Grandpa's Home: How To Train Your Dragon Fanfiction

A Couple of Days Before Grandfather Bugfarer the Birdclipper's Arrival

Hiccup hiccuped, hickory-flavored drinks hiking up his throat. He was enjoying dinner at home, the soft mahogany walls calming him, the rustic yet spartan furniture a subtle joy. His father, Stoick, murdered the meat from a chicken bone without mercy. Toothless and Greenfinger, Hiccup and Stoick's dragons, respectively, were sharing a boatload of fish.

"Grandfather Bugfarer the Birdclipper arrives in two days," Stoick said between bites.

"What? But Grandpa hates dragons. Doesn't he have a record or something?" Hiccup said, wiping his face with an embroidered napkin.

"Yes. Your mother's father—your grandfather—hold the record for most dragons killed in an hour, at 43 and a half," Stoick said, placing an unfinished bone down on his plate.

"Oh," Hiccup said, realizing his father could not stomach the death of dragons any less than he could. "What are we, um, going too, exactly...do? He could—"

"Look, son. It's time you learned that some people in this world are not as accepting and forward-moving as those in our village," Stoick said, leaning over the table to Hiccup. "These people prefer to leave things as they are. It can give them a sense of security."

"Still, Dad. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Stoick admitted, "but we have to hide the dragons."

"Where? It's not like we have dragon-hiding caves."

"I expect you to think of a solution."

"Dad!"

"Son."

"Ugh."

Stoick left the table to retire for the evening. Hiccup pet Toothless, feeling his cool, smooth, stone-like scales. The feeling relaxed him, almost, but then it popped back into his head: Where the hell am I going to hide the dragons? Hiccup decided to worry about it in the morning.

Except he planned in his head all night, blueprints of neurons connecting in his mind, and at midnight, he jumped up in his bed.

"I've got it!"