Chapter Text
“Too slow! Hiccup too slow!” Pebble chirped teasingly over her shoulder. When no response came, she swung her head around to find her companion.
Before she could panic, a weight landed nimbly on her back. She didn’t even need to look to check who it was, she knew just by how light it felt.
Sure enough, Hiccup threw his soft paws around her neck and placed his blunt teeth to the thick scales of Pebble’s hide. They both knew that he could do no real damage to her with those pitiful fangs. Still, Pebble fell dramatically to the ground, as if she’d been mortally wounded. Hiccup slid from her back and bounced excitedly.
“I win! I win!”
Pebble huffed playfully, but dipped her head to acknowledge his victory in their game. Hiccup gently scratched the scales on her neck that he’d pretended to bite, reaffirming that it was all play. He stepped back, and Pebble preened his hair in farewell before flying off towards a small islet off the coast of Berk.
Hiccup learned quickly over the past few weeks that most communication between dragons didn’t involve words, especially between flockmates. Pebble’s flock had all but adopted him after his first visit, so he’d had many opportunities to learn about the intricacies of their culture. Her flock was small, consisting of a handful of Nadders, two Gronckles, and a single Nightmare.
Cloudfrill — a Hobblegrunt that Hiccup had helped out of a fishing net —had been reunited with his own flock, but he’d promised to visit.
But despite the small number of dragons he was consistently around, he was learning by leaps and bounds. He didn’t know everything, mind you, as he was still quite new to this world.
After saying goodbye to Pebble, Hiccup strolled leisurely through the forest. He was in no hurry to get back to the village, where nearly everyone despised him. He much preferred the care that his dragon friends had shown him to the quiet disdain and outright bullying that awaited him outside the relative safety of the woods.
Hiccup reeled back suddenly, as a blazing orange blur crashed through the trees, landing near a cluster of rocks.
“A flaming squirrel?” he whispered to himself, before shaking his head at the ridiculousness of that thought.
With nearly silent steps, he crept closer to the rocks, keeping his eyes peeled for any movement. Even from several yards away, Hiccup’s sharp eyes caught the flash of a bright orange wing. He dropped into a half-crouch to make himself seem smaller.
“Hello?” he called in soft Draconic. “Hello, hurt?”
His keen ears picked up shifting in a small crevice, so he crept forward and stopped just far enough away that he could bolt if need be. When no blast of fire came, he drew closer to the crevice, and found a small, unfamiliar dragon.
It was peculiarly shaped, with rich orange, Timberjack-like wings, and a long, white face. Unlike a Timberjack, it had two legs, though it seemed to place most of its weight on its claw-tipped wings. Hiccup was certain he’d never seen anything like it, not even in the Book of Dragons.
“Hello,” he cooed again.
The dragon pressed itself against the rock, making soft sounds of distress. Hiccup frowned at the obvious display of fear. He lowered himself to the ground fully and sat with his legs crossed.
“Safe,” he assured, and gestured to himself. “Hiccup safe, dragon-friend. Little-dragon hurt?” He pointed to the back leg of the dragon, the one he’d spotted it trying to keep its weight off of.
Hiccup hastily pulled his finger back when needle-like teeth snapped at it. He held his empty palms out in a gesture of surrender and hunched his shoulders.
“Sorry! Not scary! Just Hiccup! Safe, promise.”
The dragon untensed and moved forward ever so slightly to sniff at Hiccup. He sat perfectly still, breathing shallowly as the dragon’s nose came towards him.
A branch snapped in the distance, and Hiccup broke the spell by rising back into a defensive crouch as he scanned the trees for a threat. Despite its earlier fear, the small dragon launched itself at Hiccup and buried its face in his fur vest. He winced as razor-sharp claws dug into his skin, but carefully wrapped his arms around it. He stood, ready to make a run for it, only to sigh in relief as a boar trampled through the undergrowth.
“Just an animal,” he whispered to the dragon. “No threat. All safe.”
It peered up at him cautiously but didn’t immediately try to get away. Its claws loosened from a death grip, trusting Hiccup’s hold. Hiccup smiled soothingly, and it tilted its head curiously. Evidently, the way that he’d immediately decided to defend it had helped him gain the dragon’s trust.
“So, little guy, are you hurt?”
The dragon stared blankly. Hiccup blinked back.
“Oh! Little-dragon hurt?” he tried again, slipping back into the dragon-tongue with ease.
Hesitantly, it stretched out one leg. Hiccup observed the small cuts and the slight sprain. He bit his lip as he thought. He wasn’t sure how to treat wounds on a dragon. Over the years, he’d picked up quite a bit of knowledge on how to treat his own scrapes and bruises.
It was a common occurrence for Hiccup to be injured. He’d always been prone to wandering off and exploring, which came with its fair share of falls and bumps. The children his age also disliked him and found great joy in pushing him around. Snotlout—his cousin—had once pushed him into a shallow well, giving him a sprained arm. There had been no consequences for Snotlout, of course, because it was easy enough for him to blame the fall on Hiccup’s notorious clumsiness.
Hiccup nodded in determination. If he knew how to wrap a sprain on his own arm, he could figure out how to wrap a dragon’s leg.
He’d sneak the little guy into Berk, treat it as best he could, and then bring the dragon with him the next day when he met up with Pebble.
That was another issue, he realized. His flock lived off the coast of Berk, and he wouldn’t be able to reach the small islet they called home without a boat. He had no way of reaching them otherwise, and that realization made his breathing pick up.
Hiccup forced his anxiety down before the dragon could pick up on it. That was a problem for later. It didn’t help when in that moment, the boar he’d heard earlier came barreling through the treeline.
Hiccup bared his teeth and snarled at the animal. The dragon in his arms swung its head around and copied him. He blew a spiraling plume of fire at the boar, sending it squealing away from them. The fire missed it, but managed to strip a young, healthy tree of all its foliage. He decided then and there that this dragon more than likely fell in the Stoker class.
“Whoa,” Hiccup breathed. “You torched the Hel out of that thing, didn’t you? Oh! How does that sound, little guy? Torch-name?”
The newly named Torch preened happily, both at the praise and at the name. Hiccup laughed and scratched under his scaly chin.
After a moment of basking in the happiness that came with a new dragon friend, Hiccup tried to unwind the dragon from around his middle, but Torch just hung on tighter.
“I need you to stay here while I get some supplies, okay? Ah- Torch stay in rocks? Hiccup-self come back, promise.”
Torch made no indication of having heard him, so Hiccup sighed in defeat. There was nothing more stubborn than a young dragon, especially the more hot-headed dragons. And then a thought hit him, causing him to perk up.
He’d seen Timberjacks carrying their young on their backs, much like bipedal dragons did.
Carefully, so as not to jostle Torch, Hiccup managed to wrestle his vest off. He guided Torch onto his back, wincing as tiny claws scratched at his flesh.
“Torch has to stay very still, very quiet,” he told Torch. Taking the warm puff of air on his neck as an acknowledgment, he put his vest back on, covering Torch. It was slightly too large for Hiccup, a fact he was very thankful for in this situation. It concealed the little dragon clinging to his back almost perfectly. Still, he planned to rely on his stealth to get through the village unnoticed.
It was a plan that almost worked. He ducked behind houses and carts and even the odd yak to avoid being spotted. Unfortunately, Snotlout had an almost superhuman ability to spot his cousin, something he used to torment Hiccup endlessly.
“Hey!” Snotlout called. “Almost mistook you for a girl, cuz. That’s why you’re growing your hair out, right? Because everyone thinks you’re too small to be a boy? Do you think anyone would really like you more if you were a girl? Huh? I wouldn’t, that’s for sure.”
Hiccup sighed in frustration and picked up his pace. Snotlout followed suit, and Hiccup contemplated making a break toward his house.
“Hiccup! I’m talking to you,” he drawled in annoyance. “Running never works out too well for you, does it, runt?”
Hiccup’s hand clenched into a fist. Under normal circumstances, he might have responded with a dry remark that would only serve to further infuriate his cousin, but he couldn’t risk Snotlout’s reaction with Torch’s safety on the line. So, he played dirty.
Hiccup turned and looked over Snotlout’s shoulder.
“Hey, Dad!”
Snotlout whipped around to look for Stoick. Upon realizing that his uncle wasn’t there, he turned back to face Hiccup, only to find an empty street. He shouted in anger and kicked at the ground.
Hiccup had taken the opportunity and fled, taking every possible shortcut towards the Haddock household. He used his body to slam the lock into place before finally relaxing. One hand drifted up towards his head, tucking a piece of shoulder-length auburn hair behind one ear.
“I like my hair,” he reminded himself, refusing to allow Snotlout’s comment to get under his skin. And the dragons liked it too! Their opinions were worth a thousand of Snotlout’s.
Satisfied, Hiccup nodded to himself and took a quick survey of the house. His father was rarely home before sundown, but if Stoick were to see a dragon in his own home…
Hiccup would never forgive himself if something happened to a dragon because of him, especially to such a young dragon. He shuddered just thinking about it. Once he was certain he was alone in the house, he coaxed Torch out from under his vest and into his arms. Torch cooed curiously as he took in his surroundings.
“Hiccup’s nest,” he informed the little dragon.
Torch trilled in excitement and squirmed out of Hiccup’s hold. He seemed determined to investigate every nook and cranny of the home. Hiccup winced every time something crashed to the—very wooden, very flammable—floor.
Maybe bringing a dragon too young for true control over its fire into a contained, wooden space hadn’t been Hiccup’s best idea. He took a deep breath and grabbed a bag from his room. Thinking quickly, he stuffed the small first aid kit that Gothi had given him into it, followed by a few smoked fish, extra cloth, and a small metal rod from one of his most recent inventions.
Hiccup coaxed Torch onto his back once more, grabbed his journal, and replaced his vest before sneaking out one of the windows. He’d made sure to unlock the front door for when his father returned, but he hadn’t wanted to step outside in case Snotlout had followed him home.
His steps were deliberate, yet quick as he made his way toward the forest and away from the prying eyes of any passing Viking. Nothing good could come from anyone finding out about the company Hiccup chose to keep.