How to Break a Dragon's Heart

Oh, for Thor's sake..." said Hiccup. "I thought that was just a story..." "Stories come from somewhere," said the witch. "The past haunts the present in more ways than we realise.

I NAME THIS LAND TOMORROW, FOR IT SHALL LAST FOREVERMORE!

GO FOR HIS EYES! OR BITE HIM ON THE NOSE! DRAGON NOSES ARE VERY SENSITIVE!" Oh, very helpful, Camicazi, very helpful...thought Hiccup. What if he doesn't obligingly hold me up to his nose? What if the only part I get close to is the TEETH?

The past haunts the present in more ways than we think. It certainly scares the living daylights out of ME"~ Old Wrinkly

History is a ghost story. My own childhood has passed into history, and the ghosts I find there are the ghosts of Heroes and dragons and Berserks and witches, and it has become fashionable not to believe in these things anymore. But I believe, for I was there.

I have never cared for castles or a crown that grips too tight, Let the night sky be my starry roof and the moon my only light, My heart was born a Hero, My storm-bound sword won't rest, I left this harbour long ago on a never-ending quest. I am off to the horizon, Where the wild wind blows the foam, Come get lost with me, love, And the sea shall be our home.

History, you see, is like the interlocking wheels turning in a ticking-thing. Something unexpected happens, some sort of hiccup... the wheels are jogged... and then they set off again, beating out the time in a new pattern.

How can you make a fresh start in a New World when you are carrying with you on your boat all the same problems, the same frustrations and inequalities of the Old World?

Strange how a story sometimes seems to end just how it started, in a circle.

I would say, I’ll meet you in Valhalla," replied Hiccup through gritted teeth. "But I don’t think you’ll be going there.

The Hooligans had never intended to settle on Berk in the first place. Berk was not the most comfortable, the most luxurious, the most civilised place to live in the world. It was a funny, boggy, shaggy little heap of heather and rock, where the wind buffeted so strongly that you might as well be on the sea in a ship, and when it wasn't raining it was often snowing. But Berk was where they had grown up, where they had met their sweethearts and brought up their children, and when it came down to it, they found that they didn't want to leave.

Norbert the Nutjob may have been a maniac, but lunacy and genius are very close together, and it had to be admitted, he was a great Dreamer. Perhaps the inventor-madmen of the Future will dream its like again.

Glory comes not to the weak A treasure land shines out so strong We see it clear from far away O Great and Brave and Mighty Thor I hope that that was land I saw Once before... long ago... HO!

I didn't mean to come here, And I didn't mean to stay, It's just where the sea wind blew me, One accidental day I didn't mean to come here, And I didn't mean to stay, But I lost my heart to these rainy bogs, And I'll never go away! I've heard that the sky in America, Is a blue that you wouldn't believe, But Berk is my lobster after all, And now I'll never leave. I was on my way to America, But I took a left turn at the Pole, And I lost my shoe in a rainy bog, Where my heart got stuck in the hole!

I didn't mean to come here, And I didn't mean to stay, It's just where the sea wind blew me, One accidental day. ... It wasn't where I meant to be, And it wasn't where I had my start, But now I'll never leave these rain-soaked bogs Because Berk is where I left my heart!

Stories come from somewhere," said the witch. "The past haunts the present in more ways than we realise.