they shoulda been at the cluuuuub

Excerpt from Chapter 5: Swan Song

Hiccup was no stranger to bad dreams. They seemed to come free with every Viking childhood.

Before he met Toothless, it was dragon raids. He’d dream of swarms of winged monsters circling the island, snatching him up and carrying him off to a demise similar to his mother’s. Stoick’s idea of reassurance was to remind him of his build: far too bony to sate a devil’s cravings. Real comforting, Dad.

After defeating the Red Death, he’d dream of fire. Still years after that fateful day, he’d wake in a frenzied haze, triple-checking that his remaining limbs were still attached. Gobber called them phantom pains—Hiccup insisted it was payback for downing a Night Fury. An eye for an eye, a leg for a tailfin. 

And of course, the months at war with the dragon hunters had been wrought with anxious nights and equally as many moonlit flights spent assessing their perimeters. It wasn’t easy to forget being nabbed out of the safety of his own bed by bounty hunters. Hiccup could still see the sneering faces of the deceased Grimborn brothers when he closed his eyes.  

Needless to say, the dreams of the past few nights hadn’t seemed terribly unusual. He had chalked it up to the usual stress, something that would work itself out over time. Vikings didn’t like to dwell on the past’s uneasy feelings. 

It wasn’t until Jack tumbled into his window to warn him that Berk was brimming with fear-inducing shadow horses that he put the pieces together.

“Everyone looked so gloomy,” the spirit had said.

Hiccup could kick himself if he had the legs for it. 

As much as he thrived on a detailed plan, he’d always been a “jump first and figure out the landing on the way down” type of guy. Having Gothi remove the magic wards from the island had seemed like a no-brainer at the time—a moral statement, if anything. A precedent to the kind of leader he wanted to become; after all, Berk should be a welcome stop for all kinds of creatures, dragon or otherwise. 

He just wasn’t expecting a horde of mares to accept that invitation. Now, on top of acting chieftainship, Hiccup was facing the consequences of his own idealistic actions. As per usual.  

Which brought him to being dragged across the island—and away from what he would much rather be handling—by the farmers. Bucket hadn’t been exaggerating: the fields were littered with dug up soil, and it certainly brought to mind their old burrowing dragon infestation. Upon further inspection, however, the holes were only a few feet deep and were spaced evenly throughout the snow. Hiccup could deduce the cause even before he caught a glimpse of a pointy red hat disappearing into the bordering thicket.

The big question on his mind probably should’ve been what on Odin’s green earth the nisse were trying to plant in early winter. Instead, he was pacing between the piles of dirt wondering how he was going to explain yet another bizarre occurrence to the already on-edge farmers.

As he spun around at the edge of the treeline, Mulch and Bucket suddenly appeared in front of him, startling him out of his thoughts. 

“What’s the verdict, chief?” Bucket asked, uneasily. 

Hiccup winced at the title. “W-well, it’s definitely not a burrow. I think somebody’s been digging these holes.”

“I bet the same twats who stole our trowels,” Mulch said, and Hiccup was surprised to find a rare shred of malice in his tone. “No doubt those infernal twins.”

“Word’s gone ‘round ye were searching huts earlier today,” Bucket urged. “Did ye find anything?”

“Sorry guys, I didn’t.” He sighed, dragging a hand over his face. “Look, I have some other issues to deal with right now, but I promise those trowels will turn up eventua—“

”Ye keep sayin’ that!” Mulch suddenly cut in. “But what’s more important than trackin’ down thieves?”

”Just because it’s winter, don’t mean we can be missing our tools!” Bucket stressed. 

Staring at the expanse of tampered soil, Hiccup wondered, and not for the first time, if keeping the truth from the village was a bad idea. Obviously, eventually, he would have to admit it—preferably after he’d gotten his father and maybe a few of his friends warmed up to the idea. But how could he possibly explain the invisible to them? They would surely think he’d gone mad, as Astrid did when he first told her about Jack.

If anything, he just needed to hold off until the mares were gone. Everyone would be much more reasonable after a good night’s rest…right?

Luckily, with Jack’s help, they had hopefully figured that problem out. Lo and behold, there was a box of enchanted objects just sitting in the twins’ hut, stolen the same day that Hiccup had encountered Jack and his first mare on the Edge. Come to think of it, those particular hunters from which Snotlout nabbed the chest hadn’t seemed to have their wits about them, either. Perhaps they were dealing with the same curse now plaguing Berk. One could only suspect. 

He was eager, maybe a bit impatient, to test their theory. He really could not bring himself to care what some tiny, magic gardeners were doing in their fields right now. 

With a promise to interrogate the twins, Hiccup managed to break away from the agitated farmers. He stumbled back to the pile of rocks behind his hut, ready to finally make some progress in improving Berk’s sleep quality. 

His heart sank when he found his dragon napping alone next to the chest of magical items, the spirit nowhere in sight. 

“Hey, bud,” he said, patting the Night Fury’s back. “Where’d Jack fly off to?”

Toothless snuffed, lazily shaking out his wings.

”Real helpful of you,” he shot back. He pivoted toward the open skies, lifting a hand to the air. “Hey…uh, Wind? Are you there?”

Nothing but the distant sea spray answered back.

Frowning, he went to his saddle and pulled out the compendium, triple-checking the entry on nisse. Nothing particularly useful popped out that could clue him in to their current shenanigans. The passage felt incomplete, and fairly misconstrued. Most of Bork’s ramblings tended to be. 

With a mental note to write some observations on the fields down later, Hiccup mounted Toothless. The two circled the village a few times, scanning the roads and treeline for any sign of their spirit friend. Berk was going about their day undisturbed, not a flurry in sight. 

“Well bud, I guess he was too busy with winter to stick around,” Hiccup concluded. 

14 days, 14 prompts.

Visual, aural, textile, and literary works are allowed - fanart, fanfiction, gifs, edits/manips [EXCLUDING AI-GENERATED WORKS], cosplay, fanmixes, crafts, or ask-and-answer.  

Unlike other fandom events, reblogs of previously created material are welcome IF THEY FIT THE PROMPT, but creation of original material is preferred.

Inspiration can be drawn from the GUARDIANS OF CHILDHOOD bookverse, the RISE OF THE GUARDIANS movieverse, and any and all associated AUs.

OCs are welcome and encouraged to interact with RotG/GoC characters.

Crossovers are welcome, but please make sure that the focus POV is a character from RotG/GoC.

Works in progress are welcome and encouraged, as long as they fit the prompt. No reason not to celebrate Halloween all year ‘round! No need to worry about having to have something complete before posting.

Don’t feel like you ***must*** post a piece Every… Single… DAY, and/or fill every single prompt.  Burnout is not fun.  But do try to post at least ONE piece during the 13 days of the challenge.

Be sure to ping your works with @rotg-halloween, and list #rotghalloween in one of your first 5 tags.

Please tag works accordingly, and be sure to use any warnings for sensitive and potentially triggering subjects.  

HAVE FUN, and support your fellow creators.

Prompts for this year's ROTG Challenge are inspired by the horror podcast THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES. Important note: you do not HAVE to use TMA as the basis for your prompt fills; the prompts are open to your own spooky interpretations.

18 October 2026 / Day One: Buried

19 October 2026 / Day Two: Corruption 

20 October 2026 / Day Three: Dark

21 October 2026/ Day Four: Desolation

22 October 2026 / Day Five: Eye

23 October 2026 / Day Six: Flesh

24 October 2026 / Day Seven:  Hunt

25 October 2026 / Day Eight: Lonely

26 October 2026 / Day Nine: Slaughter

27 October 2026/ Day Ten: Spiral

28 October 2026 / Day Eleven: Stranger

29 October 2026 / Day Twelve: Vast

30 October 2026 / Day Thirteen: Web

31 October 2026 / Day Fourteen: End

Sketchbook Log: Training Dayz - A jealous vent.

Previous: Link

*breaks down the door*

Of the Northmost Winds and Skies - Chapter 43