So I was a little confused by the beginning of the movie. Hiccup is all running around, everyone yelling at him for being out, and then out of the blue Gobber is wondering why Hiccup was late getting to the forge. So this is my attempt to explain the situation.

"It's so unfair." Hiccup sat on the forge stool, ankles wrapped around the stool's legs, fingers twisting in his lap. "Everyone else gets to help. Every time there's an attack, I'm the one being babysat."

"You're not being babysat," said Gobber from the anvil where he was pounding. Not a sword or any other weapon. Shears, actually. Good, necessary, boring shears. "If you're the only one in the house you're not being babysat."

Hiccup sighed. "You know what I mean."

"Well, you're not the only one. Plenty of other kids stay inside."

"The ten-and-under crowd."

"True, but they're usually with people."

"If you're trying to help, it's not working."

Gobber held up the sheers, still gleaming red, for scrutiny. "Where did you ever get the idea I was trying to be helpful? I was just stating a few facts for your benefit."

Hiccup kicked his heel against the school. It was an old thing, been in the shop for ages. Had plenty of dents already. Probably from him. "Did you know I'm not allowed outside if there's even a storm? Can you believe that?"

"Yes, I knew that. Yes, I can believe it. The entire village knows that."

"The entire village knows I'm treated like an infant?"

"Yes." Gobber returned to pounding. "We have to know. That way, everyone can know to send you back if you get outside."

"Well, that just made me feel all the more loved."

"You should just be grateful no one wants you dead."

"So everyone likes me, they just don't want me doing anything?"

"Pretty much. And I'd like you a whole lot more if you would come over to make yourself useful rather than just sit there complaining."

Hiccup quickly glanced around. No works in progress except for the shears. "I'm not complaining. I'm just… stating a few facts."

"No, you're complaining. No, scratch that, you're whining."

Hiccup was silent.

"I don't know what your problem is," Gobber continued. "It's not that big of a deal. So you don't join the frenzy during an attack. At least you're not dead."

"I'd at least go out in a cool way."

"Yes, because being digested in a dragon's intestines is cool. What else do you kids find cool these days?"

Another sigh. "Fighting dragons."

"It's not supposed to be cool. It's a necessity of life."

"Then just why does everyone get so excited over it? Why are people honored over it?"

"Well…um…. We're just taking pride in jobs well done."

"And that's what I want to do."

"Then do something here. Finish one of your odd projects."

Hiccup kicked the stool again. "I'm not allowed to even come help you during the attacks."

"I will admit that I could use you here."

"Then talk to my dad or something!"

"Why don't you?" Gobber plunged the shears into the barrel to cool. "You're the one that wants to get out."

Hiccup stared at him, frowning. "Right. That'll work. He'll listen to me. Hence the reason I asked you to talk to him."

"You didn't ask me. You demanded it. Whining again."

Gobber sighed and laid the shears down. "All right. Next time there's an attack, sneak out and come over."


"Sure. Whatever you want. Be here as soon as you can, ready to work. Way I see it, you'll still be inside. Your dad can't complain too much."

The End