úlfheðnar, httyd

i. Welcome To Berk

𖣯 ✹ 🌷(úlfheðnar) ꏍ ！┈─❟
╰───►chapter one; hiccup
❝ welcome to berk! ❞

    BERK is an unusual place.

    At first glimpse, it looked rather normal; boring, in fact. Just a small island north of the great Archipelago, shrouded with mountains and cliffs and their very own glacier. It would be━as a fact━twelve days north of Hopeless, and only just a few degrees south of Freezing to Death where it plants itself, solidly, on the Meridian of Misery. The village that resides on the island, his home, in a word, can be described as very sturdy. It has been here, on this island for seven generations, but one will find that every single building is new. They have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets, to the point where you might not believe him when he tells you that no matter how boring it looked, the village of Berk was far from it.

    What made it unusual were the pests.

    You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes.

    Here, on Berk, they had:

    Dragons.

    And when he was a boy (in which this story starts), those dragons laid rampage on the early hours of Berk. They snatched away their livestock, their barrels of fish━anything they could get their claws on (and that sometimes included Vikings as well!). That never stopped him from sneaking out of his hope and right into the danger, because, you see, while most people would leave, they didn't. They're Vikings ... they have stubbornness issues, to say the least. (And oh, did he have his stubbornness issues).

    And here it begins, with a skinny boy leaping through the flames of his home. A runt of the litter, the worst of the worst, the most un-Viking Viking Berk had to offer; they called him many names: the Useless, Get Out Of My Way, and What Are You Doing?! But the one he was born with was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III. Yes, great name, he knows, but it wasn't the worst. Parents of Berk believed hideous names would frighten off gnomes and trolls.

    (Like their charming Viking demeanour wouldn't do that already).

    The Vikings that resided on Berk would be that of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. They were a lovely bunch: burely, mean warriors that ran you right over with an axe hovering over the face and a, "MORNING!"

    They were all bred warriors, of course. What else could they be? They were Vikings. They were tough, they were mean, they screamed with anger during every battle! They will grab the horns of a Deadly Nadder and whack it until they had no choice but to drop plenty of feet down into the freezing cold ocean water.

    Hiccup wasn't like that, of course. (Just his luck, obviously).

    The cobblestone of the paths were riddled with dying embers and molten lava. He jumped to and fro, avoiding bypassing Vikings, screaming sheep, runaway yaks and sprinting dragons. The sun wasn't even in the sky, but the morning night was lit up with fire; burning houses, streets and catapults. Hiccup continued to weave in and out of Vikings, muttering apologies and whispers of, "Whoa! Hey there━", "━Uh, great morning, Phlegma━!", "━Sorry, Sven━!" and they replied with, "What are you doing here━?!", "━Get inside━!", "━Get back inside━!"

    If you must know, Hiccup wasn't supposed to be out during a dragon raid. Why? Well, that was a story in itself. He wasn't called Hiccup the Useless for nothing. Despite having a role during raids that meant he was far away from any dragon killing, he always seemed to mess things up. He doesn't mean to! He just ... does.