On a misty hill outside the Viking village of Frostfjord lived Draco the Dragon, who had one big problem: no one wanted to be his friend.
It wasn’t his fault, really. He just had a tiny fire-breathing issue.
Whenever he tried to say “hello,” a puff of smoke came out. Whenever he laughed—poof!—a spark or two.
So the villagers said, “Stay away from the dragon! He’ll roast your breakfast, your boots, and your beard!”
Draco sighed. “I just want a friend… not a toasted one.”
He spent his days drawing in the dirt with his claws and roasting marshmallows alone. “Maybe dragons aren’t meant for friends,” he muttered.
But that changed one day when a new family moved to Frostfjord—with a fearless little Viking named Astrid.
The Brave Viking Child
Astrid wasn’t like other Viking kids.
While the others built boats and practiced shouting “RAAAH!”, Astrid built kites, collected feathers, and read about creatures of legend.
When she heard there was a dragon nearby, she didn’t run. She grabbed a basket of cookies and said, “I’m going to meet him!”
Her parents gasped. “A dragon?! Astrid, you’ll be breakfast!”
Astrid grinned. “Only if he likes burnt cookies.”
So, up the hill she went—past the goats, over the rocks, and right up to Draco’s cave. Draco peeked out, blinking. “You’re not… screaming?”
Astrid shook her head. “Nope. But are you as scary as everyone says?”
Draco coughed a puff of smoke by accident. “Only when I sneeze.”
Astrid giggled. “Perfect! I’m allergic to boredom.” Draco tilted his head. “You’re… strange.” “Thanks!” she said proudly.
Fire, Cookies, and Friendship
Astrid sat down on a rock. “I brought cookies! Want some?”
Draco’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never had cookies! Do they taste like chicken?”
“Better!” said Astrid. “They taste like happiness.”
Draco took one carefully—but before he could bite, SNEEZE!—a tiny flame toasted the cookie perfectly golden.
Astrid clapped. “You made it even better! You’re a chef dragon!”
Draco blushed. “Well, I do have a fiery personality.” The two spent the whole afternoon laughing, roasting marshmallows, and swapping stories.
When the sun began to set, Astrid said, “You’re not scary, Draco. You’re just warm-hearted… and warm-everything-else.”
Draco chuckled. “And you’re not afraid of dragons. You’re braver than a whole Viking army.”
From that day on, they met every afternoon—Draco teaching Astrid how to draw smoke hearts in the air, and Astrid teaching Draco how not to accidentally toast pinecones.
A Dragon in the Village
When Astrid told the villagers about her new friend, they panicked.
“A dragon? In our village?” they cried.
But Astrid just smiled. “You’ll see.” The next morning, Draco carefully walked into Frostfjord, wearing a giant pot on his head as a “safety helmet.”
The villagers trembled… until Draco sneezed and lit the bonfire perfectly.
Then he toasted fish for dinner and warmed the houses with his fiery breath. “By Odin’s beard,” said the chief, “he’s useful and funny!”
From then on, Draco wasn’t the scary dragon on the hill. He became the village’s honorary firemaster, and Astrid’s very best friend.
At night, they’d sit on the hill watching the stars.
“Do you think dragons and Vikings can always be friends?” asked Astrid.
Draco smiled. “Only if there are enough cookies.”
The End !
