Stoick’s Motivations

For all that Stoick loved Hiccup, he had no idea what to do with his son. A mountain of a man who lived large, he struggled to look after his small, overeager, never-still son. He’d been at a loss since Valka was taken by dragons when Hiccup was an infant; he still wrestled with readying the boy for life. For Stoick was the Chieftain of Berk, and responsible for every inhabitant, down to the last foolish sheep. There was no way to take his son with him during the day. Too many things needed Stoick’s complete attention, and Hiccup was another full time job by himself.


The village women looked after Hiccup. It was extra effort for them, Stoick knew, but he needed this assistance, and his Valka would have done the same thing. These women, mothers and grandmothers themselves, provided Hiccup all the things little ones needed. They comforted him when he hurt himself, and corrected him when he misbehaved. They taught him to eat, wash, and dress himself. They were a constant in his life until he was four and old enough for schooling.

When old Afi Hofferson began teaching Hiccup runes and numbers, Stoick breathed a bit easier. Afi taught well and was pleased to have a lad to teach. Hiccup thrived under the old man’s encouragement, and grasped the use and meaning of the symbols. Afi declared him literate within a few months and advised Stoick to provide the boy with charcoal, paper, and books to read. He observed Hiccup’s eagerness and knew Berk’s future was going to someone who worked hard and liked to learn.

That’s when the troubles began. Hiccup was bright and eager, and channeled his energy into exploring everything. Hiccup never outgrew his restlessness. He seemed oblivious to danger. He’d run off, chasing a cart or visiting the baker’s, or exploring the forest. Then someone would have to find him.

Hiccup was smart, smarter than many, and Stoick was rightfully proud of him. But once he’d learned his runes and figuring, he had nothing to occupy him. That’s when trouble began.

Hiccup wanted to learn more, and hunted for things to study. He’d try to lift something heavy to find out how long he could hold it for, until he dropped it on himself, or down a hole, or until the carpenters came looking for it. He frightened livestock, broke plates, and spilled buckets of water. Hiccup was always where he shouldn’t be, and searching for Hiccup was an ongoing nuisance.

Stoick wouldn’t admit it, but Hiccup seemed like too much for him to manage. He became frustrated with the accidents, the complaints, and the extra work that Hiccup left in his wake. He found himself looking down at Hiccup as he stood before Stoick after yet another mistake or misdeed.

The dragon attacks didn’t keep him inside. Every time one occurred, Hiccup would go outside to watch. Stoick dreaded the day a dragon would roast him or the house would catch fire without Hiccup noticing. The older he became, the more daring he grew. He’d go out into the village and people would trip over him. The boy had no idea he was doing anything wrong. Then when Stoick took him inside to talk to him, Hiccup would look up at his father and say the same things:

“But Dad, I just...”

“I wanted to help...”

“I had this idea...”

And finally, the one that tore at Stoick inside:

“But I knew that I could...”

Hiccup would look mournful then and promise to try harder.

But what bothered the chief most was hearing his son assure him, “I’m going to make you proud, Dad. I really will. “

Stoick saw the good in Hiccup—the intelligence and generosity he possessed were obvious to everyone. Give him a task and he worked hard at it. He rarely complained, even when he came home with injuries he couldn’t have inflicted himself, where someone—most likely his cousin Snotlout—left bruises shaped like fingermarks. When Stoick found a large patch of hair missing from Hiccup’s head, Stoick recalled seeing his son with those Thorston twins. Hiccup said he’d got mud in his hair, then hacked it off himself.

Hiccup was more and more unwelcome with the rest of Berk, and a target for the other children. But he persevered and even smiled at people who turned away when they saw him coming. Hiccup would grow to be a fine man, but had the makings of a bad chief. As much as Stoick took pride in his son’s character, he expected his son to be stronger, more coordinated, more willing to follow orders. Hiccup needed to stand tall and look at things directly, not hunch down and run off. A chief that does that is no chief at all. Stoick continued to give Hiccup orders. If he simply obeyed them, things would be better for everyone. He’d understand, as Stoick before him had understood, that there were rules, and for a chief’s son, even more rules. He must never show weakness. He must be decisive in all matters. He must focus on what Berk needs and never forget his life was about duty. But Stoick’s boy was a scrawny, featherheaded child with no attention span and a mind that was always somewhere else.

Stoick had to get through to Hiccup, or the boy would fail as a chief and it would be all Stoick’s fault. He refused to do that to his son or his tribe. Stoick had already lost Valka—he’d hadn’t been in time to save her from that evil beast—he would not fail Hiccup, too.

Stoick would do all he could to protect Hiccup, even if it made them both miserable. There was no other choice.