How to Train Your Dragon

This is Berk.

It's twelve days north of hopeless and a

few degrees south of freezing to death.

It's located solidly

on the meridian of misery.

My village. In a word, sturdy.

It's been here for seven generations,

but every single building is new.

We have fishing, hunting

and a charming view of the sunsets.

The only problems are the pests.

You see, most places

have mice or mosquitoes.

We have...

dragons.

Most people would leave. Not us.

We're Vikings.

We have stubbornness issues.

My name is Hiccup.

Great name, I know.

But it's not the worst.

Parents believe a hideous name

will frighten off gnomes and trolls.

Like our charming Viking demeanor

wouldn't do that.

Morning!

- What are you doing here?!

- Get inside!

- What are you doing out?!

- Get back inside!

Hiccup! What is he doing?

What are you doing out?! Get inside!

That's Stoick the Vast,

chief of the tribe.

When he was a baby, he popped

a dragon's head clean off its shoulders.

Do I believe it? Yes, I do.

What have we got?

Gronckles. Nadders. Zipplebacks.

Hoark saw a Monstrous Nightmare.

- Any Night Furies?

- None so far.

Good.

Hoist the torches!

Nice of you to join the party!

I thought you'd been carried off!

Who, me? No, come on,

I'm way too muscular for their taste.

They wouldn't know

what to do with all this.

They need toothpicks, don't they?

The meathead with attitude

and interchangeable hands is Gobber.

I've been his apprentice

since I was little. Well, littler.

Move to the lower defenses.

We'll counterattack with the catapults.

Hurry!

See? Old village,

lots and lots of new houses.

Fire!

Let's go!

That's Fishlegs, Snotlout, the twins:

Ruffnut and Tuffnut...

and...

Astrid.

Their job is so much cooler.

Come on. Let me out, please.

I need to make my mark.

You've made plenty of marks,

all in the wrong places.

Please, two minutes. I'll kill a dragon.

My life will get infinitely better.

I might even get a date.

You can't lift a hammer.

You can't swing an axe.

You can't even throw one of these!

OK, fine,

but this will throw it for me.

See? Now this right here

is what I'm talking about!

- Mild calibration issue...

- Hiccup!

If you ever want to get out there

to fight dragons...

you need to stop all this.

But you just pointed to all of me.

Yes, that's it!

Stop being all of you.

Oh, yes.

You, sir,

are playing a dangerous game.

Keeping this much

raw Vikingness contained?

There will be consequences!

I'll take my chances.

Sword. Sharpen. Now.

One day, I'll get out there.

Because killing a dragon...

is everything around here.

A Nadder head is sure

to get me at least noticed.

Gronckles are tough.

Taking down one of those

would definitely get me a girlfriend.

A Zippleback?

Exotic. Two heads, twice the status.

They found the sheep!

Concentrate fire over the lower bank.

- Hurry up!

- Fire!

And then there's

the Monstrous Nightmare.

Only the best Vikings go after those.

They have this nasty habit

of setting themselves on fire.

Reload! I'll take care of this.

But the ultimate prize

is the dragon no one's ever seen.

- We call it the...

- Night Fury!

Get down!

Jump!

This thing never steals food,

never shows itself and...

never misses.

No one has ever killed a Night Fury.

That's why I'm going to be the first.

Man the fort, Hiccup.

They need me out there.

Stay. Put. There.

You know what I mean.

- Where are you going?

- Yeah, I know!

- Hiccup!

- Be right back!

Let's get him!

Mind yourselves!

The devils still have

some juice in them!

Come on. Give me something to

shoot at. Give me something to shoot at.

I hit it. Yes, I hit it!

Did anybody see that?

Except for you.

- Do not let them escape!

- Right!

You're all out.

Oh, and there's one more thing

you need to know.

Sorry, Dad.

OK, but I hit a Night Fury.

It's not like the last few times, Dad!

I really, actually hit it!

You guys were busy.

I had a very clear shot.

It went down off Raven Point.

Let's get a search party...

Stop!

Just stop.

Every time you step outside,

disaster follows.

Can you not see that

I have bigger problems?

Winter is almost here

and I have an entire village to feed!

Between you and me, the village

could do with a little less feeding.

This isn't a joke, Hiccup!

Why can't you follow

the simplest orders?

I can't stop myself. I see a dragon

and I have to just kill it.

It's who I am, Dad.

You're many things, Hiccup.

But a dragon killer is not one of them.

Get back to the house.

Make sure he gets there.

I have his mess to clean up.

Quite the performance.

I've never seen anyone

mess up that badly. That helped.

Thank you, thank you. I was trying.

- I really did hit one.

- Sure, Hiccup.

- He never listens.

- It runs in the family.

When he does,

it's with this disappointed scowl,

like someone skimped on meat

in his sandwich.

"Excuse me, barmaid.

You brought me the wrong offspring."

I ordered an extra-large boy with beefy

arms, extra guts and glory on the side.

"This here, this is a talking fishbone."

You're thinking about this wrong.

It's not so much what you look like,

it's what's inside that he can't stand.

Thank you for summing that up.

Look, the point is, stop trying

so hard to be something you're not.

I just want to be one of you guys.

Either we finish them

or they'll finish us!

It's the only way

we'll be rid of them.

If we find the nest and destroy it,

the dragons will leave.

They'll find another home!

One more search

before the ice sets in.

Those ships never come back.

We're Vikings. It's an occupational

hazard. Now who's with me?!

Count me out.

- Today's no good for me.

- I have to do my axe returns.

All right. Those who stay

will look after Hiccup.

- To the ships!

- I'm with you!

That's more like it.

I'll pack my undies.

No, I need you to stay

and train some new recruits.

Perfect. And, while I'm busy,

Hiccup can cover the stall.

Molten steel, razor-sharp blades,

lots of time to himself.

What could possibly go wrong?

What am I going

to do with him, Gobber?

Put him in training.

- No, I'm serious.

- So am I.

He'd be killed before

the first dragon is out of its cage.

- You don't know that.

- I do, actually.

- No, you don't.

- No, I do.

No, you don't.

Listen, you know what he's like.

From the time he could crawl,

he's been... different.

He doesn't listen. He has

the attention span of a sparrow.

I take him fishing

and he goes hunting for trolls!

Trolls exist. They steal your socks.

But only the left ones.

What's with that?

- When I was a boy...

- Here we go.

my father told me to bang

my head against a rock and I did it.

I thought it was crazy,

but I didn't question him.

- And you know what happened?

- You got a headache.

That rock split in two.

It taught me what

a Viking could do, Gobber.

He could crush mountains,

level forests, tame seas!

Even as a boy, I knew what I was,

what I had to become.

Hiccup is not that boy.

You can't stop him, Stoick.

You can only prepare him.

I know it seems hopeless, but you won't

always be around to protect him.

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