Studying tools

Then he persevered, wondering if he’d ever be allowed to make anything.


Four months into his apprenticeship, Gobber began letting him handle tools. He got through studying his first tool—the punch—before injuring himself. After that, Gobber handed Hiccup the broom and told him, “Start sweeping. We’ll try this again when you’re done slicing yourself open.”

Three months later, Hiccup had studied the hammer, file, and whetstone. He felt their shapes, their textures, and their weight. Gobber repeatedly instructed him to carry them, lift them, and set them down. He still swept floors and hauled wood, but now he knew every speck of that floor. His body knew where everything was, and he unconsciously turned or bent or slid into place. Hiccup moved through the smithy with confidence now, his former awkwardness gone. He worked faster, sliding naturally into the rhythm of each task. He observed everything Gobber did and said. He focused when Gobber taught him something new. He did all that was asked, and waited for the day he could use the tools he’d been studying.

Gobber started him on the hammer. “I’d rather you started with bruises, not stabs,” he stated, handing over the tool. “Now what d’you do with it?”

Hiccup grinned. “Start hammering.”

“Show me how, lad. Prove you know what ta do.”

Hiccup found a spot with plenty of light to work by. He retied his apron, He lifted the hammer, felt its weight and heft, and adjusted his grip. Then he looked up at Gobber and asked “What do you want me to hammer?”

Gobber sounded satisfied when he said, “Choose anything you want from the scrap pile. After all, you’re doin’ the work.”

Hiccup learned the rhythm of swinging the hammer, the force to put into his blows, and the best stance for using it. He felt the joy of seeing results from his labor. The more control Hiccup gained, the better his work grew. None of the metal was hot, but he was hammering. Each blow, each strike, was an accomplishment for him, proof that if he tried, he could succeed.

Gobber stunned him one day with an apron. “It’s new. No more wearing the old one; it don’t fit, and a smith needs an apron that fits. When you head home, hang it on that hook you made yesterday and keep it here in the forge. “

Hiccup stared at Gobber, wide-eyed. His first real project he helped Gobber with was a hook. His first completed work, to hang his first apron, because Gobber said he was a smith. A smith.

Gobber hid a smile. “Well, don’t just stand there gawping at me. Ye’re a good lad, ye worked hard, and ye earned it. Now put it on and fetch plenty of wood. Today I’m teaching the anvil, and I need my apprentice here all day.”