Hi, friends. I just watched How To Train Your Dragon 2 and felt such a rush of weird renewed affection towards Hiccup and Toothless that I felt like writing another fanfic. Cheers!

This is Berk.

Yak milk freezes over 300 days of the year and gives your stomach frostbite the other 65. If you want your hands warm, you kill a dragon and make gloves out of its hide. Only the strongest, most ruthless Vikings survive here.

And then there's me.

"Velekha, the pump!" Astrid yells at me, shoving her bucket under the water pipe, eyes darting around for fire amidst the roars and screams.

"My butt's on fire!" Ruffnut hollers, running wildly down the hill. "It's too hot!"

"Don't flatter yourself," Tuffnut snickers, then is smacked in the head by Ruffnut's bucket. A Gronckle bellows overhead and burps a ball of flame, lighting a house across the square on fire.

"The pump, Velekha!" Astrid screams at me again, and I fumble with the rusted metal. The pipe gargles, channeling sea water from down the cliff...but nothing comes out.

Astrid curses, and we both duck as a swarm of Terrible Terrors zip overhead.

"It must be frozen!" I cry desperately, pumping the latch up and down with no avail.

There's a loud roar- too loud to be Viking- and with a swoop of sweltering heat, a Monstrous Nightmare lands in front of us, not ten paces from Ruffnut, who's clutching her behind. It's enormous and all spiny teeth and burning scales. It whips its head and fire rains down across the dirt, setting the nearest houses on fire.

And I do what I know how to do.

I scream.

The Nightmare's giant yellow eyes turn to me and it folds its wings, crawling towards us, flames flickering all over it like it's burning alive and I wonder for an insane instant if it's hurting—

"You're useless!" Astrid screams, pushing me roughly aside. She pulls out her axe and swings it hard across the base of the pipe. Several feet of pipe is cut clear off, flying and slicing across my arm. I cry out wrap my hand around the bleeding.

Astrid's taken up a shield and directs the flow away from her, dowsing the Monstrous Nightmare and all the burning houses with briny water. The dragon shakes itself and opens its mouth to spit fire, but a lone spark falls onto the wet ground before its eyes start to sting. It shrieks and soon another echoes it, then another, until the whole mass of attacking dragons is roaring a monstrous storm.

And with a great flapping of wings, they alight, red and green and blue, fierce talons, sopping wet, away over the ocean.

Astrid drops the shield and sea water spits straight up a good ten paces, drenching all of us in salty spray.

And all of Berk cheers.

Gobber throws open the windows of his weaponry shop. "It was Astrid!" He shouts. "By Thor, you shouldna seen 'er!" He beats his hook hand against the counter with hoorah.

The villagers cheer and beat their shields on hammers, then take Astrid up on their shoulders. She laughs a little, moonlight flashing all over her golden hair. What a Viking.

I cradle my arm and catch my breath next to the faucet that's still spewing water like a hailstorm, me still soaking wet.

"Hey, Velekha," Tuffnut turns from the procession to shout. "Your sister's pretty cool!"

Ruffnut has extinguished the fire on her butt. She runs next to her brother, clutching her bum, but still has the spirit to add, "Yeah! Totally nice move with that arm...Speaking of Useless, where's your husband?"

I open my mouth, then close it.

And they just laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

By the time I fix the pump, the post-battle feast is already over and I'm still soaking wet.

But at least I'm not bleeding.

At least.

I grunt as I push open the main hall door. Gobber's sitting alone at the long table, swirling mead in his stein. The others must be doing Viking-ly things. Probably throwing heavy objects around for fun somewhere.

"Where've you been, Valka?" Gobber asks, gulping down his drink with such gusto that I think he's finally swallowed his tooth, but when Gobber resurfaces, it's still there.

"My name's Velekha," I remind him, and shiver in my wet clothes. "I wouldn't s'pose you've seen Astrid, have you?"

"Ah, Astrid the star, eh?" Gobber chortles, winking.

When I don't laugh, he cocks his head.

"What's wrong, Valka?"

"Nothing," I say quickly, then manage to smile. "I want to just congratulate her."

"Ah, there's a good sister," Gobber says proudly. "They're up in the wood cuttin' trees now as we speak."

"Oh," I say. "That's...great."

"Now lighten up there, Valka," Gobber burps, patting the bench. I shuffle over, boots squishing, and plop down next to him. "Dragon trainin's comin' up," he says, eyes happy, like learning how to kill a dragon is as great as yak ice cream.

"I talked to yer Uncle Finn," Gopper continues, not noticing my glum face. "And you what he said? He says," Gopper layers on a thicker accent. "'That Valka, she needs to learn 'ow to be a Viking,' and I, well I say, 'Put her through training then!' and he says, 'The girl can fit in mah 'elmet if she tried!'"

Gopper laughs like this is hilarious. I look at my hands and laugh a little too because Gopper's whole body shakes when he laughs, from the tip of his helmet to the moldy wood of his peg leg.

Deep down, though, I wonder how on Berk I'll survive training. I can just picture Astrid, killing every dragon, saving me again and again, her sister, Velekha the Useless—

I look down and have to blink a lot.

"To dragon trainin', eh?" Gobber holds up his stein and offers it to me.

I take a swig. It's more liquid than I expect and all of a sudden it's slopping down my face, trickling down my arms, stinging my new cut.

"Ow," I say, wiping my face.

Gobber chuckles and takes his mead back, downing it in one humongous swallow. He burps. "We'll start you easy, then, eh?"

He pushes me a cup of water.

The square is still empty when I leave. After a fight like that, no one ever just goes to sleep. They go throw heavy objects or cut down trees or build boats or fish or skin dragons because apparently that's what Vikings like to do.

Emphasis on they.

I rub my arms.

There's a scuffling behind me.

A figure skirts stealthily around the burnt buildings but accidently kicks a water bucket and starts to hop around, clutching his foot, cursing under his breath.

"Hiccup?" I call.

"Oh, hi, hey, hello," he responds, putting his foot down quickly- a bad decision, because he winces.

"What happened to you? Gobber was wondering where you ran off to. We thought—"

I stop.

Hiccup chuckles uncomfortably.

"-thought I was eaten by a dragon?" he responds quickly. "Yeah, no such luck. Hah...Well, see ya, Vel!"

"Wait!" I say before I can think, and he steers around.

"Listen, I'm kind of in a hurry and don't want to be rude but I have some really important business to get to—"

Something striped and slimy falls out of his fur vest.

"Hiccup, is that an eel?"

"This?" Hiccup picks it up and slings it quickly over his shoulder. "Yes. Anyway, see you later!"

"Hiccup!" I call, but he's gone. And I don't know what it is, but I take off after him. All I know is that Hiccup is no Viking, no dragon-slaying master, no strong and brawny warrior. I also know he's a bad liar.

I lose him at the edge of the wood, but his and the chieftain's house is the only one this far up the hill. The strange thing is that there are no lights on inside. I bite my lip and peer in through the window.

Dragon skin and furs cover the floor. A set of wooden stairs lead into the bedrooms. A work table is built into the wall and on it lies a book. I smoosh my nose on the cold glass to see better. It's a copy of the Dragon Encyclopedia, flipped to one almost-empty page.

But Hiccup's drawn in it.

Hiccup's drawn a Night Fury.

More on why Gobber calls Velekha "Valka" next chapter. Some VelxHiccup soon. Review? :)