I choose to do a How to Train Your Dragon 100 since no one had yet so I thought I'd give it a try. A 100 or sometimes 50 is when you open the dictionary without looking and plot a word on a random page. 100 words later you begin to write a little drabble on each one. Once you pick a word you can't change it. Well I'll admit I did change some of the more scientific and out of universe ones, I doubt Vikings knew anything about quantum psyics or Jewish holidays. I'll try to do five or so everyday if possible though I'll update more frequently after school lets out in a week. I own nothing.
1. Sodium Carbonate
Dried fish, ugh.Seven- year-old Fishlegs stared down at his plate. It was nearing the end of winter meaning lazy ice-burgs had floated in from the north and the native fish population headed south for warmer waters. Grudgingly he reached across the wooden table between a couple of seasoning shakers for the butter. His arm brushed against the side of the salt sending it falling over. "Oops," he murmurs staring at it. "OOOH," Ruffnut and Tuffnut chant in unison. "That means seven years of bad luck." Fishlegs eyes grow quickly wider, he has an aching horrible feeling about all of this. Luck was not something that was easy to come by in Berk. Bad luck meant not an ounce for seven years.
"You're supposed to eat it."Fishlegs spoke blatanly
"WHAT!" Snoutlout stammered staring at the group and then back at the guey saliva covered cod that the Mounstrous Nightmare had just dropped in his lap. He held up the fish by its tail fin in front of his own face, "EAT IT. BUT IT'S DISGUSTING."
"If you don't," Ruffnut chimed in,"The dragon will roast you to char."
"BUT HE ALREADY ATE IT."
"Yeah he's sharing with you. Means he likes you." Snoutlout fixed his gaze on the red-orange dragon eyeing him curiously at him with a trail of smoke sneaking out of one nostril and then focusing back to the gray saliva dripping cod.
"What if I decide I don't like him back."
"Then he'll roast you to char."
3. Vulcanian- relating to Vulcan or working in metals
The pounding of the metal came over and over again in a constant beautiful clamor that only comes when metal clangs against metal in the hands of a skilled craftment. The glowing firery sparks floated and sputtered past Hiccup's face contrasting starkly with the dark starless sky. Fire churned at the forge as it did not in the sky, as though it had stole the fire of the sun and stars. Shadows dance like fairies amounst the dust and crevaces of the walls. The movement of the hammer creating the songs of folks singers and chimes of pipes. Each note ringing restfully into the cool summer air. Stiring it, bing, bing bing. Toothless curls up at the far end of the shop enjoying the warmth and music. His young master at his forge working away into the pitchless hole of night and embers early moring like a dark craftsman of the underworld making weapons for the gods a vulcanian in his own right.
4. Compeer- the equal or peer of somebody else
Ruffnut watched the duo upon the rock conversing quietly. She would never be Astrid. Then again in most eyes the girl had no equal. Ruffnut had once tried for the attention of the boy Astrid sat nose to nose with. But that was a failure and fleating idea. It left like a tiny ocean breeze, Hiccup was more of a airy crush and she wouldn't miss him, greatly anyway. Ruffnut huffed and flopped back in the overgrown whispy grass. A few sheep bleated at her sudden movement. She gazed blankly at the clouds moving in. It was going to rain meaning her Zibbleback was going to be menoposal. The idea of having a bad tempered dragon in her house was not all that appealing that and her brother became temperamental when it rained. The edges of the clouds above we turing a deep lavender color as though someone had spilled grape juice on them. Something began tugging at one of her braids. She looked over to find a sheep aimlessly chewing on it. "Thanks." She murmured shoving the sheep away. Her brother, Snoutlout, Fishlegs, Gounouf brothers who are older than her, the younger class had a couple of guys that we at least decent looking. Though the idea of dating an underclassmen slightly replused her and most of the older ones were in the business of looking for a wife. And not that they would take a second glance at her when Astrid was around. Still Better than a couple of halfwits, one of which smelled horrible the other who at a loss with reality. Scratch that bothwe at a loss for reality. Ruffnut snickered to herself at that one. Suddenly she felt something connect with the bridge of her helmet and a mass go tumbling in front of her. The person lay in a heap in the grass at her feet. Ruffnut bursts out laughing holding her sides. The boy sits up, his helmet disheveled falling in his face, smiling slightly, Bjomolf Gounouf, the youngest of the seven Gounouf brothers. "Don't mock me," he says playfully. Fat chance. Ruffnut smirks, "Geez, I heard you were deaf but I didn't know you were blind and dumb too." He chuckles in reply.
Besides who needs an equal anyway.
One foot, one hand, least they weren't on the same side of his body. Gobber plopped down in a chair next to the forge. The soreness and clumisness that came with losing a limb, had vanished years before, but with age a new soreness had begun to sink to his joints. "Hey Hiccup," he shouted from his seat pointing to a row of boxes along the left wall, "We need to take those crates down to the docks will you they're filled with the sharpened fishing spears. The small boy heaved one up his scrawny back and arms begining to buckle under the weight,"Aren't you going to help?" Hiccup staggars.
"What kind of apprentice are you anyway, won't even take boxes down to the docks for me, besides if want helping hand no better place to look than the end of yer own arm," Gobber bellows with laughter as Hiccup merely rolls his eyes.
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