised loud enough to make the boy flinch. “You don’t even know how to sail, and you decided to try it at night?”
Hiccup still didn’t look up, and his nervous state kept his voice quiet. “I had a lantern, and it’s easy enough to figure out how a rudder and wind works. The boat just drifted further than I had first thought, so I slipped between it and the dock, is all.”
Still absently rubbing his head, he suddenly winced, though he tried to hide it.
“What’s wrong?” Stoic asked.
“I, uh, kind of hit my head when I fell.”
Stoic brought a hand to his face, rubbing at his forehead. It was much too late for this. If someone hadn’t found him...
His father dragged his hand down his face, tugging at his beard. “What were you doin’ out there?”
“I’ve heard people talk enough to learn things, and you had the map to the nest around anyway, so I just copied it, and-”
“Nest? You mean to say you planned to go out there at this time of night?!”
Hiccup finally looked his father straight in the eye, even squaring his shoulders to look like an adult, though with his hair plastered to his head, it only made him look more like a child.
“Dad, I want to fight dragons.” He announced.
The house was quiet, with not even a small bit of wind making a noise. Then the explosion came.
“Like hell you are! The only time you’ve ever held a weapon is to hand it to someone who can actually use it! You can’t even defeat dragons in kid’s games, and you think you can go up against the real thing?!”
Hiccup stared at him with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he realized what he’d gotten himself into.
“Dad, you’ll wake the neighbors.”
“Good! Then they’ll know what a foolish son I have, thinking eavesdropping is the same as going through months of training! Those things are monsters that will kill you sooner than you can see them coming. Now get out of my sight!”
Hiccup disappeared as quickly as his feet could manage, leaving his father with only the echoes of his own voice.
He stormed through the house, moving anything that he felt was in his way, while muttering unfinished thoughts. He found the map he’d made to the dragon’s nest in a drawer and moved it to the back of a cupboard. After he’d closed the door, he opened it again, taking the paper out and shoving it into his pocket. He then crossed to the fireplace and started a fire.
“Hiccup!”
Like a rabbit checking to see if the fox had left, his son appeared on the stairs, with dry clothes on him now. Though even from below, Stoic could see his shoulders becoming wet from the dripping water.
“You’re sleeping here tonight. You’ll get sick if you’re up there.”
They arranged a place for him in front of the fire so that he wasn’t sleeping on the bare ground, and Stoic placed his coat over him as a blanket. He sat back in his chair, and watched as his boy laid with his back to him, still tense, expecting further wrath. Eventually, he realized it wasn’t coming and he relaxed, falling asleep.
He shifted, lost in his dreams, as Stoic thought back to years before. Ever since the boy had been able to crawl, he’d been different. Ever since then, the world had pushed him down, and he’d somehow always found a way to stand up again, not knowing any better.
His father just wished he would remember that in the future.
END
===
In response to challenge: Use a character’s name in dialogue only once. Also, as a note, I find it funny how I named the mother Oleander, then remembered Alison Loman's character (in the movie adaption) had been named Astrid. And because I'm a dork, I had to throw in a reference to Big Fish, though it's so small I doubt anyone would be able to find it.
So what did you guys think? I didn't make any horrible typos, did I? Or do anything that you felt wasn't right and could be cut out? Really, any kind of comment would be helpful to me.
===
The day Hiccup was born, a storm was raging outside. The house had creaked from the force of the winds, and the thunderclaps could be felt within his mother’s and father’s very bones. They took it all as a good sign; he was coming into the world amidst a flurry of activity and strength.
His mother, Oleander, had chosen the name, deciding it would be good at fooling any creature he would face, unlike the name Astrid. Oh, it was a fine name for the girl who had been born almost a year beforehand, but it was much too easy to distinguish as a name, not at all good at confusing enemies.
Stoic had found him a bit... different at the beginning, but Hiccup was still a baby, he would grow out of it eventually. If he cried more often than other children and clung to his mother, it was something they could deal with.
And in all honesty, Stoic was glad to see his son standing out from the crowd.
*
*
*
Things started to get difficult after Oleander and Stoic decided it was high time Hiccup was around other children. He was a year old by that time, getting much better at walking and was even beginning to talk.
They took him to see Astrid, since Stoic needed to speak with her father about upcoming plans anyway. The children did well at distracting each other away from the adults, until Hiccup reached over Astrid’s shoulder for something she had, saying, “Wanna see. Wanna see.”
She shoved him away and stalked off to continue playing by herself. Hiccup started to whimper almost immediately, while Astrid stuck her tongue out at him. The boy cried harder at his injustice until Oleander consoled him.
“His name suits him,” Astrid’s father said, trying to joke about the sounds the boy made as he calmed down, but it only embarrassed Stoic.
“He is still young,” Oleander said as they went home, their son walking between them.
“He won’ be young forever,” Stoic argued. “Now, listen up, laddie.”
Hiccup looked up at him, his eyes bright and innocent.
“You live in one of the strongest villages in the world, where a shove is nothing more’n a summer breeze. If someone or somethin’ pushes you down, you show them how weak they are by gettin’ right back up. Understand?”
His son nodded. “Yes, Dad.”
*
*
*
“He’s still having trouble fittin’ in with the others,” Oleander said one morning, out of the blue. She was sewing new clothes for Hiccup, as he was fast outgrowing his old ones. Stoic stood at the window, watching from a distance as his son followed along with the group of children as they played a game of Vikings and Dragons.
“I know, I know! Just because he isn’t as happy to swing a wooden sword around, they treat him different. There’s nothin’ wrong with his drawing all the time, he could become a great mapmaker when he’s older, and then they’ll wish they’d been nicer.”
His wife finished her stitching, snapped the thread, then turned the shirt right-side out. “You could’ve fooled me,” she said.
Stoic turned to look at her, but she picked up more fabric as if she’d simply commented on the shape of the clouds.
“What did you mean by that?”
“I’m happy you’re proud of our little boy, but you’ve tried to make him as rough and tumble as the others for years now. Just admit you’re worried.”
“He’s just a bit scrawny for someone his age, that’s all!”
“Of course it is.”
For a while neither of them spoke, Oleander comfortable with the silence, and Stoic pacing about the house. Finally he said he was going out to speak to someone, and she wished him luck in whatever he planned to do.
He followed where he thought the children had gone, and finally found them shouting and whooping in the middle of the village. None of them noticed him, not even Hiccup, who held his hands at chest height and pleaded, “Can I please play too?”
Ruffnut and Tuffnut looked him up and down before one of them said, “Okay.” Hiccup smiled at this. “You can be a dragon.”
Hiccup’s smile became a frown. “But I’m always a dragon and they never win!”
Tuffnut countered with, “Would you rather be a sheep?” and Ruffnut jumped onto Hiccup, ruffling his hair and making obnoxiously loud eating noises.
Hiccup tried to to shake her off, but Ruffnut only laughed.
Stoic left them alone, not wanting to be discovered, and went back home. Around sunset, Hiccup returned and started to go to his room.
“Hullo, son!” his father called out, stopping him halfway on the stairs. “How did it go today?”
Hiccup’s smile somehow seemed too big as he replied, “Oh, it was lots of fun! I’m, um, feeling kind of tired, actually, and thought I’d take a nap before supper.”
The boy then bolted up the stairs before his father could say anything more. He never mentioned that day to anyone else, not even his wife.
*
*
*
In spite of the noise of hissing steam and clanging metal, Stoic found Gobber’s shop to be the easiest place for him to talk. The man who ran the shop most likely helped. Gobber was almost always willing to listen, even if he was still busy working. All someone had to do was raise their voice, and for everyone in the village this was such an obvious response the blacksmith never had to ask them.
“So how’s the boy doin’? I heard he caused some trouble the other day.” Gobber had been working on an axe as he talked, turning it over and flattening each side with a hammer.
Stoic sat off to the side, watching as his friend worked with more dexterity than a man with both hands.
“The boy got lost yesterday deciding to chase after pixies.” Stoic groaned and rolled his eyes at the thought.
Gobber finished with the axe, inspected it to make sure it was perfect, then placed it in water to cool.
He said, “Well, pixies are devilish blighters, you know. Or is that fairies I’m thinking of? I never can tell the difference between them.”
Stoic sighed. “I dunno what to do with him.”
Gobber came to stand beside him, thinking for a moment as he fiddled with his appendage. He had adjusted well to his handicap, giving himself an array of things to use when the environment called for it. He seemed to like it more than the hand he’d been born with, and his only complaint was how he got strange looks asking for a work glove instead of the expected pair.
“A good bit of work always set a kid right, from what I’ve seen,” he said. “Some learn to fish, some herd sheep... You’ll think of something to do.”
Stoic sighed again, holding his chin in the palm of his hand as he ran the tips of his fingers through his beard. Suddenly an idea struck him, making him raise his head back up.
“Have you thought of getting help in here?” he asked the blacksmith.
“Well, no, I haven-” Then Gobber saw the grin on the viking’s face. “Oh no. No, no, find somewhere else to send your son, I can work just fine myself, thank you.”
“I know you can do the work, but wouldn’t it go faster with someone else to do the smaller tasks?” Stoic was grateful it was only the two of them there, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to show his face after practically pleading for help. He added in, “He’s good with his hands, too, as long as you get him to sit still.”
Gobber looked around the walls of his forge, at all the work he’d done and still had to complete. Making up his mind, he gave in.
“I’ll put him through a test run. For one day, then we’ll see what happens.”
Stoic told Hiccup and Oleander about the idea that night, and was up in time the next morning to see Hiccup take off. Both parents worked for most of the day, cutting down trees to help fuel fires and rebuild the houses that had been destroyed in the last attack. No one interrupted with a cry of catastrophe, so they assumed the day had gone well for everyone else as well.
They returned home to find the house empty. Oleander told Stoic he should go get Hiccup, and he reluctantly agreed. But before he left, he turned his wife’s face gently towards him, holding his thumb to her chin.
“Your name suits you,” he told her. “You’re beautiful to look at.”
“And dangerous too,” she returned, trying to sound threatening but failing as she smiled. This had been their own joke for years now, and it had never failed to amuse them.
She then pushed her husband out the door, telling him to find out how the day had gone or else he’d find truth in what her name meant.
When Stoic reached the forge he found Gobber and Hiccup rearranging tables and benches as the smell of burnt wood permeated the air stronger than before.
Hiccup turned to see him enter, and gave a nervous wave. “Hey, Dad.”
Gobber looked up as well, and Stoic felt worry in his gut as he saw the man had singed eyebrows and beard.
“What happened?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Gobber replied, “Don’t ask me how, but somehow he-” and here the blacksmith pointed to Hiccup, who smiled sheepishly, “-tripped over a bench, which knocked over the swords, which knocked over the embers. Nearly burnt the place down.”
“But I put the fire out,” Hiccup said in defense.
“That you did, that you did. And you did what I asked without complainin’.”
“So I can work here?” Hiccup was nearly bouncing on his feet in anticipation.
“When I ask for it. Just learn to be lighter on your feet.” The last part was nearly lost amidst a chorus of thank yous and Stoic’s exhale of relief.
As they left for home, Gobbler called out, “Just let him outside with some furniture and our pests will be taken care of!”
Hiccup was too excited to care about the joke, happier than his father had ever seen him as he said, “I can’t wait to start. I even have some ideas of what to make after I learn more.”
Stoic just nodded, not sure what to say.
*
*
*
The last dragon attack had been brutal, leaving the village with four losses that would be felt for years to come. The funerals had ended, and now Stoic walked around the house with a sort of listless purpose. Here was where Oleander would discuss defenses and previous victories with him. There was where they’d wondered whether they would have a son or daughter in a few months, though they hadn’t cared much either way.
Never again would they be able to speak or even argue with each other. The only consolation Stoic had was that his wife had died in the midst of a fight to protect everyone, just like she would have wanted to go.
Hiccup hadn’t spoken all day, though his father hadn’t bothered him about it, letting the boy have a moment to grieve along with everyone. His father sat in his chair, thinking of the way his son had stared out with a look of determination. Or maybe he’d been holding back the tears. That was more likely, and he couldn’t be blamed for it.
He hadn’t been aware of falling asleep until there was a loud knock at his door. He jumped to answer it and was met with the sight of a man holding his son by the back of his completely drenched shirt. The boy was soaked through, his hair dripping onto the ground.
The man let go of him as his father continued to wonder at what was in front of him.
“I found your boy down by the dock,” the man explained. Hiccup just stood there, his shoulders tensed as if he wanted to disappear. “He’d probably be sailin’ away by now if I hadn’t heard him fall overboard.”
Stoic was still contemplating if maybe he was dreaming. How could someone as klutzy as his son have made it out the door without his noticing?
“Uh, thank you... For bringing him back.” he said to the man, and put a hand on Hiccup’s back, leading him into the house. The man gave a quick nod and then left them for the night.
Stoic closed the door and turned to the boy who stared at his shoe as he shuffled it on the floor. Now that his father could get a better look at him, he noticed he had a small shield on his arm and a knife in his belt that was used to gut and clean fish. He also rubbed at the back of his head, mindlessly running his fingers through his wet hair.
“What were you thinking?” Stoic asked his son, his voice raised loud enough to make the boy flinch. “You don’t even know how to sail, and you decided to try it at night?”
Hiccup still didn’t look up, and his nervous state kept his voice quiet. “I had a lantern, and it’s easy enough to figure out how a rudder and wind works. The boat just drifted further than I had first thought, so I slipped between it and the dock, is all.”
Still absently rubbing his head, he suddenly winced, though he tried to hide it.
“What’s wrong?” Stoic asked.
“I, uh, kind of hit my head when I fell.”
Stoic brought a hand to his face, rubbing at his forehead. It was much too late for this. If someone hadn’t found him...
His father dragged his hand down his face, tugging at his beard. “What were you doin’ out there?”
“I’ve heard people talk enough to learn things, and you had the map to the nest around anyway, so I just copied it, and-”
“Nest? You mean to say you planned to go out there at this time of night?!”
Hiccup finally looked his father straight in the eye, even squaring his shoulders to look like an adult, though with his hair plastered to his head, it only made him look more like a child.
“Dad, I want to fight dragons.” He announced.
The house was quiet, with not even a small bit of wind making a noise. Then the explosion came.
“Like hell you are! The only time you’ve ever held a weapon is to hand it to someone who can actually use it! You can’t even defeat dragons in kid’s games, and you think you can go up against the real thing?!”
Hiccup stared at him with wide eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly as he realized what he’d gotten himself into.
“Dad, you’ll wake the neighbors.”
“Good! Then they’ll know what a foolish son I have, thinking eavesdropping is the same as going through months of training! Those things are monsters that will kill you sooner than you can see them coming. Now get out of my sight!”
Hiccup disappeared as quickly as his feet could manage, leaving his father with only the echoes of his own voice.
He stormed through the house, moving anything that he felt was in his way, while muttering unfinished thoughts. He found the map he’d made to the dragon’s nest in a drawer and moved it to the back of a cupboard. After he’d closed the door, he opened it again, taking the paper out and shoving it into his pocket. He then crossed to the fireplace and started a fire.
“Hiccup!”
Like a rabbit checking to see if the fox had left, his son appeared on the stairs, with dry clothes on him now. Though even from below, Stoic could see his shoulders becoming wet from the dripping water.
“You’re sleeping here tonight. You’ll get sick if you’re up there.”
They arranged a place for him in front of the fire so that he wasn’t sleeping on the bare ground, and Stoic placed his coat over him as a blanket. He sat back in his chair, and watched as his boy laid with his back to him, still tense, expecting further wrath. Eventually, he realized it wasn’t coming and he relaxed, falling asleep.
He shifted, lost in his dreams, as Stoic thought back to years before. Ever since the boy had been able to crawl, he’d been different. Ever since then, the world had pushed him down, and he’d somehow always found a way to stand up again, not knowing any better.
His father just wished he would remember that in the future.
END
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In response to challenge: Use a character’s name in dialogue only once. Also, as a note, I find it funny how I named the mother Oleander, then remembered Alison Loman's character (in the movie adaption) had been named Astrid. And because I'm a dork, I had to throw in a reference to Big Fish, though it's so small I doubt anyone would be able to find it.
So what did you guys think? I didn't make any horrible typos, did I? Or do anything that you felt wasn't right and could be cut out? Really, any kind of comment would be helpful to me.
