73. Day at the Races

The Berkian dragon races were very popular amongst the populace.

As happy as they were that the war was over, they had to admit that for a time there was a bit of excitement missing from their lives.

But once the races were invented, all that changed.

They were a week-long event. Thirty racers, competing in a series of speed-based challenges. Testing their agility, skill, and strength.

And their ability to screw over their opponents.

With each day, a group of competitors were eliminated. Until only the best remained, battling for ultimate victory.

The winner of the final race was declared champion, and would hold that title for the entire year. Including all the glory that came with it.

Between the taunts, the tricks, the devastating failures, the electrifying triumphs, and the disregard for sheep safety…

The dragon races, the final race especially, were quite the thrilling spectacle.

And it was a spectacle the Madrigals were ready to witness.

Flashing through the clouds, ten dragons descended onto Berk. Carrying seventeen Madrigals, and one Hiccup.

Though soon, he’d be counted among them.

A few members of the family had rather rough landings, being unused to the teleportation. Augustin somehow ended up with his head slammed through a wall.

But luckily, no one was seriously harmed.

The town was vibrantly decorated, splattered with colors and symbols and banners. All representing the various racers who were about to compete.

Several Vikings had their faces painted, and wore the colors of their favorite racer.

Many heated arguments broke out, between the Astrid Alliance and the Fishlegs Fanatics.

The Snotlout Squad held out hope, despite their racer’s poor history in the finals. And the Ruff n’ Tuff Nuts had no idea how they’ve made it this far.

As the chief’s son, future daughter-in-law, and family of the future daughter-in-law, they’d been allowed special seating. Just behind where Stoick resided.

And away from the crowd of rowdy Hooligans, to Alma’s liking.

She’d been incredibly reluctant to come along, even for just an hour or two. Even though the trip was instantaneous, this was the farthest she’s been from the Encanto in nearly sixty years.

Not to mention that Berk’s…unconventional culture didn’t exactly mesh with her.

And this culture clash could be observed as the Madrigals were walking through the village. Following Stoick, who was leading them to the stadium.

Stoick took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment. Savoring the musty Berk air.

Finally, he exhaled.

“Ah, fine day for a race! Eh, son?”

Hiccup, who was strolling beside him, gave a shrug. “I suppose so.”

Then the bearded man faced Mirabel, who was on his other side.

“Wouldn’t you agree, daughter?” He asked, with a wild grin.

Chuckling at his enthusiasm, Mirabel grew a grin of her own. “It sure is!”

Stoick then pulled the two closer, in his burly arms, and began discussing something one would never expect of the chief.

Wedding plans.

“Y’know, we’ve really got to pick a location for the ceremony…” He said, mulling over the possibilities in his mind. “Sure, we could use the Great Hall, but that’s so standard. You two deserve the best!”

“Berk has no shortage of lovely vistas, I’m sure we’ll find something…”

Hiccup had forgotten to tell Stoick of his and Mirabel’s engagement, the day before. The whole reuniting your long-lost mother with your grief-stricken father thing sort of took priority.

But once he was finally informed, Stoick was positively overjoyed.

And surprisingly, he seemed very invested in the upcoming marriage.

Perhaps too invested.

Alma took this moment to head to the front of the pack, and make her disagreement known.

“We’ve already been looking into several venues back in the Encanto.” She said, sharply emphasizing the last few words. “But thank you, anyway.”

Stoick regarded her with a stern glare.

“I heavily doubt the Encanto is suitable for the traditional wedding feast, or the ceremonial potato-sack race. Berk brews the best bridal ale in the archipelago, for Thor’s sake!”

She met his gaze without a hint of fear.

“Perhaps, but how exactly are we supposed to perform the candle lighting ceremony here? Or the Carnavalito celebration?” She asked. “You don’t even have a church!”

Ignoring the fact that he still didn’t know what a church was, Stoick stood his ground.

“You can’t have a Berkian wedding if it’s not on Berk!” He huffed.

Alma retaliated with a huff of her own. “This isn’t a Berkian wedding…”

Still within Stoick’s grasp, Hiccup and Mirabel shared an exasperated glance.

They knew it was only going to get worse, as the wedding got closer…

“Okay!” Mirabel spoke, slipping out of the chief’s arms. “I think a change of subject is in order!”

Escaping his father’s clutches, Hiccup asked a question. “So uh…where’s mom?

When Julieta raised her hand, he realized he had to clarify.

“Berk Mom. Where’s Valka?” He chuckled.

“She’s gone to check on that nest of hers.” He replied. “She’ll be back.”

There was a bit of uncertainty in his tone, as if he was questioning whether he should’ve let her go in the first place. Lest he never see her again.

Again.

Hiccup sought to quell the man’s worries.

“Yeah, she’ll be back!”

From Stoick’s small smile, it seemed to work.

This was actually the first time the other Madrigals had been on Berk, with the exception of Antonio. Once the warp was open, he’d basically begged to go.

A whole island’s worth of dragons? No way was he missing that.

The younger generation took their family on a brief tour of the village, as they made their way to the stadium.

The differences from their home village were staggering. In architecture, atmosphere, and attitude. Even the dragons had slightly different dispositions, thanks to the chaotic Berkian lifestyle.

The people were jolly, just like back home. But this jolliness carried a hint of mania, and a willingness to jump into a fight at the slightest provocation.

It reminded Bruno a bit of his wife.

Some parts of the island were fascinating, to them.

This is where their Hiccup was raised, and where their children ended a centuries old war.

Other parts, not so much…

The sights freaked them out, like when Augustin’s path was suddenly blocked by a pair of brawling Hooligans.

The sounds overwhelmed Dolores, who was nearly constantly holding her ears. She knew that Vikings were loud, but she hadn’t expected them to be this loud.

And the smells were awful. Berkians weren’t the most hygienic people.

Valentina released a nostalgic sigh. “Just like my hometown…”

Several of them ran into their own shenanigans.

Pepa had unwittingly amassed a group of followers, to her growing discomfort. She released a jolt of lightning after she stubbed her toe, and now half the island believed that she’s Thor.

Seeing all these people wanting to worship his wife, Felix could only laugh.

“Get in line!”

After a whiff of Berk food, Julieta decided it was imperative to stop for a moment. She wrote down a few of her recipes, asked Hiccup to transliterate them, and stuck the note in the Great Hall’s kitchen.

And then she prayed. She prayed for these people’s taste buds.

And Antonio, portraying a mischievous side he rarely showed, managed to swindle some villagers into trading him their rarest dragon cards.

“I can’t believe he gave up his first edition Monstrous Nightmare!” He chuckled deviously, while shuffling his new cards.

Soon enough, they arrived at the stadiums.

A wooden semi-circle of bleachers, draped with tapestries depicting fearsome dragons, and constructed on the side of the island. Held up and over the waters by pillars of lumber.

It’s a wonder it hasn’t collapsed, considering how unruly the people sitting on it can get.

In the center, a bridge-like structure attached it to the island. With an assortment of baskets that served as goals, for holding the sheep. The race’s point system.

There were several goals, but only a few were marked. Representing the few racers that remained.

Astrid, Fishlegs, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut. The Berkian Dragon Riders, ready to duke it out in the ultimate race.

They were in the stadium now, actually. Getting in a few practice laps before the game.

The rushed through the course, grins on all their painted faces. While their most devoted fans cheered them on from the bleachers.

And the Madrigals, the younger ones especially, had to admit…

It looked exhilarating!

“This looks awesome!” Camilo cheered. “We gotta get something like this back home!”

The other Encanto Dragon Riders shared his sentiments. Hiccup was already hard at work, sketching out potential track designs based on their village’s layout.

“Kinda wish we could play…” Mirabel said.

And that gave Stoick an idea.

“Well, why not?” He asked, earning shocked looks from his guests.

“It’s not a difficult game to learn, and we’ve got the extra nets. I don’t see why you can’t play!”

Eyes sparkling with excitement, the Encanto Riders all looked up to the chief with a childlike excitement.

“Really?” Mirabel questioned.

Stoick had to laugh at the wonder in her gaze.

“Anything for my future daughter-in-law!” He jovially replied.

And as the girl began bouncing on her toes with eagerness, the bearded man spared Alma a smug glance.

He legitimately wanted her to have fun, along with Hiccup and the others.

But if this also buttered her up enough to have the wedding be on Berk…

He wouldn’t complain.

“Alright!” Stoick clapped his hands together, rubbing them together in anticipation. “We’ll get your goals marked, and then we can- “

“CHIEF!”

Just then, Spitelout came rushing in. Looking quite troubled.

Stoick’s upbeat demeanor immediately shifted into the stern, but noble gaze of a leader.

Mirabel took notes.

Huffing from the sprint, Spitelout spoke.

“We’ve got a problem, Stoick! The well’s dried up, there’s no water!”

A deep frown set in on the chief’s face, at this news.

“That doesn’t make any sense. We just dug it a few summers ago.” He stated.

“Tell that to the well!” Spitelout exclaimed, holding up an empty bucket.

Placing a hand to his chin, Stoick pondered this situation.

If the well they had wasn’t working, they’d have to build a new one. And fast.

But the people were already pouring into their seats, the race would be starting in mere minutes. Did he really want to call it off now?

And…if Hiccup and Mirabel didn’t get to race…

They might not want to have their wedding here.

As his father tried to figure this out, Hiccup stepped forth.

“I can go check it out, see what’s wrong.” He offered. “Water doesn’t just…disappear.”

“But you’ll miss the race!” Antonio protested.

In response, Hiccup tousled the boy’s hair.

“It’ll only take like, ten minutes!” He laughed. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

Stoick saw his son, jumping at the chance to help, and had to suppress a sigh.

He would’ve been a great chief…

He then nodded. “Good. Investigate the well, and report back to me.”

“I’m going with you.” Mirabel decided. “You’ll need someone to pull you back up.”

But Hiccup shot the idea down.

“And deny you this opportunity? And deny the people of Berk the pleasure of seeing you kick butt? No way!”

Mirabel rolled her eyes with a bashful smile, blushing at her fiancé’s flattery.

But that still didn’t solve the problem. Hiccup needed a second person for this. It wasn’t like Toothless could lower him into the well, and pull him back out.

The dragon would certainly try his best, but it probably wouldn’t work out.

Surprisingly, it was Bruno who offered his assistance.

“I’ll go.” He said, earning odd looks from everyone present.

“What? Can’t a guy wanna help his nephew out?” He asked, before he began to look sheepish. “A-And also, I’m still not the best with crowds…”

It was decided.

Hiccup, Bruno, Toothless, and Brute would go and check out the well.

Most of the Madrigals would watch the game, except for four.

Mirabel, Luisa, Isabela, and Camilo were about to take part in their first ever dragon race.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sheep of Berk were accustomed to fear.

For generations, their kind has been the primary targets of dragon raids.

And now that the raids are over, they had to live with the creatures who tormented them for so long.

It was tough to be a sheep in the archipelago…

On this bright and sunny day, a small flock of sheep quivered in the shadows. Bleating in fear, and watching the skies.

Watching for any beasts that may come swooping in.

Deciding it would be most optimal to change positions, they skittered through the vacated town. Scanning their surroundings in a tight huddle, overwhelmed with a sense of paranoia.

What these sheep didn’t know, is that they were safe. Nothing was going to happen to them.

Except for one.

The one with the huge target painted on its wool.

In an instant, it was snatched up in the talons of a hungry dragon.

But this dragon wasn’t hungry for mutton…

It was hungry for glory.

Because the dragon race was underway.

Flying around pillars and towers, blazing by buildings, and rushing past weathervanes, all in search of sheep-

The Dragon Riders did what they did best.

Soaring over the audience, Fishlegs lifted his fist in an invigorated cheer. Meatlug, clutching the sheep beneath him, panting with adrenaline.

They were suddenly knocked off course by Snotlout, who’d rammed Hookfang into them. The stout man quickly grabbed the sheep that Fishlegs unintentionally tossed into the air.

“Oh, I’m sorry Fishlegs! Did you want that?” He sarcastically asked, brimming with smugness.

Bristling with agitation, Fishlegs surged forwards to take back what was his.

Or, what was Ruffnut’s. She was forcing him to give all his sheep to her.

Snotlout anticipated this move, and urged Hookfang to fan his wings out. Abruptly launching them backwards, far away from the Gronckle.

He ended up near Isabela, who he regarded with a cocky grin.

“What’s up, babe?” He greeted. “Did I tell you that you look great today? Because you do!”

A look of disdain settled in on her face, painted with pointy purple and green squiggles. Representing thorny vines.

She immediately summoned a cactus in her hand, and tossed it at him.

But Snotlout was also anticipating this move, and he quickly brought out his shield to knock it back. Hitting her in the face.

He laughed with glee, and flew off to the goals. Leaving a concerned Snaptrapper, and a very confused Isabela.

“Did I just get punked…by Snotlout?”

When he dropped his sheep into his goal basket, the Snotlout Squad lost their minds. This was the first point he’d gotten in the whole race.

The Isabela Brigade on the other hand, was furious.

Laughing at the riveting show of dirty tactics, Stoick brought the audience up to speed.

“That brings Snotlout up to one!” Announced the chief.

“The twins lead with nine, Astrid and Luisa lag with three. Mirabel, Camilo, and Isabela tie with Snotlout, Fishlegs trails with none! And Hiccup…”

“…Is occupied.” He finished, to the disappointment of the Hiccup Horde.

From their positions behind Stoick, the Madrigals were enraptured in the race. Even though Dolores kept her hands shut tightly over her ears.

Cheering and chanting with the crowd, hollering when their relatives pulled off a risky maneuver, and booing when a risky maneuver was pulled on them.

Even the reserved Alma found herself whispering some swears, whenever one of her grandkids lost a sheep.

The riders flew through the island, gliding over the village in pursuit of more targets.

And putting out a few unintended fires from sneezing dragons.

Mirabel soared over to Fishlegs, who’s just scored another point for the Thorstons. Making mid-race conversation, all the while keeping an eye out for more sheep.

“What are you doing, Fishlegs? The twins are gonna win now!” She asked, irritation on her features. Her cheeks were decorated with an assortment of teal butterflies, as were Mariposa’s wings.

With a resigned sigh, the rotund man answered.

“Ruff’s my princess. Whatever she wants, she gets…” He droned, a complete lack of any affection in his voice. “And she threatened to bury me alive if I didn’t.”

“Didn’t she already do that?” Mirabel questioned.

Fishlegs grew a very anxious smile. “O-Only for a few hours!”

The bespectacled girl was becoming very concerned for her friend.

For his own health, both mental and physical, he needed to end things with Ruffnut.

She internally promised to have a talk with him later, but that would have to wait.

“Sorry, ‘Legs!” She shouted, before she unexpectedly performed a barrel roll. Whacking Fishlegs downwards with her dragon’s wings.

Now that he was out of the picture, she quickly nabbed the sheep they were both heading towards.

But grabbing the sheep was the easy part.

Now she had to defend it.

Her vision was then clouded by a flurry of flower petals, and she felt her sheep being yanked out of her grasp.

Once the petals floated away, she saw Isabela smiling smugly down on her. One of her Snaptrapper heads holding onto the sheep by the scruff of its neck.

Pam bent her long neck over to place the sheep in her rider’s arms, while Isabela readied a quip.

“What’s the matter, sis? Something in your eyes?”

But while she was busy gloating, she missed the shadow that was looming above her.

The blunt, axe-like tail of a Crimson Goregutter conked her on the back of her head. Making her drop the sheep in surprise.

Just in time for Luisa to swoop down and catch it. Grinning widely, with black and white barbells on her face.

“Woops, my bad!” Snarked the hulking girl. “I'm just so clumsy sometimes!”

Luisa was already holding a sheep, and with this new one she’d just acquired, she would bump her score up from three to five.

But as she surged forth through the rushing winds, she found her movement being impeded by something.

Looking down, Luisa saw that a vine had been tied around one of her sheep. Sent by Isabela, wielding it like a lasso.

The woman tried to yank the sheep to her, but her younger sister yanked it right back.

Locked in place by the tug-of-war, the two sisters hovered over the village. Just a few wing-beats from the goal baskets.

Luisa’s immense strength could easily snap the vines in an instant.

Meaning Mirabel had to act fast.

Opening all four of her dragon’s wings, they cut through the air. Sailing towards the outstretched vine.

Using Mariposa’s razor-sharp claws, they sliced the vine in half.

Suddenly being met with zero resistance, Luisa accidentally chucked her sheep backwards. While releasing the one she held under her arm as well.

Quickly bringing her dragon into a tight turn, Mirabel grabbed both sheep as they hurtled through the air.

Just in time to drop them into her basket, earning her two more points. Boosting her up to three.

The Mirabel Mob was going crazy. The Luisa Legion, however, was devastated by this blow.

“That’s my girl!” Augustin cried, standing from his seat.

“N-Not to say the other two aren’t my girls as well, heh…” He quickly and nervously added. Sitting back down.

The crowd was roaring with exhilaration, every Viking present was hyped up beyond belief.

Pepa was literally crackling with energy. Antonio was at the edge of his seat. Valentina was shouting colorful expletives, both to encourage and insult certain racers.

And Stoick felt it.

It was time to bring the final race to a close.

“It’s time Gobber!” Declared the chief, looking to his old friend.

“Righty-O!” Nodded the blacksmith, before making the announcement.

“Last lap!”

Horns were blown, to signal the arrival of the most coveted target in this race.

Worth a whopping ten points, it alone had the power to turn the tides of this game.

The Ebony Ewe…the Lamb of Legend…

“The Black Sheep!” Astrid gasped.

Gobber wheeled out the catapult, intentionally drawing out the process just a bit. To build suspense.

All the riders rushed forth, itching to be the first to grab the prize.

“Come on, Barf!” “Let’s go, Meatlug!” “We got this, Mariposa!”

Sitting lackadaisically on the machine, absent-mindedly chewing grass without a care in the world, was the Black Sheep.

Gobber leaned in close, wearing an eager grin.

“This is your big moment!” He said, hand on the lever.

The sheep saw what he was about to do.

And heavily questioned its life choices.

“Have a nice flight!”

And with that, Gobber pulled the crank.

Launching the sheep high into the air-

Right in front of a flock of Dragon Riders.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut were leading the charge.

"My sheep! My glory!" Shouted the male twin.

But then, they were suddenly shoved aside. By seemingly nothing.

Only when he removed his cloak, did they see who had cut ahead of them.

Camilo managed to break through the crowd, and was heading straight for the sheep.

“Come on! Come on!” He urged Tonta.

His face was marked with an orange chameleon on one cheek, its mouth wide open. Its long tongue stretched across his face, over the bridge of his nose, and ended in a spiral over his other cheek.

His Changewing’s talons were ready and waiting, twitching in anticipation for the moment she felt the creature in her grasp.

But just before they could grab it-

Fishlegs came barging in on Meatlug, snatching the sheep from him.

“NO!” Pepa cried, clutching her hair with frustration.

The Camilo Crew was in shambles.

“Yes! Good job, Meatlug!” Fishlegs complimented, earning a loving snort from the Gronckle. Her claws holding onto their catch tightly.

But the tender moment was cut short, by a shrill screech.

“FISHLEGS!”

All joy left the Ingerman’s face, when he heard his girlfriend call his name.

“Quit messing around, and score me that goal!” Ruffnut demanded, her voice in particular giving Dolores a headache.

The riders raced to the goals, all fighting to take the sheep from Fishlegs. And Fishlegs fighting to keep it.

…So he could give it up.

He wasn’t even having fun anymore.

He couldn’t remember the last time he really had fun.

But as he continued ducking and dodging the snatching talons, buzzing ever closer to the scoring final points, Ruffnut said something that particularly stuck out to him.

“And I swear, if you drop that sheep, we’re through!”

His eyes widened.

His jaw hung open.

And after a moment to consider his options…

He dropped the sheep.

The crowd released stunned gasps, everyone’s eyes solely focused on the sheep.

Watching it as it bleated helplessly, tumbling through the air.

Being pushed and pulled by the winds, until it somehow managed to land on the center podium.

Right into Antonio’s lap.

Everyone shifted their gaze to the boy, as he held the shaken sheep.

The child looked down at the critter, with a startled expression. The sheep met his staring with wide, frightened eyes.

The Dragon Riders stopped in place.

The audience grew silent.

Nobody moved an inch.

Until…

“SCORE THE GOAL!”

All eyes turned to the source of the voice.

Mirabel gestured wildly from atop Mariposa, pointing to one of the unmarked baskets.

“SCORE THE GOAL, TONITO!”

Spurred on by the girl, every Madrigal began cheering for Antonio as well. The crowd joined in, invigorated by this turn of events.

Jolting from his seat with a grin, the boy began running down towards the baskets. Zipping right past Stoick, who chuckled at the unexpected circumstances.

“It’s a bold strategy, Stoick.” Gobber commented. “Let’s see if it pays off for him!”

Rushing onto the goal plank, Antonio raised the sheep high over his fluffy head. Ready to plunge it into the net.

But he was plucked off the bridge, and carried into the skies by Hookfang.

“Sorry, kid! That sheep is mine!” Snotlout smirked.

This got a lot of gasps, and Pepa looked ready to commit a murder.

A moment later however, there was a strange cloud in front of them.

And now Hookfang was feeling rather drowsy.

Isabela had doused him in sleep pollen, and he was now spiraling out of the air.

Dangling by the sheep in his claws, Antonio was being taken for the ride.

“Woah-woah-woah!” He exclaimed, each rotation being punctuated by a Woah.

The Nightmare’s grip loosened, which sent the boy whirling through the air.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut tried to make a dive for the sheep, but they were intercepted by Camilo, Fishlegs, and Astrid.

His hurtle was cut short by Luisa, who caught him with Hercules’ antlers.

Mirabel was hovering in front of him, her Stormcutter’s long tail swaying back and forth.

So Antonio went for it.

Jumping off the Goregutter, he grabbed Mariposa’s tail. Swinging on it like a vine, with the sheep tucked under his arm.

At the apex of the swing, he let go. Tumbling towards the plank.

He hit the wood hard, and fell into a roll.

A roll that brought him right next to a basket.

Wasting no more time, he scrambled to his feet.

Jumping up, he dunked the Black Sheep into the goal.

The flag was waved.

The game was called.

And the crowd went absolutely wild.

“THAT’S TEN!” Stoick declared, over the howling crowd. “ANTONIO TAKES THE GAME!”

Uproarious cheers and applause were had, all for the ten-year-old.

Though his parents were cheering the loudest.

He stood upon the goal plank. Soaking it all in with a bashful, but beaming smile on his face.

Antonio was now Berk’s dragon racing champion, for the next year.

It was unexpected, unaccounted for, and it probably broke a few rules.

Just how the Berkians liked it.

And Mirabel, personally, couldn’t imagine a better ending to her first dragon race.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hiccup and Bruno found something in the well.