(A/N) Hello fellow readers. This story was inspired by a reviewer of mine and I couldn't say no to the great idea! Here's your story friend.

Rain fell hard on the roof tops above. It was cold. The fire hardly burned at all. The only inhabitants of this small wooden house with two rooms and a single kitchen were a father and son. The father, a tall, beefy man with fiery red hair and a proud attire and beard was out in the village doing his duties as chief. The son was only around eleven years old, and stood much smaller than his father with over-sized fur boots and shaggy auburn hair. His mother had been killed in a dragon attack long ago, so there was no one home to take care of him.

"Dad?!" The eleven year old boy called out for his father, rubbing tired grey-green eyes as he wandered down the stares from his room. His father kept him locked up inside the house or at the forge with his best friend. Not once had the young boy been allowed out into the village. This wasn't meant to be any kind of punishment, no matter how much it seemed so. The father's over-drastic methods of parenting were to keep his son safe.

"Dad!?" The young son and heir to his father's place as chief called out louder than before. Do to his awkwardness, it would've been likely that his father would've had a different son in his place at a different time. Due to the death of his mother though, the eleven year old had no younger siblings.

The house was silent, and it was only now that the eleven year old auburn headed boy realized he was alone. His father was gone chiefing, he thought. Dad always left to go do something in the village outside. The one the young son was forbidden to venture or explore despite how badly his curiosity ate at him. Unfortunately for his father, there were time this particular boy let his curiosity get the best of him and managed to sneak out.

With a sigh of something resembling sadness, though meant to be more of loneliness, the boy sat down in a chair with his leather blanket wrapped around freckled shoulders. His green tunic was a bit to large for him, so often times toothpicks for arms showed. The boy was nothing like his father, small and full of bursting emotion. Nothing at all like Stoick the Vast, chief of the tribe, and killer of dragons.

Honestly the boy didn't find interest in killing the dragons that attacked his village during the storm. Great scaly beasts who flew around the blackness he lived in didn't seem like his version of fun. Most kids in the village dreamed of becoming dragon hunting worriers. This particular boy would never have such luck. He knew this.

"Hey Hiccup?!" A loud, booming voice called into the room, followed by the sound of the heavy front door opening and closing. Hiccup-the young heir to the household-perked up at hearing his best friend. Really his only friend.

Gobber was Stoick's best friend, and therefor like an uncle to young Hiccup. He had watched the boy numerous times throughout his life, and sometimes acted like a second dad when Hiccup's real father was too preoccupied with the rest of his village to see something was wrong with his son. It's not that Stoick didn't care, he was just a single parent with far too much weight on his shoulders.

"Over here Gobber!" Hiccup called out happily, both hands gripping tightly to the side of the kitchen table. Those hands were so small they looked as if they belonged to a seven year old, and Gobber was almost afraid he'd break them if he reached out too quickly. "Yes I can see you lad." He said in a quiet tone, grabbing onto the boy's arm gently.

"Like I'd know that." Hiccup said in a playfully sarcastic tone. He grabbed onto one of Gobber's large hands with both small ones, facing upwards wonderingly. "I've been blind since I was a baby." He continued on in a more serious tone. Well...as serious as a nasally voiced eleven year old could sound.

"I know Hiccup. What do you say you and I head out to the forge?" Hiccup smiled happily at first, before his eyebrows knitted together in thought. You could almost see the gears turning in that little noggin of his. "Gobber...is this because dad's not coming home for a few days again?" He sounded almost sad, but tried to hide it.

Gobber sighed heavily and kneeled down to the height of the boy who he considered a nephew. "I'm sorry Hiccup. You know your father sometimes has to leave on these trips. We can't risk wasting any time we have to search for the dragon's nest. The sooner we rid ourselves of the beasts, the sooner we have enough food to not have to ration through the winter." Hiccup nodded understandingly, before slumping his shoulders with annoyance in his features. "Why do we even have to fight the dragons anyways? I say if they want to take our food so much, why not ask them to help us catch more for everyone?" Gobber raised an eyebrow for a moment in slight surprise. Young Hiccup was never like other Vikings in the village of Berk.

"Lad...you know we can't talk to dragons right? They don't know how to speak our language." Hiccup put his finger on his chin for a moment, before his eyes widened as if he was surprised by his own thoughts. "You're right Gobber, and I don't think we'd want them to be able to speak. Wanna know why?" Gobber looked at Hiccup with a chuckle. "Why might that be?"

Hiccup seemed almost frightened as his imagination got the best of him, before he shook his small head to try and shoo the thoughts away. "With how mad they are at us during the raids...I don't want to hear what they have to say if they talk like the other Vikings when they're mad. Imagine all those dragons yelling at the same time! There's like hundreds of them!" Hiccup was so caught up in his little rant that he didn't notice the raise in the floorboard beneath him. He fell into Gobber with a soft thud, clinging to the man as he worked himself up.

Gobber couldn't help but chuckle at his little friend's antics, and held the boy close. "You've got to toughen up that skin of yours Hiccup. How will you ever get as strong as those other Vikings out there?" He asked in fake worry. Hiccup shrugged his shoulders, taking a step back and holding onto Gobber's large fingers with both hands. "I could work with you." He stated almost shyly. Gobber seemed confused.

"What do you mean Hiccup? I don't believe there's ever been a blind blacksmith." Gobber stated in confusion. Hiccup didn't seem to like what he said, and if Hiccup had an argument, he stated it loud and clear. "I can be the first then! I'm not completely useless and lets admit it if I'm gonna be stuck inside all the time like I am now, I need to learn to do something productive around here Gobber! Just teach me how to make a dagger or something. Please..." Hiccup dragged out the last word with the most innocent voice he could, knowing he was Gobber's only secret weakness.

"You're killing me Hiccup. I already made you that one dagger you keep on your belt."

"But I wanna make my own dagger."

"Hiccup your dad would kill me."

"You'd die nobly."

"You know your as stubborn as every other Haddock."

"Stubbornness saves lives."

"We're off topic here!"

"I thought you'd like the distraction from my pleas."

"Now you're just confusing me Hiccup!"

"It's what I do best Gobber."

"Stubborn bore headed Viking."

"Meathead with attitude."

"Why don't we head to the forge now."

"Will you teach me to make a knife?"

"I thought the answer was well established!"

"Is that a yes!?"

"No."

"Please."

"No..."

"I promise not to break anything!"

"No!"

"Common."

"Do you even hear what I'm saying?"

"No."

"Am I getting out of this?"

"No."

Gobber sighed irritably after realizing there was no way he was winning an argument with a little Haddock. With a deep sigh, he caved in. "Fine. I'll teach you how to make a knife." Hiccup smiled brightly, before shouting victoriously with his hands in the air. Usually his lack of sight would cause such quick movements to mess up his coordination, but Gobber was there to help. After a little while longer of talking, both men were off to the forge in the village of Berk.