Because taking Hiccup hunting is never the best of ideas.
His father's thoughtful statement:
"You know, Hiccup, I really think I ought to take you hunting one of these days..." was declared in the Viking Chief's thick Scottish accent, over platters of smoked haddock at the large wooden table in their little living room, and it was quite possibly the worst thing the not yet-fifteen year old Viking boy had ever heard.
So of course, said boy; Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third himself, tries to laugh and brush it off, because his dad simply must be joking.
Because, dragons, for example, dragons he can do. He can train them, fly them, befriend them. Everyone agrees he just... has a sort of way with them. And Hiccup's good at inventing things, like Toothless' tail, his flying rig, saddles for the dragons, weapons even. He's good at thinking of things, planning, coming up with ideas, solutions. He enjoys reading, drawing; sketching Toothless. He's got a nimble brain and nimble fingers.
But hunting? Being able to wield a weapon swift enough, fast enough and well enough to actually kill an animal? Another living creature? He can't match the swiftness of a rabbit, the strength of a boar, or the size of a mighty stag. He can't catch them, battle with them, let alone hurt them. He can't do the brawny side of things; he's a thinker, not a fighter. He might be able to build some kind of trap or something, he supposes, but that's the Hiccup way, not the Viking way of doing things. And hunting is always done the Viking way.
And therein lays the crux of the problem:
He can't lift an axe, he can't wield a spear, and he can't aim a bow to save his life.
"Ah-ha-ha-ha. Very funny Dad..." And he lets the previous impressionable silence fall between them once more.
His Father doesn't say any more of it, and so Hiccup is relieved, if a little surprised, that he's dropped the whole crazy idea, right up until, that is, two days later when a spear is shoved into his hands, his helmet is clapped on his head and Stoic the Vast happily announces: "We're going hunting!" with a great booming laugh as he claps a solid, meaty hand on Hiccups shoulder with such force that it nearly knocks the poor boy off his feet. Well, sort of feet, as young Hiccup actually only has one foot, the other replaced by a metal prosthetic of sorts. The young dragon rider groans, burying his face in his hands, he should have known his Father's inherent Viking stubbornness wouldn't just let go of the idea.
The hunting plains are snowy and treacherous at this time of year, and Hiccup really doesn't fancy his chances out there. The pines of the forest at its boundaries will also be snow-laded, and the trek there will be long and difficult.
"It'll be just you an' me son," Stoick grins and sweeps a hand out as if picturing the scene; like he can think of nothing better than slaughtering a few fluffy little animals just for fun. Hiccup supposes that is his Father's idea of fun. The axe-wielding Viking kind of fun. "We'll head up towards the mountains, th' grounds where I had me own first hunt as a boy. What could be more exciting than that?"
"Urm... Dad? I really, don't, you know, think that's such a good idea." Hiccup tries to chip in. Not even trying to hide his shaking knees, and pale face.
Because he might be a Viking, but he not exactly... well... Stoick.
Stoick might be big and strong, but Hiccup is skinny and small, with gingery brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. He rolls his green eyes as his father just rambles on, as if not hearing his son.
Some things never change. Hiccup thinks.
"You'll love it son! The wind in your hair, the freedom, the speed, the excitement of the hunt! Why I remember my first kill, a great stag it was, biggest antlers I've ever seen!" He gestures to them hanging on the wall and doesn't notice as his son cringes.
"Maybe we can finally do something about all... this." Stoick cheers out happily; waving his arms in his son's general direction as the boy just stares up at the big Chieftain.
"You just gestured to all of me." Hiccup deadpanned flatly, feeling overcome with an irritating sense of déjà-vu.
Hiccups whole shoulders droop in exasperation, and his palm smacks his forehead. Since the slaying of the great Green Death dragon that resulted in the loss of his leg, his father had been a lot more accepting of who he was, what he did, and how he did it. He knew his father had been proud of him and Toothless, but it suddenly feels like they're back to stage one again, with his father automatically expecting him to be just like every other Viking. But then, Stoick had always been a little rougher and more stubborn headed when it came to traditions, and hunting was a big one for Vikings.
"Dad, I'm really not hunter material, I mean..."
"Of course you are! All Vikings are!" His father grins, too caught up in his own excitement to notice Hiccup's horror. He was reminiscing on the great time he'd had as a boy, with his own father, and how they'd bonded closely over the affair. Stoick quietly hopes that this adventure will bring him and Hiccup closer together in much the same manner.
"Hunting, tomorrow, we leave at seven."
Hiccup groans, there would be no talking himself out of this one.
"Fine, but Toothless is coming too." After all, he might have some small hope of actually catching something with his dragons help. He's not sure if his Father hears him or not, as he's already heading out, but the boy's best friend is coming along whether Stoick likes it or not.
"And don't forget a weapon!" The door is slammed in his face.
Hiccup buries his head in his hands, he's got no chance.
Stupid, hard-headed Viking fathers.
A/N: Hello! I have returned! I feel like I haven't written a story in far too long! I started Uni in September and I've been completely non-stop busy since!
But look! Behold my dear readers! A new fan-fiction has appeared!
I know my chapters could be longer, but I tend to make faster updates when there around this length. Hope you understand. :)
So anyway, yes, a How to Train Your Dragon/Riders of Berk fic! Exiting no?
It will be a hurt/comfort with lots of Stoick being all worried and fatherly and wonderful, because we really don't see enough of that in the series.
Apologies for mistakes, though I hope there aren't any.
Thanks for reading, please drop me a review, they mean the world to any writer, and be aware I have a tumblr now, encase your interested. :)