Hiccup: Why am I doing this? Hiccup wondered, walking into the arena. The villagers who once spat at him now roared his name in support. His father sat upon the stone throne, a rare pride etched on his face, for his son’s ranking as first in dragon training. Hiccup knew he was about to do something that would shatter his father’s pride again, something bordering on heresy. But he had to try. He needed to convince the Vikings that dragons weren't the devils they believed them to be. Looking at the array of weapons, he remembered weeks ago, dreaming of this moment. But now… now he wasn’t the Viking he’d been. Or *was* he? He had no idea. He picked up a shield and a dagger. He wasn’t going to kill the dragon. He took a deep breath. “I’m ready.” The gate groaned open with brutal speed. Excitement surged around him, the anticipation of the trial a rising tide. Would they listen? Would they accept dragons weren’t evil? He didn’t know. All he knew was he had to try.
BANG! The gate swung open, and a Monstrous Nightmare erupted, wreathed in flames. It possessed a hungry gleam, as if starved for a feast. *Do they feed these things?* Hiccup thought, a morbid humor twisting in his gut. Here he was, in the arena, expected to kill a dragon, and he was wondering about its diet. The Nightmare scaled the arena chains like a spider, searching for prey. It unleashed a gout of fire at the spectators, who scattered with laughter. Suddenly, the dragon stopped, hovering above Hiccup. It sniffed the air, then slowly descended. It landed with a thud. Silence descended as the runt Viking and the mighty dragon stared each other down.
The first step, gain its trust, Hiccup thought as the dragon advanced. He dropped his shield and dagger, extending his hands in front of him. “What’s he doing?” He heard his father ask, his voice low with confusion.
Stoick: Is he going to snap the dragon’s neck with his bare hands? Stoick felt a surge of pride. He and his son finally had something in common. He was ready to witness a fight that bards would sing about for generations. He had no idea what his son was planning.
Hiccup: Hiccup grabbed the helmet he’d been given after his ‘success’ in the ring. His father said it was half his mother’s breastplate. A gift, from a proud father to a disappointing son. Hiccup didn’t deserve it, but neither did the Vikings deserve him if they wouldn’t listen. He looked up at his father. Pride had given way to curiosity. Why was he holding his helmet? Was he going to stab the dragon with it? He could see the gears turning in his father’s mind. Hiccup stared into the dragon’s eyes, his face resolute. He knew what he had to do. “I’m not one of them,” he said calmly, and tossed his helmet aside. The Nightmare’s face relaxed. Its eyes held wonder.
Meanwhile, the arena erupted with frantic whispers. What did he say? Why did he discard his helmet? What was he thinking? Stoick’s voice boomed above the chaos. “Stop the fight!”
“NO!” Hiccup yelled. “I need you all to see this. They are not what we think they are. We don’t need to kill them.” He was about to tame a dragon in front of these Vikings’ very eyes. They were just about to touch when Stoick screamed, “I SAID STOP THE FIGHT!” and slammed his hammer against the arena’s metal. The sound was deafening, sending the dragon into a defensive frenzy.
Crap, Hiccup thought as he quickly removed his hand before the dragon could bite it off. This wasn’t going as planned. He dove sideways as the dragon unleashed a blast of fire. He turned in time to see Astrid throw a hammer straight at the Nightmare’s face. Why in Odin is she trying to save me? He thought. The dragon turned, running straight at her. She threw everything she could at it, slowing it down. “Quickly! Over here!” Stoick yelled from the arena entrance, gesturing for Astrid and Hiccup to come. Astrid ran into Stoick’s arms. He extended his hand for Hiccup, but the Nightmare had other plans. It shot fire in Hiccup’s path, forcing him to change direction. He tripped, falling to the ground. The Nightmare had him pinned beneath its claw. The dragon seemed amused by the easy capture of the scrawny Viking. If you want to kill me, just get it over with, Hiccup pleaded in his mind. He closed his eyes, refusing to see his fate unfold. He heard someone yell his name, then a new sound.
ssssscccccrrrreeeeeAAAAAAA! KABOOM!
The sound was deafening. Hiccup felt a ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes to see smoke swirling around him. He felt the Nightmare hurled backward. He finally breathed, inhaling smoke and coughing. He sat up in a daze, then recovered as he thought one word: Toothless?
“Night Fury!” Gobber yelled. Hiccup whipped around to see the Nightmare on top of Toothless. But the Night Fury wasn’t at a disadvantage. He battered the Nightmare, clawing and biting. They roared, until Toothless pushed the Nightmare off him. He darted between Hiccup and the dragon, roaring. Toothless clawed and snapped at every attempt the Nightmare made toward Hiccup. Finally, the Nightmare bowed its head in submission and slithered away. Hiccup knew he had only seconds to make Toothless flee. He lept to the Night Fury and started pushing toward the hole he created. “Come on, bud, you have to get out of here,” he pleaded. He looked into the dragon’s eyes and didn’t budge. The eyes read, “Not without you, brother.” That’s when Hiccup made his choice. He jumped onto the dragon’s saddle and adjusted himself. He needed to hold on tight because he didn’t have his flying gear. Vikings poured around them as they shot up into the sky. The force of the wind pushed the Vikings nearest to the dragon as they shot into the sky at neck-breaking speed. Hiccup urged Toothless to fly around the arena, making one last desperate attempt to quell the dragon Viking hatred. “THEY ARE NOT DANGEROUS! TOOTHLESS AND I ARE PROOF OF THIS! WE COULD STOP THESE RAIDS IF WE WORK TOGETHER!” Hiccup bellowed.
Then, one word came from his least favorite person: “RENEGADE!” bellowed his uncle Spitlout. Then, the voices of other Vikings rose soon afterward.
“TRAITOR!” “DISGRACE!” “HARATIC!”
And many other offensive words hit Hiccup like slaps in the face. Toothless stared at his friend with concern as Hiccup’s face fell. Only Stoick and Gobber didn’t add their voices to the insults. Stoick crestfallen, Gobber… proud?
Gobber: Gobber stared at his apprentice, flying, FLYING, on a dragon. Though he had no love for the beasts, he was amazed and proud of Hiccup’s confidence riding the Night Fury. The best a blacksmith can do is think outside the box, Gobber had told Hiccup, who promptly started inventing dragon-slaying weapons. Most failed, some good ideas everyone except Gobber believed wouldn’t work. No matter what Hiccup said, thought, or did, Gobber would always be proud of his friend’s son and apprentice. And now, this was something to be proud of. Vikings and dragons working together! Hiccup and his Night Fury were proof. It *can* be done! Hiccup looked at him questioningly, wondering why he was so proud. He marveled at the craftsmanship of the tail fin and saddle. Hiccup had made a waving salute type gesture, which Hiccup mimicked back before taking off.
As he and Stoick watched Hiccup and the Night Fury disappear, it dawned on him that his apprentice might never return. For such betrayal, Hiccup would have one of two choices: branding and prison for a year, or banishment from Berk, never to return.
When he flew off on that dragon, Hiccup made his choice. He was now an outcast, bound never to return. Berk would soon forget him; however, he wouldn’t. And now, looking at Stoick, he wouldn’t either. Stoick would never forget his son, and Gobber would never forget his apprentice, the son he never had. May Odin protect you as you find your path, Gobber prayed.
Hiccup: Gobber had waved to Hiccup with a face of pure pride. Hiccup felt glad. At least one person from Berk would have possibly listened. “Well, bud, we’re on our own,” he yelled over the sound of the rushing wind. I am now, officially, a renegade of Berk, he thought bitterly. He was thankful he’d prepared to leave the previous night, so all his personal items were at the cove. Clothes, tools, his journal with sketches, supplies to help him and Toothless survive. He’d originally planned to leave that night, to avoid the Nightmare. But then he thought maybe he could save the dragons if he could just prove centuries of Viking beliefs wrong. At least I tried, he thought as he quickly packed Toothless. He knew he’d possibly never set foot on Berk again, a painful thought, but he wasn’t liked anyway. He hadn’t thought his leaving would affect the villagers’ lives so much.
When they flew off the Island, Hiccup looked back at Berk one last time. His father’s home. His mentor’s home. The home of the woman he loved. The place he’d shot Toothless. The place he’d made his one and only friend—the place he was now considered a renegade.