Dragons and Vikings

"So," the green dragon said as he looked at the little weasel in front of him. "All the dragons are gone?"

"Yep."

"Like, all of them?"

"That's what 'all of them' means."

"Like, completely gone?"

"How many times do I have to keep saying that?"

"Into this place called the Hidden World, that they have to stay in until people are less like, um, people?"

"Pretty much."

"And you helped them, even though you had to stop riding your own special wittle dragon?"

"Um, yes, but-"

"Wow," said the green dragon. "What a pansy arse."

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III didn't like being called a "pansy arse." He actually didn't like being called much in the way of insults, especially since he'd had to endure most of them in the first sixteen years of his life, and had never been completely free of them in the years that had followed. Still, he could take it. There was still a dragon left in this world. A talking green dragon with too much mouth, who hung out with a werewolf of excruciating body odour, but still, a dragon.

"Yeah," continued the dragon – he'd said his name was Scorch earlier. "Like, me and my pals here…"

You're friends?

"We didn't cut our losses and run. Nup. No siree."

"Good for you," Hiccup murmured.

"Yeah. So when we beat that green alien from outer space-"

The hell?

"…after travelling through time and meeting everything from witches to killer robots…"

"What's a robot?"

"…and then set across the sea to discover a new continent, I'd have thought others would have picked up the slack." He let out a belch and some fire came out. "But nup. Pansy arses making my fellow dragons be other pansy arses."

Hiccup folded his arms. "You always this rude? Or is it just for this occasion?"

"Nah, just for this occasion." Scorch looked at the boat that had run aground on this island in the North Sea. "Hey Fang? I'm usually a pretty swell guy right."

"Sod off!" The werewolf let out a growl and continued chewing his leg.

"Yeah," Scorch said as he looked back at Hiccup. "He's got fleas."

"Oh really?" Hiccup asked. "Never would have guessed."

"And body odour."

"Wouldn't have guessed that either."

"And lycanthropy. Granted, all werewolves have that, but still, it's a condition, and I'm kind of obliged to list it."

"Why?"

"I dunno – the script demands it?"

That's it, Hiccup thought. I'm dead. In the real world, Astrid and the kids are crying over my body as they prepare to send me to meet Odin.

Or maybe not. Apparently the afterlife looked like the real world. Or maybe Loki was doing something. Bastard.

"So anyway," Scorch said. "Thing is, as you can tell, these geniuses have run aground on your island, and despite being proficient in time travel, they're terrible at navigation, and-"

"I'll help them set off," Hiccup said.

Scorch blinked. "You will?"

"Yeah…" He let his gaze linger on the three Vikings on the ship, currently engaged in a scuffle and wearing strange metal armour. "It's what we do."

"Huh. Like, you're not going to strike a bargain? Force us to do your bidding for a hundred days and nights as payment?"

"I help them get home, I get to return to sanity. Everybody wins."

Scorch smirked. "I like you Hiccup. Still a pansy arse, but I like you."

"Oh great. Thanks. That was like, so passive aggressive I didn't even notice."

Scorch sighed. "Sorry pal. Just a bit down."

I really don't care.

"Like, we thought we'd discovered a new country, but then there were people there, and they had arrows and axes, and they got kind of pissed off when we said we'd discovered it, and then we had to go back, and I can't even get back to my own time now, so I've got to spend the rest of my life with these morons…" Scorch nodded towards the Vikings, still scuffling like, well, Vikings. "Say. This Hidden World. It still available?"

"No," Hiccup lied. "It's closed forever."

"Oh. Shame. Maybe I could have found closer kin there."

"Doubt it. Dragons I know don't talk much." And they aren't gits like you.

"Right. So, not only am I one of the last dragons left in the world, but I'm the only talking dragon, fated to never again hold conversation with his own kind…" Scorch let out a sniff, and to Hiccup's surprise, a tear trickled down his cheek.

"Um…" He reached out, deciding to treat Scorch like Astrid – show sympathy, but not too much sympathy. "There there," he said, patting the dragon's shoulder. "There there."

Scorch smirked, bearing his teeth like a, well, dragon. "Wow," he said. "You fell for that?"

Gods help me I did.

"Ah, don't worry. You're a pansy, but still a good sort." Scorch flapped his wings and took to the air. "Now, see what you can do about the boat here. I'm going to get fish."

Hiccup, forcing a smile, called out "anything else?"

"Oh yeah. Make sure the werewolf doesn't bite you."

"Why? So I don't get turned into one?"

"Nah. Rabies."

"What?"

Letting out a cackle, Scorch soared off, leaving Hiccup Horrendous Haddock alone. Wishing more than he usually did that Toothless was here.

Anything to put that git flying above him in his place.