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He doesn't really like rain, or swimming, or getting wet at all. But he does love fish. Sheep are easier to catch, but wool makes a funny feeling go down his throat all the shivery way to his stomach until he coughs it up. Fish are smooth and delicious. Except for eels. Eels are disgusting.
He wouldn't mind feeding eels to the Big One, though. It would eat anything, or anyone. The only way they kept it from eating all of them was by feeding it until it was too fat and lazy to bother to break out of the fire mountain. He sharpened his claws and tried again to swoop down and catch a fish from the surface of the water, but again he misjudged where it was and came up with wet, empty paws. He just wasn't having any luck fishing today. He licked his paws dry.
Well, nothing for it, he'll have to go raid the village at night along with everyone else. He folded his earhorns back in anticipation of the noise, grumbling to himself. He didn't mind flying over and blasting things, that was fun, but getting close to the sheep made his skin itch. Still, if he helped the others, they should get enough to feed the Big One without him having to touch any of those nasty sheep.
Everyone else went in at once, snatching sheep and anything else edible in the confusion of villagers running about shouting, sheep bleating, everyone else roaring. He swooped in a few moments later, expecting the darkness and speed to keep him unseen, or at most a black blur, while he blasted the fire towers that attracted the others to fly in silly circles around them, but a thing leaped out from the ground and wrapped around him. Shocked, he tried to fly, but it choked him and tangled his wings and his legs and his tail until he skidded down out of the sky, bursting through trees and sliding down rocks.
Ow. He'd never hit the ground so hard in his whole life, not even when he was a kit learning to fly. He struggled against the ropes through the rest of the night, but it was useless. When the small villager showed up the next day he was exhausted and resigned to his fate. Almost. He watched the knife for a moment, and then he closed his eyes and turned his head away. Think of the sky. Think of diving through clouds. After a moment of not-listening to the villager he felt a tug on one of the ropes. Was the villager so stupid he couldn't tell rope from dragon? He opened his eyes and watched, not understanding, as the ropes were cut.
Free! He leaped up and pushed the small villager down, roaring in his face to let the creature know he was NOT, not, NOT happy. Not at all. He was sore all over, and tired, and hungry. And scared. He'd never been so scared. He wanted to go as far away from here as possible. He leaped into the air, wings working furiously, but something was wrong and he slid away, veering off to the side and another painful crash. He blundered away, trying, and trying. You don't stay on the ground. You die on the ground. Up! Up! What's wrong? He didn't notice when the villager left.
By the next day, he'd given up trying to fly out. Maybe if he rested for a while he'd be able to do it. He'd always been able to fly before. It wasn't right that he couldn't fly. He just couldn't figure it out. He also still couldn't catch even the slow fish in the little water in the middle of this place. He was not happy. He was not only tired and hungry, he was bored! He lay on a rock to sun himself, disgruntled.
Later he noticed the small villager had returned. He sniffed. Yes, the same one. He watched, curious. It smelled of fish. And metal. He didn't like the smell of metal. Can't eat it, and it often hurts. Cautiously he stalked the villager until it saw him. It held out a fish to him. But it had a knife, too. He narrowed his eyes. His mother didn't raise any stupid dragons. He was not going near that knife. Maybe the villager was smart, too, because he kicked the knife away, and offered the fish again. It smelled like a good fish. He gulped it down. Good. So the villager wants to be friendly? Wants to share? Well, he has good manners, too. He brings up half the fish and waits, expectantly.
Good villager. Eat the nice fish. What did you say? 'Toothless'... he has a name, now. He likes it. He's always just been 'me' but 'Toothless' now, that has a nice sound to it, different. Every dragon might be 'me' to themself, but he is the only 'Toothless'. He isn't bored now. He might even be happy. If only he could fly.
The villager goes back to his nest and Toothless is bored again. Bored. Still can't catch fish. Still can't fly. BORED.
Villager comes back. His villager. Nice villager. Toothless should give him a name, too. The villager has a whole basket of fish this time. And one nasty eel.'Fishbringer'! Yes, that's a good name. He gulps down the fish. The basket smells good. Fishy. He sticks his face into it to lick the fishy smell. Toothless feels a tug at his tail. He ignores it at first, then he becomes curious. There's a weight on his tail. He pulls out of the basket and looks. Why. His tail. Fishbringer has put something on it so it looks more like it used to do. Yes. That feels better. He can fly! He's sure of it! He leaps into the air with Fishbringer clinging to his tail and making a lot of noise. Toothless is so happy, he doesn't mind the extra weight.
Yipes! There it goes again, out of control. Fishbringer falls off, and Toothless winds up in the water. ICK, water, no, no, no. Well. That didn't work out. Still, he is beginning to think that Fishbringer is really very clever for a villager. They'll keep trying. And together they'll be able to fly.