Chapter 11 – The Choice of a Viking
Branches whipped past as I ran, heart pounding in my chest. The forest swallowed me in shadows, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. My mind raced with a single thought:
When I kill the Night Fury, everyone will finally respect me. My father, my brother… they'll see I'm a real Viking. Just like them.
I reached the clearing where the dragon had fallen. The trees were scorched, the earth torn where it had crashed.
And there it was.
The Night Fury.
Its body was twisted in pain, bound tightly by the net I had fired. Its deep black scales shimmered under the moonlight. It looked smaller than I expected… younger, maybe. More like a living shadow than a monster.
I stepped closer.
"I'm a Viking," I whispered to myself, my hand tightening around the small knife I carried. "This is what we do."
I raised the blade.
The dragon's eyes met mine.
Green, ancient, intelligent.
Not full of rage. Not even fear.
Just… confusion.
Pain.
I froze.
The knife trembled in my grip.
"I… I can't," I breathed.
The blade fell from my hand and landed softly on the moss.
I sank to my knees.
"I can't do it. I'm sorry," I said.
Slowly, I reached forward and began cutting the ropes.
The dragon growled low, a warning rumble. But it didn't strike. It just watched.
With one final tug, the last rope snapped free.
The Night Fury roared — not in fury, but in freedom — and sprinted off into the woods with incredible speed, disappearing like smoke in the trees.
I sat there in silence, watching it vanish.
"I didn't do it," I whispered. "In the end… I couldn't."
---
Back in Berk, the fires had been extinguished. Villagers gathered around Thor, their cheers echoing through the hills.
"Three dragons in one night!" someone cried. "That's gotta be a record!"
Another slapped him on the back. "You're truly a son of the gods!"
Stoick approached through the crowd, a proud but stern look on his face. Beside him stood Bocam, his old friend and the village trainer.
Stoick folded his arms. "That's my son. A Viking unlike any other."
Thor nodded. "Father… Hiccup left home during the attack."
Stoick's eyes darkened. "I told him to stay inside. He could've been killed!"
Bocam chuckled. "He's stubborn. Reminds me of someone I know."
"He's not like me or Thor," Stoick said flatly. "He's weak. He gets hurt too easily."
"He's not weak," Bocam replied. "He's different. And different isn't a curse, Stoick. Give him a chance. Let him train with the other youths. Teach him how to survive… to be a Viking in his own way."
"I don't know…"
"We can't protect him forever, ," Thor added gently.
Stoick looked out toward the forest, his expression unreadable. After a long pause, he gave a quiet nod.
"Fine. I'll speak to him. After everyone returns home."
---
Later that night, I crept back home.
My clothes were dirty, my hands scraped. I opened the door quietly, hoping to sneak in unnoticed — but he was waiting.
My father stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, staring into the flames.
"I shouldn't have done what I did," I said quietly. "I left when you told me not to. I thought… if I killed a dragon, I'd prove I belong."
Stoick turned to me. His face was calm. Not angry. Not disappointed.
Just… tired.
"I was wrong," he said. "You have the right to learn how to fight. How to defend yourself. And how to be a Viking."
I blinked. "Wait… what?"
He stepped forward and placed something in my hands.
A training axe.
Rough. Heavy. Mine.
"Starting tomorrow, you'll train with Bocam and the other young warriors of the village," he said. "You will learn how to face dragons. How to become strong."
He looked at me with a strange, quiet pride.
"You'll be great," he said. Then he turned and walked to his room, leaving me standing there in stunned silence.
I looked down at the axe.
But all I could think about… was the dragon.
I don't want to kill dragons anymore.
---
Far across the village, in a quiet hut lit by soft candlelight, Thor sat on a wooden bench, holding Shiro gently in his arms. Her silver hair fell across his chest, her breathing steady.
He spoke softly to her as she rested. "The village is safe again. The people cheer. The fire's gone. But Hiccup…"
He looked out the window, into the forest, toward the unknown.
"My little brother met the Night Fury today," he whispered. "And tomorrow… his journey begins."
---