Tip the Dragon Scales

Chapter 1

Ragnar doesn't panic when the familiar sounds of a dragon raid reach his ears. The idea of it doesn't even cross his mind. Instead, he checks the small leather bag always at his hip for supplies and, deeming it acceptable, grabs the larger bag he keeps for this very purpose.

"Gothi, I'm going out there," he calls to the small medicine woman in the front room of the healer's hut.

She waves a dismissive hand, already busy readying her own supplies and tools for the inevitable injuries that come with a raid.

Ragnar smiles and stops long enough to drop a quick kiss to her wrinkled cheek before he hurries out the door. He doesn't see the fond smile the action earns him.

It's chaos outside, as he expected. Vikings are running in every direction swinging weapons or dousing fires or guarding livestock. Ragnar's eyes are sharp as he scans every person he passes. Thankfully, no injuries look serious enough to need his help yet.

"Chief!" he calls when he finally reaches the large man. "Anything?"

Stoick spares the young healer a short glance as he swings his hammer at a passing Deadly Nadder, scowling when the dragon avoids the hit and flies off. "Not yet, no. Hopefully you won't be needed tonight."

Ragnar doesn't bother to feel offended. He hopes with every raid his skills won't be needed.

Unfortunately, it's not long before the exact opposite happens. Ragnar soon finds himself near the blacksmith's forge with an injured arm in his care. The cut isn't too deep, but it needs bandaging if Spitelout plans to keep fighting.

Stubborn as Vikings are, Ragnar knows he does.

"Hurry it up, boy!" Spitelout tells him. "There's a raid going on!"

Ragnar doesn't hesitate to yank a little too harshly on the bandages. He smirks at the sharp intake of breath and cut off yelp it earns. "What have I told you about rushing me?" he asks.

Spitelout glowers but doesn't say anything else.

Ragnar is a brilliant healer and everyone on Berk knows it. His hands are gentle and careful. He can tend to the most fragile of children with barely a whine or tear.

Everyone on Berk also knows not to get on his bad side because if they make him angry? If they try to rush his work or question his methods?

Those soft touches get much rougher and, oh, wouldn't they know it? He's suddenly all out of anything that might dull the pain. Oh well. Guess they'll just have to tough it out.

Concentrated on his work as he is, Ragnar doesn't even notice the sudden flare of a fire off to his side. He also doesn't notice the five teenagers who rush to put it out while another watches from the forge's window.

Hiccup looks on longingly as the others walk by. His eyes are locked on Astrid before another blond catches his attention and consequently gets added to his internal monologue.

Oh, and that's Ragnar.

Hiccup looks over at the only other teenager not helping douse fires. He's tall with a rather lean build and shoulders that promise to broaden nicely with age. He has a long blond braid, his gray-blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he bandages a bloody arm. His hands are sure and steady while he works.

He's an apprentice to Gothi, the village Elder and healer. Don't let that fool you though. He's just as dangerous with an axe as his cousin, Astrid. He also happens to be the one friend I have on this island.

Ragnar finishes with Spitelout's arm, unsurprised when the man goes running off into the fray with a war cry and no word of thanks. He catches sight of Hiccup when he turns and raises a hand in greeting.