The Lost Boy V - Short stories

That day

(set before book 1)

Thunder was still booming in his ears, echoing in his head, haunting him. He didn't recall ever hearing the gods being that angry, but he was sure to remember the harshness of the wind ramming onto their house's roof, threatening to tear it apart.

Hiccup was not known to be a brave boy, the other kids even made fun of him since it was that simple to scare him. However this night, the chief's son had not been the only one seeking reassurance in his parents' arms. Well, in his case, his father's.

The village had suffered a terrible storm. One of the worsts they had known, if not the worst one. It had started to rain in early evening, turning day into night within a few minutes. It had forced the vikings to get back home early, still some had insisted to take diner at the Meat Hall.

Then wind rose, and it had been merciless. Soon, hutts had started to quake, heavy objets like plows had been lifted from the ground, and when a powerful lightning struck a house, the vikings had started to worry.

Quickly, they left their home and had gathered to take shelter in the Meat Hall. Save from the two wooden reinforced doors, the rest of the hall had been carved in the stone, efficiently blocking out the harsh winds. That night, the place found back its original purpose, because before being a gathering place for the villagers, it had been built as a shelter from storms.

Some torches were lit and material had been gathered to craft makeshift beds for the families. They had spent the night there, listening to the commotion outside, feeling powerless against the gods' wrath, barely daring to imagine the damages on their village. Vikings were tough, the countless raids from dragons made them used to rebuild, it was not like they were afraid of such task.

What they were afraid of was the wrath of the gods. Their deities were furious, something or someone had offended them, but noone could tell what or who. A lot of questions and fear had kept the villagers awake, but in the end they all fell asleep.

The following day, the village was busy rebuilding. After making an inventary of the damages and missing material, they had started to cut wood and rebuild, starting with public facilities and weapons. The hutts could wait, the safety of the villagers couldn't.

When Hiccup went back home, Gobber looking after him while his father Stoick was busy, the boy almost not recognized the hutt he lived in. Half of the roof had been torn off, revealing his bedroom scattered with debris, and a wall had collapsed on the inside, through the first floor.

Knowing they had to wait for his father's return, the boy wondered how his 'uncle' and him could wait. Once he struggled to push open the front door and saw how messy the living room was, he decided to clean it. Gobber laughed at that but still agreed and helped him. The young boy was not tall, not strong either and not much brave, but he was kind-hearted and wanted to help his father. So both of them went to work. It took a lot of time and efforts, especially knowing the boy couldn't lift much weight, still they managed to diminish the among of rubbles within the house, piling it outside where some vikings took pieces of wood for repairs.

Just when Gobber contemplated taking a break and cook something for lunch, someone stepped in. Hiccup beamed seeing his father's bulky shadow appearing by the door frame. The young boy lifted his arms to show the pieces of wood he was carrying.

''Look Daddy ! We're cleaning the house !''

He was trying to make his father proud, showing him he could rely on the boy, but mostly he hoped it would make his father smile.

But his father didn't smile. He barely aknowledged what his son was doing.

''Son, can you get some water and a blanket, please ? Gobber, this way.''