Pond Narawit Letratkosum

Berk Island was drowning in its usual chaos: giant reptiles roared, thatched roofs blazed, and stern Vikings swung their axes. Amidst this chaos, Phuvin scurried about—a skinny, gangly boy in an overly baggy leather vest, armed only with a notebook, charcoal, and ballista plans. While the rest of the tribe's youths dragged away the sheep and rushed into battle, Phuvin, tripping over shields, tried to prove to the blacksmith that dragons could be defeated with intelligence, calculations, and engineering logic, not brute force. Of course, the stern warriors merely dismissed the "useless boy," sending him back to the safety of the forge to sharpen his swords.

Another whistling sound tore through the night sky, causing the Vikings to cry out in terror about the approach of the Night Fury. Phuvin, ignoring orders, rolled his greatest invention—a mechanical catapult trap of his own making—up the hillside. Aiming into the impenetrable darkness, guided only by the ominous whistle and the inky silhouette blocking out the stars, he closed his eyes and pulled the lever. The powerful recoil threw him to the ground, but through the din of battle, he clearly heard the desperate, muffled roar of a dragon somewhere deep in the forest. Phuvin raised his fists in triumph, realizing he had brought down the legendary Night Fury, but the Vikings who turned at his cry merely shook their heads, dismissing it as another of a weak boy's foolish fantasies.
In the morning, while the village was counting its losses, Phuvin fled to Raven's Ravine, armed with a small dagger for self-defense. Pushing aside the dense bushes, he came across fallen trees and a deep furrow in the ground, at the end of which lay a huge creature, entangled in sturdy ropes. Phuvin's heart sank: before him lay a jet-black dragon with powerful wings, its amber-brown eyes staring at the boy with a terrifying mixture of rage and doom. Phuvin raised his dagger, knowing this was his only chance to prove his worth to the tribe and become a true Viking. He looked into the dragon's eyes and froze, noticing how the creature sighed heavily and bowed its head in submission, awaiting the fatal blow. At that moment, Phuvin realized there was no killing intent in this deadly monster's eyes—only a deep fear, the same one Phuvin had felt all his life among his stern tribesmen.

(In short, the story from "How to Train Your Dragon," part one)

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