Chapter 1 FIRST CATCH YOUR DRAGON
Long ago, on the wild and windy isle of Berk, a smallish Viking with a longish name stood up to his ankles in snow.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Hope and Heir to the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans, had been feeling slightly sick ever since he woke up that morning.
Ten boys, including Hiccup, were hoping to become full members of the Tribe by passing the Dragon Initiation Program. They were standing on a bleak little beach at the bleakest spot on the whole bleak island. A heavy snow was falling.
"PAY ATTENTION!" screamed Gobber the Belch, the soldier in charge of teaching Initiation. "This will be your first military operation, and Hiccup will be commanding the team."
"Oh, not Hic-cup," groaned Dogsbreath the Duhbrain and most of the other boys. "You can't put': Hiccup in charge, sir, he's USELESS."
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Hope and Heir to the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans, wiped his nose miserably on his sleeve. He sank a little deeper into the snow.
"ANYBODY would be better than Hiccup," sneered Snotface Snotlout. "Even Fishlegs would be better than Hiccup."
Fishlegs had a squint that made him as blind as a jellyfish, and an allergy to reptiles.
"SILENCE!" roared Gobber the Belch. "The next boy to speak has limpets for lunch for the next THREE WEEKS!"
There was absolute silence immediately. Limpets are a bit like worms and a bit like snot and a lot less tasty than either.
"Hiccup will be in charge and that is an order!" screamed Gobber, who didn't do noises quieter than screaming. He was a seven-foot giant with a mad glint in his one working eye and a beard like exploding fireworks. Despite the freezing cold he was wearing hairy shorts and a teeny weeny deerskin vest that showed off his lobster-red skin and bulging muscles. He was holding a flaming torch in one gigantic fist.
"Hiccup will be leading you, although he is, admittedly, completely useless, because Hiccup is the son of the CHIEF, and that's the way things go with us Vikings. Where do you think you are, the REPUBLIC OF ROME? Anyway, that is the least of your problems today. You are here to prove yourself as a Viking Hero. And it is an ancient tradition of the Hooligan Tribe that you should -- " Gobber paused dramatically -- 
"FIRST CATCH YOUR DRAGON!"
Ohhhhhh suffering scallops, thought Hiccup.
"Our dragons are what set us apart!" bellowed Gobber. "Lesser humans train hawks to hunt for them, horses to carry them. It is only the VIKING HEROES who dare to tame the wildest, most dangerous creatures on Earth."
Gobber spat solemnly into the snow. "There are three parts to the Dragon Initiation Test. The first and most dangerous part is a test of your courage and skill at burglary. If you wish to enter the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, you must first catch your dragon. And that is WHY," continued Gobber, at full volume, "I have brought you to this scenic spot. Take a look at Wild Dragon Cliff itself."
The ten boys tipped their heads backward. The cliff loomed dizzyingly high above them, black and sinister. In summer you could barely even see the cliff as dragons of all shapes and sizes swarmed over it, snapping and biting and sending up a cacophony of noise that could be heard all over Berk.
But in winter the dragons were hibernating and the cliff fell silent, except for the ominous, low rumble of their snores. Hiccup could feel the vibrations through his sandals.
"Now," said Gobber, "do you notice those four caves about halfway up the cliff, grouped roughly in the shape of a skull?" The boys nodded.
"Inside the cave that would be the right eye of the skull is the Dragon Nursery, where there are, AT THIS VERY MOMENT, three thousand young dragons having their last few weeks of winter sleep."
"OOOOOOOH," muttered the boys excitedly. Hiccup swallowed hard. He happened to know considerably more about dragons than anybody else there. Ever since he was a small boy, he'd been fascinated by the creatures. He'd spent hour after long hour dragon watching in secret. (Dragon-spotters were thought to be geeks and nerds, hence the need for secrecy.) And what Hiccup had learned about dragons told him that walking into a cave with three thousand dragons in it was an act of madness.
No one else seemed too concerned, however.
"In a few minutes I want you to take one of these baskets and start climbing the cliff," commanded Gobber the Belch. "Once you are at the cave entrance, you are on your own. I am too large to squeeze my way into the tunnels that lead to the Dragon Nursery. You will enter the cave QUIETLY -- and that means you too, Wartihog, unless you want to become the first spring meal for three thousand hungry dragons, HA HA HA HA!"
Gobber laughed heartily at his little joke, then continued. "Dragons this size are normally fairly harmless to man, but in these numbers they will set upon you like piranhas. There'd be nothing left of even a fatso like you, Wartihog -- just a pile of bones and your helmet. HA HA HA HA! So... you will walk QUIETLY through the cave and each boy will steal ONE sleeping dragon. Lift the dragon GENTLY from the rock and place it in your basket. Any questions so far?"
Nobody had any questions.
"In the unlikely event that you DO wake the dragons -- and you would have to be IDIOTICALLY STUPID to do so -- run like thunder for the entrance to the cave. Dragons do not like cold weather and the snow will probably stop them in their tracks."
Probably? thought Hiccup. Oh, well, that's reassuring.
"I suggest that you spend a little time choosing your dragon. It is important to get one the correct size. This will be the dragon that hunts fish for you, and pulls down deer for you. You will catch the dragon that will carry you into battle later on, when you are much older and a Warrior of the Tribe. But, nonetheless, you want an impressive animal, so a rough guide would be, choose the biggest creature that will fit into your basket. Don't linger for TOO long in there -- "
Linger??? thought Hiccup. In a cave full of three thousand sleeping DRAGONS?
"I need not tell you," Gobber continued cheerfully, "that if you return to this spot without a dragon, it is hardly worth coming back at all. Anybody who FAILS this task will be put into immediate exile. The Hairy Hooligan Tribe has no use for FAILURES. Only the strong can belong."
Unhappily, Hiccup looked round at the distant horizon. Nothing but snow and sea as far as the eye could see. Exile didn't look too promising, either.
"RIGHT," said Gobber briskly. "Each boy take a basket to put their dragon in and we'll get going."
The boys rushed to get their baskets, chattering happily and excitedly.
"I'm going to get one of those Monstrous Nightmare ones with the extra-extendable claws. They're really scary," boasted Snotlout.
"Oh shut up, Snotlout, you can't," said Speedi-fist. "Only Hiccup can have a Monstrous Nightmare, you have to be the son of a chief." Hiccup's father was Stoick the Vast, the fearsome chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.
"HIC-CUP?" sneered Snotlout. "If he's as useless at this as he is at Bashyball, we'll be lucky if he even gets one of the Basic Browns."
The Basic Brown was the most common type of dragon, a serviceable beast but without much glamour.
"SHUDDUP AND GET INTO LINE YOU MISERABLE TADPOLES!" yelled Gobber the Belch.
The boys scrambled into their places, baskets on their backs, and stood to attention. Gobber walked along the line, lighting the torch that each boy held in front of him from the great flare in his hand.
"IN HALF AN HOUR'S TIME YOU WILL BE A VIKING WARRIOR. WITH YOUR FAITHFUL SERPENT AT YOUR SIDE...
[ VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
THE COMMON OR GARDEN and THE BASIC BROWN
The Common or Garden and the Basic Brown are so similar that they can Be dealt with together. These are the most familiar breeds -- the ones we instantly think of when we say "dragons." pr They are poor hunters, but they are easy to train. These dragons are the best kind for family pets, although, as with a lion or a tiger, they should never he left unsupervised with very young children. STATISTICS
COLORS: Green and yellow, all shades of brown
ARMED WITH : Basic teeth and claws 3 DEFENSES : Prickly spines RADAR : None 0 POISON: None HUNTING ABDLITY: Lethargic hunters 3 SPEED: Swift in retreat FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: good when angry 
... OR BREAKFASTING WITH WODEN IN VALHALLA WITH DRAGONS' TEETH IN YOUR BOTTOM!" screamed Gobber with horrible enthusiasm. 
"DEATH OR GLORY!" yelled Gobber.
"DEATH OR GLORY!" yelled eight boys back at him fanatically.
Death, thought Hiccup and Fishlegs, sadly.
Gobber paused dramatically, with the horn to his lips.
I think this could possibly be the worst moment of my life SO FAR, thought Hiccup to himself as he waited for the blast of the horn. And if they shout much louder, we're going to wake up those dragons before we even START.
"PARRRRRRRRRP!"
Gobber blew the horn. 
Chapter 2 INSIDE THE DRAGON NURSERY
You have probably guessed by now that Hiccup was not your natural Viking Hero.
For a start, he didn't LOOK like a Hero. Somebody like Snotlout, for instance, was tall, muscley, covered in skeleton, tattoos, and already had the beginnings of a small moustache. This consisted of a few straggly yellow hairs clinging to his upper lip and was deeply unpleasant to look at, but still impressively manly for a boy not yet thirteen.
Hiccup was on the small side and had the kind of face that was almost entirely unmemorable. He DID have Heroic Hair, which was a very bright red and stood up vertically however much you tried to wet it down with seawater. But nobody ever saw that because it was hidden under his helmet most of the time.
You would NEVER have picked Hiccup out of those ten boys to be the Hero of this story.
Snotlout was good at everything and a natural leader. Dogsbreath was as tall as his father and could do amusing things like farting to the tune of the Berk national anthem.
Hiccup was just absolutely average, the kind of unremarkable, skinny, freckled boy who was easy to overlook in a crowd.
So, when Gobber blew the horn and moved out of sight to find a comfortable rock to sit on and eat his mussel-and-tomato sandwich, Snotlout pushed Hiccup out of the way and took charge.
"Okay, listen up, boys," he whispered in a menacing fashion. "I'm in charge, not the Useless. And anybody who objects gets a knuckle sandwich from Dogsbreath the Duhbrain."
"Ugh," grunted Dogsbreath, pounding his fists together in happy excitement. Dogsbreath was Snotlout's chief sidekick and a great, big gorilla of a boy.
"Bash him, Dogsbreath, to show what I mean..."
Dogsbreath was delighted to oblige. He gave Hiccup a shove that sent him sprawling headfirst into the snow, then ground his face in it.
"Pay attention!" hissed Snotlout. The boys dragged their eyes away from Dogsbreath and Hiccup and paid attention. "Rope yourselves together. The best climber should go first..."
"Well, that's YOU of course, Snotlout," said Fishlegs. "You're the best at everything, aren't you?"
Snotlout looked at Fishlegs suspiciously. It was difficult to tell whether Fishlegs was laughing at him or not, because of his squint.
"That's right, Fishlegs," said Snotlout. "I AM." And, just in case he had been laughing at him: "Bash him, Dogsbreath!"
While Dogsbreath pushed Fishlegs down to join Hiccup in the snow, everybody started roping themselves together.
Hiccup and Fishlegs were the last to be tied on, just behind a flushed and triumphant Dogsbreath.
"Oh, brilliant," muttered Fishlegs. "I'm about to enter a cave full of man-eating reptiles tied up to eight complete maniacs."
"If we. get to the cave..." said Hiccup nervously, looking up at the sheer black cliff.
Hiccup put the lighted torch between his teeth to leave his hands free, and started climbing after the others.
It was a perilous climb. The rocks were slippery with snow and the other boys were thoroughly overexcited, making the ascent far too quickly. At one point Clueless missed his footing and fell -- luckily onto Dogs-breath, who caught him by the back of the trousers and heaved him back on to the rock again, before he brought the whole lot of them down.
When they finally made it to the mouth of the cave, Hiccup looked down briefly at the sea pounding the rocks way below, and swallowed very hard...
"Untie the ropes!" ordered Snotlout, his eyes popping with excitement at the thought of the dangers to come. "Hiccup goes into the cave first because HE is the son of the Chief...." He sneered. "And, if any of the dragons ARE awake, he'll be the first to know about it! Once we're in the cave, it's every man for himself. Only the strong can belong...."
Although he wasn't your usual mindless thug of a Hooligan, Hiccup wasn't a wimp, either. Being frightened is not the same as being a coward. Maybe he was as brave as anyone else there, because he went to catch a dragon despite knowing what dragons are like. And, when he had climbed perilously to the mouth of the cave and had found that inside there was a long, twisty tunnel, he still went down it, despite not being too keen on long, twisty tunnels with dragons at the end of them.
The tunnel was dripping and clammy. At times it was high enough for the boys to walk upright. Then it would close down into narrow, claustrophobic holes that the boys could only just squeeze through, squirming on their stomachs, with the flares held in their mouths.
After ten long minutes of walking and crawling into the heart of the cliff, the stench of dragon -- a salty stink of seaweed and old mackerel heads -- got stronger and stronger, until finally it became unbearable and the tunnel opened out into an enormous cavern.
The cavern was full of more dragons than Hiccup could ever have imagined existed.
They were every possible color and size, and they included all the species that Hiccup had heard of, and quite a few more that he hadn't.
Hiccup started sweating as he looked around him at pile after pile of the animals, draped over every available surface; even hanging upside down from the roof like giant bats. They were all fast asleep, and most of them were snoring in unison. This was a sound so loud and so deep that it seemed to penetrate right into Hiccup's body and vibrate around his soft insides, churning his stomach and bowels, and forcing his heart to beat at the same slow dragon pulse.
If one, just one, of these countless creatures were to wake up, it would raise the alarm to the others and the boys would meet a horrible death. Hiccup had once seen a deer that had wandered too close to Wild Dragon Cliff torn to pieces in a matter of minutes...
Hiccup closed his eyes. "I will NOT think about it," he said to himself. "I WILL NOT."
None of the other boys were thinking about it.
Ignorance is very useful in such circumstances. Their eyes were popping with excitement as they walked through the cave, hands over their noses to keep out the revolting smell, looking for the biggest dragon they could find that would fit in their basket.
They left the torches in a pile at the entrance. The cavern was already well-lit by the Glowworms -- huge, sluggish animals dotted here and there that shone with a steady yet dim fluorescence, like a low-watt light bulb. And the Flamehuffers gave off extra little bursts of light that flickered on and off as they breathed in and out.
Predictably, most of the boys headed toward the plug-uglies of the dragon world.
Snotlout made a big fuss about grabbing a vicious-looking Monstrous Nightmare, smiling nastily at Hiccup as he did so. Snotlout was the son of Baggy-bum the Beerbelly, Stoick the Vast's younger brother. He was intending to get rid of Hiccup sometime in the future so that he, Snotlout, would become Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe. And a gruesome and terrifying Chief, as Snotlout meant to be, would need a properly awesome dragon.
Wartihog and Dogsbreath got into a loudly whispered fight over a Gronckle, a heavily-armored brute with fangs like kitchen knives sticking out in such numbers that it couldn't keep its mouth shut.
Dogsbreath won, then managed to drop it as he was trying to bundle it into his basket. The weaponry of the beast made a horribly loud clatter as it landed on the floor of the cavern.
The Gronckle opened its evil, crocodile eyes. Everybody held their breath.
The Gronckle stared ahead. It was difficult to tell from its blank expression whether it was awake or fast asleep. Hiccup realized, in an agony of suspense, that the gossamer-thin third eyelid was still down.
And there it stayed for a few heart-stopping moments, until... It slowly closed its upper eyelids again.
Amazingly, not one of the other dragons woke up. A few grumbled groggily before making themselves comfy again. But most were in such a stupor that they barely even stirred.
Hiccup let out his breath. Maybe these dragons were so dead to the world that nothing would wake them from their slumber.
[VIKING DRAGONS and THEIR EGGS
GRONCKLE
The Gronckle is the plug-ugly of the dragon world. But what it lacks in looks, it makes up for on the battlefield. They can be slow and, dare I say it, stupid ~ and sometimes they get so fat that they are unable to take off. They are also prone to dragon acne. STATISTICS
COLORS: Snot green, bogey beige, pooey brown. ARMED WITH: All the best in dragon weaponry. Fangs like daggers, extra spike on neck, hall with spikes on end of tail 
DEFENSES: Super-thick, flame-proof and scratch-proof skin 9 RADAR: None POISON: None 
HUNTING ABILITY: Gronckles are slow to maneuver in the air 0 SPEED: See above FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Terrifying in action 9]
He swallowed hard, muttered a prayer to Loki, the patron saint of sneaky exploits, and edged forward cautiously to grab the most unconscious-looking dragon, so he could get out of this nightmare as fast as possible.
It is a little-known fact that dragons grow colder the deeper they sleep.
It is even possible for dragons to go into a sleep coma in which they are icy cold, with no obvious pulse, or breath, or heartbeat. They can stay in this state for centuries, and only a highly skilled expert can tell from looking at them if they are alive or dead.
But a dragon who is awake or lightly sleeping is very warm indeed, like bread that has just come out of the oven.
Hiccup found one that was about the right size and fairly cool to the touch and maneuvered it into his basket as quickly and carefully as he could. It was a very basic Basic Brown, but at that moment Hiccup could not have cared less. Even though it was barely half-grown, it was surprisingly heavy.
"I DID it, I DID it, I DID it!" he chanted happily to himself. At least he wasn't going to be the only boy in the class who didn't have a dragon. Everybody seemed to have gotten themselves one by now and they were all making their way quietly toward the exit. Everybody, that was, except for...
Fishlegs, who was already covered in a bright red, itchy rash, and was at that very moment approaching a pile of knottily entangled Nadders on very loud tiptoes.
Fishlegs was even worse at burglary than Dogs-breath.
Hiccup stopped dead in his tracks. "Don't do it, Fishlegs -- PLEASE don't do it!" he whispered.
But Fishlegs was fed up with Snotlout's taunting and of being sneered at and jeered at. He was going to get himself a really cool dragon that all the other boys would respect.
Squinting so hard he could barely see the pile of dragons, his eyes streaming, and scratching himself violently, Fishlegs reached slowly toward the bottom-most dragon, took one leg in his hand, and gently... yanked.
The entire pile came crashing down in a furious tangle of limbs and wings and ears. Every boy in the cavern gave a horrified gasp.
Most of the Nadders snapped crossly at each other before settling back down to sleep.
One brute bigger than the others opened his eyes and blinked a few times.
Hiccup noted, with great relief, that the third eyelid was still down.
The boys waited for the eyes to close.
And then Fishlegs sneezed.
Four GIGANTIC sneezes that went echoing and bouncing off the cavern walls.
The big Nadder stared sightlessly ahead, frozen like a dragon statue.
But very faintly, an ominous purring noise began in his throat. And very slowly...... the third eyelid slid upward. "Uh-oh," whispered Hiccup.
The Nadder's head suddenly whipped round to face Fishlegs, its yellow cat's eyes snapping into focus on the boy. It unfolded its wings to their greatest extent and stealthily advanced, like a panther about to spring. It opened its mouth wide enough to show the forked dragon tongue and...
"R-R-R-U-U-U-U-U-N-N-N!" shouted Hiccup, grabbing Fishlegs's arm and dragging him away.
The boys ran for the exit tunnel. Fishlegs and Hiccup were the last to get there.
There was no time to pick up the torches, so they were running in the pitch dark. The basket with the Basic Brown dragon in it was bumping on Hiccup's back.
They had two minutes' start on the dragons because it took a while for the first dragon to wake everybody else up. But Hiccup could hear a furious roaring and flapping as the dragons started to pour into the tunnel after the boys.
He ran a little faster.
The dragons could move faster than the boys because they could see better in the dark, but they were held up when the tunnel got smaller, and they had to fold their wings up to squirm through.
"I... haven't... got... a... dragon," panted Fishlegs, a couple of paces behind Hiccup.
"That," said Hiccup, as he scrambled frantically on his elbows through a narrow bit, "is the LEAST... ow... of our problems. They're gaining on us!"
"No... dragon," repeated Fishlegs stubbornly.
"Oh, for THOR'S SAKE," snapped Hiccup.
He thrust his basket into Fishlegs's arms and grabbed the empty one from Fishlegs's back. "Have MINE, then. Wait here."
And Hiccup turned and went back through the narrow bit even though the roaring was getting louder and closer by the second.
"WHAT... ARE... YOU... DOING???" screamed Fishlegs, frantically dancing up and down on the spot.
Hiccup came back through the hole again precious moments later. Fishlegs grabbed hold of an arm to help haul him through.
They could hear a horrible snuffling that sounded as if the nose of a dragon had entered the other end of the hole. Hiccup bunged a rock at it and it squealed indignantly.
They turned a corner and suddenly they could see light from outside at the end of the final tunnel.
Fishlegs went first, but, just as Hiccup was kneeling down to follow, a dragon pounced on him with a flap and a shriek. Hiccup hit it and it fell back enough for him to crawl toward the light. Another dragon -- or maybe the same one -- sank its fangs into Hiccup's calf. He was so desperate to get out he dragged the animal through with him.
As soon as Hiccup's head and shoulders were through into the light, there was Gobber. He grabbed Hiccup under the armpits and hauled him out, dragons pouring after him.
"JUMP!" yelled Gobber, as he stunned a dragon with one blow of his mighty fist.
"What do you mean, JUMP??" Hiccup hesitated as he looked down at the dizzying drop into the sea.
"No time to climb down," panted Gobber, banging a couple of dragons' heads together, and bouncing three more off his gigantic belly. "JUMP!!!"
Hiccup closed his eyes and leaped off the cliff.
As he plunged through the air, the dragon that was attached to his leg released its jaws with a squawk of alarm and flew off.
Hiccup was traveling at such speed by the time he hit the water that it didn't feel like water at all, more like something hard and painful, and so cold that he nearly passed out.
He spluttered to the surface, amazed to find that he didn't appear to be dead, and was immediately drenched by the gigantic splash of Gobber the Belch landing a couple of feet away from him.
Shrieking furiously, the dragons swarmed out of the cave and divebombed the floating Vikings.
Hiccup pulled his helmet as far down as it would go. There were horrible scraping sounds as dragons' talons raked across the metal. Another one landed, hissing, on the water right in front of Hiccup's face. It took off again with a screech when it felt how cold the sea was. The dragons didn't like flying through the snow and, with relief, Hiccup watched as they flew back to scream terrible dragon insults in Dragonese from the warmth of the cave entrance.
Gobber started to pull the boys out of the sea and onto the rocks. Viking boys are strong swimmers, but it is difficult to keep afloat when you have a basket full of trapped, terrified dragons on your back. Hiccup was the last to be saved -- just in time, as the cold was beginning to put him to sleep.
Well, at least that wasn't DEATH, thought Hiccup as Gobber grabbed him by the neck to rescue him, nearly drowning him again in the process -- but it certainly wasn't GLORY, either.
Chapter 3 HEROES OR EXILES
The boys scrambled over the slimy pebbles at the edge of the beach and back up Madman's Gully, the gorge they had climbed through a couple of hours before. This was a narrow crack in the cliffs filled with large rocks. They tried to move as quickly as they could, but this is difficult when you are slipping and sliding over huge stones covered in ice, and they made painfully slow progress.
A dragon that hadn't been put off by the snow came shrieking down into the gorge. He landed on Wartihog's back and started savaging him, sinking his fangs into Wartihog's shoulder and ripping red lines into his arms. Gobber bashed the dragon on the nose with the handle of his axe, and the dragon let go and flapped away.
But a whole wave of dragons replaced him, pouring into the canyon with awful, rasping cries, fire shooting from their nostrils and melting the snow before them, talons spread wickedly as they swooped downward.
Gobber stood, legs wide apart, and whirled his big, double-headed axe. He threw back his great, hairy head and yelled a terrible primeval yell, that echoed down the sides of the gorge and made the hairs on the back of Hiccup's neck stick straight up like the spines on a sea urchin.
Individually, dragons tend to have a healthy sense of selfpreservation, but they are braver when they hunt in packs. They knew now that they had the advantage of massive numbers, so they didn't check their flying for an instant. They just kept on coming.
Gobber let go of the axe.
Spinning end to end, the axe soared up through the softly falling snow. It hit the biggest dragon of the lot, killing him instantly, and then kept on going, landing in a snow-drift hundreds of feet away and disappearing.
This made the rest of the dragons think a bit. Some of them scrambled over each other in their haste to fly away, yelping like dogs. The others came to a halt, hovering uncertainly, screaming defiance but keeping their distance.
"Waste of a good axe," grunted Gobber. "Keep going, boys, they could come back!"
Hiccup needed no encouragement to keep going. As soon as he got out of the gorge and onto the marshy land behind it, he broke into a stumbling run, every now and then falling flat on his face in the snow.
Some time later, when Gobber reckoned they were a safe distance from Wild Dragon Cliff, he yelled at the boys to stop.
Very carefully he counted heads again, to check he hadn't lost anybody. Gobber had spent an unpleasant ten minutes standing at the mouth of the dragons' cave wondering why there was such a terrible racket and what he was going to say to Stoick the Vast if he lost his precious son and heir for good.
Something Tactful and Sensitive, he supposed, but Tact and Sensitivity were not Gobber's strong points, and he took the first five minutes to come up with "Hiccup copped it. SORRY," and then spent the second five minutes tearing his beard out.
Consequently, although secretly mightily relieved, he was not in a Good Mood and, as soon as he could get his breath back, he exploded all over the place, as the boys stood, shivering violently, in a bedraggled line.
"NEVER... in FOURTEEN YEARS...
have I come across such a load of HOPELESS
BARNACLES as you lot. WHICH OF YOU USELESS MOLLUSKS WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR WAKING UP THE DRAGONS????"
"I was," said Hiccup. Which wasn't strictly true.
"Oh, that's BRILLIANT," bellowed Gobber, "just BRILLIANT. Our Future Leader shows off his magnificent Leadership Skills. At the tender age of ten and a half he does his best to annihilate himself and the rest of you in A SIMPLE MILITARY EXERCISE!"
Snotlout sniggered.
"You find something amusing about that, Snotlout?" asked Gobber, with dangerous softness. "EVERYBODY IS ON LIMPET RATIONS FOR THE NEXT THREE WEEKS."
The boys groaned.
"Smart work, Hiccup," sneered Snotlout. "I can't wait to see you in action on the battlefield."
"SILENCE!" yelled Gobber. "THIS IS YOUR INITIATION, NOT A DAY OUT IN THE COUNTRY! SILENCE, OR YOU'LL BE LUNCHING ON LUGWORMS FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES!"
"Now," continued Gobber, more calmly, "although that was an absolute mess, it wasn't a total disaster. I PRESUME that you do all HAVE a dragon after that fiasco...?"
"Yes," chorused the boys.
Fishlegs took a sideways glance at Hiccup, who was staring straight ahead.
"Lucky for you," said Gobber, ominously. "So you have all passed the first part of the Dragon Test. There are, however, still two parts that you have to complete before you can become full members of the Tribe. Your next task will be to train this dragon yourself. This will be a test of the force of your personality. You will assert your will over this wild creature and show it who is Master. Your dragon will be expected to obey simple commands such as "go" and "stay," and hunt fish for you in the way that dragons have hunted for the Sons of Thor since anybody can remember. If you are worried about the training process, you should study a book called How to Train Your Dragon by Professor Yobbish, which you will find in the fireplace of the Great Hall."
Suddenly Gobber looked very pleased with himself. "I stole that book from the Meathead Public Library myself," he said modestly, regarding his very black fingernails. "From right under the nose of the Hairy Scary Librarian... He never noticed a thing... Now THAT'S burglary for you...."
Wartihog put up his hand. "What happens if we can't read, sir?" "No boasting, Wartihog!" boomed Gobber. "Get some idiot to read it for you. Yout dragons will begin to go back to sleep, because this is still their hibernation time" -- some of the dragons had, indeed, gone very quiet inside the baskets -- "so take them home and put them in a warm place. They should wake up in the next couple of weeks. you will then have only FOUR MONTHS to prepare for
Initiation Day at the Thor's-day Thursday Celebrations, and the final part of your Test. If, on that day, you can prove that you have trained your dragon to the satisfaction of myself and other elders of the Tribe, you can finally call yourself a Hooligan of Berk."
The boys stood very tall and tried to look like proper Hooligans.
"HEROES OR EXILE!" yelled Gobber the Belch.
"HEROES OR EXILE!" yelled eight boys fanatically back at him.
Exile, thought Hiccup and Fishlegs sadly.
"I... hate... being... a... Viking," panted Fishlegs to Hiccup as they stumbled back through the bracken to the Hooligan village.
You didn't really walk on the island of Berk, you waded -- through heather or bracken or mud or snow, which clung on to your legs and made them difficult to lift. It was the sort of country where the sea and the land were always falling into one another and getting mixed up. The island was shot through with holes burrowed by the water, a maze of criss-crossing underground streams. You could put your foot on a solid-looking piece of grass and find yourself disappearing up to your thigh in black, sticky mud. You could be making your way through the ferns and suddenly find yourself fording a river, waist-high and icy cold.
The boys were already soaked to the skin with seawater, and now the snow had turned to horizontal driving rain, blowing in their faces with the strength of one of the gale-force winds that were always shrieking across the salty wastelands of Berk.
"A narrow escape from horrible death first thing on Thursday morning," complained Fishlegs, "followed by complete rejection by the junior half of the Tribe... Nobody's going to talk to me for YEARS after this -- except for you, of course, Hiccup, but then you're just a weirdo like me -- "
"Thank you," said Hiccup.
"And on top of everything," continued Fishlegs bitterly, "a two-mile run carrying a deranged dragon on my back" -- the basket on Fishlegs' back was plunging wildly from side to side as the dragon inside tried manically to get out -- "and only a dinner of horrible limpets to look forward to at the end of it."
Hiccup agreed that it wasn't a delicious prospect.
"You can have this dragon back if you like, Hiccup. I warn you, they're filthy heavy when they're wet and angry," said Fishlegs, miserably. "Gobber is going to go off like a typhoon when he finds out you haven't got a dragon."
"But I HAVE got one," said Hiccup.
Fishlegs stopped and began to take the basket off his back. "I know it IS yours REALLY," he sighed wearily. "I think I'll just go straight past the village and keep on running till I reach somewhere civilized. Rome perhaps. I've always wanted to go to Rome. And I haven't got a hope in Valhalla of passing Initiation anyway, so -- "
"No, I've got another one, in my basket," Hiccup insisted. Fishlegs' jaw dropped open in disbelief.
"I got it when I went back into the tunnel," explained Hiccup.
"Well, blister my barnacles," said Fishlegs. "How in Thor's name did you know it was there? It was so dark you couldn't see the horns in front of you."
"It was weird," said Hiccup. "I sort of sensed it when we were running down the tunnel. I couldn't see anything, but as we were passing, I just knew there was a dragon there, and that it was meant to be MY dragon. I was going to ignore it, actually, because we were in a bit of a hurry, but then you said about not having a dragon and I went back, and... there it was, lying on this shelf in the tunnel, just as I'd imagined it would be."
"Well, jigger my jellyfish," said Fishlegs, and the boys started running again.
Hiccup was bruised all over, shaking from shock, and he had a nasty dragon wound in his calf, which was stinging like crazy from the saltwater. He was freezing cold and there was an irritating bit of seaweed in one of his sandals.
He was also a bit worried because he knew he should not have risked his life trying to get a dragon for Fishlegs. This was not the act of a Viking Hero. A Viking Hero would know not to intervene between Fishlegs and his Fate.
On the other hand, Hiccup had been worrying about Dragon-catching Day for longer than he could remember. He had been sure he would be the only one to come back without a dragon, and shame, embarrassment, and awful exile would follow.
And now, here he was: a Viking warrior WITH a dragon.
So, on the whole, he was feeling fairly pleased with himself. Things were looking up.
..... You know, Hiccup," said Fishlegs a little later, as the wooden fortifications of the village appeared on the horizon, "that sounds like Fate, you sensing the dragon was there like that. This could be Meant to Be. You could have some sort of wonder-dragon in there. Something that makes a Monstrous Nightmare look like a flying frog! You are the son and heir of Chief Stoick after all, and it's about time Fate came in with a sign about your destiny."
The boys stopped, puffing with exhaustion.
"Oh, I'm sure it's just a Common or Garden that wandered away from the rest," said Hiccup, trying to sound careless but unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. He could have something marvelous in there!
Maybe Old Wrinkly was right. Old Wrinkly was Hiccup's grandfather on his mother's side. He had taken up soothsaying in his old age and he kept on telling Hiccup how he had looked into the future and that Hiccup was destined for great things.
This amazing dragon could be the beginning of his transformation from ordinary old Hiccup, who wasn't particularly good at anything, into a Hero of the Future!
Hiccup took the basket off his back and paused before opening it. "It's very still, isn't it?" said Fishlegs, suddenly less certain of the Fate theory. "I mean, it isn't moving at all in there. Are you sure it's alive?"
"It's just very deeply asleep," said Hiccup. "It was stone cold when I picked it up."
Suddenly he had a strong feeling that the gods were on his side. He KNEW that this dragon was alive.
With trembling fingers, Hiccup undid the latch, took off the lid of the basket, and peered in. Fishlegs joined him.
Things weren't looking so good anymore.
There, curled up fast asleep in the bottom of the basket in a tangled dragon knot, lay perhaps the most common Common or Garden Dragon Hiccup had ever seen.
Absolutely the only extraordinary thing about this dragon was how extraordinarily SMALL it was. In this it was truly extraordinary.
Most dragons that the Vikings used for hunting purposes were about the size of a Labrador retriever. The adolescent dragons the boys were collecting weren't quite that big, but they were nearly fully grown. This dragon was more comparable to a West Highland Terrier.
Hiccup couldn't think how he had overlooked this when he picked the dragon up in the tunnel. He supposed, miserably, that it was rather a pressured moment, what with three thousand dragons trying to kill him at the time. And dragons in a deep Sleep Coma do tend to weigh more than they do when they're awake.
"Well," said Hiccup at last, "that's a sign, if you like. Youreach for a Deadly Nadder and what do you get? A Basic Brown. I grab a dragon in the dark and what do I get? A Common or Garden. The thing is, the gods are telling us we're Common or Garden folk, Fishlegs. You and I, we're not meant to be Heroes."
"It doesn't matter about ME...," said Fishlegs, "but you are meant to be a Hero. Remember? Son of the Chief and all that? And you will be one, I know you will...."
Fishlegs put the basket back on Hiccup's back and they trudged toward the village gates together.
"... At least, I sincerely HOPE you will. I don't want to be following Snotlout into battle. You've got more ideas about military tactics in your little finger than Snotlout has in his whole fat head...."
While that may have been true, not only was Hiccup not about to be the future star of Dragon training -- but with this particular dragon it was even going to be difficult for him to take his familiar place fading into the background.
It was so small it was going to make him look ridiculous. It was so small that Snotlout was going to have some very unpleasant things to say about it.
Chapter 4 HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON "HA HA HA HA!"
Snotlout was laughing so hard that he hadn't managed to say anything at all.
The boys were hanging about the village gates, taking the opportunity to show off the dragons that they had caught. Hiccup had tried to walk through without being noticed, but Snotlout had stopped him.
"Let's see what pathetic creature Hiccup has got," said Snotlout, and took off the lid.
"Oh, this is BRILLIANT -- look at it!" said Snotlout, when he finally got his breath back from laughing. "What IS it, Hiccup? A brown bunny rabbit with wings? A flower fairy? A fluffy flying frog? Gather round everybody and see the magnif icent animal that Our Future Leader has caught himself!"
"Oh, Hiccup, you are useless," crowed Speedifist. "You're the son of a CHIEF, for Thor's sake. Why didn't you get one of those If new Monstrous Nightmares with the six-foot wing-span and the extra extendable claws? They're really mean killers, they are.""I have one," grinned Snotlout, I gesturing to the terrifying-looking, flame-red animal fast asleep in his basket. "I think I shall call her FIREWORM. What are you going to call yours, Hiccup? Sweetums? Sugarlips? Babyface?" Hiccup's dragon took this particular moment to give a huge yawn, opening his tiny mouth wide to reveal a flickering, forked tongue, very pink gums, and ABSOLUTELY NO TEETH AT ALL.
Snotlout laughed so hard, Speedifist had to hold him upright. "TOOTHLESS!" cried Snotlout. "Hiccup has found himself the only TOOTHLESS dragon in the uncivilized world! This is too good. Hiccup the USELESS and his dragon, TOOTHLESS!" Fishlegs leaped to Hiccup's defense.
"Well, you are not allowed that Monstrous Nightmare that you've got there, Snotface Snotlout. Only the son of a Chief is allowed a Monstrous Nightmare. That Fireworm dragon is Hiccup's, by right."
Snotlout's eyes narrowed. He grabbed Fishlegs's arm and twisted it viciously behind his back.
"Nobody's listening to you, you plankton-hearted, fish-legged, disaster area," sneered Snotlout. "Thanks to you and your sniveling, sneezing disability, that whole military operation was nearly a total disaster. When I'm Chief of this Tribe the first thing I'm going to do is boot anybody with a pathetic allergy like yours straight out into exile. You're not fit to be a Hooligan!"
Fishlegs went very white in the face, but he still managed to gasp out, "But you are NOT going to be Chief of this Tribe. HICCUP is going to be Chief of this Tribe."
Snotlout dropped Fishlegs's arm and advanced menacingly on Hiccup.
"Oh, he is, is he?" jeered Snotlout. "So, I'm not allowed that Monstrous Nightmare, am I? Our Future Leader is keeping very quiet about it, isn't he? Come on, Hiccup, I'm stealing your inheritance. What are you going to do about it, then, eh?"
The boys all looked solemn. Snotlout really had broken an ancient Viking rule.
"Hiccup should challenge you for the dragon," said Fishlegs slowly, and everybody swiveled around to look expectantly at Hiccup.
"Oh, brilliant," muttered Hiccup under his breath. "Thank you, Fishlegs. My day just gets better and better."
Snotlout was a great brute of a boy who didn't really need Dogsbreath's help when it came to bashing people up. He wore specially constructed, bronze-tipped sandals in order to cause maximum damage when kicking people. Hiccup tried to stay out of his way as much as he possibly could.
But he couldn't ignore this insult to his status, now that Fishlegs had helpfully pointed it out, without looking like a coward in front of the other boys. And if you became known as a coward in the Hooligan Tribe, you might as well go the whole hog and wear a pale pink jerkin, take up playing the harp, and change your name to Ermintrude.
"I challenge you, Snotface Snotlout, for the dragon, Fireworm, who is mine by right," said Hiccup, trying to hide his reluctance by speaking as loudly and formally as he could.
"I accept your challenge," said Snotlout super-fast, grinning all over his horrid, smug face. "Axes or fists?"
"Fists," said Hiccup. Because axes were a REALLY bad idea. "I shall look forward to showing you how a real Future Hero fights," said Snotlout, and then he remembered something, "AFTER the Initiation thing on Thor'sday
Thursday, though. I don't want to stub my toe or anything while I'm kicking you all around the village."
"Hiccup might win," Fishlegs pointed out.
"OF COURSE he won't win," boasted Snotlout. "Look at my sporting ability, my Viking courage, my capacity for mindless violence. I shall win just as surely as I shall be Chief of this Tribe one day. I mean, look at my dragon and then look at HIS dragon." He pointed mockingly at Toothless. "The gods have spoken. It's only a matter of time.
"In the meantime," Snotlout carried on, "I shall live in fear of being gummed to death by Hiccup's terrifying, toothless terrapin."
And Snotlout sauntered off in a lordly fashion, giving Hiccup a nasty kick on the shins as he did so.
... "Sorry about the challenge," Fishlegs apologized, after they had left the baskets with the dragons in them under their beds at their homes.
"Oh, don't worry about it," said Hiccup. "Somebody would have gotten me to do it anyway. You know how they all love a fight."
Fishlegs and Hiccup were going to the Great Hall to look for the book Gobber had recommended: How to Train Your Dragon, by Professor Yobbish.
"As it happens," confided Hiccup, "I know a bit about dragons already, but I haven't the foggiest clue how to start training one. I would have said they were virtually untrainable. I'm really looking forward to getting some tips."
The Great Hall was a hullabaloo of young barbarians fighting, yelling, and playing the popular Viking game of Bashyball, which was a very violent contact sport with lots of contact and very few rules.
Hiccup and Fishlegs found the book tucked away in the fireplace, practically in the fire.
Hiccup had never noticed it before. He opened the book.
(I have included a basic replica of How to Train Your Dragon, by Professor Yobbish, here -- in order that you can share the experience with Hiccup of opening that book for the first time, full of hope and interest and expectation. You will have to imagine that the cover is unusually thick, with huge golden clasps, and that some scribe has covered it in elaborately fancy gilt lettering. It looks very inviting indeed.)
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON
-BY-PROFESSOR YOBBISH
BA, MA Hons, Cantab. Etc.
BIG AXE BOOKS 10th Anniversary Edition
WINNER OF THE BEST BOOK FOR BARBARIANS GOLD AWARD This book is dedicated to mommy, with love from your dearest you.
The publishers, Big Axe Books Ltd, would like to point out that they take no responsibility whatsoever for any injuries that may occur as a result of any person or persons following the advice given this book. Thank you for your attention.
MEATHEAD PUBLIC LIBRARY
A note from the Hairy Scary
Librarian: Please return this book or before the last date stamped or I will be VERY ANNOYED. I think you know what I mean.
DO NOT REMOVE THIS BOOK OR WE WILL BASH YOU!!! ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Professor Yobbish (BA, MA Hons, Cantab. etc.) has spent many years in the wild observing dragons in their natural habitat. This book is the culmination of his research and it is the definitive textbook on the subject of these fascinating creatures.
Professor Yobbish lives alone in a cave on the Isle of Doom. He is the author of Looking After Your Killer Whale and Sharks and Other Great Pets. He is currently writing a book about butterflies.
CHAPTER THE FIRST (AND LAST)
The Golden Rule of Dragon- Training is to...
YELL AT IT!
(The louder the better.)
THE END How would YOU train a dragon?
Look inside for ALL the answers in Professor Yobbish's hugely entertaining, and informative book. Follow his simple advice and you will soon be on your way to becoming the Hero you've always wanted to be...
Praise for How To Train Your Dragon:
"This book changed my life." Squidface the Terrible
"A brilliant book." The MeatheadMonthly
"Nobody yells better than Professor Yobbish. This is a sensitive and well-researched book that contains all the information you need to turn your dragon into a pussy cat." The Hooligan observer
"Yobbish is a genius."The Viking Times
PRICE: 1 SMAUISH CHICKEN 20 OYSTERS
"THAT'S IT??!" said Hiccup furiously, turning the book upside down and shaking it, trying to see whether there was anything other than that single page of paper inside it.
Hiccup put the book down. His face was unusually grim.
"Okay, Fishlegs," he said, "unless you're any better at yelling than I am, we're on our own. We're going to have to work out our own method of dragon training."
Stoick the VAST
Chapter 5 A CHAT WITH OLD WRINKLY
The next morning, Hiccup checked the dragon under his bed. It was still asleep.
When his mother, Valhallarama, asked him at breakfast, "How did Initiation go yesterday, dear?" Hiccup said, "Oh, it was fine. I caught my dragon." "That's nice, dear," Valhallarama replied vaguely.
Stoick the Vast looked up briefly from his bowl and boomed, "EXCELLENT, EXCELLENT," before getting back to the important task of shoveling food into his mouth.
After breakfast, Hiccup went to sit on the front step beside his grandfather, who was smoking a pipe. It was a beautiful, cold, clear winter's morning, with not a breath of wind and the sea all around as flat as glass.
Old Wrinkly blew out smoke rings content-I edly as he watched the sun coming up. Hiccup shivered and chucked stones into the bracken. Neither of them spoke for a long time.
At last Hiccup said, "I got that dragon."
"I said you would, didn't I?" replied Old Wrinkly, very pleased with himself. Old Wrinkly had taken up soothsaying in his old age, mostly unsuccessfully. Looking into the future is a complicated business. So he was particularly pleased that he'd gotten this right.
"Something extraordinary, you said," complained Hiccup. "A truly unusual dragon, you said. An animal that would really make me stand out in the crowd."
"Absolutely," agreed Old Wrinkly. "The entrails were undeniable." "The only extraordinary thing about this dragon," continued Hiccup, "is how extraordinarily SMALL it is. In that it is super-unusual. I'm even more of a laughingstock than ever."
"Oh, dear," said Old Wrinkly, chuckling in a wheezy way over his pipe.
Hiccup looked at him reproachfully. Old Wrinkly hurriedly turned the laugh into a cough.
"Size is all relative, Hiccup," said Old Wrinkly. "ALL of these dragons are super-small compared to a real Sea Dragon. A REAL Sea Dragon is fifty times as big as that little creature. A real Sea Dragon from the bottom of the ocean can swallow ten large Viking ships in one gulp and not even notice.
A real Sea Dragon is a cruel, careless mystery like the mighty ocean itself, one moment calm as a scallop, the next raging like an octopus."
"Well, here on Berk," said Hiccup, "where we haven't any Sea Dragons to compare anything with, my dragon is just considerably smaller than everybody else's. You are getting off the point."
"Am I?" asked Old Wrinkly.
"The point is, I just don't see how I am ever going to become a Hero," said Hiccup gloomily. "I am the least Heroic boy in the whole Hooligan Tribe."
"Oh. pshaw, this ridiculous Tribe," fumed Old Wrinkly. "Okay, so you are not what we call a born Hero. You're not big and tough and charismatic like Snotlout. But you're just going to have to work at it. You're going to have to learn how to be a Hero the Hard Way.
"Anyway," said Old Wrinkly, "it might be just what this Tribe needs, a change in leadership style. Because the thing is, times are changing. We can't get away with being bigger and more violent than everybody else any more. IMAGINATION. That's what they need and what you've got. A Hero of the Future is going to have to be clever and cunning, not just a big lump with overdeveloped muscles. He's going to have to stop everyone quarreling among themselves and get them to face the enemy together."
"How am I going to persuade anybody to do anything?" asked Hiccup. "They've started calling me HICCUP THE USELESS. That is not a great name for a Military Leader."
"You have to see the bigger picture, Hiccup," continued Old Wrinkly, ignoring him. "You're called a few names. You're not a natural at Bashyball. Who cares? These are very little problems in the grand scheme of things."
"It's all very well for you to say they are little problems," said Hiccup crossly, "but I have a LOT of little problems. I have to train this super-small dragon in time for Thor'sday Thursday or be thrown out of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe forever."
"Ah, yes," said Old Wrinkly, thoughtfully. "There's a book on this subject, isn't there? Remind me, how does the great Professor of Meathead University think you should train a dragon?"
"He thinks you should yell at it," said Hiccup, gloomily chucking stones again. "Show the beast who is Master by the sheer charismatic force of your personality that sort of thing. I have about as much charisma as a stranded jellyfish and yelling is just another thing I am useless at."
"Ye-e-es," said Old Wrinkly, "but maybe you'll have to train your dragon the Hard Way. You know a very great deal about dragons, don't you, Hiccup? All that dragon-watching you've been doing over the years?"
"That's a secret," said Hiccup, uncomfortably. "I've seen you talking to them," said Old Wrinkly.
"That's NOT TRUE," protested Hiccup, going bright red in the face.
"Okay, then," soothed Old Wrinkly, calmly smoking his pipe, "it's not true."
There was silence for a bit. "It is true," admitted Hiccup, "but for Thor's sake don't tell anybody, they wouldn't understand."
"Talking to dragons is a highly unusual skill," said Old Wrinkly. "Maybe," he said, "you can train a dragon better by talking to it than by yelling at it."
"That's sweet," said Hiccup, "and a very touching thought. However, a dragon is not a fluffy creature like a dog or a cat or a pony. A dragon is not going to do what you say just because you ask it pretty please. From what I know about dragons," said Hiccup, "I should say that yelling was a pretty good method."
"But it has its limitations, doesn't it?" Old Wrinkly pointed out. "I would say that yelling was highly effective on any dragon smaller than a sea lion. And positively suicidal if you try it on anything larger. Why don't you come up with some alternative training schemes yourself? You might be able to add something to Professor Yobbish's book. I've often thought that that book needs a little something extra... I can't quite put my finger on it..."
"WORDS," said Hiccup. "That book needs a lot more words." 
Chapter 6 MEANWHILE, DEEP IN THE OCEAN...
Meanwhile, deep in the ocean, but not so very far from the Isle of Berk, a real Sea Dragon such as Old Wrinkly had been describing lay sleeping on the sea-bed. He was indescribably large. He had been there so long that he almost seemed to be part of the ocean floor itself, a great underwater mountain, covered in shells and barnacles, some of his limbs half-buried in the sand.
Generation after generation of little hermit crabs had been born and had died in this Dragon's ears. Hundreds and hundreds of years he'd slept, because he'd had rather a large meal. He'd had the luck to catch a Roman Legion camping on a clifftop -- they were completely cut off and he had spent an enjoyable afternoon wolfing down the whole lot of them, from commanding officer to lowliest private. Horses, chariots, shields, and spears, the entire lot went down the ravenous, reptilian gullet. And, while things such as golden chariot wheels are an additional source of fiber to a Dragon's diet, they do take some time to digest.
The Dragon had crawled down into the depths of the ocean and gone into a Sleep Coma. Dragons can stay in this suspended state for eternity, half-dead, half-alive, buried under fathom after fathom of icy-cold seawater. Not a muscle of this particular Dragon had moved for six or seven centuries.
But the previous week, a Killer Whale who had chased some seals unexpectedly deep was surprised to notice a slight movement in the upper eyelid of the dragon's right eye. An ancestral memory stirred in the whale's brain and he swam away from there as fast as his fins could carry him. And, a week later, the sea around the Dragon Mountain -- which had previously been teeming with crabs and lobsters and shoals and shoals of fish -- was a great, underwater desert. Not a mollusk stirred, not a scallop shimmied.
The only sign of life for miles and miles was the rapid jerking of both the Dragon's eyelids, fluttering up and down as if the Dragon had suddenly gone into a lighter sleep and was dreaming who knows what dark dreams.
Chapter 7 TOOTHLESS WAKES UP
Toothless woke up about three weeks later. Fishlegs and Hiccup were at Hiccup's house. Everybody else was out, so Hiccup decided to take the opportunity to check on Toothless's basket. He pulled it out from under the bed. A thin plume of bluish gray smoke was drifting out from under the lid.
Fishlegs whistled. "He's awake all right," said Fishlegs. "Here we go."
Hiccup opened the basket.
The smoke billowed out and made Hiccup and Fishlegs cough. Hiccup fanned it away. Once his eyes had stopped watering he could make out a very small, ordinary dragon looking up at him with enormous, innocent, grass-green eyes.
"Hello, Toothless," said Hiccup, in what he hoped was a good accent in Dragonese.
"What are you doing?" asked Fishlegs curiously. Dragonese is punctuated by shrill shrieks and popping
[Footnote: 'This should, of course, read "Howiieeliooiieetiere, Toothless," but I have translated it into English for the benefit of those readers whose Dragonese is a bit rusty. Please read Hiccup's book, Learning to Speak Dragonese, for a crash course in this fascinating language.]
[ Learning to speak Dragonese
Introduction
In ORDER train your dragon without using the traditional methods of yelling at it, you must first learn to speak dragonese. Dragons are the only other creatures who speak a languages as complicated and sophisticated as humans
"Just talking to it," mumbled Hiccup, very embarrassed.
"Just talking to it???" gasped Fishlegs, in astonishment. "What do you mean, you're talking to it? Ifou can't talk to it, it's an ANIMAL, for Trior's sake!"
"Oh shut up, Fishlegs," said Hiccup, impatiently, "you're frightening it."
Toothless huffed and puffed and blew out some smoke rings. He inflated his neck to make himself look bigger, which is something dragons do when they are scared or angry.
Eventually he got up the courage to unfurl his wings and flap up onto Hiccup's arm. He walked his way up on to Hiccup's shoulder and Hiccup turned his face toward him.
Toothless pressed his forehead onto Hiccup's forehead and gazed deeply and solemnly into Hiccup's eyes. They stayed there, snout to nose, without moving, for about sixty seconds. Hiccup had to blink a lot because the gaze of a dragon is hypnotic and gives the unnerving feeling that it is sucking your soul away.
Hiccup was just thinking, "Wow, this is amazing -- I'm really making contact here!" when Toothless bent down and bit him on the arm.
Hiccup let out a yelp and threw Toothless off him. "F-f-flsii," hissed Toothless, hovering in the air in front of Hiccup. "W-w-wwant fish HOW!"
"I haven't got any fish," said Hiccup in Dragonese, rubbing his arm. Luckily Toothless didn't have any teeth, but dragons have powerful jaws so it was still painful. Toothless bit him on the other arm. "F-F-F-FISH!" said Toothless again.
"Are you okay?" asked Fishlegs. "I can't believe I'm asking this, but what's he saying?"
"He wants to eat," replied Hiccup, grimly rubbing both arms. He tried to make his voice sound firm but pleasant; to dominate the creature by the sheer force of his personality, as Gobber had said. "But WE HAVE NO FISH."
"Okaythen," said Toothless. "Eat e-c-cat." He made a lunge for Fiddlesticks, who streaked up the nearest wall with a yowl of terror.
Hiccup just managed to grab Toothless by the tail as he flew off in pursuit. The dragon struggled wildly, shouting "WABT F-F-FISH BOW! WABT F-F-FOOD NOW! CATS ARE TOMMX WABT FOOD BOW!"
"We don't HAVE any fish," repeated Hiccup, from between gritted teeth, feeling all his calmness deserting him, "and you can't eat tie cat- I like him."Fiddlesticks mewed indignantly from a beam high up in the roof.
They put Toothless in Stoick's bedroom, where there was a mouse problem.
For a while he was happy swooping after the desperately squeaking mice, but then he got bored and started attacking the mattress.
"STOP!" yelled Hiccup as feathers flew in all directions.
Toothless replied by throwing up the remains of a recently deceased mouse right in the middle of Stoick's pillow.
"Aaaargh!" said Hiccup.
"AAAAAAARGH!" said Stoick the Vast, who entered the room at that very moment.
Toothless launched himself at Stoick the Vast's beard, which he mistook for a chicken.
"Get him off!" said Stoick.
"He doesn't do what I say," said Hiccup.
"Yell VERY LOUDLY at him," Stoick shouted, YERY LOUDLY.
Hiccup yelled as loudly as he could. "Please will you stop eating my father's beard?"
As Hiccup had suspected, Toothless took absolutely no notice whatsoever.
I KNEW I'd be useless at yelling, thought Hiccup gloomily. "DROPTOTHEFLOORYOUORRRIBLELIT-TLEREPTILE!" yelled Stoick.
Toothless dropped to the floor.
"You see?" said Stoick. "That's how to deal with dragons." Newtsbreath and Hookfang, Stoick's hunting dragons, came padding into the room. Toothless stiffened as they paced around him, their yellow eyes glinting evilly. Each was about the size of a leopard, and they were as delighted by his arrival as a couple of giant cats might be by that of a cute little kitten.
"Greetings, fellow firebreather," hissed Newtsbreath as he gave the wriggling newcomer a sniff.
"We must wait," purred Hookfang menacingly, "until we are alone and then we can give you a proper welcome." He gave a vicious swipe at Toothless with one paw. A claw like a kitchen knife just nicked Toothless on the rump and the little dragon howled and jumped into Hiccup's tunic, until only his tail was poking out of the neck.
"HOOKFANG!" bellowed Stoick.
"My claw slipped," whined Hookfang. "GEDDOUTOFHEREBEFOREIMAKEYOUIK-TOHANDBAGS!" yelled Stoick, and
Newtsbreath and Hookfang slunk out, muttering obscene dragon curses under their breaths.
"As I was saying," said Stoick the Vast. "THAT'S how to deal with dragons."
Stoick was looking at Toothless with uncharacteristic anxiety. "Son," said Stoick, hoping there might be some sort of mistake, "is this dragon your dragon?"
"Yes, father," Hiccup admitted. "It's very... well... it's very... SMALL, isn't it?" said Stoick slowly.
Stoick was not an observant person but even he could not fail to notice that this dragon really was remarkably small.
"... and it hasn't got any teeth." There was an awkward silence. Fishlegs came to Hiccup's rescue.
"That's because it's an unusual breed," said Fishlegs. "A unique and... er... violent species called the Toothless Daydream, distant relations of the Monstrous Nightmare, but far more ruthless and so rare they are practically extinct."
"Really?" Stoick surveyed the Toothless Daydream doubtfully. "It looks just like a Common or Garden to me."
'Ahhh, but with respect, Chief," said Fishlegs, "that's where you're WRONG. To the amateur eye and, indeed, to its prey, it looks exactly like a Common or Garden. But if you look a little closer the characteristic Daydream marking" -- Fishlegs pointed to a wart on the end of Toothless's nose -- "marks it out from the more ordinary breed."
"By Thor, you're right!" said Stoick.
"And it's not just your average Toothless Daydream either." Fishlegs was getting carried away now. "This particular dragon is of ROYAL BLOOD."
"No!" said Stoick, very impressed. Stoick was a terrific snob.
""Yes," said Fishlegs solemnly. "Your son has only gone and burgled the offspring of King Daggerfangs himself, the reptilian ruler of Wild Dragon Cliff. The Royal Daydreams tend to start out small but they grow into creatures of IMPRESSIVE -- even GARGANTUAN -- size." "Just like you, eh, Hiccup," said Stoick, giving a great laugh and ruffling his son's hair.
Stoick's tummy gave out a plaintive rumble like a distant underground explosion. "Time for a little supper, I think. Clear up this mess, will you, boys?"
Stoick strode off, relieved to have had his faith in his son restored.
"Thanks, Fishlegs," said Hiccup. "You were inspired."
"Not at all," said Fishlegs. "I owed you one after setting you up for that fight with Snotlout."
"Father's going to find out at some point anyway, though," said Hiccup gloomily.
"Not necessarily," said Fishlegs. "Look at all that talking you were doing with the Toothless Daydream here. That was INCREDIBLE. UNBELIEVABLE. I've never seen anything like it. You'll be training him in next to no time."
"I was talking to him, all right," said Hiccup, "but he didn't listen to a word I said."
When he was going to bed that night, Hiccup didn't want to leave Toothless in front of the fire with Newtsbreath and Hookfang.
"Can I take him to bed with me?" he asked Stoick.
"A dragon is a working animal," said Stoick the Vast. "Too much hugging and kissing will make him lose his vicious streak."
"But Newtsbreath will kill him if I leave him alone with them."
Newtsbreath gave an appreciative growl. "It would. be m y pleasure," he hissed.
"Nonsense," boomed Stoick, unaware of Newts-breath's last remark, as he didn't speak Dragonese. Hegave Newtsbreath a friendly cuff round the horns. "Newtsbreath just wants to play. That sort of rough-and-tumble is good for a young dragon. Makes him learn to stick up for himself." Hookfang extended his claws like switchblades and drummed them on the hearth.
say goodnight to Toothless by the fire, but smuggled him into the bedroom under his tunic.
"You mu st be absolutely quiet," he told Toothless sternly as they climbed into bed, and the dragon nodded eagerly. In fact, he snored loudly the entire claws like switchblades and Hiccup pretended to night, but Hiccup didn't care. Hiccup spent the whole of the winter on Berk in various states of "very cold," ranging from "fairly chilly" to "absolutely freezing." At night, too many layers were considered sissy, so Hiccup generally lay awake for a couple of hours until he had shivered himself into a light sleep.
Now, though, as Hiccup stretched his feet out against Toothless's back, he felt waves of heat coming off the little dragon, gradually creeping up his legs and warming his freezing cold stomach and heart, even traveling right up to his head, which hadn't been truly warm for almost six months. Even his ears burned contentedly. It would have taken the snoring of six strong dragons to have woken Hiccup, so deeply did he sleep that night.
Chapter 8 TRAINING YOUR DRAGON THE HARD WAY
Hiccup was still pretty certain, knowing dragons as he did, that yelling was the easiest method of training them. So, over the next couple of weeks, he tried yelling at Toothless to see if he could make it work. He tried yelling loudly, firmly, strictly. He looked as cross as he could. But Toothless wouldn't take him seriously.
Hiccup finally gave up on the yelling when Toothless stole a kipper off his plate one morning at breakfast. Hiccup let out his most fierce and frightening yell and Toothless just gave him a wicked look and knocked everything else on to the floor with one swipe of his tail.
That was it with the yelling, as far as Hiccup was concerned. "Okay, then," said Hiccup, "I'll try going to the other extreme." So he was as nice to Toothless as he possibly could be. He gave Toothless the comfiest bit of the bed and lay dangerously balanced on the edge of it himself.
He fed him as much kipper and lobster as he wanted. He only did this once, though, as the little dragon just went on eating until he had made himself thoroughly sick.
He played games with him for hours and hours. He told him jokes, he brought him mice to eat, he scratched the bit that Toothless couldn't quite reach in between the spokes on his back.
He made that dragon's life as close to Dragon Heaven as he possibly could.
By mid February, the winter was coming to an end on Berk, and the snowy season had turned into the rainy season. It was the kind of weather where your clothes never got dry, no matter what. Hiccup would hang up his sodden tunic on a chair in front of the fire before going to bed at night, and in the morning it would still be wet -- warm and wet rather than cold and wet, but WET nonetheless.
The ground all around the Village had turned into knee-deep mud. "What, in Woden's name, are you doing?" asked Fishlegs when he came across Hiccup digging a large hole just outside the house.
"Building a mud wallow for Toothless," panted Hiccup.
"You spoil that dragon, you really do," said Fish-legs, shaking his head.
"It's psychology, you see," said Hiccup. "It's clever and it's subtle, not like that caveman yelling you're doing with Horrorcow."
Fishlegs had named his dragon Horrorcow. The "horror" bit was to make the poor creature at least sound a bit frightening. The "cow" bit was because for a dragon she really wasremarkably like a cow. She was a large, peaceful, brown creature, with an easygoing nature. Fishlegs suspected she might even be vegetarian.
"I'm always catching her nibbling at the woodwork," he complained. "BLOOD, Horrorcow, BLOOD -- that's what you should want!"
Nonetheless, maybe Fishlegs was a better yeller than Hiccup, or maybe Horrorcow was a lazier and more obliging character than Toothless, but Horrorcow was proving very easy to train by the yelling method.
"Okay, Toothless, it's read y," said Hiccup. "Get yourself a good. wallow."
Toothless stopped trying to catch voles and leaped into the mud. He rolled over and over in the oozy muck, spreading out his wings and squirming happily.
"I'm bonding with him," said Hiccup, "so he'll want to do what I say."
"Hiccup," said Fishlegs, as Toothless sucked up a good mouthful of the mud and spat it out straight into Hiccup's face, "I may not know much about dragons, but I do know that they are the most selfish creatures on Earth. No dragon is ever going to do what you want out of gratitude. Dragons do not know what gratitude is. Give up. This will NEVER WORK."
"Tie tiling about us it-h-hragons," said Toothless, helpfully, "is we're s-s-survivors. We're not like s-s-sappy cats or it-it-huijib itogs, failing in l-l-love with their Masters and yocky things like that.
Only reason we ever do what a what a m-m-man wants is because he's b-b-bigger than us and. gives us food."
"What's he saying?" asked Fishlegs.
"Pretty much what you're saying," said Hiccup.
"N-n-never trust a dragon," said Toothless, cheerfully hopping out of the wallow and helping himself to one of the winkles that Hiccup had found for him (Toothless was particularly fond of winkles -- "J-j-just like picking your n-n-nose," he had said). "That's what my-m-m-mother taught me in the nest, and she shoud know."
Hiccup sighed. It was true. Toothless was cute to look at, and very good company -- if a little demanding. However, you only had to look into his big, innocent, heavily lashed eyes to realize that he was totally without morals. The eyes were ancient, the eyes of a killer. You might as well ask a crocodile or a shark to be your friend. Hiccup wiped the mud off his face.
"I'll think of something else," said Hiccup.
February turned into March and Hiccup was still thinking. A few flowers made the mistake of appearing and were immediately blasted out of existence by a couple of hard frosts that had kept themselves back for this very purpose.
Fishlegs could now get Horrorcow to "go" and "stay" on command. Hiccup was still struggling to teach Toothless the basics of toilet training.
"NO FOOING IN THE KITCHEN," said Hiccup for the hundredth time, carrying Toothless outside after yet another accident.
'Is w-w-warmer in the kitchen," whined Toothless.
"But poos go OUTSIDE, You KNO W that," said Hiccup, at the end of his tether.
Toothless promptly pooed all over Hiccup's hands and down his tunic.
"Is OUTSIDE, is OUTSIDE, is OUTSIDE," crowed Toothless.
At this inopportune moment, Snotlout and Dogsbreath came sauntering past Stoick's house on the way back from the beach, their dragons on their shoulders. "Well, well, well," sneered Snotlout, "if it isn't the USELESS, covered in dragon poo. It actually quite suits you."
"Hur, Hur, Hur," snorted Dogsbreath. "That's not a dragon," jeered Seaslug, Dogsbreath's dragon, who was an ugly great Gronckle with a pug nose and a mean temper, "that's a newt with wings."
"That's not a dragon," scoffed Fireworm, Snotlout's dragon, who was as big a bully as her master, "that's an ickle newborn bunny wabbit with a pathetic pooproblem."
Toothless gave a gasp of fury.
Snotlout showed Hiccup the immense heap of fish that he had wrapped up in his cloak.
"Look what Fireworm and Seaslug caught down at the beach. And it only took a couple of hours...."
Fireworm coughed, flexed a shining muscle or two, and looked at her claws in fake modesty. "Oh, pease," she drawled. 
"Excuse me while I throw up," muttered Toothless to Horrorcow, who was regarding Fireworm with disapproval in her big brown eyes.
"We reckon Fireworm could be a bit of a HUNTING LEGEND," grinned
Snotlout. "I hear that Horrorcow is partial to carrots.... Has the Toothless Wonder gotten up the nerve to attack a vegetable?
Carrots are a bit crunchy but perhaps he could manage the odd squished cucumber.... You could give it to him through a straw perhaps...."
"HUR, HUR, HUR." Dogsbreath laughed so hard that snot came snorting out of his nose.
"Careful, Dogsbreath," said Fishlegs politely, "your brains are coming out."
Dogsbreath bashed him hard and the two boys staggered off, Fireworm making a lunge at Toothless that nearly took his eye out as he went past.
As soon as they were safely out of earshot, Toothless jumped out of Hiccup's arms and coughed out sheets of flame in a menacing manner.
"Bullies! Yellowbellies! Come closer and Toothess'll fry you to a frazzle! Toothess'll drag out yer guts and, play'em on a harp! Toothess'll... Toothless'll... Toothless'll... well, you just better not come any closer, that's all...!"
"Oh, very brave, Toothless," said Hiccup sarcastically. "If you shout louder they might even, hear you."
Chapter 9 FEAR, VANITY, REVENGE, AND SILLY JOKES
March turned into April and April turned into May. After Fireworm's remark about the pathetic bunny rabbit, Toothless never pooed in the kitchen again. But Hiccup hadn't made any further progress in training him.
It was still raining, but it was a warm rain. The wind was blowing, but it was a less furious wind. It was just about possible to stand upright.
The gulls' eggs were hatching on the rocks and the parent gulls dive-bombed Hiccup and Fishlegs when they came to the Long Beach to practice.
"KILL, Horrorcow, KILL," said Fishlegs to Horrorcow, who was calmly perched on his shoulder. "You could have that Black-backed Gull for breakfast, he's barely half your size. Honestly, Hiccup, I give up, I don't know how I'm going to pass the hunting section of the test, Horrorcow just doesn't have the killer instinct. She'd never survive in the wild." 
Hiccup laughed hollowly. "You think YOU'VE got problems? Toothless and I are failing right from the beginning: the basic obedience commands, the retrieval, the compulsory exercises, the hunting -- the lot."
"It can't be that bad," said Fishlegs.
"Watch," said Hiccup.
The boys moved along the beach a bit, out of range of the gulls. They started practicing the most basic command of all: "go." The dragon was supposed to stand, bolt upright, on the handler's outstretched arm. The handler would then bark the command as loudly as possible while simultaneously lifting his arm to fling the dragon into the air. The dragon was supposed to soar gracefully into flight when the handler's arm reached its highest point.
Horrorcow yawned, scratched, and slowly flapped off, grumbling to herself.
Toothless was even less obedient. "GO!" yelled Hiccup.
Hiccup flung his arm up. Toothless hung on. "I said GO!" Hiccup repeated in frustration.
"W-w-why g-g-go?" shuddered Toothless, gripping even tighter.
"Just go GO GO GO GO!!!!" screamed Hiccup, flapping his arm up and down frantically, with Toothless hanging on to it for dear life.
Toothless stayed.
"Toothless," said Hiccup, as reasonably as he could, "please go. If you don't start going when I tell you to, we are both going be thrown into exile."
"But I don't w-w-want to go," Toothless pointed out, equally reasonably.
Fishlegs watched the whole process in appalled amazement. "You really do have problems," he said in an awed voice.
"Yup," said Hiccup. He finally managed to uncurl Toothless's claws, which had relaxed their grip for a second, and pushed him off. Toothless landed on the sand with a squeal of outrage, and immediately attached himself to Hiccup's leg, getting a good grip on the sandals with his talons, and wrapping his wings around Hiccup's calf.
"N-n-not going," said Toothless stubbornly.
"It can't get much worse than this," said Hiccup, "so I'm going to try a new tack."
He took out the notebook in which he had been jotting down all he knew about dragons in the hope that it might be useful. "DRAGON MOTIVATION..."
Hiccup read aloud, "Number one. GRATITUDE."
Hiccup sighed. "Number two. FEAR. That works, but I can't do it. Three, four, five: GREED,
VANITY, and REVENGE. Those are all worth a try. Six. JOKES AND RIDDLING TALK. Only if I'm desperate."
"This has got to be a first," drawled Fishlegs, "but 
[ KING DRAGONS and THEIR EGGS
THE MONSTROUS NIGHTMARE
' The Monstrous Nightmare is the largest and most terrifying of the domestic
dragons. Dazzling flyers, magnificent hunters, and fearsome fighters, they can be wild and difficult to train. By unofficial vik ing Law, only a chief or the son of a chief can own one.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Emerald green, brilliant scarlet, deepest purple.
ARMED WITH: Scary fangs, extra-extendable claws 9 DEFENSES:
Nightmares don't need defenses... 
RADAR: None 
POISON: Bite is slightly poisonous 3 HUNTING ABILITY: Amazing to watch 
SPEED: Fast 
FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:
Very, very scary 10] I'm with Gobber the Belch on this one. Why don't you just yell a bit louder?"
Hiccup ignored him.
"Okay, Toothless," said Hiccup to the little dragon, who was pretending to be asleep as he held on to Hiccup's leg. "For every, fish you catch me I will give you two more lobsters when you get home."
Toothless opened his eyes. "A-a-alive?" he said eagerly. "C'C-can Toothless kill them? P-p-please? Just this once?"
"No, Toothless," said Hiccup, firmly, "I keep on telling you, it isn't kind to torture creatures smaller than yourself."
Toothless closed his eyes again. "You're so b-bboring," he said sulkily.
"You're such a clever, quick dragon, Toothless," Hiccup flattered, "I bet you could catch more fish than any of tie others on Thor'siiay. Thurshday if you wanted to."
Toothless opened his eyes to consider the matter. "T-t-twice as many," he said modestly. "But I don't w-w-want to."
This was unanswerable. Hiccup crossed VANITY off his list.
"You know that big red. Fireworm dragon who was so rude to you?" said Hiccup.
Toothless spat on the ground in indignation. "S-s-said I was a newt with wings. S-s-said I was an incontinent bunny r-r-rabbit. T-ttoothless going to T-t-toothless going to k-k-kiol her. Toothless going to s-s-scratch her to death. T-t-toothless going to -- "
"Yes, yes,"said Hiccup hastily. "That Fire-woriji dragon and her master who looks like a pig think that Fireworm is going to catch more fish thatn anybody else at the Thor'sday Thursday celebrations. Think how stupid they are going to look if YOU win tie prize for Most Promising Dragon instead of her."
Toothless got off Hiccup's leg. "I W-W-WILL think about that," said Toothless. He waddled off a couple of feet and thought about it.
Five minutes later he was still thinking. He let out the odd chuckle every now and then, but every time Hiccup said, "So, how about it, then?" he just replied, "S-s-still thinking. Go away."
With a sigh, Hiccup put a line through REVENGE.
"Okay," said Fishlegs, looking over Hiccup's shoulder. "You've tried everything else. How about
JOKES AND RIDDLING TALK? I assume you're desperate."
"Toothless," said Hiccup, "If you catch me a nice big mackerel you will be the cleverest, fastest dragon on Berk AND you will make that Fireworm dragon look like an idiot AND you will have all tie lobsters you can eat when we get horne AND I will tell you a really good joke."
Toothless turned around. "T-t-toothless loves jokes." He flapped on to Hiccup's arm again. "All right. Toothless helf you. B-b-but NOT because me being n-n-nice or anything yucky...."
"No, no," said Hiccup. "Of course not."
"Us d-d-dragons cruel and. mean. But we do love a j-j-joke. Tell me NOW."
Hiccup laughed. "No way.
AFTER you bring me a mackerel."
"Okay then," said Toothless. He jumped off Hiccup's arm into the air.
A dragon hunting is a very impressive sight, even a scrawny infant one like Toothless. He flew across the beach in his usual untidy, lopsided fashion, shrieking a few insults along the way at any cormorants that looked smaller than him. But as soon as he reached the sea, Toothless seemed to grow up a bit. The sea-salt awoke in him some ancestral memory of the great pedigree hunting monsters that were his forefathers. He spread out his wings like a kite and flew fairly swiftly over the surface of the choppy waves, keeping his body and wings steady as he searched for the movement of fish. He spotted something, and soared upward in circles until he was so high that Hiccup, craning his neck backward on the beach, could only just see him as a tiny speck. The speck was motionless for a second, and then Toothless dived, his wings folded by his sides, dropping like a stone out of the sky.
He disappeared into the water and was gone for quite a while. Dragons can stay under water for at least five minutes, if they want to, and Toothless got quite distracted under there, chasing one fish and then another, unable to decide which was the biggest.
Hiccup had gotten bored and was looking for oysters when Toothless came bursting triumphantly out of the sea carrying a small mackerel.
He dropped the mackerel at Hiccup's feet, did three somersaults in a row, and landed on Hiccup's head. He let out the dragon's cry of triumph, which is a bit like a rooster crowing but a lot louder and more self-satisfied.
Then he leaned over and stared into Hiccup's eyes, upside down. "Now t-t-tell me a joke," said Toothless.
"Whimpering Wodens," said Hiccup. "He did it. He really did it."
"T-t-tell me a, JOKE," said Toothless again.
"What's black and white and red all over?" asked Hiccup.
Toothless didn't know.
"A sunburned penguin," replied Hiccup.
It was a very, very old joke, but apparently it hadn't made it to Wild Dragon Cliff. Toothless thought it was hysterically funny.
He flew off to catch more fish so he could hear more jokes.
It was an enjoyable afternoon. The rain stopped, the sun shone, and Toothless didn't do too badly at all with the hunting. He dropped a few fish and, at one point, wandered off entirely to chase rabbits on the clifftops. But he came back when Hiccup called, eventually, and by the end of a couple of hours he had caught six medium-sized mackerel and a dogfish.
All in all, Hiccup was pretty satisfied.
"After all," he said to Fishlegs, "it's not like I'm expecting to win the prize for Most Promising Dragon or anything. All I need is to show that Toothless is basically under my control and for him to catch a few fish. We'll make fools of ourselves compared to Snotlout and his beastly Hunting Legend, but at least we'll have passed Initiation."
What was more, as Toothless dropped the last mackerel on the heap in front of Hiccup, Fishlegs noticed something sharp and gleaming in the dragon's lower jaw.
"Toothless has gotten his first tooth!" said Fishlegs. It seemed a very good omen.
As they staggered home they passed Old Wrinkly, who had been sitting on a rock watching them for the past couple of hours.
"Ve-ry impressive," wheezed Old Wrinkly as the boys showed him the fish wrapped up in Hiccup's cloak.
"We reckon Hiccup really might pass the Final Initiation Test on Thor'sday Thursday," said Fishlegs excitedly.
"So you're still worrying about that piddly little Test, are you, Hiccup?" asked Old Wrinkly. "There are larger concerns, you know. There's a gi-normous storm brewing up, for instance. It should hit us in about three days."
"Piddly little Test?" said Fishlegs indignantly. "What do you mean, piddly little Test??? The Thor'sday Thursday Festival is the biggest event of the year. EVERYBODY who isANYBODY will be there, all the Hairy Hooligans AND the Meatheads. Plus, this may not seem important to YOU, but anybody who fails this piddly little Test gets put into exile to get eaten up by cannibals or something equally gruesome."
"I'm going to call myself HICCUP THE USEFUL and his dragon TOOTHFULL," said Hiccup, beaming. "I thought of it just now and I'm really pleased with it.
It's solid, dependable, not too flashy and not too much to live up to."
"This reptile finally got his act together and caught some fish," said Fishlegs, pointing at Toothless, who was picking his nose with one claw. "Incredible though it may seem, Hiccup may pass this Test after all."
"Oh, I think it's almost a certainty," said Old Wrinkly, looking at Toothless, who was now attempting to cross his eyes and was falling down in the process.
"Al-most," repeated Old Wrinkly thoughtfully.
And the boys went home, with Toothless following behind them whining, "Ok C-C -CARRY ME, CARRY ME... it's not f-f-fair... my wings ache...."
Chapter 10 THOR'SDAY THURSDAY
The Thor'sday Thursday Celebrations were a truly spectacular occasion. The Hairy Hooligans' fierce rivals, the Meatheads, from the nearby Meathead Islands, sailed across the Inner Ocean to the
Isle of Berk for this great gathering.
The visitors set up camp in Black Heart Bay, which turned overnight from an empty desert of echoing seagulls into a bustling village of tents made out of sails too patched to be used at sea anymore.
By the next morning the Long Beach was packed with stalls and jugglers and fortune tellers. There was a happy confusion of Vikings spotting old friends, and practicing their sword play, and yelling at the children to stop hitting each other RIGHT NOW for Thor's sake no I REALLY MEAN IT this time... or... or... or... ELSE.
Vast Viking men sat on uncomfortable rocks [ WELCOME TO THE THOR'SDAY THURSDAY CELEBRATION
Program of events
9:00 Hammer-throwing for the Over-GOs only.
Meet up at the Marooner's Rock with your own hammer or somebody else's (hard hats essential for spectators).
10:30 How Many Gulls' Eggs Can You Eat in One Minute? 11:30 Ugliest Baby Contest
Baggybum the Beerbelly is the defending champion in this hotly contested competition.
12:30 Axe-fighting Display Admire the delicate art of fighting with axes.
2:00 Young Heroes Final Initiation Test
Watch tomorrow's Viking Heroes as they compete
Whose dragon will be the most obedient, and whose will catch the most fish? Blood, teeth, loud yelling -this sport has everything;
3:30 Grand Raffle and Closing Ceremony] guffawing loudly like gigantic sea lions in a holiday mood.
Impressively large Viking women huddled in groups cackling like seagulls and downing whole mugs of tea in one swallow.
Despite Old Wrinkly's gloomy forecasts of terrible storms and typhoons, it was a gloriously hot June day with not even a hint of a cloud in the offing.
The Young Heroes Final Initiation Test would not start until 2 P. M. that afternoon, so Hiccup spent the morning listening round-eyed to storytellers telling tall tales of Dirty Danes and pirate princesses.
He was sick with nerves, so he found it difficult to enjoy the occasion as much as he had in previous years.
Even Gobber throwing up during the How Many Gulls' Egg You Eat in One Minute?
competition failed to raise more than a faint smile on his pale, tense face.
Hiccup's family had a picnic lunch overlooking the Axe-fighting Display. Hiccup could not eat a thing, and nor, unusually, could Toothless, who was in a difficult mood and turned his nose up at the tuna sandwich Valhallarama offered.
"Good to keep your dragon's appetite sharp for the game," boomed Stoick the Vast, who was in an excellent mood. He had won a bet on Goggletoad in the Ugliest Baby Contest and was looking forward to seeing his son's brilliant display during the Initiation Test.
As the day wore on, a hot wind suddenly started blowing out of nowhere. It was still sweltering, but ominous gray clouds were gathering on the horizon. There was the odd rumble of thunder in the air.
Maybe Old Wrinkly had been right, thought Hiccup as he gazed upward, and Thor is going to put in his traditional appearance at the Thor'sday Thursday celebrations.
"P-P-P-P-A-R-P! Will all youths hoping to be initiated into the Tribes this year please make their way to the ground at the left of the beach."
Hiccup gulped, nudged Toothless, and stood up. This was it.
Hiccup was one of the last to get to the ground, which was a large area of wet sand just at the edge of the sea. The boys from his own Tribe were already assembled, their dragons hovering a couple of feet above them.
Everybody was chattering excitedly, and even Snotlout was looking nervous.
The Meathead boys and their dragons seemed to be gigantic, rough-looking customers, far tougher than the Hooligans. One in particular was a great hulking brute of a boy, who looked fifteen at least.
Hiccup presumed he was Thuggory, Chief Mogadon the Meathead's son, because a silver-gray Monstrous Nightmare about three feet tall was perched on one of his shoulders. It was looking at Fireworm like a rottweiler thinking evil thoughts.
Fireworm acted unconcerned.
"An aristocrat never growls," purred Fireworm sweetly. "You must be one of those mongrel Nightmares. We pure greenbloods descended from th e great Ripperclaw himself would never dream of doing anything so common."
The silver Nightmare's growling increased in volume.
The crowd was assembling at the touchline. Hiccup tried not to notice Stoick the Vast blasting his way to the front with great cries of, "Out of my way, I'm a CHIEF."
"TEN TO ONE MY SON CATCHES MORE FISH THAN YOUR SON IN THIS TEST,"
boomed Stoick, giving his old enemy Mogadon the Meathead a good prod in the stomach.
Mogadon the Meathead narrowed his eyes and wondered whether to hit him. Maybe AFTER the Test.
"And which," asked Mogadon the Meathead, "is your son? Is he the tall one who looks like a pig with the skeleton tattoos and the red Monstrous Nightmare?" "Nope," said Stoick happily.
"That's my brother Baggybum's son. MY SON is that skinny one over there with the Toothless Daydream." Mogadon the Meathead broke into a big smile. He slapped Stoick, on the back and yelled, "I TAKE YOUR BET AND DOUBLE IT!" "DONE!" shouted Stoick, and the two great chieftains shook hands and bumped bellies on the bet. Gobber the Belch was in charge of this final stage of the Initiation Test. He was still looking a bit green from his unpleasant experience in the How Many Gulls' Eggs Can You Eat in One Minute? competition. This had not improved his temper.
"ALL RIGHT, YOU 'ORRIBLE LOT!" yelled Gobber. "This is where we find out if you are the stuff that Heroes are made of. You will either walk out of this arena full members of the noble Tribes of Hairy Hooligans and Merciless Meatheads OR go into miserable exile forever from the Inner Isles. Let's see which it's going to be, shall we?"
He grinned nastily at the twenty boys standing before him.
"I shall begin by inspecting you and your animals, as if you were warriors about to go into battle. I shall introduce you to the watching members of the Tribes you hope to enter. Then the Test will begin. You will demonstrate how you have asserted yourselves over these wild creatures and tamed them by the sheer force of your Heroic Personalities.
"You will start by performing the basic commands of 'go,' 'stay,' and 'fetch.' You will end by ordering your reptile to hunt fish for you, as your forefathers have done before you."
Hiccup swallowed nervously.
"The boy and dragon who most impress the judge, and that is ME," -- Gobber bared his teeth grimly -- "will receive the extra glory of being called the Hero of Heroes and Most Promising Dragon. The boys and dragons who FAIL this Test will say farewell to their families forever and leave the Tribe to go, where we do not care." Gobber paused.
"Poetry," muttered Fishlegs, just loud enough for Gobber to hear.
Gobber glared at him.
"HEROES OR EXILES!" yelled Gobber the Belch.
"HEROES OR EXILES!" yelled eighteen boys fanatically back at him. "HEROES OR EXILES!" yelled the watching Hooligan and Meathead Tribes.
Please let me be a bit of a Hero, just this once, Hiccup and Fishlegs each thought to themselves. Nothing too spectacular or anything, just to get through this Test.
"STAND TO ATTENTION, WITH YOUR DRAGONS ON YOUR RIGHT ARMS!" yelled Gobber the Belch.
Gobber walked down the row of boys for the inspection.
"Beautiful turnout." Gobber congratulated Thuggory the Meathead on his Nightmare dragon, Killer, who spread out his shining wings to show off a wingspan of about four feet.
Gobber stopped abruptly when he got to Hiccup.
"And WHAT in the name of Woden," demanded Gobber, blanching a little, "is THIS?"
"It's a Toothless Daydream, sir," muttered Hiccup.
"Small but vicious," added Fishlegs, helpfully.
"Toothless Daydream???" blustered Gobber. "That's the smallest Common or Garden I have ever seen. What do you think I am, an idiot?"
"No, no, sir," murmured Fishlegs reassuringly, "just a little on the slow side."
Gobber glowered dangerously.
"A Toothless Daydream," explained Hiccup, "looks exactly like a Common or Garden except for the characteristic wart on the end of its nose."
"SILENCE!" said Gobber, in a very loud whisper. "Or I shall throw you all the way to the Mainland. I HOPE," he continued, "that this dragon hunts better than it looks. you and your fishy friend here are the worst candidates for Initiation I have ever had the displeasure of teaching. But you are the future of this Tribe, Hiccup, and if you shame us in front of the Meatheads, I, personally, will never forgive you. Do you understand?"
Hiccup nodded.
Each boy then stepped forward to bow and hold up his dragon for the spectators to applaud.
There was huge clapping for Snotface Snotlout and his dragon, Fireworm, rivaled only by the mighty cheering for Thuggory the Meathead and his dragon, Killer.
"I give you, last but not least," Gobber the Belch was trying to put a bit of enthusiasm into his yelling, "the fearsome... the terrible... the only son of Stoick the Vast... HICCUP THE USEFUL AND HIS DRAGON TOOTHFULL!"
Hiccup stepped forward and held up Toothless as high as he could to make him look a bit bigger.
There was a slightly appalled silence.
People had seen dragons this small before, of course, normally scampering about after field mice in the wild, but NOT as noble hunting dragons competing in Initiation.
"SIZE ISN'T EVERYTHING!" boomed Stoick, so loudly that you could have heard him several beaches away, and he banged his great hands together to start the applause.
Everyone was terrified of Stoick's famous temper, so they joined in with polite wild cheering.
Toothless was still in a mood, but he was delighted to be the center of attention, and he puffed out his chest and bowed solemnly to left and right.
A few of the Meatheads snickered.
I've changed my mind, thought Hiccup, closing his eyes, THIS is the worst moment of my life so far.
"Okay, Toothless," he whispered into the little dragon's ear, "this is our Big Chance. Catch lots of fish here and I will tell you more jokes than you have ever heard in your life. Which will make that big red Fireworm dragon really cross."
Toothless took a sideways glance at Fireworm. She was sharpening her nails on Snotlout's helmet with the smug certainty of a dragon who knows she's about to win the prize for Most Promising Dragon.
"P-PPAKP!"
The Test began.
Toothless didn't do too badly in the early obedience exercises, though he clearly thought it was extremely dull. It was now raining quite hard and Toothless hated the rain. He wanted to go home and relax in front of a nice warm fire.
Fireworm and Killer were "going" and "fetching" as soon as Snotlout and Thuggory commanded, and they were diving and breathing out fire as they did so, just to show off. Fireworm did some fancy acrobatic somersaults that had the crowd screaming and stamping their feet.
"START YOUR HUNTING!" yelled Gobber the Belch. Every dragon except Toothless flew out to sea. Toothless flapped back to Hiccup's shoulder.
"T-T-Toothless got a t-t-tummy-aeie," he complained. Hiccup tried not to see his father looking surprised on the sidelines. He tried not to notice the crowd whispering to each other: "That's Stoick's son over there -- no, not the tall one with the skeleton tattoos who looks like a pig, the small skinny one who can't even control his minuscule dragon."
"Don't forget, Toothless," said Hiccup through gritted teeth, "tie FISH. I'm going to tell you all tie jokes I've ever hearh., remember?" "T-t-tell me NOW," said Toothless.
Help came from an unexpected quarter. Snotlout broke off from yelling "KILL, FIREWORM, KILL" to lean over and sneer at Hiccup. "What ARE you doing, Hiccup? You're not TALKING to that newt with wings, are you? Talking to dragons is against the rules and forbidden by order of Stoick the Vast, your wimpy father...."
"N-n-newt with wings?" repeated Toothless. "N-N-NEWT WITH WINGS???" "You're not a newt with wings, are you, Toothless?" said Hiccup.
"You're tie best hunter in tie world, aren't you?"
"Too RIGHT I am," said Toothless, grumpily.
"You SHOW that Snotface Snotlout and Ms snobby dragon what a REAL hunting dragon can do," said Hiccup urgently.
"OKAY, then," said Toothless.
Hiccup heaved a huge sigh of relief as Toothless took off in shambolic fashion in the general direction of the sea.
"This is too good to be true," Hiccup said to himself ten minutes later as Toothless returned from a second trip, clearly too bored for words but dropping a couple of herring at Hiccup's feet. "In about half an hour, I, Hiccup, will become a fully paid-up member of the Hairy Hooligan tribe."
It was too good to be true. Fireworm was just flying back to Snotlout with her twentieth fish, her green cat's eyes snapping with triumph, when Toothless called out:
"S-s-sloppy. snob."
Fireworm stopped in mid-air. Her head whipped round, her eyes narrowing.
"WHAT did you say?" hissed Fireworm.
"Oh no," said Hiccup. "No, Toothless, no, don't do it...."
"S-s-sloppy. snob," jeered Toothless. "Is that the best you can do? It's p-p-pathetic. Hopeless. U-u-use-iess. You N-N-
Nightmares think you're so cruel but you're s-s-sloppy as scallops."
"YOU," hissed Fireworm, her ears dangerously back as she crept forward through the air like a leopard about to spring, "are a little LIAR."
"Anil Y-Y-YOU," said Toothless calmly, "are a r-r-rabbit-hearted, s-s-seaweeh-brained, w-w-winkle-eating SNOB."
Fireworm went for him. Toothless streaked off, as quick as lightning, and Fireworm's massive jaws snapped together with a sickening crunch on nothing but thin air.
Chaos ensued.
Fireworm completely lost control. She plunged wildly through the air, claws out, biting anything that moved, and letting out great bursts of flame.
Unfortunately, in the process she accidentally scratched Killer, a dragon with a very short temper. Killer then attacked any Hooligan dragon within biting distance.
Soon the dragons were involved in a full-scale, rip-roaring dragonfight, with the boys running around shouting at them to stop and trying to pull them apart without getting killed themselves. The dragons took absolutely no notice whatsoever, however hard the boys yelled -- and Thuggory and Snotlout were very red in the face after some pretty impressive yelling.
Gobber the Belch went ballistic on the sidelines. "CANSOMEBODYTELLMEWHATINTHORAND-WODEN'SNAMEISHAPPENING?"
Toothless was in his element in this kind of chaos, dodging Fireworm's angry lunges with ease, nipping in with a lively bite at Alligatiger here and a scratch at Brightclaw there, obviously enjoying the fight enormously.
Even Horrorcow showed a great deal of spirit for a dragon who was supposedly vegetarian. She managed to give Fireworm a truly impressive bite on the bottom as Fireworm and Killer rolled through the air biting chunks out of one another.
Gobber the Belch entered the fray, grabbing hold of Fireworm's tail. Fireworm gave a howl of outrage, squirmed round, and set
Gobber's beard on fire. With one massive hand Gobber swatted out the fire and with the other he clamped Fireworm's jaws together so she could neither bite nor burn. He tucked the furiously enraged animal under one arm, still holding her mouth closed.
"SSSTOPPP!!!!!" screamed Gobber the Belch with a hair-raising, skin-crawling, fang-dropping yell that reverberated off the cliffs, bounced off the sea, and whose faint echoes could be heard on the Mainland.
The boys stopped their useless screaming. The dragons stopped in mid-air.
There was an awful silence.
Even the watching crowd went quiet.
This had never happened before. All twenty boys had shown themselves to be completely out of control of their dragons during the Initiation Test.
Technically, this meant that all of them should be thrown out of their Tribes into exile. And exile in this horrid climate could mean death. Food was scarce, the sea was dangerous, and there were certain wild Tribes in the Isles who were rumoured to be cannibals.
Gobber the Belch stood, lost for words, his beard still smoking. When he eventually spoke, his voice was deep with the horror of the situation.
"I will have to speak with the Elders of the Tribes," was all he said. He dropped Fireworm on the ground. She had come to her senses and now slunk toward Snotlout, her tail between her legs.
The Elders of the Tribes were Mogadon and Stoick, Gobber himself, and a few more of the more fearsome warriors, such as Terrible Tuffnut, the Vicious Twins, and the Hairy Scary Librarian from the Meat-head Public Library. The crowd and the boys stood absolutely still as the Elders consulted in the traditional Elder Huddle, which looked a bit like a rugby scrum.
Meanwhile, the storm was getting worse. Huge claps of thunder burst over their heads, the rain poured down, and they couldn't have been much wetter if they had all jumped into the sea.
The Elders consulted for a long time. Mogadon got angry at one point and swung a fist at Tuffnut. A Twin held on to each of his arms until he calmed down again. Eventually Stoick came out of the Huddle and stood before the boys, who were hanging their heads in shame, their dragons at their feet.
If Hiccup had been able to look at his father, he would have seen that Stoick was not his normal, merry, violent self. He looked very solemn indeed.
"Novices of the Tribes," he bellowed grimly, "this is a very bad day for all of you. You have FAILED the Final Test of the Initiation Program. By the fierce Law of the Inner Isles this means that you should be cast out from the Tribes into exile FOREVER. I do not want to do this, not only because my own son is among you, but also because it will mean that a whole generation of warriors is lost from the Tribes. But we cannot ignore our Law. Only the strong can belong, in case the blood of the Tribes should be weakened. Only Heroes can be Hooligans and Meatheads."
Stoick jabbed a fat finger at the heavens. "Furthermore," he carried on, "the god Thor is really very angry. This is not the moment to weaken our Laws."
Thor let out a great crash of thunder as if to underline this point.
"Under normal circumstances," said Stoick, "the ceremony of exile would start now. But going to sea in weather like this would mean certain death for all concerned. As an act of mercy, I will allow you one more night of shelter under my roof, and first thing tomorrow morning you will be set ashore on the Mainland to fend for yourselves. From this moment forth, you are all banished and may not talk to any other member of your Tribe."
The thunder crashed all around the boys as they stood, heads bowed, in the rain.
"Pity me, for this is saddest thing I have ever had to do, to banish my own son," said Stoick sadly.
The crowd murmured sympathetically, applauding the nobility of their Leader.
"A Chief cannot live like other people," said Stoick, looking almost pleadingly at Hiccup. "He has to decide what is for the good of the Tribe."
Suddenly Hiccup was very angry.
"Well, don't expect ME to pity you!" said Hiccup. "What kind of father thinks his stupid Laws are more important than his own son? And what kind of stupid Tribe is this anyway, that it can't just have ordinary people in it?"
Stoick stood looking down at his son in surprise and shock for a moment. Then he turned round and trudged off. The Tribes were already running off the beach and scrambling up the hillsides toward the shelter of the Village, lightning coming down all around them.
"I'm going to kill you," hissed Snotlout at Hiccup, Fireworm snarling menacingly from his shoulder. "First thing after we're banished, I'm going to kill you," and he ran off after the others.
"I've lost my t-ttooti," Toothless complained whinily. "C-ccame out when I hit that F-f-fireworm dragon."
Hiccup took no no tice. He looked up at the heavens, beside himself with fury as the wind scooped up seawater in handfuls and flung it straight into his face.
"JUST ONCE," yelled Hiccup. "Why couldn't you let me be a Hero JUST ONCE? I didn't want anything amazing, just to pass this STUPID TEST so I could become a proper Viking like everybody else."
Thor's thunder boomed and crackled above him blackly.
"OKAY, THEN," screamed Hiccup, "HIT ME with your stupid lightning. Just do something to show you're thinking about me AT ALL."
But there were to be no bolts of lightning for Hiccup. Thor clearly didn't think he was important enough for an answer. The storm moved on out to sea.
Chapter 11. THOR IS ANGRY
The storm raged through the whole of that night. Hiccup lay unable to sleep as the wind hurled about the walls like fifty dragons trying to get in.
"Let us in, let us in," shrieked the wind. "We're very, very hungry."
Out in the blackness and way out to sea the storm was so wild and the waves so gigantic that they disturbed the sleep of a couple of very ancient Sea Dragons indeed.
The first Dragon was averagely enormous, about the size of a largeish cliff.
The second Dragon was gobsmackingly vast.
He was that Monster mentioned earlier in this story, the great Beast who had been sleeping off his Roman picnic for the past six centuries or so, the one who had recently been drifting into a lighter sleep.
The great storm lifted both Dragons gently from the seabed like a couple of sleeping babies, and washed them on the swell of one indescribably enormous wave onto the Long Beach, outside Hiccup's village.
And there they stayed, sleeping peacefully, while the wind shrieked horribly all around them like wild Viking ghosts having a loud party in Valhalla, until the storm blew itself out and the sun came up on a beach full of Dragon and very little else.
The first Dragon was enough to give you nightmares.
The second Dragon was enough to give your nightmares nightmares. Imagine an animal about twenty times as large as a Tyrannosaurus Rex. More like a mountain than a living creature -- a great, glistening, evil mountain. He was so encrusted with barnacles he looked like he was wearing a kind of jeweled armor but, where the little crustaceans and the coral couldn't get a grip, in the joints and crannies of him, you could see his true color. A glorious, dark green, it was the color of the ocean itself.
He was awake now, and he had coughed up the last thing he had eaten, the Standard of the Eighth Legion, with its pathetic ribbons still flying bravely. He was using it as a toothpick and the eagle was proving very useful for teasing out those irritating little pieces of flesh that get stuck between your twenty-foot back teeth.
The first person to discover the Dragons was Badbreath the Gruff, who set out very early to check how his nets had fared in the storm.
He took one look at the beach, rushed to the Chief's house, and woke him up.
"We have a problem," said Badbreath.
"What do you mean, A PROBLEM?" snapped Stoick the Vast.
Stoick had not slept at all. He had lain awake worrying. What kind of father did put his precious Laws before the life of his son? But then what kind of son would fail the precious Laws that his father had looked up to and believed in all his life?
By morning Stoick had made the awesome decision that he was going to reverse the solemn pronouncement he had made on the beach, and un-banish Hiccup and the other boys. "It is WEAK of me, WEAK," said Stoick to himself, gloomily. "Squid-face the Terrible would have banished his son in the twinkling of an eye. Loudmouth the Gouty would have positively enjoyed it. What is the matter with me? I should be banished myself, and no doubt that is what Mogadon the Meathead is going to suggest."
All in all, Stoick was not in a state to deal with any more problems.
"There are a couple of humungous Dragons on the Long Beach," said Badbreath.
"Tell them to go away," said Stoick.
"You tell them," said Badbreath.
Stoick stomped off to the beach. He returned again looking very thoughtful.
"Did you tell them?" asked Badbreath.
"Tell IT," said Stoick. "The larger Dragon has eaten the smaller one. I didn't like to interrupt. I think I shall call a Council of War."
The Hooligans and the Meatheads woke that morning to the terrible sound of the Big Drums summoning them to a Council of War, only used in times of dreadful crisis.
Hiccup awoke with a start. He had hardly slept at all. Toothless, who had crept into bed with Hiccup the night before, was nowhere to be seen and the bed was stone cold, so he had obviously been gone for some time.
Hiccup dragged his clothes on hurriedly. They had dried overnight, and were so stiff with salt that it was like putting on a shirt and leggings made out of wood. He wasn't sure what he was meant to do, as this was the morning he was supposed to go into exile. He followed everybody else to the Great Hall. The Meatheads had spent the night there anyway, because it had not been the weather for camping.
On the way he bumped into Fishlegs. He looked as if he had slept as badly as Hiccup. His glasses were on crooked.
"What's happening?" asked Hiccup. Fishlegs shrugged his shoulders. "Where's Horrorcow?" asked Hiccup. Fishlegs shrugged his shoulders again.
Hiccup looked around at the crowd pushing its way toward the Great Hall and noticed that there was not a domestic dragon to be seen.
Normally they were never far from their Masters' heels and shoulders, yapping and snarling and sneering at each other. There was something faintly sinister about their disappearance....
Nobody else had noticed. There was a tremendous babble of excitement, and such a crush of enormous Vikings that not everybody could get in to the Great Hall, and there was a big jumble of barbarians shouting and shoving outside.
Stoick called for silence.
"I have called you here today," boomed Stoick, "because we have a problem on our hands. A rather large Dragon is sitting on the Long Beach."
The crowd was deeply unimpressed. They were hoping for a more important crisis.
Mogadon voiced the general disapproval.
"The Big Drums are only used in times of ghastly deadly peril," said Mogadon in amazement. "You have summoned us here at a horribly early hour" (Mogadon had not slept well, on the stone floor of the Great Hall with only his helmet for a pillow), "just because of a DRAGON? I do hope you are not losing your grip, Stoick," he sneered, hoping that he was.
"This is no ordinary Dragon," said Stoick. "This Dragon is HUGE. Enormous. Gobsmackingly vast. I've never seen anything like it. This is more of a mountain than a Dragon."
Not having seen the Dragon-mountain, the Vikings remained unimpressed. They were used to bossing dragons about.
"The Dragon," said Stoick, "must of course be moved. But it is a very big Dragon. What should we do, Old Wrinkly? You're the thinker in the tribe."
"You flatter me, Stoick," said Old Wrinkly, who seemed rather amused by the whole thing. "It's a Sea-dragonus Giganticus Maximus, and a particularly big one, I'd say. Very cruel, very intelligent, ravenous appetite. But my field is Early Icelandic Poetry, not large reptiles. Professor Yobbish is the Viking expert on the subject of dragons. Perhaps you should consult his book on the subject."
"Of course!" said Stoick. "How to Train Your Dragon, wasn't it? I do believe that Gobber burgled that very book from the Meathead Public Library...." He gave a naughty look at Mogadon the Meathead.
"This is an outrage!" boomed Mogadon. "That book is Meathead property.... I demand its instant return or I shall declare war on the spot."
"Oh, put a sock in it, Mogadon," said Stoick. "With wimpy librarians like yours, what can you expect?"
The Hairy Scary Librarian blushed a delicate pink and shook in his size eighteen shoes.
"Baggybum, hand me the book from the fireplace," yelled Stoick.
Baggybum stretched out one of his great octopus arms and picked the book off the shelf. He lobbed it across the heads of the crowd and Stoick caught it, to much cheering. Morale was high. Stoick bowed to the hordes and handed the book to Gobber.
"GOB-BER, GOB-BER, GOB-BER," yelled the crowd. It was Gobber's moment of triumph. A crisis demands a Hero and he knew he was the man for the job. His chest swelled with self-importance.
"Oh, it was nothing really...," he bellowed modestly, "a bit of Basic Burglary you know... Keeps me in practice...."
"Ssssssh," hissed the crowd like sea snakes, as Gobber cleared his throat.
"How to Train Your Dragon," announced Gobber solemnly. He paused.
"YELL AT IT."
There was another pause.
"And...?" said Stoick. "Yell at it, and...?" "That's it," said Gobber. "YELL AT IT."
"There's nothing in there about the Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus in particular?" asked Stoick.
Gobber looked through the book again. "Not as such," said Gobber. "Just the bit about yelling at it, really."
"Hmmm," said Stoick. "It's brief, isn't it? I've never noticed before, but it is brief... brief but to the point," he added hastily, "like us Vikings. Thank Thor for our experts. Now," said Stoick, in his most Chieflike manner, "since it is such a large Dragon -- "
"Vast," interrupted Old Wrinkly happily. "Gigantic. Stupendously enormous. Five times as big as the Big Blue Whale."
"Yes, thank you, Old Wrinkly," said Stoick. "Since it is, indeed, on the rather large side, we're going to need a rather large yell. I want everybody on the clifftops yelling at the same time."
"What shall we yell?" asked Baggybum.
"Something brief and to the point. GO AWAY," said Stoick.
The Tribes of Meathead and Hooligan gathered at the top of the cliffs of the Long Beach and looked down at the impossibly vast Serpent stretched out on the sand, smacking its lips as it devoured the last morsels of its late unfortunate companion. It was so big that it seemed unlikely that it could be alive, until you saw it move like an earthquake or a trick of the eyes.
There are times when size really is important, thought Hiccup to himself. And this is one of them.
Dragons are vain, cruel, and amoral creatures, as I've said. This is all very well when they are a lot smaller than you are. But when a dragon's bad nature is multiplied into something the size of a hillside, how do you deal with it?
Gobber the Belch stepped forward to lead the yelling, as the most respected Yeller among them all. His chest swelled with pride.
"One... two... three..."
Four hundred Viking voices screamed as one: "GO AWAY!" and added for good measure the Viking War Cry.
The Viking War Cry was designed to chill the blood of Viking enemies at the commencement of battle. It is a horrifying, electrifying shriek that begins by mimicking the furious yell of a swooping predator, which then turns into the victim's scream of pure terror, and ends with a horribly realistic imitation of the death-gurgles as he chokes on his own blood. It is a scary noise at the best of times, but shouted altogether by four hundred barbarians at eight o'clock in the morning it was enough to make the mighty Thor himself drop his hammer and cry like a little baby.
There was an impressive silence.
The mighty Dragon then turned his mighty head in their direction.
There were four hundred gasps as a pair of evil, yellow eyes, as big as six tall men, narrowed down to slits.
The Dragon opened its mouth and let out a sound so loud and so terrifying that four or five passing seagulls dropped down dead with fear on the spot. It was a noise that made the Viking War Cry seem like the faint cry of a newborn baby in comparison. It was a terrible, alien, other-worldly noise that promised DEATH and NO MERCY and EVERYTHING AWFUL.
There was another impressive silence.
With one delicate movement of his talon, the Dragon ripped through Gobber's tunic and trousers from head to toe as if he were peeling fruit. Gobber gave a most un-Heroic shriek of outraged modesty. The Dragon placed the same talon upright in front of Gobber the Belch and flicked him like a spitball, way, way away, over the Vikings' heads and over the walled fortifications of the village.
The Dragon put his vast, cracked old paw to his reptilian lips and blew the Vikings a kiss. The kiss streaked through the sky and scored a direct hit on both Stoick and Mogadon's ships, which had survived the storm and were rocking in the safety of Hooligan Harbour. All fifty of them burst simultaneously into flames.
The Vikings ran away from that cliff as fast as their eight hundred legs could carry them.
Gobber the Belch had the luck to land on the roof of his own house. The deep layers of soggy grass broke his fall as he went through them, and he ended up sitting stark-naked in his own chair in front of the fire, dazed but unharmed.
"OK, then," said Stoick to four hundred Vikings suddenly looking scared but wildly overexcited, "so the Yelling doesn't work."
They had reassembled in the center of the village.
"And, as our fleet is out of action, we have no means of escape from the island," Stoick continued. "What we need now," he said, trying to sound as if he was on top of the situation, "is for somebody to go and ask the monster whether he comes in PEACE or in WAR."
"I shall go...," volunteered Gobber, who rejoined them at that moment, still determined to be the Hero of the hour. He was trying to sound noble and dignified, but it is very difficult to be truly dignified with grass in your hair and wearing your cousin Agatha's dress -- which was the only thing Gobber could find to wear in the house.
"Do you speak Dragonese, Gobber?" asked Stoick in surprise. "Well, no," Gobber admitted. "Nobody here speaks Dragonese. It's forbidden by order of Stoick the Vast, O Hear His Name and Tremble, Ugh, Ugh. Dragons are inferior creatures who we yell at. Dragons might get above themselves if we talk to them. Dragons are tricksy and must be kept in their place."
"Hiccup can speak to dragons," said Fishlegs very quietly, from the middle of the crowd.
"Sssh, Fishlegs," whispered Hiccup, desperately digging his friend in the ribs.
"Well, you can," said Fishlegs stoutly. "Don't you see? This is your chance to be a Hero. And we're all going to die anyway, so you might as well take it...."
"Hiccup can speak to dragons!" shouted Fishlegs, very loudly indeed.
"Hiccup?" said Gobber the Belch. "HICCUP?" said Stoick the Vast.
"Yes, Hiccup," said Old Wrinkly. "Small boy, red hair, freckles, you were going to put him into exile this morning." Old Wrinkly looked stern. "In order that the blood of the Tribes should not be weakened, remember? Your son, Hiccup."
"I know who Hiccup is, thank you, Old Wrinkly," said Stoick the Vast, uncomfortably. "Does anyone know where he is? HICCUP! Come forward."
"It looks like you could come in useful after all...," Old Wrinkly murmured to himself.
"Here he is!" yelled Fishlegs, patting Hiccup on the back. Hiccup started to wriggle through the crowd until somebody noticed him and dragged him up, and he was passed over everybody's heads and put down in front of Stoick.
"Hiccup," said Stoick. "Is it true that you can talk to dragons?" Hiccup nodded.
Stoick gave an awkward cough. "This is an embarrassing situation. I know that we were about to banish you from the Tribe. However, if you do what I ask, I am sure I speak for everybody when I say that you can consider yourself un-banished. We stand in awful peril and nobody else in this room can speak Dragonese. Will you go to this monster and ask him whether he comes in PEACE or in WAR?"
Hiccup said nothing. Stoick coughed again. "You can talk to me," said Stoick. "I've unbanished you."
"So the exile is off, then, is it, Father?" asked Hiccup. "If I go and kill myself talking to this Beast from Hell, I will be considered Heroic enough to join the Tribe of Hooligans?"
Stoick looked more embarrassed than ever. "Absolutely," he said. "OK, then," said Hiccup. "I'll do it."
Chapter 12. THE GREEN DEATH
It is one thing to approach a primeval nightmare when you are part of a crowd of four hundred people. It is quite another to do so on your own. Hiccup had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other.
Stoick offered to send a guard of his finest soldiers, but Hiccup preferred to go alone. "Less chance of anybody doing anything Heroic and stupid," he said.
Although this is the part of the story that the bards tend to focus on as the bit where Hiccup was particularly Heroic, I do not agree. It is a lot easier to be brave when you know you have no alternative. Hiccup knew in his heart of hearts that the Monster intended to kill them all anyway. So he didn't have a lot to lose.
Nonetheless, he was sweating as he peered over the edge of the cliff. There, below him, was the impossibly large Dragon, filling up the beach. It appeared to be asleep.
But an eerie singing was coming from the direction of its belly. The song went something like this:
Watch me, Gnat Destroyer, as settle down to lunch, killer whales an tasty 'cos thry've got a lot of crunch. Gnat wharks sharks are scrumptious, but here's a little tip: Those teeny weeny pointy teeth can give a nasty nip....
How odd, thought Hiccup, he can sing with his mouth shut.
Hiccup nearly jumped clear out of his leggings when the Dragon opened both his crocodile eyes and spoke directly to him.
"Why so odd?" said the Dragon, who appeared to be amused. "A dragon with Ms eyes shut is not necessarily asleep, so it follows that a dragon with his mouth shut is not necessarily singing;. All is not what it seems. That noise that you hear is not me at all. THAT, my Hero, is tie sound. of a singing suffer."
"A singing suffer?" echoed Hiccup, quickly remembering that you should never, ever, look into the eyes of a large, malevolent Dragon like this one.
This was a mistake, as Hiccup suddenly realized that the Dragon was holding a herd of pathetically bleating sheep captive under one massive claw. He pretended to allow one of them to escape, let the poor animal practically reach the safety of the rocks, then picked it up by its wool with a delicate pincer movement and tossed it way, way up into the air.
This was a trick Hiccup had often done himself, but with blackberries. Now the Dragon threw back his great head and the woolly speck fell down into the terrible jaws, which closed behind it with a mighty crash. There was a horrible sound of crunching as he chewed and swallowed the unfortunate sheep.
The Dragon saw Hiccup watching him in fascinated horror and he brought his ridiculously enormous head down closer to the boy. Hiccup nearly passed out as his offensive Dragon breath poured out in a disgusting, yellow-green vapor. It was the stench of DEATH itself -- a deep, head-spinning stench of decaying matter; of rotting haddock heads and sweating whale; of long-dead shark and despairing souls. The revolting steam curled its way around the boy in repellent coils and wormed its way up into his nose until he coughed and spluttered.
"Some poeple say you should de-bone a sheep before you eat it," sneered the Dragon confidentially, "but I think it adds just a nice crunch to what would otherwise be a bit of a soggy meal...."
The Dragon burped. The belch came out as a perfect loop of fire that soared through the air like a smoke ring and landed on the heather surrounding Hiccup, setting it alight, so that for a moment he was standing right in the middle of a circle of bright green flames. The heather was damp, however, and the blaze flared for only a few moments, then extinguished itself.
"Ooops," giggled the Dragon evilly. "Pardon me... A little party trick...."
He then placed one gigantic claw against the edge of the cliff that Hiccup was standing on.
"Humans, however," continued the Dragon thoughtfully, "humans really should be filleted. The spine in particular can be very tickly as it goes down the throat...."
As the Dragon spoke, he extended his claws, the talons slowly emerging from the thick stumps of his fingers and rising up until they resembled nothing more than gigantic razors, six feet wide and twenty feet long, with points on the end like a surgeon's scalpel.
"Removing the human backbone is a delicate job," hissed the Dragon nastily, "but one that I am particularly good at... a small incision at the back of tie neck" -- he gestured at Hiccup's neck -- "a swift stroke downward, then filck it out... it's practically painless. For ME..."
Hiccup was thinking very fast indeed. There is nothing like staring Death in the face for speeding up your thoughts. What did he know about dragons that could work against an Invincible Monster like this one?
He could see the Dragon Motivation page he had written in his mind's eye. GRATITUDE: dragons are never grateful. FEAR: clearly hopeless. GREED: not a good idea to appeal to at this particular point in time. VANITY and REYENGE: could be useful but he couldn't quite think how. That left JOKES AND RIDDLING TALK. This Dragon looked a bit exalted for jokes. But from his manner of talking he clearly fancied himself as a bit of a philosopher. Maybe Hiccup could buy himself some time if he engaged him in a riddling conversation....
"I've heard of singing for your suffer," said Hiccup, "but what is a singing supper?"
"A good question," said the Dragon, in surprise. "An EXCELLENT question, in fact." He drew back his claws and Hiccup sighed with relief. "It's a long time since the supper has shown such intelligence. They're generally too bound up with their little lives to bother with the Really Big Questions.
"Now let me think," said the Dragon and, as he thought, he forked a protesting sheep on the end of a talon, then chewed on it reflectively. Hiccup was sorry for the sheep but deeply grateful that it wasn't him disappearing down the ravenous reptilian gullet.
"How shall I put it, to a brain so much) small er and less clever than mine.... Tie thing is, we are all, in a sense, supper.
Walking, talking, breathing suppers, that's what we are. Take you, for instance. YOU are about to be eaten by ME, so that makes you supper. That's obvious. But even a murdererous carnivore like myself will be a supper for worms one day. We're ail snatching percious moments from the peaceful jaws of time," said the Dragon cheerfully.
"That's why it's so important," he continued, "for tie supper to sing as beautifully, as it can."
He gestured to his stomach, from where the voice could still be heard singing, though more and more faintly.
Humans can be bland, but if you have some salt to hand, A little hit of brim, will make them taste. divi-I-I-I-ne....
l5l "Tiat PARTICULAR, supper," said the Dragon, "that you hear singing now, was a dragon rather smaller than me, but very full of himself. I ate him about half an hour ago."
"Isn't that cannibalism?" asked Hiccup.
"It's delicious," said the Dragon. "Besides, you can't call an ARTIST like myself a CANNBAL." He sounded a bit exasperated now. "You are very rude for such a small person. What do you want, Little Supper?"
"I have come," said Hiccup, "to find. out whether you come in PEACE or in WAR."
"Oh, peace, I tilink," said the Dragon. "I am going to kill you though," he added.
"All of us?" asked Hiccup.
"You first," said the Dragon kindly. "Anil then everybody else when I've had, a little nap and got my appetite bad? It takes a little while to wake up completely from a Sleep Coma."
"But it's ail so unfair!" said Hiccup. "Why do YOU get to eat everybody, just because you're bigger than everybody else?"
"It's tie way of tie world," said the Dragon. " Besides, you'll fink that you come round to my point of view once you're inside me. That's tie marvelous thing about digestion.... But where are my manners? Let me introduce myself. I am the Green Death. What is your name, Little Supper?"
"Hiccup Horrendous Haddpck the Third," said Hiccup. And the most extraordinary thing happened.
As Hiccup said his name the Green Death trembled, as if a sudden wind had made him shiver. Neither the Green Death nor Hiccup noticed.
"Hmmm...," said the Green Death. "I'm sure I've heard that name somewhere before. But it's rather a mouthful so I shall just call you Little Sup-fer. Now, Little Supper, before I eat you, tell me your problem."
"My problem?" asked Hiccup.
"That's right," said the Dragon. "Your Why-Can't-I-More- Like- My- Father? problem Your It's-Harh-to-Be-a-Hero problem. Your Snotlout- Would-Make-a-Better-Cftief-Than-Me problem. I have helped. the probiems of many a Supper. Some-how meeting a Really Big problem like myself seems to put everything else inproportion."
"Let me get this straight," said Hiccup. "You know all about my father, and me not being a Hero and everything ~"
"I can see things like that," said the Green Death modestly.
"-anil you want me to tell you my problems and then you're going to eat me?"
"We're back at tie beginning again," sighed the Green Death. "We're all going to be eaten SOMETIME. You can win yourself some extra time, though, if you're a smart little crabstick. A few scraps from tie burning...."
The Green Death yawned.
"I'm suddenly rather tireh," he said. "You ART; a clever little crabstick, you've kept me talking for AGES...." and the Dragon yawned again. "I'm too tired to eat you right now, you'll have to come back in a couple of hours... and I'll tell you how to ileal with your problem then. I have a feeling I can help you...."
And the terrible monster really did fall asleep this time, and snored most heavily. His great claws relaxed and fell open and the remaining sheep, their woolly sides trembling with terror, scrambled over the tops of the terrible talons and bolted up the cliff path.
Hiccup stood watching the Dragon thoughtfully for a second, then he trudged slowly back through the heather toward the village.
Everybody cheered when he walked through the gates. He was carried shoulder high and set down in front of his father.
"Well, son," said Stoick. "Does the beast come in PEACE or in WAR?" "He says he comes in peace," said Hiccup. There were huge hurrahs and heavy stampings of feet. Hiccup held up his hand for silence.
"He's still going to kill us, though."
Chapter 13.
WHEN YELLING DOESN'T WORK
The Dragon slept on as the Council of War argued about what to do next.
"I am going to write a strongly worded letter to Professor Yobbish," said Stoick the Vast. "This book needs a lot more WORDS to tell you what to do if yelling doesn't work."
Which shows how cross Stoick was -- he never wrote a letter if he could help it.
Stoick, in fact, was really rattled, for the first time in his life.
This is what comes of not following the Law, he thought to himself. If I had banished the boys last night like I should have done, they would not be here to die with the rest of us. I should have put my trust in Thor.
Mogadon the Meathead had not yet realized the gravity of the situation. He thought it was a question of constructing some sort of megaphone machine to make the Yell sound bigger.
"A gigantic dragon just needs a gigantic Yell," he said.
"We already TRIED that, O Plankton Brain," said Stoick. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING PLANKTON
BRAIN?" demanded Mogadon, and they went whisker to whisker like a couple of furious walruses.
Hiccup sighed and walked out of the village.
He had a feeling the grown-ups weren't going to come up with anything fiendishly clever.
To Hiccup's surprise he was followed not only by Fishlegs but by all the Novices from both the Hooligan AND the Meathead tribes.
They stood around Hiccup in a semicircle.
"So, Hiccup," said Thuggory the Meathead. "What are we going to do now, then?"
"Whaddyamean by asking HICCUP?" demanded Snotlout crossly. "You're not going to ask THE USELESS to get us out of this mess, are you? He just single-handedly got us all to fail the Final Initiation Test. We were about to be banished and eaten by cannibals all because of HIM. He can't even control a dragon the size of an earwig!"
"Can YOU talk to dragons then, Snotface?" asked Fishlegs.
"I am pleased to say I cannot," said Snotlout, with dignity. "Well, shut up, then," said Fishlegs.
Snotlout got hold of Fishlegs by the arm and started twisting.
"Nobody, but NOBODY, tells SNOTFACE
SNOTLOUT to shut up," hissed Snotlout.
"I do," said Thuggory the Meathead. He grabbed Snotlout by the shirt and lifted him clear off the ground. "YOUR dragon got us failed just as much as HIS. I didn't noticeanybody's dragon sitting up and begging like a good boy in the middle of that dragon-fight. YOU shut up or I will tear you limb from limb and feed you to the gulls, you winkle-hearted, seaweed-brained, limpet-eating PIG."
Snotlout looked into Thuggory's stern little eyes. Snotlout shut up.
Thuggory dropped him and wiped his hands disdainfully on his tunic. "Anyway," said Thuggory, "MY father was on that stupid Council of Elders too. I'm with Hiccup. What kind of father puts his stupid Laws before the life of his son? And what kind of stupid Test
[Image: You shut up or I will tear you to the gulls, you winkle hearted seaweed-brained, limpet eating Pig]
was that, anyway? If we save all those stupid people from a REAL dragon like this one, maybe they'll let us into their stupid Tribe after all."
WELL, WELL, WELL, thought Hiccup. This is a turn up for the books.
Maybe that Dragon was right and he is going to help me with my It's-Hard-to-Be-a-Hero problem. Before he eats me, of course.
One solo meeting with the Green Death and here were nineteen young barbarians, most of them much bigger and tougher and rougher than Hiccup, looking at Hiccup expectantly to tell them what to do.
Hiccup stood on tiptoe and tried to look like a Hero. "OK," said Hiccup. "I need some time to think."
"GIVE THE BOY SOME ROOM HERE!" yelled Thuggory, pushing all the others back.
He swept off a rock for Hiccup to sit on.
You just do all the thinking you need, boyo," said Thuggory.
"This is a situation that needs a lot of thought and I have a feeling you're the only one here who can do it. Anybody who can have a twenty-minute conversation with a winged shark the size of a planet and come out of it alive is a better thinker than I am."
Hiccup found himself warming to Thuggory the Meathead.
"QUIET!" yelled Thuggory. "HICCUP IS THINKING."
Hiccup thought. And thought.
After about half an hour, Thuggory said: "Whatever you're thinking about to get rid of that monster better work for both of them."
"There's ANOTHER Dragon?" asked Hiccup. Thuggory nodded.
"I went up to the Highest Point and spotted him while you were having your chat with the Big Green One."
"OK," said Hiccup. "That's good news, actually. Let's check out the new Horror."
The trail up to the Highest Point was littered with scallop shells and dolphins' bones thrown up by the gigantic storm. Along the way they even passed the wreck of one of Stoick's favorite ships, the Pure Adventure, lost at sea seven years before, and now perched crazily on a rock three quarters of the way up the biggest hill on
Berk.
Once you were right at the top it was possible to see most of Berk's coastline and the sea encircling you on all sides. Right at the other end of the island, a Dragon entirely filled up Unlandable Cove and spilled over the sides.
He was resting his vast, wicked chin on the cliff as a pillow. Great plumes of violet smoke were belching out of his snoring nostrils.
He was another Seadragonus Giganticus Max-imus, this time a glorious deep purple in color and, if anything, slightly larger than the one at Long Beach.
"The Purple Death, I presume," whispered Hiccup, shakily. "This is just what we need. Are you sure there aren't any more?"
Thuggory laughed, slightly hysterically. "I think it's just the two nightmare killing machines. Two not enough for you?"
Back at the Highest Point, Hiccup outlined his Plan of Action. It was Fiendishly Clever -- if a bit desperate.
"We aren't big enough to fight these dragons," said Hiccup, "but they can fight EACH OTHER. We have to get them really angry at one another. We Hooligans will concentrate on the Green Death and you Meatheads will deal with the Purple Death.
"The one thing we will need is our own dragons, who seem to have disappeared," said Hiccup, "so we'd better start calling for them."
They started calling for their dragons, as loudly as they dared, and then louder still as there was no response.
The twenty dragons that belonged to the Novices were not, in fact, very far away at all. They had made up after the dragon fight and were now hiding in a piece of boggy bracken about a hundred yards or so away from where the boys were standing on the Highest Point. They were crouching like giant cats in the ferns, wicked eyes gleaming.
They were now so exactly the shade of a clump of bracken that they seemed to have melted entirely into the bog. If you had been a rabbit or a deer you would not have noticed them until you felt the talons on your back and the hot fire on your neck.
They had been following the boys for a while.
"So," whispered Fireworm, her tongue flickering menacingly. "What do we ho now then? Tie power is shifting on this island. Tie Masters will not be Masters for much longer. They are trapped, like lobsters in a pot. We are not. We can fly. whenever we want. Do we obey or do we desert?"
Dragons are not the sort of creatures to back a loser. "Whatever we ho," grumbled Brightclaw, "let's ho it QOICKLY, m y; wings are freezing up?."
"We could kill the boys now take them as an offering to tie New Master," suggested Seaslug, with a grunt of greedy pleasure.
"What, that great green. Devil on the beach?" said Horrorcow placidly. "I don't like the look of him, myself. He has too big an appetite. We might find. ourselves as the next offering."
"We fly, then," said Brightclaw, and the others murmured their agreement.
"S-s-siience," hissed Fireworm. "These islands are perilous," she sneered. "We might fly from one danger straight into tie mouth of another. I say we obey, until we are surethat they have lost. When that time comes I will give the signal for us to desert."
And so, as if from nowhere, Fireworm and Seaslug, Horrorcow and Killer, Brightclaw and Alligatiger and all the other dragons flew out of their hiding place and came circling slowly up to the Highest Point, landing on each boy's outstretched arm.
Last of all came Toothless, complaining horribly. "Dragons...," said Hiccup.
And he explained the Fiendishly Clever Plan.
Chapter 4 THE FIENDISHLY CLEVER PLAN
The dragons protested a bit, but the boys yelled them into line.
All except for Toothless, who absolutely refused to join in.
"Y-y-you must be j-j-joking," sneered the little dragon. "I refuse to go anywhere N-N-NEAR a S-S-Seadragonus Gigamticus M-M-Maximus. Those things are d-d-dangerous. I shall stay here and watch you all."
Hiccup coaxed and bribed and threatened in vain.
"You see?" said Snotlout. "The Useless can't even get his own dragon to carry out his pathetic plan. And THIS is the person you are banking on to get you out of this mess?"
"Ugh," said Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.
"Oh, SHUDDUP, Snotlout," chorused the rest of the boys. Hiccup sighed and gave up. "OK then,
Toothless, you just stag h ere and miss all the fun. Now, I want everybody to go down to the Gull's Nesting Place and collect as many birds' feathers as you can for the feather bombs -- "
"Birds' feathers!" scoffed Snotlout. "This wimp thinks you can fight an animal like THAT with birds' feathers! Cold steel is the only language a creature like that will understand."
"Dragons have a tendency to asthma," explained Hiccup. "It's all that fire-breathing they do. The smoke gets in their lungs."
"So you think this monster is going to die from asthma right then and there because of a few FEATHER BOMBS? Why not just feed him fried herring and see whether he drops dead of a heart attack in twenty years or so?" jeered Snotlout.
"No," said Hiccup patiently, "the feather bombs are just to make him very confused so he won't kill anybody on the way. Snotlout, Thuggory, I'm going to need to coach Fireworm and Killer in what they have to say," continued Hiccup.
"I'm not putting my dragon at risk in this crazy plan," said Snotlout.
"OH YES, YOU ARE," hissed Thuggory, through gritted teeth, brandishing a massive fist at Snotlout.
"This guy is such a PAIN, Hiccup, I don't know how you put up with him. Listen, Snotfeatures, by some miracle you have got yourself a reasonable dragon. "You GET that dragon to do what Hiccup wants or it will give me much pleasure to PERSONALLY boot you all the way to Porpoise Point and back again."
"OK, then," said Snotlout crossly. "But don't blame me when we all get barbecued because of the Useless's mad idea."
Hiccup supervised the making of the feather bombs.
The boys gathered great armfuls of feathers from the Gulls' Nesting Place.
They then burgled every item of material they could find: Goggletoad's nappies, Gobber's pajamas, Mogadon the Meathead's tent, Valhallarama's bra -- anything they could get their hands on. The grown-ups were too busy consulting amongst themselves to take any notice.
Snotlout cheered up a bit because he could show off his superior skill at Burglary. He managed to steal Baggybum's knickers right off him as he was standing in a Huddle discussing a Plan of Action. Baggybum didn't notice, not even when he reached a hairy hand down to absentmindedly scratch his great bottom -- he was too busy talking about Bigger and Better Methods of Yelling.
The boys then wrapped the feathers up in the material, so that they would fly out when the bomb was dropped.
Each team of ten boys was armed with about a hundred of these feather bombs wrapped in a great parcel made out of an old sail.
Hiccup led the Hooligans toward the Long Beach, while Thuggory took the Meatheads to Unland-able Cove.
The thin column of boys were excitedly chattering as they set off behind Hiccup; Wartihog and Clueless dragging the sail at the rear, the dragons circling and diving a couple of feet above their heads. Vikings are practically fearless, having been bred to be soldiers, so even Hiccup and Fishlegs had a surge of excitement at the thought of the battle to come.
But as soon as the monster came into sight again, the boys and the dragons instantly dropped to their tummies and squirmed forward, hearts beating hard.
It was impossible that ANYTHING could be THAT big.
Hiccup led them as near as he dared to the edge of the cliffs surrounding the Long Beach.
They looked down on the terrible creature snoring in front of them. His nostrils alone were as big as six front doors, and the stench reeking out of them made it difficult for the boys to breathe.
Wartihog, who had always had a delicate stomach, threw up disgustingly in the heather.
Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Clueless unwrapped the feather bombs and gave one to each boy. The boys called their dragons, as softly as they could, and each put a feather bomb in their dragon's mouth.
They then stood up on the edge of the cliff with their dragons on their outstretched arms.
This took about the same amount of bravery it might take for you to leap off a mountain at a thousand feet. Even with the monster fast asleep, the natural reaction was to keep hidden in the bracken.
Hiccup tried not to breathe in.
He lifted his arm to give the command to begin. "Go," whispered Hiccup.
"GO!" yelled back the boys, and ten dragons flew up and circled around the vast sleeping head.
Just as the Green Death inhaled, Hiccup shouted "NOW!" and the dragons let go of the feather bombs.
The Green Death took in a breath that was half air and half feathers. He woke with a gigantic sneeze and, as he shuddered and coughed, Fireworm, who was treading air near his right ear, gave a speech which went something like this, but a lot more irritating:
"Greetings, O Seadragonus Pusillanimus Min-imus, from my Father, the Terror of the Seas. He is feeling like feasting on tie barbarians and if you get in his way. he will feast on YOU. swim away, little seaslug, and you will be safe ~ but stay, on this island and you will feel tie sharpeness of his claws and tie fierceness of his fire."
[Image: Fireworm leads the way in operation sneeze attack Valhallarama's bra makes a particularly effective double bomb] The Giant Monster tried to laugh sarcastically and cough at the same time, but this is virtually impossible, and a feather went down the wrong way, making him cough even more.
Then Fireworm bit him on the nose.
It must have felt like a flea bite, but the Monster was outraged. Through streaming eyes, the Green Death made a swipe at this irritating dragon-flea and missed. One giant claw tore down part of the cliff-face instead.
The nine other dragons had by this time returned to collect more feather bombs from the boys on the cliffs.
"NOW!" yelled Hiccup and, with split-second timing, they let their bombs fly. They hit their target of the Green Death's nostrils and he collapsed with coughing again.
"You cannot win, puny worm," crowed Fireworm. "Wriggle back to tie sea. where you belong and let my Master have his supper."
Now the Green Death was really cross.
He bounded lopsidedly after Fireworm, trying to bat away this irritating little speck of a dragon with his claws.
But the Green Death had the same sort of difficulty in catching Fireworm as you might have if you tried to catch a firefly with your bare hands. Dragons are better than humans at that sort of game but the Green Death kept on missing because his eyes were streaming so much.
"Missed again!" sneered Fireworm, enjoying herself hugely -- and she flapped just out of reach of the Green Death's claws. The Green Death made another wild leap toward her as Fireworm flew on around the corner of the cliffs, steering the monster in the direction of Unlandable Cove.
Hiccup and the boys ran after them as fast as they could, but they hadn't a hope of keeping up. Running through heather is not unlike running through knee-deep molasses, and they kept disappearing up to their knees in the bog.
As Fireworm and the Monster got farther and farther ahead in their race along the shore line, it took longer and longer for the other dragons to fly back to the boys and return with more feather bombs.
The military commanders among you will recognize the kind of problems that ensue when the supply line can no longer reach the forces at the front.
Eventually it was taking so long to reload that there came a moment when there were no more feathers tickling the Green Death's nostrils and his eyes stopped streaming and suddenly he could see the maddening Fireworm pinpoint clear....
The Green Death made a lightning reflex swipe at the red dragon and caught her in one gigantic claw.
It was lucky for Fireworm that at that very moment the Purple Death came crashing round the corner and struck the Green Death heavily in the stomach. His grip loosened on Fireworm for a second and she flew off, panting with relief.
The Green Death sat down heavily in the sea and fought for breath. The Purple Death did much the same.
Chapter 15 THE BATTLE AT DEATH'S HEAD HEADLAND
While Hiccup and his team had been enraging the Green Death, Thuggory and his team had been infuriating the Purple Death.
The two monsters ran smack into one another as they met at the corner of Death's Head Headland.
One of Fireworm's wings was broken in two places from her experience in the Green Death's grip, but she bravely flew back and made her final speech into his ear as he sat gasping for air in the shallows.
"Here he is," shouted Fireworm. "My Master, tie Purple Horror, who will tear you limb from limb and spit out your toenails!"
And Fireworm flew away lopsidedly as fast as she could, with one wing trailing behind her.
The Green Death was having a bad day.
Ordinarily, a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus would not dream of attacking another animal of the same breed. They avoid fighting each other because they know they are so heavily armed that the battle risks ending in death for both of them.
However, the Green Death had been attacked and jeered at by minuscule creatures who had inflamed and outraged his vanity. This Creature, who seemed to think he was tougher than the Green Death himself, had struck him heavily in the chest.
The Green Death wasn't thinking too hard.
He leaped at the Purple Death with his talons outstretched, breathing great bursts of fire, which lit up the landscape all around like lightning.
The ground and the sea shook in great earthquakes as the two gigantic monsters lunged crazily at each other, swearing the most unrepeatable oaths in Dragonese.
The Green Death's foot completely destroyed Wrecker's Reef with one blow.
The Purple Death's wings caused great landslides to come tumbling down from the Headland's cliffs.
Now that their job was done, the Viking boys were running away as fast as they could, their eyes popping with terror, in case one of the dragons survived the fight. Every now and then they looked back to see how the battle was going.
With ghastly, eerie cries, the Dragons slashed and bit and tore pieces off one another.
The Sea Dragon is the most well-defended creature that has ever lived on this planet. Its skin is over three feet thick in places, and so encrusted with shells and barnacles that it almost has the effect of armour.
It is also the most well-armed creature that has ever lived on this planet and its razor sharp claws and teeth can rip open its own iron crust as if it were made out of paper....
Now both Dragons had terrible wounds, and their green lifeblood was pouring out of them.
The Green Death gripped the Purple Death around the neck with a deadly Throatchoker Grip.
The Purple Death hugged the Green Death around the chest with a deadly Breathquencher Hug.
Neither would let go -- and the grip of a Dragon is a terrible thing. They reminded Hiccup of a picture on one of his father's shields: of two dragons forming a perfect circle as they ate one another, each with a tail in its mouth.
The Dragons thrashed around wildly in the surf, gagging and choking, with their eyes popping, their tails causing such tidal waves that the boys were soaked, even though they were scrambling away from the Headland as fast as they could.
Finally, with some last heaving shudders and grim gurgles, both mighty beasts lay still in the water.
There was silence.
The boys stopped running. They stood gasping for breath, watching the motionless beasts with dread. The boys' dragons, which were flying some way ahead of the boys, also turned, and hung still in the air.
The Terrible Creatures didn't move.
The boys waited two long minutes, as waves lapped gently over the great, motionless bodies.
"They're dead," said Thuggory at last.
The boys started laughing, rather hysterically, now that the terror was over.
"Well done, Hiccup!" Thuggory slapped Hiccup on the back.
But Hiccup was looking worried. He was squinting his eyes and straining to hear something. "I can't hear anything," said Hiccup anxiously.
"You can't hear anything because they're DEAD," said Thuggory joyfully. "Three cheers for Hiccup!"
l80 Halfway through the boys' cheering, Fireworm let out a terrible noise. "DESERT!" she shrieked. "Desert, desert, desert, desert!"
The head of the corpse of the Green Death was slowly lifting up and turning in their direction.
"Uh-oh," said Hiccup. Chapter 16. THE FIENDISHLY CLEVER PLAN GOES WRONG
Hiccup had been listening for the Green Death's Death Song, but he wasn't singing it yet.
The Green Death was dying, but he wasn't dead yet. What he was was very, very angry indeed.
Out of his bleeding mouth he hissed weakly, "Where is he?"
And then he heaved himself on to his feet, and hissed a little more strongly, "WHERJE is he? Where IS tie Little Supper? I knew I recognized him, he was my doom, on wonder. Tie Little Supper has made a Supper of ME, tie Green. Death himself!"
As the Dragon spoke, he was inching forward very slowly and painfully, his eyes fixed on the cliff top, where he could see little human beings beginning to run inland again.
The Dragon threw back his head and SCREAMED a blood-chilling scream of pure horrid REVENGE, dark and torturous.
"I'LL supper HIM before I go, I will," said the Dragon, and he leaped forward.
"R-U-U-U-N!" shouted Hiccup, but everybody was already running, as fast as they could.
In the distance, Hiccup could see four hundred warriors from the tribes of Hooligan and Meathead coming toward them from the Highest Point. They must have wondered at the boys' absence and come out to find them.
But they won't get here in time, thought Hiccup, and even if they do, what can they do?
Just then, the Dragon landed with a crash on the cliff top and suddenly the sun was blotted out.
Twenty boys ran toward the shelter of the ferns.
The Dragon picked up the nearest with one claw and turned him over. It was Dogsbreath. By the time the Dragon had tossed him aside, muttering "Not you," the other boys had disappeared into the bracken.
The Dragon was sick, but he laughed weakly. "You're not safe there, oh no, for though I can't see you to kill you, I can use my... FIRE!"
The bracken caught fire with the Dragon's first breath and the boys ran out of it as fast as they could.
Hiccup stayed in a little longer because he knew the Dragon was waiting for him.
Finally the heat became unbearable and he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and ran out into the open.
He had run hardly a hundred yards before two of the Dragon's talons closed around his middle and he was lifted up. Way, way up, so the other boys looked like little specks beneath him.
The Dragon held Hiccup up in front of him.
"We are BOTH Supper now, little Supper," he said, and he tossed Hiccup high, high into the air.
As Hiccup somersaulted for the second time he thought to himself, Now THIS, this really IS the worst moment of my life.
Then he was falling.
He looked down. There was the Dragon's mouth, wide open like a great, black, cavernous tunnel.
He was going to fall into it. 
Chapter 17 IN THE MOUTH OF THE DRAGON
Hiccup fell into the Dragon's mouth, and its teeth snapped shut behind him like prison doors.
He was falling through complete darkness, surrounded by a smell so awful it was suffocating.
He jerked to a sudden halt as the back of his shirt caught on something and held.
Hiccup hung there in the darkness, swaying gently. By a thousand-to-one chance his shirt had caught on a spear still stuck in the Dragon's throat since his Roman banquet. Hiccup's foot brushed against the wall of what he presumed was the Dragon's throat. The Dragon's digestive juices stung like acid, and he snatched his foot away.
Above him, Hiccup could hear the Dragon's great tongue sloshing and lunging about his mouth, trying to find Hiccup so he could crunch him to death.... He hadn't intended to swallow him whole.
A disgusting river of green goo dripped down the puffy red insides of the Dragon's throat. Just across from where Hiccup was hanging, greeny-yellow steam was puffing out of two small holes in the slimy wall. Every now and then a small explosion sent little flickers of flame shooting out of the holes. How interesting, thought Hiccup, who was strangely calm, because he couldn't quite believe that this was really happening. Those must be where the fire comes from.
Viking biologists had wondered for years where the fire that dragons breathed came from. Some said the lungs, others the stomach. Hiccup was the first to discover the fire-holes, which are too small to see with the naked eye in a normal-sized dragon.
Way down below him, Hiccup could hear the distant rumbling of singing from the Dragon's previous meal. A Seadragonus Giganticus obviously takes a long time to digest, thought Hiccup.
It was indeed still going strong:
Humans can be bland, but if you have some salt to hand, A little bit of brine, will make them taste div-I-I-I-ne....
The spear was gradually bending over with Hiccup's weight. It was only a matter of time before it broke and he fell to join the breezy optimist in the stomach below....
What was worse, the fumes and the heat and the smell were starting to confuse Hiccup so that he no longer really CARED. The terrible noise of the Dragon's heart beating had entered into Hiccup's chest and forced his own heart to follow the same rhythm.
A Dragon has to live, after all, he found himself thinking. And then he remembered the Dragon's words to him as he stood on the cliff top: "You'll find that you come round to my point of view once you're inside me...."
Oh no! thought Hiccup. The Dragon's digestion! It's already working!
"I need to live, I need to live," he repeated to himself, over and over again, trying desperately to block out the Dragon's thoughts.
There was a horrible creaking noise as the stout Roman spear began to split in two....
Chapter 18. THE EXTRAORDINARY BRAVERY OF TOOTHLESS
And that would have been the end of Hiccup, if it had not been for the extraordinary bravery of a certain Toothless Daydream.
Toothless, if you remember, had refused to join in the battle at Death's Head Headland. He was intending to fly off somewhere down the coast a bit and lie low till all was safe again, but he stayed at the Highest Point for a while, terrorizing birds and rabbits.
He must have been having a lovely time doing this, for he did not hear the approach of Stoick and the entire Tribes of Hooligan and Meathead until Stoick grabbed him around the neck.
"WHERE IS MY SON?" asked Stoick. Toothless shrugged his shoulders rudely.
"WHERE IS MY SON???" bawled Stoick with an awe-inspiring yell so loud that Toothless's ears trembled.
Toothless pointed to Death's Head Headland. "SHOW ME," said Stoick grimly.
Under Stoick's fierce eye, Toothless reluctantly flapped off toward Death's Head Headland, followed by the two Tribes.
They arrived just in time to see the Terrible Monster throw Hiccup high in the air and catch him in his mouth like a whelk.
So much for the Fiendishly Clever Plan, thought Toothless.
He was about to use the opportunity of Stoick's obvious distraction to sneak off to a place of safety when something stopped him.
Nobody knows what that something was.
It was a moment that changed the whole world-view of the Hooligan Tribe. For centuries we had believed it was impossible for dragons to consider a selfless thought or a generous action. But what Toothless did next is impossible to explain as being in his own best interests at the time.
All his fellow domestic dragons were now flying somewhere over the Inner Ocean. As soon as they heard Fireworm's cry of "Desert!" those who were hiding in caves or between crevices or crouched in the ferns rose up in a great swarm and abandoned their former Masters as fast as their wings could carry them.
The wild dragons from Wild Dragon Cliff had left hours before.
But something kept Toothless from flying after them -- maybe it was Stoick's heartrendingly powerless cry of "N-N-NO!!!" that caused him to pause. Or maybe somewhere in that self-centered green dragon heart of his, he really was fond of Hiccup and grateful for the hours that he had spent looking after him, not shouting at him, telling him jokes and giving him the biggest and juiciest lobsters.
"Dragons are S-S-SELHSH," argued Toothless to himself. "Dragons are heartless and have no m-m-makes. That's what m-m-makes us s-ssurvivors."
Nonetheless SOMETHING made him turn right around and SOMETHING made him fold his wings back and fly like a dragon blur to the Great Monster on the cliff tops.
Which really was not in Toothless's best interests, as I said before.
Toothless flew right up the Monster's left nostril and started flying up and down the inside of his nose, tickling it with his wings.
The Sea Dragon lunged up and down, wrinkling his nose like crazy and bellowing.
"A-A-A-AAAAAAAH..."
The Creature stuck his great talon up his nose in a disgusting fashion and tried to winkle out the tickling flea that was irritating him.
Toothless didn't quite get out of the way of the talon in time and it scratched him on the chest. He hardly felt it though, he was so excited, and carried on tickling regardless, dodging the probing dragon claw.
"A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-AAAAAAAAH..." bellowed the Sea Dragon. Meanwhile Hiccup was being thrown this way and that inside the Dragon's throat as it shook its head from side to side. He was trying desperately to hang on to the spear, which was in danger of becoming dislodged any second.
The Dragon finally sneezed and Hiccup, the spear, Toothless, and a great deal of perfectly revolting Snot were scattered over the surrounding countryside.
Toothless remembered, as he was shooting through the air, that boys can't fly.
He folded his wings and dived after Hiccup, who was rapidly heading toward the ground.
Toothless grabbed hold of Hiccup by the arm and tried to take his weight. Dragons' talons are extraordinarily strong and he was able to break Hiccup's fall, not entirely, but enough so that when Hiccup crashed into the heather he was traveling reasonably slowly.
Stoick came plunging frantically through the grass.
He picked up his son and faced the Monster, holding his shield over Hiccup's unconscious body.
Toothless hid behind Stoick.
The Green Death had recovered from his sneezing fit. He shuffled forward, bleeding horribly from fatal wounds to his chest and throat. He lowered his terrible head till it was on a level with the cliff top, and his evil, yellow eyes looked straight at Stoick.
"Time to did for all of us," purred the Green Death. "You can't save hi s life now, you know. You are quite, quite helpless. My FIRE will melt that shield like butter...."
The Green Death opened his mouth. He slowly sucked in a breath. Stoick tried to grab on to chunks of heather to hold them fast, but Stoick, Hiccup, and Toothless were being dragged slowly but surely toward the gigantic black tunnel that was the Monster's open jaws.
The Green Death paused for a moment before he blew out again, enjoying their terror.
"This is what h-h-happens if you don't listen to tie Dragon Law...." shrieked Toothless to himself in horror as he peered around the side of Stoick's cloak.
The Monster puffed out his cheeks and Stoick and Toothless waited for flames to consume them.
But no fire came out.
The Green Death looked very surprised. He puffed out his cheeks and blew a little harder.
And again, no fire.
He tried once more, and now his head seemed to be turning a strange purplish color with the effort of blowing, and it seemed to be swelling, bigger and bigger, as if he was being pumped up with air from the inside.
The Monster had no idea what was happening. He thrashed around wildly and his eyes bulged larger and larger until with a bang that could be heard for hundreds of miles in every direction...... the Green Death blew up, right in front of their eyes.
This may seem like some sort of miracle, or an intervention on the part of the gods. But in fact there is a logical explanation. When Hiccup was hanging in the Sea Dragon's throat, desperately repeating "I need to live, I need to live" to himself, he had taken off his helmet and had plugged the horns as hard as he could into the fireholes.
It was a perfect fit.
So, when the Dragon tried to use his fire, the blockage caused a build-up of pressure that eventually grew so great that the Green Death simply exploded.
Now there were pieces of Dragon flying in all directions. Stoick and Toothless were incredibly lucky not to get hit by anything, standing as close to the explosion as they were.
But a single, burning Dragon Tooth, eight feet long (one of the Monster's smaller ones), exploded straight toward Hiccup. The boy had been dragged out from under the shelter of Stoick's shield by the intake of the Monster's breath, and was now lying on the ground a couple of feet in front of Stoick and Toothless, completely exposed.
Stoick caught the movement of the Tooth out of the corner of his eye and flung himself and his shield forward. Only a Viking could have gotten there in time. Shooting woodcock with a bow and arrow develops very quick reflexes.
So Stoick's shield did save Hiccup's life after all. If it had not been there, the Tooth would have impaled Hiccup like a prawn on a stick. As it was, it buried itself deep, deep, deep into the bronze center of the shield, and quivered there, blazing with green-edged Dragon flames.
Stoick lifted the shield, terrified that the Tooth might have pierced through to his son. But Hiccup was unharmed. His eyes were open and he was listening for something. He was listening for a strange sound that seemed to be coming from the flaming tooth itself. It was the sound of wheezy, echoing singing, like the wind blowing through coral caves, and it went something like this: I tell the mighty Big Blue Whale, fa life is over soon, with one swish of this armoured tail
I put out the sun moon.... The winds and gales are quivering, when to roar, The waves themselves are shivering and trembling hack to shore....
"Listen," said Hiccup, happily, just before he passed out. "The supper is singing."
Chapter 19. HICCUP THE USEFUL
The four hundred Vikings that were now gathered on the cliff tops broke into wild cheering for Hiccup and Toothless.
They were a strange, barbaric sight, all covered in disgusting green Dragon Snot and Slime, but beaming and shouting with the wild delight of those that have just been saved from Certain Death.
All around them, the terrible fight that had just taken place devastated the landscape. A choking green-gray smoke was hanging around making it difficult to see, but great chunks of Death's Head Headland appeared to have been torn out by the fight. Avalanches of rock were piled up on the beach. The terrible mountainous corpse of the Purple Death lay in the deeper water. Bits of the Green Death's insides and bones were scattered all over the place, while large sections of the heather and ferns were still in flames.
However, by some extraordinary miracle, nearly all the Vikings and their dragons had survived the dreadful battle.
I say "nearly all" because, when Toothless crept forward to lick the face of his Master with a flickering, forked tongue, Stoick noticed a ghastly wound on the little dragon's chest, which was pouring with bright green blood. The talon of the
Green Death had pierced the very heart of the supposedly heartless little dragon.
Toothless followed Stoick's gaze and looked down for the first time. He let out a squeal of terror and fainted dead away.
Two days later, Hiccup woke up, aching all over, and very, very hungry. It was late at night. He was lying in Stoick's own great bed. The room seemed to be crowded with a great deal of people.
Stoick was there, and Valhallarama, and Old Wrinkly, and Fishlegs and most of the Elders of the Tribe.
There were dragons there too: Newtsbreath and Hookfang snapping and biting around Stoick's legs, and Horrorcow perched on the end of Hiccup's bed. (The dragons had flown back as soon as they heard the explosion and realized the Masters of Berk were Masters once more. Being dragons, they had given no explanation for their disappearance, but they did have the grace to look a little sheepish.)
"He's alive!" shouted out Stoick in triumph, and everybody began to cheer. Valhallarama gave Hiccup a rousing punch on the shoulder, which is the Viking mother's equivalent of a really big hug.
"We're all here," said Valhallarama, "willing you to wake up." Hiccup sat straight up in bed, suddenly very awake indeed. "But you're not all here," he said. "Where's Toothless?"
Everybody looked shifty, and nobody would look at Hiccup. Stoick cleared his throat awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, son," said Stoick. "But he didn't make it. He died just a few hours ago. The rest of the Tribe are giving him a Hero's Funeral at this very moment. It's a great honor," Stoick continued hurriedly. "He'll be the first dragon ever to be given a proper Viking burial -- "
"How did you know he was dead?" Hiccup demanded.
Stoick looked surprised. "Well, you know, the usual: no pulse, no breath, stone cold to the touch. He was quite clearly dead, I'm afraid."
"Oh, HONESTLY, Father," said Hiccup, in a frenzy of exasperation, "don't you know ANYTHING about dragons? That could have been a SLEEP COMA, it's a GOOD SIGN, probably means he's healing himself."
"Oh, Thor's whiskers," said Fishlegs. "They started that funeral half an hour ago...."
"We've got to stop them!" yelled Hiccup. "Dragons are only fairly fireproof. They'll burn him alive!"
Hiccup leaped out of bed with amazing energy, under the circumstances. He ran out of the room and out of the house, followed closely by Fishlegs and Horrorcow.
Down at Hooligan Harbor, the awesome ceremony of the Viking Military Funeral was nearly coming to an end.
It was an incredible sight, if Hiccup had been in the mood for it. The sky was crammed with stars. The sea was glass-flat. The entire tribes of Hooligan and Meathead were gathered motionless on the rocks, and every single person was carrying a lighted torch in one hand.
Even Snotlout was there, trying to look solemn, with his helmet off his head out of respect, and his hair neatly brushed.
"Good riddance to the newt with wings," he was whispering slyly to Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, and Dogsbreath snickered.
"Serve him right for breaking tie Law," sneered Fireworm to Seaslug, who was picking his nose on Dogsbreath's shoulder.
A replica of a Viking ship had been put out to sea and was drifting swiftly away from the island of Berk along the path of the moon's reflection, past the weird shapes of Stoick and Mogadon's burned-out fleet.
Hiccup could just see the small body of Toothless laid out in the boat. Beside him lay Stoick's shield, the Dragon's Tooth still stuck in it like a gigantic alien sword. Gobber the Belch sounded a mournful signal on his horn. He was now completely recovered after his unexpected flight.
"P-P-PARPH!"
Twenty-six of Stoick's finest archers, standing to attention at the right of the Harbor, lifted their bows into the air. Every bow was loaded with an arrow in flame.
"N-N-NOOOO!!!" yelled Hiccup, with the best yell he had ever yelled.
But it was too late. The flaming arrows soared gracefully through the air. They landed on the ship and set it alight.
Some of the crowd on the shore had turned to look upward, wondering who dared to disturb this most solemn ritual.
"HICCUP!" shouted Thuggory the Meathead, joyfully recognizing the figure on the horizon. There was a murmur of wonder from the crowd, as they whispered
"Hiccup?" to each other, then shouted and cheered and called out his name louder and louder.
Snotlout's jaw dropped open. He looked thoroughly disappointed to see Hiccup very much alive and well. Snotlout could just about take Hiccup as a dead Hero, but a livingHiccup the Hero was going to be very much in the way....
Hiccup was watching the burning ship, tears pouring down his face. The boat tipped and Stoick's shield and the Tooth fell into the water. Just as the last piece of the boat was about to slip beneath the waves, to be consumed by fire and water, the flames reared up about twenty feet into the sky. And, shooting out of those flames, wings spread wide like a Phoenix, trailing fire from his tail like a comet, came... Toothless.
He soared high, high, high into the stars, leaving a path of flame as he flew. He dived down, down, down toward the sea, and swooped up at the last minute, to cries of wonder from the spectators. Hiccup was anxious that he might be in pain, until Toothless zoomed low enough over his head for Hiccup to hear the little dragon's rooster cry of triumph.
Whatever Toothless's faults may have been, you have to admire his sense of occasion. Common or Garden dragons are not normally known for their spectacular flying skills, but even a Common or Garden dragon on fire is a spectacle in itself.
Toothless burned through the night sky like a live firework, performing screaming fiery somersaults, and flaming loop-the-loops. The crowd, who only a moment before were expecting to mourn the deaths of both Toothless and possibly Hiccup, were now beside themselves, hysterically cheering as Toothless showered them with sparks.
At last the fire got too hot for him and Toothless plunged into the sea to extinguish himself, only to burst out again and fly straight to Hiccup's shoulder. There he acknowledged the wild applause with solemn bows to right and left, slightly spoiling his dignity with the odd "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" of smug self-congratulation.
Stoick signaled to the crowd for silence, but only so he could boom out the following speech at full blast:
"Hooligans and Meatheads! Terrors of the Seas, Sons of Thor and most feared Masters of the Dragon! I feel humbled to present you with the most recent member of the Hooligan Tribe. I give you my son -- HICCUP THE USEFUL!"
And the words "Hiccup the Useful" came echoing down from the hills behind and were shouted back again by the cheering crowd, and were picked up and carried on the night breeze, until the whole world seemed to be telling Hiccup that maybe he was going to be Useful after all.
And that, my friends, that, is the Hard Way to Become a Hero. [Image: The Isle of Berc Dark ages
Deer Professor Yobbish I am riting to complane most strongly about yoor book
How to trane yoor dragon
Have you ever tried yelling at one of those sea monster dragons yourself
Come to berc and I will show you what I mean Yours hott very truly
Stock the vast]
Epilogue by the Author, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Last of the great Viking Heroes
The story doesn't end there, of course.
The nineteen boys who entered Initiation with me those many years ago were all allowed into the Hooligan and Meathead Tribes as a result of their Heroic Actions in defeating two Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus in one day. The Battle at Death's Head Headland has passed into Viking legend and will be sung about by the bards while there are still bards to sing.
Of course, there are very few bards left nowadays. What is more, nobody has seen a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus since, and people are already starting to disbelieve that such a creature could have lived. Learned articles have been written, suggesting that something that large simply could not have sustained its own weight. The dragons that would be my evidence have crawled back into the sea where men cannot follow and, what with Heroism being so unfashionable nowadays, nobody is going to believe the mere word of a Hero like myself.
But the thing about dragons -- and I am a person who knows about dragons -- is that it could very well be that they are merely sleeping down there in the black, black depths. There could be numberless numbers of them, all frozen in a Sleep Coma, with the unknowing fishes swimming in and out of their tentacles and hiding in their talons and laying eggs in their ears.
There may yet come a time when Heroes are needed once more.
There may yet come a time when the dragons will come back.
When that time comes, men will need to know something about how to train them and how to fight them, and I hope that this book will be more helpful to the Heroes of the Future than a certain book of the same name was to ME all those many years ago.
It is easy to forget that there were such things as these Monsters. I forget myself sometimes, but then I look up, as I am looking up now, and I see in my mind's eye a shield, strangely changed by a rich encrusting of jewel-like barnacles and cold-water coral, with an eight-foot tooth sticking right out of the middle of it. I reach out and the edge of that tooth is still so bitingly sharp after all these years that just a gentle brush with the fingers might send a rain of blood down on these pages. And I bend my head, not too close, and I am sure I can just hear very, very faintly:
Once I set the sea alight with a single fiery breath -- -
Once I was so mighty that I thought my name was Death -- -
Sing out loud until fou re eaten, song of melancholy bliss, For the mighty and the middling all shall come to THIS.... The Supper is still singing. 
1. SWORDFIGHTING AT SEA (BEGINNERS ONLY)
Thor was SERIOUSLY annoyed.
He had sent a mighty summer storm to claw up the seas around the bleak little Isle of Berk. A black wind was shrieking across the wild and angry ocean. Furious thunder boomed overhead. Lightning speared into the water.
Only a madman would think it was the kind of weather for a pleasant sail.
But, amazingly, there was one ship being hurled violently from wave to wave, the hungry ocean chewing at her sides, hoping to tip her over and swallow the souls aboard and grind their bones into sand.
The madman in charge of this ship was Gobber the Belch. Gobber ran the Pirate Training Program on the Isle of Berk and this crazy voyage was, in fact, one of Gobber's lessons, Swordfighting at Sea (Beginners Only).
"OKAY, YOU DRIPPY LOT!" yelled Gobber, a six-and-a-half-foot hairy muscle-bound lunatic, with a beard like a ferret having a fit and biceps the size of your head. "PUT YOUR BACKS INTO IT, FOR THOR'S SAKE, YOU ARE NOT AN ICKLE PRETTY JELLYFISH.... HICCUP, YOU ARE ROWING LIKE AN EIGHT-YEAR-OLD..... THE FAT BIT OF THE OAR GOES IN THE WATER.... WE HAVEN'T GOT ALL YEAR TO GET THERE...." etc. etc.
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third gritted his teeth as a big wave came screaming over the side and hit him full in the face.
Hiccup is, in fact, the Hero of this story, although you would never have guessed this to look at him. He was on the small side and had the sort of face that was almost entirely unmemorable.
There were twelve other boys struggling with the oars of that ship, and practically all of them looked more like Viking Heroes than Hiccup did.
Wartihog, for instance, was only eleven, but he already had a fine crop of bubbling adolescent pimples and a personal odor problem. Dogsbreath could row as hard as anybody else with one hand, while picking his nose with the other. Snotlout was a natural leader. Clueless had ear hair.
Hiccup was just absolutely average, the kind of unremarkable, skinny, freckled boy who was easy to overlook in a crowd.
Beneath the rowing benches, thirteen dragons were huddled, one for each boy.
The dragon belonging to Hiccup was much, much smaller than the others. His name was Toothless, an emerald green Common or Garden dragon with enormous eyes and a sulky expression.
He was whining to Hiccup in Dragonese.
"These Vikings c-c-crazy. Toothless g-g-got salt in his wings. Toothless sitting in a big cold puddle. Toothless h-h-hungry.... F- F-FEED ME." He tugged at Hiccup's pants. "Toothless need f-f-food NOW."
* Dragonese was the native tongue of the dragons. I have translated it into English for the benefit of those readers whose Dragonese is a bit rusty. Only Hiccup could understand this fascinating language.
"I'm sorry, Toothless." Hiccup winced as the boat plunged maniacally downwards on the back of another monstrous wave. "But this is not a g ood. moment...."
"THOR ONLY KNOWS," yelled Gobber, "how you USELESS LOT got initiated into the tribe of the Hairy Hooligans... but you now face four tough years on the Pirate Training Program before you can truly call yourselves VIKINGS."
"We will begin with the most important
Viking Skill of all... SWORDFIGHTING AT SEA." Gobber grinned.
"The rules of Pirate Swordfighting are... THERE ARE NO RULES. In this lesson, biting, gouging, scratching and anything else particularly nasty all get you extra points. The first boy to call out 'I submit' shall be the loser."
"Or we all drown," muttered Hiccup, "whichever is the sooner." "NOW," shouted Gobber. "I NOMINATE
THE FIRST BOY AS DOGSBREATH THE DUHBRAIN. WHO'S GOING TO FIGHT HIM?"
Dogsbreath the Duhbrain grunted happily at the thought of spilling blood. Dogsbreath was a mindless thug of a boy with hairy knuckles that practically grazed the ground as he walked, and mean little eyes and a big ring in his flared nostrils made him look like a bristly boar with a bad character.
"Who shall fight Dogsbreath?" repeated Gobber the Belch.
Ten of the boys stuck their hands up with cries of "Oooosirmesirpleasechoosemesir," wildly excited at the thought of being smooshed into a pulp by Dogsbreath the Duhbrain. This was predictable. That's what most Hooligans were like.
But what was more surprising was that HICCUP also leapt to his feet, shouting, "I nominate myself, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!"
This was unusual because while Hiccup was the only son of Chief
Stoick the Vast, he was not what you might call "naturally sporty."
He was nearly as bad at Bashyball, Thugger and all the other violent Viking games as his best friend Fishlegs.
And Fishlegs had a squint, a limp, numerous allergies and no coordination whatsoever.
"What has got into you?" whispered Fishlegs. "Sit down, you lunatic.... He'll murder you...."
"Don't worry, Fishlegs," said Hiccup, "I know what I'm doing here." "Okay, HICCUP," boomed Gobber in surprise. "Get up here, boy, and show us what you're made of."
"If I'm EVER going to be Chief of this Tribe," whispered Hiccup to Fishlegs, as he started taking off his jacket and buckling on his sword, "I'm going to have to be a Hero at something...."
"Trust me," said Fishlegs, "THIS IS NOT YOUR THING.... Clever ideas, yes. Talking to dragons, yes. But one-to-one combat with a brute like Dogsbreath? Absolutely NO, NO, NO."
Hiccup ignored him. "The Horrendous Haddocks have always had a gift for swordfighting.
I reckon it's in the blood.... Look at my great-great- grandfather, Grimbeard the Ghastly. Best swordfighter EVER.... "
"Yes, but have YOU ever done any swordfighting before?" asked Fishlegs.
"Well, no," admitted Hiccup, "but I've read books on it. I know all the moves.... The Piercing Lunge... The Destroyer's Defense... Grimbeard's Grapple... And I've got this great new sword...."
The sword was, indeed, an excellent one, a Swiftpoint Scaremaker with go-faster stripes and a handle shaped like a hammerhead shark.
"Besides," said Hiccup, "I'm never going to be in actual danger...."
The Pirates-in-Training practiced with wooden cases on their swords. "Mollycoddling, we never did that in MY DAY," was Gobber's opinion. However, it DID mean the Hooligan Tribe ended up with more live Pirates at the end of the Program.
Fishlegs sighed. "Okay, you madman. If you have to do this... keep looking in his eyes.... keep your sword up at all times... and say a big prayer to Thor the Thunderer because you're going to need all the help you can get...."
2. THE FIGHT WITH DOGS-BREATH THE DUHBRAIN
Dogsbreath stood, pawing the deck in anticipation.
"KILL HIM, DOGSBREATH!" shouted Snotface Snotlout, Dogsbreath's friend and fellow bully. Snotlout LOATHED Hiccup.
"I will," grinned Dogsbreath.
"This will be a massacre," hissed Dogsbreath's dragon Seaslug, an ugly great Gronckle with a pug nose and a mean temper. "My master will tear this Hiccup limb from limb and throw him to the gulls."
"D-d-don't bet on it," said Toothless, without a lot of conviction, and he gave Seaslug a sharp nip on the tail before scrambling for cover underneath one of the rowing benches.
Hiccup edged forward towards the hulking figure of Dogsbreath, swallowing hard. He tried to remember what The Hero's Handbook had said about swordfighting an opponent much bigger than yourself.... Something about ducking about, letting the enemy exhaust himself, using his own body weight against him....
"D-d-don't let him c-c-catch you!"advised Toothless, appearing for a moment from underneath the bench and then diving back into his hiding place as Seaslug lunged at him with a crunching crash of razor-sharp teeth.
Hiccup stepped forward lightly and calmly, looking Dogsbreath straight in the mean, piggy little eyes.
Dogsbreath grinned nastily at him, and aimed a huge flailing swipe at his head.
Hiccup ducked.
"Yay, HICCUP!" cheered Fishlegs. "That's the way to do it!" Dogsbreath looked rather surprised. He swiped at Hiccup again, even more violently.
And again Hiccup ducked.
This time he was so quick about it that Dogsbreath staggered and nearly lost his footing.
"HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP! HIC-CUP!" yelled most of the boys. (Hiccup was popular with the other boys at the time because a month before he had single-handedly killed a Sea Dragon that threatened the whole Tribe.)
See How to Train Your Dragon, the first volume of Hiccup's memoirs.
Hiccup felt a little bubble of happiness somewhere inside him.
This was great.
Now Dogsbreath was getting cross. He snorted furiously, and lunged forward straight at Hiccup's heart. Hiccup dodged nimbly out of the way and... slipped on a slimy piece of the deck and... Dogsbreath reached out one meaty fist and... grabbed Hiccup by the back of the shirt and caught him.
This was not so great.
"Okay," thought Hiccup. "So he's caught me. What do I do now then?" Toothless burst out from underneath the bench and hovered for a second or two, three inches from Hiccup's nose, shrieking, "S-S-SUBMIT! S-S-SUBMIT! S-S-SUBMIT!" at the top of his voice before zooming back to safety.
"I can't submit," said Hiccup indignantly.
"I'm supposed to be this Pirate Hero. Pirates don't submit."
"Oh goodee," said Dogsbreath happily before whacking Hiccup briskly on the helmet a few times with his sword. Hiccup tried to stop him, but each time he was too slow to protect himself.
"This is just embarrassing," thought Hiccup as Dogsbreath's sword clanged off his helmet for the third time. "Time to try a few moves."
He had a go at the Destroyer's Defense. He could see himself in his mind's eye, elegant, stylish. But when his brain tried to tell his arm what to do, his arm responded in this clumsy, fumbling way, and Dogsbreath grabbed hold of the fancy Swiftpoint Scaremaker and threw it over the side into the ocean.
There were hoots and jeers from the watching Vikings.
Fishlegs and Toothless winced. "Toothless can't l-l-look," moaned Toothless, with his wings over his eyes. "S-S-SUBMIT, you stupid human."
"What are you going to do, Hiccup?" sneered Snotlout. "Fight him with your bare hands? Or SUBMIT?"
"No way," said Hiccup stubbornly.
Dogsbreath moved in for the kill with a few breath-quenching jabs to the stomach. "Oh for THOR'S SAKE, Hiccup," yelled Gobber in exasperation. "You're fighting like an infant. You're not going to get anywhere by lying on the floor groaning. Bite him on the ankle or SOMETHING."
"He's USELESS," crowed Snotlout gleefully. "Hiccup the Useless, didn't I tell you? All that Dragon-Killing last month was just a fluke. USELESS, USE-LESS, USE-LESS...."
Boys are very fickle. Hiccup's popularity vanished on the spot. They started chanting, "USE-LESS, USE-LESS, USE-LESS...."
The dragons joined in eagerly.
"Scratch his eyes out!" screeched Brightclaw. "Tear his wings off!" howled Fireworm.
"S-s-submit," moaned Toothless.
With a snort of satisfaction, Dogsbreath threw away his own sword and got down to the business he really enjoyed, hand-to-hand combat. Dogsbreath was an artist in his own sweet way. He liked to get the feel of his victim's flesh in his bare hands, like a sculptor with his clay.
Dogsbreath began by sitting on Hiccup, to the huge cheers of the rest of the boys. He followed this by scrunching Hiccup's face into the deck and twisting his ear at the same time.
"Oh suffering scallops," said Fishlegs, shutting his eyes. "I can't watch this. YOU CAN STILL DO IT, HICCUP!" he shouted. "USE HIS BODY WEIGHT AGAINST HIM,!"
"And just how," inquired Hiccup out of one corner of his mashed mouth, "am I supposed to do that with him sitting on top of me?"
While everybody was concentrating on watching this massacre, Snotlout sneakily picked up Dogsbreath's sword and removed the wooden case.
"SUBMIT! SUBMIT! SUBMIT!" yelled Dogsbreath, gleefully bouncing up and down.
"No," said Hiccup.
"Maybe ickle Hiccup is going to start cwying," crowed Snotlout. "USE-LESS, USE-LESS, USE-LESS," chanted the boys.
Toothless emerged from beneath Wartihog's bench. He looked left and right for any sign of Seaslug. And there, only inches away, was Dogsbreath's gigantic quivering bottom. It was too tempting. Toothless unlocked his jaws as wide as they would go.
As his name suggests, Toothless was entirely fang free. But his hard little gums could slice through the shell of an oyster and crush the claws of a crab....
He leapt forward and BIT that wobbling rear end as hard as he could.
"OOOOOOOOW!" howled Dogsbreath, letting go of Hiccup, who scrambled out of his way as quickly as he could.
Now Dogsbreath was really, really mad.
He grabbed hold of his sword, not realizing or caring that it no longer had a wooden case on it, and lunged wildly at Hiccup. Hiccup leapt out of the way, but the sharp point of the blade pierced his shirt and tore a neat slice out of it.
"Uh-oh," said Hiccup, suddenly realizing he was in Big Trouble. "Dogsbreath, your sword has lost its..."
But Dogsbreath wasn't listening. He gave a roar of maddened fury, and made a great slashing swipe at Hiccup's head. Hiccup ducked and the wickedly sharp blade buried itself in the mast of the boat, slicing the top off one of the horns on Hiccup's helmet in the process.
"STOP!" cried Hiccup from behind the mast, as Dogsbreath tugged furiously at his sword to pull it free. "Your sword has lost its case, you're going to KILL ME..."
But Dogsbreath was so angry he could not hear a thing. He gave a great heave with his mighty muscles and the sword jerked free so suddenly that the poor brute sat down heavily on his bottom, just on that tender spot where Toothless had taken a big chunk out of it.
"YOOOOOOOOOW!" yelled Dogsbreath.
"HA HA HA HA HA!" laughed the boys.
Dogsbreath staggered to his feet, as mad as a harpooned whale. He threw himself at Hiccup with great bellows of fury. Although Hiccup managed to avoid him again, this time he slipped over in the process. Dogsbreath pinned him down with one giant hand, and he lifted his sword above his head with the other.
"DON'T DO IT!" shouted Hiccup desperately, but Dogsbreath's eyes were full of the joys of battle and he began to swing the blade down towards Hiccup's chest.
And that would have been the end of Hiccup if it hadn't been for the extraordinarily lucky coincidence that at that very moment the ship lurched queasily upwards on the next giant wave, rolled for a second on the brim, and plunged hysterically downwards... straight onto a large floating object that instantly holed the boat.
"Abandon ship!" shrieked Fireworm, and thirteen dragons rose into the air like gigantic bats. (Dragons are only loyal to their Masters up to a certain point.)
The ship split into two pieces on the spot, spilling the Vikings out into the sea. It then sank, with a sigh of relief, to the bottom of the ocean bed in about ten seconds flat.
One minute Hiccup was in the not-so-loving embrace of Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, the next he was doing the doggy paddle in water so breath-quenchingly, spine-numbingly, heart-stoppingly cold that it was difficult to think of questions like: "What in Woden's name do we do now?"
Something landed with a bump on the top of Hiccup's helmet. Toothless's eyes peered into his, upside down.
"N-n-nice fighting, Master," he said. "N-n-now, where's my l-llunch?"
"You may not have noticed," said Hiccup, swallowing a big chunk of seawater as the weight of Toothless pushed him under the surface, "but I'm having a bit of a crisis here. Now flap off, will you, and see what's happened to Fishlegs.
He can't swim."
Hiccup could swim but the waves were mountainously rough. He really had to struggle to keep afloat.
Toothless returned a moment or so later looking anxious.
"F-f-fishlegs d-d-definitely needs you help, Master, B-b-big trouble. Follow me."
And he disappeared again.
Hiccup was just thinking, "Well, I don't know what in Valhalla he thinks I can do about it," when a miracle occurred.
3. A CHANCE IN A MILLION
The object that had holed the boat, thereby saving Hiccup from Death at the hands of Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, was a large, heavy, six-foot-by-three-foot BOX.
It now floated up to within reaching distance of where Hiccup was treading water. There were a couple of iron handles on the sides, very handy for grabbing on to.
About twenty minutes earlier, some laughing members of the Meathead Tribe had thrown this box into the sea at Meathead Island, which was a couple of miles away. The winds had carried it a considerable distance in that short time.
And the chances of that particular box traveling all that way, and then in the middle of the whole wild and lonely ocean happening to hole the ship just in time to save Hiccup's life, must have been thousands, no, millions to one.
If you were a fanciful person, you might have said that it was almost as if that box was looking for Hiccup.
But we are not fanciful people, and that would be ridiculous.
No sooner had Hiccup grabbed hold of one of the iron handles with a sigh of relief than a gigantic wave lifted him and the box way, way up, and then deposited them crashing down only a couple of feet away from where Toothless was trying to keep Fishlegs from going under for the third and what would have been final time.
The dragon had a firm grip on the back of Fishlegs's shirt, his wings were flapping furiously, and his little green face had turned bright red with the effort of trying to stop Fishlegs from sinking.
Fishlegs had got hold of a piece of broken oar that was keeping him up a bit, but he couldn't cling on much longer, and he would have drowned if it had not been for the sudden arrival of Hiccup and the mysterious box.
There was a lull in the sea for a couple of moments, in which Hiccup and Toothless managed to heave the exhausted Fishlegs onto the top of the box.
And there he clung, like an anxious Daddy Long-legs, terrified but alive.
Five indescribably cold minutes later, they were blown by the violence of the wind onto the shores of the Long Beach. Amazingly, all thirteen of the boys and Gobber himself had survived the shipwreck.
Gobber didn't exactly give them a big, welcoming hug.
"Mmmm, good work I suppose," he said begrudgingly, sniffing a bit. "You took your time about it, though. Step lively, Fishlegs. We're horribly late for the next lesson."
As soon as Fishlegs had dragged himself off the box and collapsed panting onto the beach, Gobber stopped being irritated.
Because the box wasn't a box at all.
It was a coffin.
A huge, six-and-a-half-foot floating coffin, with the following words carved into the lid:
BEWARE! DO NOT OPEN THIS COFF! 4. WHOSE COFFIN IS THIS ANYWAY?
The boys all crowded around the box, forgetting, in their curiosity, about their narrow escape from drowning.
"It's a coffin, sir."
"Yes, I can see that, thank you, Wartihog," snapped Gobber the Belch. "The question is, whose?"
The answer was written right underneath the words "Do Not Open This Coffin," in letters scratched out with some kind of dagger, and stained with something that might once have been blood.
"CURSED BE HE WHO DISTURBS THE REMAINS OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY THE GREATEST PIRATE WHO EVER STRUCK TERROR INTO THE INNER ISLES."
Hiccup felt a cold clammy shiver run down his back, and he suddenly knew that something really bad was going to happen.
Grimbeard the Ghastly had been Hiccup's own great-greatgrandfather.
"The Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly" was a popular Hooligan Saga. It told of how Grimbeard had won a glorious treasure through his brilliance at piracy and swordfighting, a treasure that included his famous sword, the Stormblade.
[Insert: Owned by Grimbeard the GHASTLY the greatest Viking Sword ever]
But after twenty years of glorious rule, Grimbeard had disappeared on a mysterious quest, and neither he nor the treasure were ever seen again.
And now here, out of the blue, one hundred years later, his coffin had appeared back on the shores of Berk.... It was spooky.
"OOOOOOOOH," chattered Wartihog in excitement. "Do you think there might be TREASURE in there, sir? Can we open it, sir? Pleasesir, pleasesir, can we open it?"
All the other boys joined in the clamor... except for Hiccup. Hiccup knew that Grimbeard had been the ULTIMATE in pirate-ness, the GREEDIEST, GRISLIEST, GORIEST Viking who had ever sailed and slew and farted his way across the Northern Seas.
Treasure or no treasure, if a man like Grimbeard the Ghastly was telling you not to mess with his coffin, it was Hiccup's personal opinion that you ought to listen.
Even if he had been dead for a hundred years. Particularly if he had been dead for a hundred years. "Right," said Gobber, just as excited as everybody else, "we're going to have to forget about the Advanced Rudery lesson. This is an Important Discovery and I think we should take it straight to Stoick the Vast and the Council of Elders.
Bearhug, Sharpknife, Wartihog, Clueless, pick it up and carry it back to the Hooligan Village...."
The boys hauled the coffin onto their shoulders.
"Don't just hang about shivering, you lazy lug-fish," Gobber bellowed crazily. "This is Pirate Training, not a holiday with your mother on the Mainland. QUICK MARCH, one-two, one-two, one-two...."
He set off at a brisk trot towards the Hooligan Village. The boys sighed and began to stumble after him.
Snotlout and Dogsbreath the Duhbrain sauntered over to Hiccup, who was sitting, trying to catch his breath on a large rock, shivering violently.
"A shame that Dogsbreath was interrupted," sneered Snotlout, "just when things were getting interesting, don't you think, Dogsbreath?"
"Yeah," grinned Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.
"I reckon," said Snotlout thoughtfully to the remaining boys, "that Hiccup must be the most pathetic swordfighter I have EVER seen, don't you think, guys? I mean, face it, Hiccup, somebody who fights like a granny with a back problem is NEVER going to be Chief of this Tribe...."
"Oh, and so who is going to be Chief of this Tribe if Hiccup isn't?" asked Fishlegs, still lying spread-eagled on the sand in the exact position where he had fallen off the coffin. "Let me guess... YOU, I suppose?"
Snotlout flexed his muscles, making the skeleton tattooed on his right biceps grin smugly.
"I AM the obvious choice," he said. "I've got noble blood" (Snotlout was Hiccup's cousin, the son of Baggybum the Beerbelly, the Chief's younger brother), "charisma, good looks" (Snotlout stroked the rather unpleasant little straggly hairs on his upper lip that he was trying to grow into a mustache), "and I'm BRILLIANT at absolutely everything...."
Unfortunately this was true.
Snotlout was a natural at Mindless Violence, superb at Advanced Rudery and practically everything else.
"... particularly swordfighting," said Snotlout, drawing his sword from its scabbard.
The other boys gasped. "Wow," breathed Speedifist. "The latest Double-Sided Extra-Biting
Supa-Sword. Curving inner edges, silverpoint finish... where did you get THAT from, Snotlout?"
"This is the Flashcut," boasted Snotlout, swishing the beautiful sword around so that everybody could get a good look. "Makes that silly Swiftpoint Scaremaker that Dogsbreath lost for you look pretty weak, doesn't it, Hiccup? Let me show you how swordfighting should be done. This," sneered Snotlout, lunging athletically, "is a Perfect Pointer...."
Hiccup dodged.
"And this is the Destroyer's Defense...." Snotlout gave an animal howl and brought the sword down over his head, stopping just before he cut Hiccup in half.
"And that," jeered Snotlout, slashing the Flashcut expertly from side to side and then leaping forward suddenly, the sword ending up just inches away from Hiccup's heart, "that is a Grimbeard's Grapple.... But I expect a loser like you, who couldn't even beat a three-year-old in diapers, hasn't even heard of moves like that."
Hiccup said nothing.
"THAT, dear cousin," sneered Snotlout, "is HOW TO SWORDFIGHT." He put his sword back in its scabbard.
"Yup," he said, very pleased with himself, "I'm a genius. I'm going to make the best Chief this Tribe has ever had."
"It's just a shame," said Fishlegs, "that your brain isn't as big as one of your nostrils."
Snotlout looked irritated for a second as all the other boys laughed. He grabbed Hiccup by the scruff of the neck and lifted him clear off the ground.
"Amazing how the wooden case to that sword fell off, wasn't it?" he spat right into Hiccup's face. "You were lucky this time... but the question is, can you be lucky ALL the time? Think about it, LOSER. Come on, Dogsbreath. Let's leave the girlies to get their beauty sleep."
He dropped Hiccup and as he went he trod heavily and deliberately on one of Fishlegs's hands.
"Whoops," laughed Snotlout.
"Har Har Har Har," snorted Dogsbreath the Duhbrain. And they jogged off.
"If Snotlout is EVER Chief of this Tribe, I'm emigrating," said Fishlegs, shaking his hand.
"Are you all right, Fishlegs?" asked Hiccup with concern, as he gazed down on Fishlegs still lying flat on his back.
"Perfect," croaked Fishlegs, coughing up a bit more seawater. "I do love an early morning swim. How about you?"
"Oh, couldn't be better really," said Hiccup bleakly, taking off one of his boots and pouring out a flood of seawater and a couple of small fish.
"My first day at Pirate Training and I've already been humiliated by my pathetic swordfighting, beaten to a pulp, shipwrecked, and narrowly escaped Death by drowning. And it's not even ten o'clock yet."
"Maybe it was the SWORD that was the problem," suggested Fishlegs kindly but untruthfully.
Hiccup brightened up.
"You could be right," he said eagerly. "It felt a bit light in my hands. Perhaps I need something a bit chunkier, you know, to get some weight behind my swing." He did a few imaginary lunges in the air. "That must be it, because I still have this feeling that swordfighting is going to be my thing, you know?"
"Um, yeeeessss," said Fishlegs, not wanting to hurt Hiccup's feelings by mentioning that it had been the worst display of swordfighting he had seen, EVER. "And you need a lot more PRACTICE, don't you think?"
Hiccup nodded enthusiastically. "Anyway," he said, "we need to get after the others. I'm freezing, and I've a horrible feeling that some idiot is going to suggest OPENING that coffin which says quite clearly DO NOT OPEN. It would be just the sort of mindlessly stupid thing they would do."
"What do you think could be in it?" asked Fishlegs.
"I don't know," said Hiccup, "but a pirate like Grimbeard the Ghastly won't have hidden the treasure in it without booby-trapping it in some way. You read what it said on the top.... A man like him could have thought of all SORTS of unpleasant surprises."
Fishlegs sighed and struggled to his feet. They set off slowly towards the Hooligan Village, Toothless hitching a ride on Hiccup's helmet.
"They wouldn't open it, would they?" worried Fishlegs. "Surely, surely, SURELY, they couldn't be that stupid?"
5. DO NOT OPEN a Coffin That Says "DO NOT OPEN" on the Front
As soon as they got to the Hooligan Village, Hiccup and Fishlegs changed into dry(ish) clothes. (Berk was one of those damp places where clothes never really dried. They just became warm and wet rather than cold and wet.)
They hurried as quickly as they could towards the Great Hall. 
By the time they got there, Stoick had called a Big Meeting of Everybody and the Great Hall was already packed to bursting with great Hairy Hooligans jostling each other for a good view of the coffin, which had been placed on a table in front of the fire.
Bit by bit Hiccup and Fishlegs managed to wriggle their way through the crowd to the front.
"Ah, Hiccup, there you are," said Hiccup's father Stoick the Vast absentmindedly, as he consulted with the other Elders in front of the coffin.
Stoick was a terrifying red-headed bull of a man whose belly turned a corner a good foot or two before the rest of him.
"Interesting find you've made here, my boy," said Stoick, ruffling his son's hair proudly. "The Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly, eh?"
"Yes, Father, but...," said Hiccup. "We're just about to open it," said Stoick.
"But what I'm trying to say is," interrupted Old Wrinkly (the cleverest and most ancient Elder of the Hooligan Tribe), "it is written quite clearly on the top, 'DO NOT OPEN THIS COFFIN, Cursed be he who disturbs the remains of Grimbeard the Ghastly, the greatest pirate who ever struck Terror into the Inner Isles.'... In my considerable experience it is always a good idea NOT TO OPEN a coffin that says 'DO NOT OPEN' on the front...."
"I agree," said Hiccup nervously. "Grimbeard the Ghastly was a nasty piece of work. Anybody who opens that coffin could be in for a horrible shock."
"Rubbish," scoffed Stoick the Vast. "A warning like that to put off grave robbers should not stay the hand of Fearsome Vikings like ourselves. Shall we, who laugh in the face of Death and spit in the eye of the Great Typhoon, quail at a simple curse to scare infants and old men?"
Cries of "No!" and "Not likely, guv'nor!"
"All those in favor of opening up the box and seeing whether the Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly is inside say AYE!"
"AYE!!!" bellowed out every member of the Hooligan Tribe, except for Fishlegs, Old Wrinkly and Hiccup.
"R-r-run for your lives!" yelped Toothless, and hid in Hiccup's shirt. Fishlegs edged backwards into the crowd.
"NOT a good idea, NOT a good idea, NOT a good idea," muttered Hiccup. He started backing away from the coffin as Stoick fiddled clumsily with the iron clasps.
"NOT a good idea, NOT a good idea, NOT A
GOOD IDEA," repeated Hiccup as Stoick slowly c-r-e-a-k-e-d up the coffin lid....
The coffin lid dropped open with a bang.
Stoick jumped away to avoid being splashed by the seawater gushing out of it from all sides.
Everybody else tried very hard not to look nervous. Stoick peered into the coffin.
There was a bit of a pause.
"Not pretty, was he?" sniffed Stoick the Vast, trying to show off how much he laughed in the face of Death.
"Oh, I don't know, sir," said Gobber the Belch, leaning in to look as well. "I think I can see a bit of a family resemblance."
"I know what you mean," said Baggybum the Beerbelly, turning his head thoughtfully. "There's a look of Great-Aunt Heftythighs."
Hiccup forced himself to open his eyes. If he was ever going to be a pirate, he would have to get used to this sort of thing. He made himself peer over the edge and into the coffin.
There, in a state of green and yellow decay, lay the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly. It wasn't so bad really. The face was all slimy and drippy, but it wasn't crawling with maggots or anything disgusting. Rather peaceful really, lying so still....
And then Hiccup was sure he saw one of the paper-white fingers twitch slightly.
He blinked and stared hard at it. Nothing for a second.
And then... there it was again, a definite quivering.... "The c-c-corpse!" stuttered Hiccup. "It's m-m-moving!"
"Nonsense, boy!" snapped Gobber the Belch. "How can he possibly move? He's DEAD, isn't he?" And he gave the corpse a prod with one fat forefinger.
The corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly snapped straight upright, propelled by some appalling force from within it, yellow eyes popping, dribbly green face contorted in a ghastly grimace.
"Aaaaaargh," gurgled the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly, straight into the face of Gobber the Belch.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" screeched Gobber the Belch, jumping quite three feet in the air with his hair and his beard sticking out in all directions with the shock of it.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" yelled the rest of the Tribe.
For while Hooligans do indeed laugh in the face of Death and spit in the eye of the Great Typhoon, they have a morbid fear of the SUPERNATURAL.
Stoick dived underneath the table with his arms over his head in the vague belief that if he couldn't see IT, IT couldn't see HIM.
Seawater poured out of the coffin. The corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly made disgusting choking noises. The veins on its popping yellow eyes stood out, its grey mouth quivered horribly.
Only Old Wrinkly remained calm.
"Don't panic," said Old Wrinkly, "this is NOT the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly...."
Hiccup had frozen in sheer terror. But he trusted Old Wrinkly, and he opened his eyes.
Nobody else took any notice whatsoever. They went on panicking like crazy.
[Image: Gohher the Belch jumped quite three feet in the air with the shock of if.]
"Woden preserve me from the terminally stupid," muttered Old Wrinkly under his breath, and he started yelling, as this was the only language the Hooligans really understood. "DON'T PANIC! THIS IS NOT THE CORPSE OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY!"
As he yelled he patted the corpse-that-wasn't-a-corpse hard on the back. Seawater spluttered out of it in all directions, gushing out of its nose and ears and mouth.
It wasn't the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly. Now that it had recovered from its coughing fit, it was clearly a tall, good-looking man, very much alive, if a little green from the effects of the seawater.
"So...," said Stoick, from under the table, "that is DEFINITELY NOT the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly?"
The corpse-that-wasn't-a-corpse shook its head.
"Oh no," it said faintly, "definitely not. Easy mistake to make, but no, I'm not."
And it slithered out of the coffin in a rush of seawater. It removed its helmet and, under the circumstances, performed a remarkably graceful bow.
"The name is Alvin. Alvin the... er... Poor-but-Honest Farmer."
Alvin had quick, clever, laughing eyes. He had a long, elegant mustache, a little limp from the seawater. He smiled a charming, easygoing smile (although a fussy person might think that perhaps it had too many teeth in it).
Alvin stepped gracefully forward to pat Hiccup on the head. "And who might YOU be then, sonny?"
"H-Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third," stammered Hiccup. "Greetings," said Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer.
He stooped to peer under the table. "I presume from your air of natural authority that you must be the Chief of this Tribe?"
"Stoick the Vast," replied Stoick. Alvin clapped a hand to his forehead.
"Not THE Stoick the Vast, Terror of the Seas, Most High Ruler of the Hairy Hooligans, O Hear His Name and Tremble, Ugh, Ugh? By an EXTRAORDINARY coincidence, you are the very man I have been searching for."
Stoick crawled out from under the table, staggered to his feet and puffed out his chest.
"That's me," said Stoick the Vast, in much of his old hearty manner. "And, may I ask, if you're not the corpse of Grimbeard the Ghastly, what in Woden's name were you doing in his coffin?"
"What a remarkably bright question," replied Alvin enthusiastically, "and if I could just sit down in this comfortable-looking chair? It's been a long day...."
"Of course, of course," said Stoick, dusting off his throne. "... I would be delighted to tell you my Tale...." said Alvin. 6. THE TALE OF ALVIN THE POOR-BUT-HONEST FARMER
The whole of the Tribe of Hairy Hooligans sat round-eyed, in silence, as Alvin settled himself into Stoick's throne and told his Tale.
"I was put in the coffin," began Alvin, "by some very rude people who not only disbelieved the Tale I am about to tell you but also suspected me of being a common thief. They dumped me over the side of the Harbor on their island with a lot of rude laughter...."
"Meatheads," said Stoick knowledgeably. "Were they led by a tall chap, one eye, bad breath, answers to the name of Mogadon?"
"That does ring a bell," admitted Alvin.
"But how had you come across the coffin in the first place?" asked Stoick.
"I am a poor-but-honest farmer," said Alvin, "and a long time ago in the Peaceable Country, far far away, I was digging up some ground for... er... planting potatoes when I came across this coffin which... er... just fell open in my hands."
"And when you opened this coffin which says quite clearly 'DO NOT OPEN' on the front," asked Old Wrinkly thoughtfully, "was there not some sort of surprise?"
"You could say that," admitted Alvin with a good-natured smile that perhaps did not quite reach his eyes. "I opened the coffin, reached forward quite innocently to grasp something inside... and the coffin lid snapped shut with the force of a shark's jaws and in one stroke cut off my hand."
Alvin held up his right arm.
There, where his hand should have been emerging from his sleeve, was an iron claw.
The Hooligans gasped in horror.
"Dearie me," tutted Stoick. "BOOBY-TRAPPED. I do apologize for my great-grandfather. He did have a nasty sense of humor."
"Yeeesss," said Alvin, smiling happily once more, "but luckily us Poor-but-Honest Farmers can take a joke.... And this," he gestured to the claw, "is very handy for opening up oysters.... Now, back to my Tale. I was careful the next time I opened the coffin to dismantle the booby trap first, but there was no sign of any Treasure inside, nor indeed the body of Grimbeard the Ghastly.... What there was..."
The entire Tribe of Hairy Hooligans leaned forward eagerly, mouths open, eyes wide....
"... was this map*, and this riddle."
Alvin reached into his breast pocket and held up the map and the riddle for everybody to see.
"Oh," said Stoick, very disappointed. "No Grimbeard? No treasure? No Stormblade? Just two little pieces of paper?"
"Ah, but Stoick," said Alvin craftily, "these two little pieces of paper will LEAD us to Grimbeard's treasure."
"US?" said Old Wrinkly. "Something is puzzling me. You have the riddle, you have the map, why didn't you just go and find the treasure yourself? Why did you come here to us?"
"But that would be dishonest!" said Alvin virtuously. "We all know the Saga of 'The Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly'... This treasure belongs to you, his descendants. Besides, there's the little matter of the riddle. The riddle makes it clear that this treasure cannot be found by just anybody."
Alvin cleared his throat.
See page viii for the Treasure Map of Grimbeard the Ghastly. "So you see," said Alvin, "it seems only the Heir to Grimbeard the Ghastly can find the treasure.... And only his beast can sniff it out. I assume by 'Beast' he means dragon."
Dragons were excellent sniffers and finders of Treasure. A good dragon could sniff out gold and precious metals even when they were buried some way below ground.
[Insert: Dare you brave the watery grave? The Death's Head prick of fire and sleep?
If you dare you are my Heir
For my Heir's Beast shall sniff it there And he shall tell me underground
Am I lost or am I found?]
"And I couldn't possibly find this treasure myself," said Alvin, "because I don't have a way with dragons. They just DON'T LIKE ME, I don't know what it is. Anyway, I wonder if any of you have any idea of where the riddle is talking about? You, for instance, Stoick, with your quick and lively brain?"
Stoick struggled to look intelligent. "Hmmmm, it's a hard one...." Hiccup looked at the map.
"Don't you think the Death's Head might be talking about the Isle of the Skullions, Father?" suggested Hiccup. "A Death's Head is a skull, after all...."
"Of course!" boomed Stoick. "The Isle of the Skullions! That'll be where it is!"
The Isle of the Skullions was a small island off the west coast of Berk that formed the shape of a skull and crossbones. It was this shape that Grimbeard had adopted for his flag and, most famously, his helmet.
"So this island here is the Isle of the Skullions, is it?" purred Alvin gleefully, pointing at the map. "And that's where we'll find our treasure?"
To Alvin's surprise the Hooligans started laughing.
"Oh, there's no question of finding the treasure if it's on the Isle of the Skullions," said Stoick cheerfully. "Nobody has ever returned from the Isle of the Skullions ALIVE. Hiccup, you're the expert on dragons, you explain to Alvin about
Skullions...."
~VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS~ The SKULLION
The Skullion is a dragon standing about ten feet tall. It has lost the power of flight, eyesight and hearing but its sense of smell is phenomenal and it will eat anything it comes across. This animal is untrainable and very, very dangerous.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Black and purple.
ARMED WITH: Terrifying teeth, claws etc RADAR: Yes, also strong sense of smell POISON: None HUNTING ABILITY:
You don't want to be the prey SPEED: Very, very fast 
FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:
[Insert: (but you do have a chance cause they can't see or hear)]
"The Skullion," said Hiccup, always delighted to be asked a natural-history question, "is a very rare, very savage species of flightless dragon. Despite being blind and very nearly deaf, it is one of the most fearsome predators of all dragons, hunting in packs using a highly developed sense of smell alone...."
"Okay, okay," said Stoick hurriedly, "we get the picture...." "It has this one extra-long super-sharp claw," continued Hiccup, "with which it disables its victims by cutting the Achilles tendon at the back of their heels, leaving them unable to walk. It then eats them alive."
NOT very nice.
"Ahhhhh," said Alvin. "I see the problem. But I am sure a man as clever as you, Stoick, will be able to lead a quest to the Isle of the Skullions to find this treasure nonetheless."
"A quest to the Isle of the Skullions would be total madness," said Old Wrinkly firmly.
"Grimbeard's sword, the Stormblade, will be part of this treasure," wheedled Alvin. "And if you held the Stormblade the name of Hooligan would be feared again throughout the barbarian world...."
Stoick stroked his beard thoughtfully.
"And you, Stoick," cooed Alvin, "picture yourself with diamonds sprinkled in your beard, a golden breastplate, the Stormblade flaming terribly in one hand, bracelets for those handsome wrists of yours. I can see you already, Mogadon kneeling humbly before you. What a vision you will be!"
Stoick sucked in his belly and flexed his muscles. He'd always secretly fancied himself in a pair of earrings.
"I'LL DO IT!" he yelled.
"FELLOW HOOLIGANS!" he bellowed. "I shall lead you on a quest to find the treasure of our ancestors!"
"But it's insane!" cried Hiccup. "Anyone who sets one toe on that island will be eaten alive in moments! It's suicide to even think of it!"
Everyone was cheering too hard to listen to Hiccup.
"Glory and riches shall be ours," beamed Stoick, patting Alvin painfully hard on the back.
"Oh, here we gooo...." moaned Hiccup to himself. 
7. PRACTICING SWORD-FIGHTING AND SNIFFING FOR TREASURE
In Hiccup's opinion, everything went wrong from the moment Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer was let out of the coffin. It wasn't Alvin's fault, of course. He was a most entertaining and enjoyable companion.
He made the women blush by praising their muscles and their fat yellow plaits. He made the men laugh with hilarious farty jokes and impressions of Mogadon the Meathead. He made the children adore him by telling stories of the trickeries and battles of long-dead Heroes.
Hiccup liked him, too.
Alvin came across Hiccup one day, practicing his swordfighting for the second depressing hour in a row.
Hiccup was trying to do Grimbeard's Grapple, and failing miserably every time. Stoick had given him a new sword to replace the Scaremaker, an impressively large and heavy one called a Stretchapoint.
"Got a lot of LENGTH to it, my boy," Stoick had said. "It'll make up for your shortness of arm. Give you a better reach."
But Hiccup had difficulty keeping it steady, and when he got to the lunge at the end he tended to fall over. He had just got up and wearily picked up the Stretchapoint for another go, when Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer suddenly appeared right behind him and said, "Hiccup, isn't it?"
Hiccup was so startled he nearly fell over again. He hadn't realized he was being watched.
"You're the Heir to Stoick the Vast, aren't you?" smiled Alvin. Hiccup sighed. "Well, I hope so," he said. "That's the general idea, anyway. But unless I get better at this swordfighting, I'm never going to be anybody's Heir. I'm HOPELESS at it."
"No, no," said Alvin reassuringly, "you've got natural ability, I can see that. You just need a little coaching, that's all. Let me show you."
Alvin carefully put his helmet by the side of the ferns for safekeeping. Hiccup watched, fascinated, as he untwisted the claw attached to his right arm. In its place he fixed a "sword-holder" mechanism. He then drew his sword and showed Hiccup how he could fit it into the mechanism. He twisted it tight so it wouldn't fall off.
"A clever little contraption I designed myself," said Alvin. "I think I even fight better now than I did before the accident...." He twirled his mustache and demonstrated the Grapple himself.
"You see," said Alvin, "the weight should be kept on the left foot."
Hiccup followed him carefully... and fell over again. "BRAVO!" clapped Alvin, to Hiccup's surprise.
"But I fell over again," said Hiccup.
"But with such STYLE," said Alvin. "You can't teach that, it's in the blood."
Alvin replaced the sword with the claw and picked up his helmet. He made a grimace as he put it back on his head. He took it off again and peered inside. "There seems to be some sort of MUD in here, some sort of very SMELLY mud...."
"It's all over your hair, I'm afraid, sir," said Hiccup.
Alvin looked horrified. He was very particular about his personal appearance. He hurried away to wash it off.
Toothless, who had been hunting rats through the ferns, came and perched on Hiccup's shoulder. He had the giggles.
Eventually, when he got his breath back, he choked out, "P-p-pooed in his helmet.... "
"TOOTHLESS!" scolded Hiccup. "That's revolting and unkind. Why did you poo inpoor Alvin's helmet?"
"H-h-he's a BAD MAN," replied Toothless.
"Who, Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer?" asked Hiccup in surprise. "Don't be so prejudiced, Toothless. Just because he's not from round these parts doesn't make him a bad man...."
"S-s-suit yourself," shrugged Toothless, checking out his wings for dragonfleas. "Toothless thinks he's an O-O-Outcast."
Hiccup started nervously.
Outcasts were Vikings who were so vicious, so terrible and sneaking and burglarous, that they had been cast out of regular Viking society, and had formed an extraordinarily ferocious Tribe of their own. It was even rumored that some Outcasts ate their enemies.
"Oh, come ON," protested Hiccup. "He doesn't look anything LIKE an Outcast."
"Y-y-you ever seen one?" asked Toothless.
"Well, no," admitted Hiccup, "but neither have you, and y ou haven't a shred of evidence. Let's go and get some lunch and forget this rubbish."
That conversation sowed a little seed of doubt in Hiccup's mind. He was already feeling uneasy because he knew that he and all the other boys were going to have to join in this suicidal quest to the Isle of the Skullions, which would set out just as soon as Stoick and Alvin had worked out a Plan to avoid the Tiny Problem of everybody being eaten alive the moment they landed on the island.
And he knew that he, Hiccup, as the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans, was supposed to be the one to find the treasure. So when he wasn't doing his swordfighting, or being shouted at by Gobber on the Training Program, he was bustling
Toothless out of the door to practice sniffing for treasure.
The first morning was typical. Fishlegs turned up with his dragon Horrorcow, and they stood watching in polite astonishment as Hiccup went through the elaborate game of getting Toothless out of the front door.
Firstly, Hiccup went through the house shouting Toothless's name. No answer.
Next, Hiccup stole a mackerel from the pantry.
"Ohhhhh, Toothless," he sang craftily, waving the fishy stench around a bit to get Toothless's interest. "I've got a lovely piece of mackerel for you."
A very muffled but thoughtful voice replied, "T-t-toothless sick. T-t-toothless can't come out 'cos he's V-V-VERY VERY sick."
"Then you won't want this mackerel then," sang Hiccup. Another pause.
"M-m-mackerel good for the sick. Have mackerel but NO GO OUT."
Hiccup had worked out where the voice was coming from. He peered up the chimney, and there was Toothless, hanging upside down in a cloud of smoke.
"NO, Toothless," said Hiccup in his firmest voice. "You have the mackerel, you have to go out, THAT'S the deal. And you have to PROMISE."
"Okay, then," said Toothless, flapping out of the chimney, "Toothless p-p-promise."
Hiccup held out the mackerel.
With a shriek of "T-T-TOOTHLESS CROSSED HIS CLAWS!" Toothless grabbed the fish, pushed Hiccup heavily in the chest, and disappeared at high speed into the other room, leaving Hiccup to topple over into the fireplace in a cloud of ash.
It didn't take long for Hiccup to find him again.
A telltale drift of bluey-gray smoke was curling out from the end of Stoick's bed.
Hiccup tiptoed up and dragged him out from under the covers.
With a squawk of outrage, Toothless grabbed hold of one of the bed knobs in his powerful jaws.
Hiccup got him by the tail and pulled.
"Come ON, Toothless," said Hiccup, "time for LEARNING TO SPEAK DRAGONESE Dragonese is punctuated by shrill shrieks and popping noises, and sounds MOST EXTRAOROINARY when spoken by a human. The word " pishyou," for example, is pronounced very like a sneeze.
MORE COMMON DRAGON PHRASES:
Who has been sick in my father's pajamas?
SIT, for Woden's sake, before I burst into tears (To big dragons): Mi wobblediguts bigtime.
I am very poisonous sniffing practice...."He tickled Toothless under one wing. Toothless wriggled a bit, going red in the face. Hiccup tickled him under the other.
Toothless let go, giggling, and there was a short kerfuffle, in which Toothless bit Hiccup several times, before Hiccup finally got him under control, tucking him under one arm and holding his mouth shut with the other.
"Now," said Hiccup, "you know we have to practice the sniffing. You want us to find the treasure, don't you, not Fireworm or Seaslug? You want us to show everybody what amazing sniffers Toothless Daydreams really are, don't you?"
Toothless nodded, still with Hiccup holding his mouth shut.
"Well, tien," said Hiccup, "we have to practice. Promise you won't bite me anymore, and no claw-crossing?"
As soon as Hiccup had removed his fingers, Toothless went all limp and floppy.
"T-t-toothless so w-w-weak... can't sniff when he's so w-wweak...," he moaned pathetically.
"RIGHT," said Hiccup, "you can have the other half of the mackerel if you BEHAVE FROM NOW NO."
"Okay, then," grumbled Toothless, shaking his wings. "T-t-toothless Daydreams such g-g-g-good sniffers they don't have to p-p-practice, but OKAY."
Hiccup and Fishlegs scraped the disgusting mess of the rest of the mackerel from the bottom of Stoick's bed -- Stoick was NOT going to be pleased -- and fed it to Toothless, as well as a small haddock pie and three or four oysters.
"He won't be able to FLY at this rate," said Fishlegs.
They set off into the hills and bogs of Berk, Toothless whining the whole way, "C-c-carry me, c-c-carry me, my w-w-wings ache..... Are we n-n-nearly there yet?"
Berk was always a wild-looking place, tree-less and boggy, heather-blown and fern-filled. And, of course, it was practically always raining, anything from a light, persistent drizzle to a drenching downpour. (There are twenty-eight words that mean "rain" in the Hooligan language.)
But if you like your landscapes bleak and dramatic, Berk was attractive in its own way, and this was now spoilt by the great muddy holes the Hooligans were digging everywhere, ever since they had become obsessed with hunting for treasure.
What with avoiding the holes, and wading through waist-high gorse and bracken, it took the boys an hour or so even to get up into the hills to practice. And by the time they got there, Horrorcow had fallen into such a deep sleep on Fishlegs's shoulder it was impossible to wake her.
Hiccup brought out an old gold bracelet of his mother's for Toothless to sniff.
"That's the smell you're looking for," he said.
"N-n-no problem," said Toothless. "Easy-p-p-peasy..." After two hot and breathless hours of running around after
Toothless and digging where he said he could sniff something, the boys surveyed what they had found.
1 turnip
3 rabbits (couldn't catch them)
1 small broken spoon
Um... that's it, really. Hiccup shook his head mournfully. "It's not good, is it?"
"Not good? NOT GOOD??" exclaimed a jeering voice behind them. "It's pathetic, that's what it is."
Hiccup turned round, and there was Snotlout, laughing so hard Dogsbreath had to hold him upright.
"I mean, a VEGETABLE and a PIECE OF CUTLERY?" Snotlout wiped the tears from his eyes. "It's just so brilliantly Useless...."
"Do you really think," tittered Snotlout, once he had recovered somewhat, "that microscopic amoeba," Snotlout pointed at Toothless, "is going to lead you to TREASURE? He couldn't sniff his way to his own bottom."
Toothless bristled angrily.
"But then he's just a mongrel Common or Garden...," scoffed Snotlout.
"Toothless-not-repeat-not-a-Common-or-Graden-D-d-dragon!" Graden-Dd-dragon!" howled Toothless. "Toothless VERY RARE breed c-c-called a Toothless Daydream...."
"Now, Fireworm here is a Monstrous Nightmare, one of your pure hunting greenbloods.... Look what a REAL hunting dragon can find if she puts her nose to it...." Snotlout reached into a bag slung round his waist and drew out a large silver plate, a dagger with ancient runes winding round the handle and a couple of pretty bead necklaces.
"And that's only an afternoon's work," said Snotlout.
Fireworm purred with pleasure. She shrugged her beautiful, shining, blood-red shoulders.
"To tie nose of an aristocrat like myself," she hissed, "the thing was reeking like a week-old haddock."
"Naturally," said Toothless, "if you have a nose the s-s-size of an elephant seal it m-m-makes life easy for you."
Fireworm's nostrils flared furiously. "I have a beautifully proportioned nose," she snapped.
"Now, now, Fireworm," chided Snotlout, who didn't understand Dragonese but knew they were trading insults, "don't let the peasants upset you. Just think of when we get to the Isle of the Skullions and you sniff out the treasure and everybody will know that I am the true heir to the Hairy Hooligans.... Nice thought, isn't it, Useless?"
Snotlout leant forward, and with the edge of the plate he was holding, pushed Hiccup very gently backwards until he overbalanced into the mud.
"Har Har Har Har Har!" snorted Snotlout and Dogsbreath, and they sauntered off.
It was very depressing.
All in all, ever since Alvin arrived, Hiccup had been walking around with a sick feeling in his stomach and a prickle of fear crawling spiderishly down the back of his neck.
It wasn't just the thought of the quest to the Isle of the Skullions (although he was already having nightmares about being ripped to pieces by panther-like creatures with teeth like broken glass). It was this feeling that there was something evil, something POISONOUS lurking on the Isle of Berk.
And that something really terrible was going to happen... sometime soon....
8. MEANWHILE, IN A CAVERN DEEP, DEEP UNDERGROUND
Meanwhile, in a Cavern deep, deep underground, a small Deadly
Nadder was crying for its mother.
It had wandered away from its home in the cozy tunnels of the Dragon Nursery, and lost itself in the maze of the Caliban Caves below.
Gradually, as it flapped frantically down wrong turn after wrong turn, the happy hissings and squawkings of its fellow dragons had grown fainter and fainter. For the last hour it had heard only the unhappy echoes of itself as it crept deeper and deeper into the blackness.
What is more, it had the bad luck to stumble into a Cavern inhabited by a gigantic creature who was guarding something precious. This was a far larger and scarier killing machine than a mere Skullion. It was at least a hundred years old, and living for a century in such gloomy depths had done very little for its soul or its brain. It was lonely and bitter, and had a longing for the light, which it had never seen. But most of all it was permanently hungry.
The little Nadder cried for its mother again, and hopped a bit farther forward.
A singularly unattractive sludgy tentacle curled its way around the small dragon and lifted it into the air.
The Creature did something to the Nadder to kill it, something most unpleasant, and the poor little animal let out a last shriek of absolute terror....
And then all was silence. [Table: Timetable.]
9. THE ADVANCED RUDERY LESSON IS INTERRUPTED
This jumpy time of waiting and preparing finally came to an end about two weeks later.
It was halfway through one of Gobber's Advanced Rudery lessons in the Great Hall.
Snotlout was in front of the rest of the class, having a Rudery Battle against Tuffnut Junior. Tuffnut Junior was struggling. He was naturally a good-natured boy and insults were not his strong point.
"You," said Tuffnut Junior, trying to sound sneery "are a big fat... and I mean really really fat... BULLY... and your granny is a... your granny is a... your granny is a... very naughty person...."
"Oh, for Thor's sake, Tuffnut Junior!" exploded Gobber furiously, tearing his beard out. "This is a simple exercise, can't you do better than THAT? Snotlout's granny is a yellow-bellied decrepit old oyster, Snotlout's granny is a barking mad old walrus-head...."
"Wossat????" howled Snotlout, so psyched up for the lesson that he didn't care who he attacked.
"No, no, Snotlout," soothed Gobber, "not really, I'm just telling
Tuffnut... you're supposed to think of something EXTRA VILE and then spit the words out... you show him, Snotlout."
"With pleasure," leered Snotlout. He leaned forward until his nose was just inches away from Tuffnut's. He grabbed Tuffnut around the neck for extra emphasis. His mean little eyes narrowed with menace, his nostrils quivered with temper.
"You," he spat out with savage contempt, "are a cowardly cowering cuttlefish...."
"BRILLIANT, Snotlout, BRILLIANT," cheered Gobber. 
"... with the heart of a jellyfish, the brains of a plankton and the stink of a barrelful of mackerel heads."
"Oh BRAVO, " boomed Gobber, "you go straight to the top of the class. At this rate, Snotlout, you will have no problems whatsoever becoming a pirate, which is more than I can say for the rest of you...."
ETC, ETC, ETC...
Hiccup raised his eyes to the heavens. He went on absentmindedly drawing pictures in his Insults Book.
He was unexpectedly interrupted by the arrival of Stoick the Vast, and behind him, smiling charmingly, Alvin the Poor-but-Honest Farmer.
"I apologize for disturbing your lesson, Gobber," beamed Stoick. "Not at all, not at all," said Gobber.
"But I bring GOOD NEWS. We are about to set out on our glorious QUEST TO THE ISLE OF THESKULUONS!!"
There was a short silence, in which Fishlegs turned white as a sheet and made faint moaning noises.
And then everybody else started cheering. Hiccup put up his hand.
"What about the Skullions?" he asked.
"I'm glad you asked that," replied Stoick the Vast enthusiastically. 'As we all know," he patted Hiccup affectionately on the head, "Skullions are terrifyingly vicious creatures...."
"Savage beyond your wildest dreams," murmured Hiccup.
"BUT," beamed Stoick, "they have not only lost their ability to fly, but also their sense of SIGHT. Indeed, they are guided to their prey almost entirely by smell alone. So it is Alvin's theory that if we BATHE thoroughly before we go -- unusual, I know, but you have to suffer to be rich -- we should be all right."
Fishlegs put up his hand. "Theory? Should be? What you're saying is that Alvin doesn't actually KNOW, and we could find ourselves flat on our backs being chewed to death very slowly by a bunch of ravenous reptiles."
Stoick nodded.
"In which case you shall enter Valhalla a Hero of the Tribe! And may I say here," said Stoick solemnly, "that anyone who dies in the course of his duty shall be awarded a posthumous Black Helmet."
"Oh yippee," murmured Hiccup.
"DEATH OR GLORY!" yelled Stoick the Vast, performing the complicated Hooligan salute, which consists of making a slitting motion across your own throat while letting out a fart like a clap of thunder.
"DEATH OR GLORY!" shouted Gobber the Belch, and eleven of the trainees shouted fanatically, "DEATH OR GLORY!" and made the salute back at him.
"OH, not this AGAIN," groaned Hiccup and Fishlegs to themselves. Stoick and Alvin's plan really was that simple. The Hooligans and dragons had to bathe themselves thoroughly. They had to present themselves the next day at the Great Hall, where Alvin would make sure they passed what Alvin called "the Sniff Test." This consisted of Alvin, who was good at this sort of thing, seeing if he could smell them or not, and the expedition would set off.
Hiccup nerved himself up to talk to his father, never an easy task. "Father," said Hiccup to Stoick, after he had bathed himself and
Toothless very thoroughly indeed.
"Hmmmm?" replied Stoick absentmindedly. He was attempting to dry off his own dragon, Newtsbreath, in front of the fire.
Newtsbreath was an acne-covered sludge green Gronckle the size of a small lion. He loathed water. It had taken Stoick forty minutes to catch him and dump him in the tub. Now he made a furious lunge at Stoick, grabbing his left forearm between his massive jaws. Stoick laughed merrily and gave him a sharp whack on the nose with the scrubbing brush.
"Now, now, Newtsbreath," chided Stoick, "don't be grumpy."
"I'm worried," continued Hiccup, "that we may be setting out on the wrong quest. Do you really think we should be looking for treasure? We're quite happy and peaceful enough without all that money."
Stoick ruffled Hiccup's hair affectionately.
"Don't you see," said Stoick excitedly, "YOU'RE going to be the one to find this treasure. That's what the riddle said, 'Only the True Heir can find it.' It has troubled me for some time that Baggybum and Snotlout might have their eyes on your throne. When YOU find the treasure, it will silence them forever. I'm doing this as much for YOU as for the gold and the glory, although I do see myself in a pair of fancy earrings, I must admit...."
"But what if I DON'T find the treasure?" asked Hiccup.
But Stoick wasn't listening. He had stomped off to get ready. "Oh bother," said Hiccup.
10. THE WORST DAY OF HICCUP'S LIFE SO FAR
At dawn on the day of the Quest, Hiccup got dressed very reluctantly indeed. He buckled on the sword his father had given him, hoping that it wouldn't get in the way too much. He slung a shovel in a sling I across his back, where he normally might have carried la bow and arrow. He was so nervous he couldn't eat his porridge.
He finally managed to drag Toothless out of bed and set off towards Hooligan Harbor, where everybody was meeting.
Toothless sat on his shoulder, angrily rubbing sleep out of his eyes with one wing.
"Toothless don't W-W-WABT to go on Quest,' he complained. "Is s-sstupid. Is s-s-silly. Is d-d-dangerous."
Hiccup could not have agreed with him more, but all he said was, "You're going to be all right. YOU'VE got wings. Any Skullions attack you, and you just just fly away."
"Yes, but T-t-t-toothless don't like the sight of b-b-blood...," whined Toothless. "You get torn to pieces and
Toothless feel s-s-sick...."
"We all have our problems," snapped Hiccup crossly.
Fishlegs was already at the Harbor, looking furious. His dragon, Horrorcow, sat at his feet, chewing quietly.
All the other boys were milling about, their dragons fighting each other or flapping over their heads. Everybody was thoroughly overexcited despite the very real prospect of being eaten alive.
"Who do you reckon would win if a Skullion was to fight a Bloody
Crocoraptor in one-to-one combat?" chatted Wartihog.
"Oh, the Skullion would win EVERY TIME," replied Clueless. "No question. My father says the Skullion is one of the most vicious creatures on the planet. It'd just whip out that famous extra-long claw and swipe... it'd be Goodnight Crocoraptor...."
"Ah," said Wartihog craftily, "but what if the Skullion had one paw tied behind its back, who would win then?"
"Idiots," fumed Fishlegs. "Idiots!! I'm surrounded by people with seaweed for brains."
Other than the boys, there were about fifty adult pirates in the
Skullion landing party, all of Stoick's biggest and finest
Warriors. Alvin was cracking jokes, giving out hearty handshakes and patting everybody on the back.
Stoick the Vast was delighted to be setting off on a military operation and marched about yelling orders.
"RIGHT, everybody. Once we've landed we split up into groups of two. We fan out across the island, and we get our dragons to sniff for the treasure. Notice you have all been supplied with a whistle
-- Gobber, could you demonstrate?"
Gobber blew a sharp blast on the whistle.
"P-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ep!"
"Once you hear that noise you will realize that somebody has found the treasure. Make your way towards the sound as quickly as possible so we can all help to carry it back to the ship. REMEMBER, the dragons will be sleeping during the day and it does not matter how much noise you make because the Skullion is stone-deaf. However, do try not to step on one and don't forget that their sense of smell is very acute indeed. So once you land on the island, THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY NO FARTING WHATSOEVER. Is that understood?"
The Warriors nodded solemnly.
"Righto, then," said Stoick. "Death or Glory." 
"DEATH OR GLORY!" yelled everybody.
And the Grimbeard's Treasure-Seeking Skullion Landing Party climbed aboard the good ship Lucky Thirteen to set sail for the Isle of the Skullions.
Dogsbreath the Duhbrain "accidentally" bumped into Hiccup as they climbed in and knocked him on to the floor of the boat, where Snotlout trod on him.
"Clumsy me," grinned Snotlout, swinging the Flashcut in a nonchalant fashion. "Good luck, Useless."
Lucky Thirteen set off slowly from the harbor through an ominous thick fog hanging heavily over the whole of the Inner Isles. It was difficult to see more than six feet ahead.
After three or four hours they caught sight of the Isle of the Skullions looming spookily through the mist. And Hiccup's immediate thoughts were, in no particular order, "Let's go home! Turn around! ABANDON SHIP!"
"Don't sweat," he told himself. "Skullions can smell sweat." But he could feel himself getting hotter and hotter with seasickness and fright as the island drew closer and closer....
In fact, even the bravest and most chatty of the Hooligans fell silent as they sailed deeper and deeper into waters their Tribe had been forbidden to enter for hundreds and hundreds of years.
For the Isle of the Skullions was a very sinister place.
The black cliffs in their odd pillar-like formations and the bloody bright-red earth seemed to whisper the word, "Death."
All around there were crazy towers of limpet shells stacked up in piles perilously high, like so many fantastic sculptures. Being unable to fly or swim, the Skullions were imprisoned on the island. They had long ago finished off any small mammals, reptiles or birds that had once lived there. For years they had had to exist on shellfish, the limpet in particular because it was so plentiful.
There was no sign of life anywhere. No rabbits, mice or other scuttly creatures running around the hillsides. No birds calling from the cliff tops. Nor were there any signs of the Skullions, either. There were, however, worryingly enormous holes dotted all over the landscape.
"Those must be their burrows," thought Hiccup.
They were larger than any burrows Hiccup had ever seen before. Some of the holes were as big as the front door of the Great Hall.
"They must be somewhere down there," thought Hiccup, swallowing hard.
Because there were no animals or birds, and no winds on such a calm day, there was an eerie silence.
Except, that is, for one terrifying sound.
Imagine the set-your-teeth-on-edge screech of chalk scratching on a blackboard multiplied hundreds of times over. It was the sort of noise you might get if you were sharpening a thousand knives on a thousand stones, but it was far more excruciating than that. It sent all of Hiccup's nerve endings wincing and jangling, even as he realized what the horrible rhythmic scritch-scratch was.
It was the sound of the Skullions sharpening that extra-long claw of theirs on a rock deep within their burrows. This was a practice Hiccup knew about, but had never actually heard in real life before, called "sleepsharpening."
Hiccup took a deep breath. "Well, at least we know they're asleep," he thought.
The Hooligans had to row three-quarters of the way around the island before they found a place where the boats could land safely. It was a wide-open bay, again with that strange blood-red sand.
Alvin stood up to make a speech.
Every dragon on the boat hissed and growled warningly as he spoke. "I wanted to wish everybody the best of Viking luck," he said, smiling smoothly and easily. "To my great, great sadness, I will not be able to join you on this part of the Quest. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to risk my life in this glorious enterprise. But even though I have washed thoroughly I am afraid my smell is so strong to dragons that it might put the whole operation in jeopardy. I shall just stay here and look after the boats."
"And it was all h-h-his idea in tie first place!" said Toothless, outraged, in Hiccup's ear. "S-see what Toothless means? An Outcast AND a c-c-coward....?"
Stoick patted his friend sympathetically on the back. "Very noble of you, Alvin," he whispered loudly. (It was difficult not to whisper even though the creatures had no ears to hear with.) "I'm sorry you lave to miss out on the fun. Okay, men, find yourself a partner, fan out across the island and if nobody finds anything at all, we'll meet back here in an hour."
Fireworm was in a frenzy of excitement as soon as they landed. She had clearly scented something already, and was dying to follow it up, her tail thrashing, whimpering and dribbling with her eagerness to be off.
"Now, no following US," grinned Snotlout, aiming a kick at Hiccup as he and Dogsbreath hurried after her.
Hiccup and Fishlegs stood looking at Toothless, but Toothless was showing no such joy at the task ahead. He sat calmly on the sand licking his tail in a thoughtful fashion. Fishlegs's dragon, Horrorcow, had already fallen asleep under a bench on the boat, so SHE was going to be no help.
"Can you sniff anything?" whispered Hiccup hopefully. Toothless sniffed.
"POOH," he said in disgust. "Lergified limpets and s-s-sunbaked Skullion.... Y-Y-Y-Y-YUCKY. L-l-l-l-let's get out of here."
"No, no, no," whispered Hiccup. "Treasure. Gold. Jewels. That sort of thing."
And he added craftily, "I'm sure a TOOTH-LESS DAYDREAM like yourself can sniff far better than a mere Monstrous Nightmare."
Toothless swelled with indignation as he remembered the nerve of that Fireworm creature. He sniffed some more.
"Toothless HAS got a slight c-c-c-cold," he said with dignity, "but that doesn't b-b-bother us aristocrats. There M-M-MIGHT be something coming from over there."
And he waved a claw vaguely towards the left.
So Hiccup drew his too-big sword, and they set off, keeping a sharp eye out for any Skullions that might be awake.
They waded through waist-high ferns and endless heather, much as they might have done on Berk. At one point they passed a GIGANTIC footprint in the mud. Hiccup knelt down to examine it.
"Woden preserve us," he murmured. "This means the Skullion is about TWICE as big as we previously thought."
"No question that it'd beat the Bloody Crocoraptor in one-to-one combat, then," said Fishlegs, unable to stop himself from laughing hysterically. "Oh, this is great, on top of everything else, I'm going
CRAZY."
Hiccup was feeling nervous about so many things it was difficult to concentrate on which worry to worry about most. He HAD to find the treasure. It was bad enough being the worst swordfighting trainee EVER, but if he didn't find this treasure that the Heir was supposed to find, then his father was going to be really disappointed. Hiccup hated disappointing his father, even though he had lots of practice at it.
And what if SNOTLOUT found the Treasure? Hiccup went cold and clammy at the thought.
He looked doubtfully at Toothless, who was hitching a ride perched on Fishlegs's shovel. He had shown no promise whatsoever when they had been practicing on Berk.
But Toothless had triumphed in a crisis before. When Hiccup was swallowed by a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, Toothless had flown up the Monster's nostril, causing him to sneeze, and saving
Hiccup's life. So he DID have hidden and surprising depths.
Maybe he was a hidden Sniffer as well as a hidden Hero. Maybe he really HAD caught a whiff of something.... Maybe...
Toothless thoughtfully picked his nose, examined the booger on the end of one talon, and swallowed it. He suddenly flapped off the spade and started leading the little procession in a worryingly aimless fashion. At one point he led them in a pointless circle. At another Hiccup stopped him in the nick of time before he woke up all the Skullions by doing a poo. Finally he settled on a small grassy patch at the top of a little hill. He sat down and scratched his ear.
"C-c-could be here," he said absentmindedly. Hiccup's heart beat a little quicker.
"Here?" he asked. Toothless nodded in an offhand way. The boys took out their shovels and, forgetting about the Skullions in their excitement, started to dig.
After about ten minutes of shoveling, they hit on an underground cache of limpet shells.
"Frittering Freya," said Fishlegs. "These Skullions eat a LOT of limpets. I bet this whole HILL is made out of limpets. I bet this whole ISLAND is made out of limpets...."
Hiccup's shovel hit on something hard and large and heavy just below the surface. Hiccup held his breath. He prodded again. Yes, it was definitely hard and heavy.
"I think I've got something here," he whispered. Toothless leapt up and down in excitement.
"T-T-TREASURE! T-T-TREASURE!" he chanted. "You going; to be a Hero! And T-t-toothless tie Hero's Dragon! You going to be..."
Hiccup reached down, caught an edge of the hard object and, struggling with both hands, p-u-1-l-e-d out of the earth...
The most gigantic limpet shell anyone had ever seen.
At exactly the same moment as Hiccup sat down suddenly, gazing at the limpet, there was the faint, clear sound of a whistle being blown not far away.
"P-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ep!"
"Useless," said Hiccup, staring at the limpet. "I really am
USELESS. This is the second time the Gods have sent me a sign. The first time they sent me a minuscule dragon three times smaller than anyone else's...."
"Thank you," said Toothless, staring down into the hole. "D-d-ddon't understand it. Really DID smell m-m-m-metal...."
"... THIS time they send me a gigantic limpet."
"It's the most enormous limpet I've ever seen," said Fishlegs in awe. "I think you may have discovered a whole new species."
"Oh brilliant," said Hiccup sarcastically, "that'll impress the Tribe. They're all such NATURE LOYERS."
He was feeling very black.
"A limpet," said Hiccup, "HOWEVER big it is, is only ever a limpet. It's not TREASURE, is it? I never heard of a saga where the Hero discovers a new type of mollusk...."
"Meanwhile," Hiccup continued, "I hear that the REAL Heir to the
Hairy Hooligan Tribe has found the treasure. PLEASE don't let it be
Snotlout.'
Hiccup repeated this to himself over and over again as they trudged towards the continuous noise of the whistle.
"Please don't let it be Snotlout, PLEASE don't let it be Snotlout, please, please, PLEASE don't let it be Snotlout...."
11. THE TREASURE OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY
Of course it was Snotlout who had found the treasure.
There he stood, chest stuck out, nostrils flaring, a big fat smile on his smug face. Fireworm, his dragon, had blown up to nearly twice her size with pride.
He was surrounded by a crowd of Vikings, who were giving him the Hooligan Hoorah: "SNOT-LOUT SNOT-LOUT SNOT-LOUT, UGH UGH UGH."
Snotlout grinned even more widely when he saw Hiccup trudging up, trying to look inconspicuous (difficult when you are attended by a friend carrying a gigantic limpet).
"Look what I've found, Hiccup," drawled Snotlout.
Snotlout had found a large wooden chest, very battered and scuffed and thoroughly gnawed by Skullions. It had the words " PROPERTY OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY DO NOT OPEN"written on it in large golden letters.
Hiccup sighed. No chance of it NOT being the treasure, then. "Righto then," said Stoick, rubbing his hands together in a businesslike fashion. "Let's open it."
Hiccup forgot about shutting up and keeping a low profile. "Father," he whispered urgently, "we can't open it here. Look, it says 'DO NOT OPEN' on the front. Remember what happened last time?"
"NONSENSE," bellowed Stoick, who had never been more disappointed by his son. Why hadn't HE found the treasure? WHAT was his odd-looking friend doing carrying that ridiculously large shell?
Now Baggybum was going to start suggesting that Snotlout was the rightful Heir to the Tribe, and then Stoick would have to shut him up by fighting him, and it was all Hiccup's fault.
"Of course we open it NOW. What's the point of looking for treasure if you can't open the box when you find it?"
"Please," pleaded Hiccup, "you don't think a cunning old pirate like Grimbeard the Ghastly is going to leave a box lying around without there being some sort of trick to it? It'll be BOOBY- TRAPPED. Look what happened when Alvin opened the coffin in the first place -- it chopped off his hand -- and then when we opened it later everybody nearly died of fright...."
Stoick finally lost his temper with his son.
"WHO is in charge here, anyway?" he roared. "I am the Chief of the
Hairy Hooligans, not you, you small boy."
Hiccup flinched.
"Those were coincidences, not BOOBY TRAPS. 
And I am not going to lug a great heavy box like this one all the way home only to find it's full of stones."
Stoick's eyes were already bright with a strange greedy light that Hiccup had never seen before.
"Good point, Chief," said Gobber the Belch. "May I?" Gobber swung his axe way over his head and brought it down on the chains wrapped around the box, snapping them in two.
"Snotlout should open it, as HE found it," said Baggybum the Beerbelly.
Stoick sighed. "Okay then," he said.
Snotlout proudly stepped forward. This was his big moment. He shot a nasty look at Hiccup.
"Not a good idea, NOT a good idea, NOT A GOOD IDEA," said Hiccup and Fishlegs to themselves as Snotlout reached out tattooed muscly arms towards the box....
HOT A G-G-GOOD IDEA," said Toothless, closing his eyes as Snotlout slowly lifted up the lid....
c r-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-k.... 
12. ESCAPE FROM THE ISLE OF THE SKULLIONS
The chest was not full of stones.
It was full to the brim with a gorgeous treasure. Strings of jewels, golden cups, objects more dazzlingly bright than anything the Hooligans had ever seen before.
"Is it s-s-s-safe to look, n-n-n-ow?" asked Toothless, still with his eyes shut.
Hiccup opened his eyes. "I think so," he said uncertainly.
He had drawn his sword as Snotlout opened the chest, and now he peered in.
"It seems," he said suspiciously, "it seems to be just a box full of treasure."
"OF COURSE it is," said Stoick. "What did I tell you? No BOOBY TRAPS. You have too much imagination, my boy. Sometimes you have to leave things to the experience of your elders and betters."
Snotlout had already reached in and drawn out a truly magnificent sword, the scabbard richly decorated with dragons, skulls and the waves of an angry sea.
THAT was a sword fit for a Pirate King. It made the soft hiss of a serpent as Snotlout gently drew it out of the scabbard, and as the sunlight glinted on the still-bright, cruel blade, you could see how bitingly sharp it was, even after all these years underground.
On the handle was a furious portrait of Thor the Thunderer with a tangled seaweedy beard, and across the blade was a zigzag lightning pattern in a lighter silver.
"The Stormblade...," breathed Baggybum the Beerbelly.
It was, indeed, the Stormblade, Grimbeard the Ghastly's famous sword, with which he had ruled over the entire Inner Isles in such a ruthless fashion.
As Snotlout waved it gently to and fro, it seemed to give off a fierce, hungry light of its own.
Gently, Stoick reached over and took it from his nephew.
"MINE, I think you'll find," said Stoick calmly. "The Stormblade belongs to the CHIEF of the Hairy Hooligans, and to him ALONE."
There was a crafty, greedy look in his eye as he threw aside his own sword and took hold of the Stormblade.
Toothless wrinkled his snout and sniffed.
"What's that s-s-s-s-smell?" "What smell?" asked Hiccup.
"THAT smell," replied Newtsbreath, making a face.
Hiccup looked across at Fireworm, the greatest sniffer of them all. The normally flame-red dragon was drooping on Snotlout's shoulder, an extraordinary shade of pale green.
"Suffering scallops!" shouted Hiccup. 
"The Skullions!!! SHUT THE BOX!" and he launched himself at the box lid, trying to shut it.
"The boy's gone crazy," said Baggybum the Beerbelly, easily preventing Hiccup from shutting it by holding it open with one massive forefinger.
"Crazy with jealousy," sneered Snotlout.
"SHUT THE BOX! SHUT THE BOX! SHUT THE BOX!" yelled Hiccup, struggling in Baggybum's arms.
"Now, now, my boy," said Stoick, irritated, but trying to soothe his son, "you can find some treasure NEXT time, I'm sure. We're quite safe, the Skullions can't see us or hear us...."
"But they can SMELL us!" shouted Hiccup. "GRIMBEARD HAS BOOBY- TRAPPED THE BOX WITH A SMELL THAT WILL WAKE THE SKULLIONS!!!"
"What do you mean, smell us?" asked Stoick. 
He gave an experimental sniff. Now the stench was so strong even the humans were noticing it. Fireworm had already thrown up in the heather. All the Hooligans started sniffing, and there it was, an unmistakable reek of rotting fish and long-dead walrus... with perhaps a hint of month-old crabmeat.
"POOH," murmured the Hooligans, their attention wandering from the treasure.
"SHUT... THE... BOX!" yelled Hiccup, purple in the face from fury at their stupidity. Light dawned on Stoick the Vast's stupid countenance.
"Ahhhhh... I see what you mean.... SHUT THE BOX. Quickly, quickly!" At last he realized the urgency of the situation and shut the box, sitting on it for good measure.
But it made no difference.
The smell was getting stronger by the minute, an unimaginably horrid stench.
If the Skullions caught just one WHIFF of that horrible smell, it wouldn't take long for them to wake up and... the thought was too awful to contemplate.
And then Hiccup realized that the awful scritch-scratch of the sleep-sharpening had stopped... and that meant... that meant...
"R-R-R-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-U-N!" shouted Hiccup.
At exactly the same moment Fireworm shrieked, "D-E-S-E-R-R-R-R-R-R- R-R-R-R-T!"
"Let's get out of here," said Stoick the Vast. He and Gobber the Belch carried the box together. The Hooligans didn't need the order. They were already running as fast as they could towards the beach where the boats were....
"Leave the box here, Father," panted Hiccup as he jogged along beside his father. "They'll go for the box, not us."
"NO WAY," said Stoick, his eyes still shining with that glow Hiccup hadn't seen before. "Think of Alvin's disappointment. Besides, this is my chance for GREATNESS," he huffed, knocking over a big tower of limpets as he blundered along.
"You are great ALREADY, Father," urged Hiccup, "you don't need this treasure...."
But Stoick wouldn't leave it behind.
As they passed the burrows Hiccup could begin to hear horrible snuffling noises coming from inside.
He ran a bit faster.
His heart pounding in terror, he bounded through the heather and crashed through the ferns, at one point falling flat on his face.
The smell was now so strong that it was becoming visible, drifting out of the dents and cracks Gobber had made in the chest in a thick greeny-yellow vapor.
The cliffs of the beach were in sight. They had passed the last mound of Skullions. Maybe they would make it after all.
And then Hiccup heard a noise that made his stomach turn doublesomersaults in terror. The noise of animals like big dogs or lions padding behind him, bounding through the heather.
"R-r-r-r-r-r-r-run!" shrieked Toothless, who was flying three or four feet above Hiccup's head.
Hiccup, Fishlegs, Stoick and Gobber were trailing behind the others, Hiccup and Fishlegs because they were not fast runners, Stoick and Gobber because they were hampered by the box they were carrying.
"So they'll get us first," thought Hiccup.
The Skullions were now so close behind them that they could hear the horrible snotty snuffling noises they were making in their noses and the clicking of their teeth.
Hiccup reached the brow of the dunes and launched himself off it in a huge jump onto the sand below. He landed okay but tripped over his too-large Stretchapoint sword. He rolled over onto his back to look up at the ghastly sight of a gigantic slobbering Skullion, claws outstretched, leaping right on top of him. Its great head was just inches above Hiccup's face.
It was the most dreadful thing Hiccup had ever seen, and it would give him nightmares until he was an old, old man. It was a face that wasn't a face, no eyes and ears, just that vast nose and slobbering mouth, punctuated by sparkling silver teeth Black saliva dripped down onto Hiccup's face in a disgusting dribble. The
Skullion was holding him down with one clawed paw, while he sniffed down the rest of his body, searching for the tendon in his ankles, the sunlight glinting on that one ludicrously overgrown talon....
Hiccup fumbled for his sword, but the Stretchapoint had fallen out of reach.
Hiccup opened his mouth to shout for help, but no noise came out. "Help me," he mouthed soundlessly. "HELP ME."
Somebody appeared from nowhere, grabbed the Skullion around the throat and killed it with one blow from his sword.
It was Stoick the Vast.
The strange grip the treasure had on Stoick loosened as soon as he saw his son's life was in danger,
He left Baggybum the Beerbelly to carry the chest to the ship. He was holding the Stormblade in his right hand and an axe in his left.
"MOVE!!!" yelled Stoick the Vast.
Hiccup moved. He stumbled across the sand.
He could hear more of the creatures bounding after him.
"I'm not... going... to... make it... to the boats in time," he thought to himself.
There was a hollow tree trunk sunk into the sand in front of him.
"Climb under the t-t-tree! Climb under the tree!" screeched Toothless.
Hiccup scrambled under it in the nick of time. He could hear a Skullion's jaws clanging together just as he pulled his ankle through the dip in the sand below the tree.
The Skullion was too large to follow him but it pushed its revolting quivering nose through the gap and it started to gnaw at the wood around the hole.
Hiccup grabbed a bone lying on the ground and shoved it as hard as he could up one gigantic nostril.
The Skullion fell back with a howl of anguish.
There was a sickening crash from above as a Skullion landed on top of the tree... and then another... and another.... Hiccup could hear horrible scratchings as they worried away with their teeth, trying to break through the wood.
Way above that, Toothless was screaming continuously, "H-h-help! Help! H-H-H-H-HELP!"
Hiccup swiped at another nose appearing at the hole....
All around him at the edges of the tree trunk he could hear the scrabbling sound of creatures digging through the sand.
It was only a question of time before one of them broke through.... Through a crack at eye level Hiccup could see his father fighting his way towards him up the beach. His dragon hadn't deserted him.
Noble Newtsbreath was recklessly tearing into the back of a
Skullion three times larger than himself that was about to leap at
Stoick.
C-R-U-N-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-C-CH 
A Skullion talon pierced the tree trunk, so close to Hiccup that it grazed his chest as it went through.
The head and shoulders of the Skullion appeared in the gaping hole the talon had made. It opened its jaws so wide Hiccup could see right down its black throat.
Hiccup screamed and fell backwards.
Just as the creature lunged forwards to kill him, Hiccup was grabbed around the ankle by one of Stoick's hairy hands, and pulled back through the hole he had climbed in.
Stoick dragged him out, and lifted him up. "Put your arms up!" bellowed Stoick.
Newtsbreath, hovering overhead, took hold of Hiccup's arms with his talons and carried him up into the air. Toothless grabbed one leg, struggling to help.
Newtsbreath spread out his great wings to their fullest extent.
The Skullions chased after them as they flew, leaping up to bite at Hiccup like dogs after a tidbit. Newtsbreath groaned with the strain of trying to get enough height to keep Hiccup out of range of their mapping jaws.
Every now and then, the effort became too much for him, and to Hiccup's terror, he plunged suddenly downwards towards the beach. There was one very close call when Hiccup swung his body out of the way just in time as one of the monsters made a tremendous leap and nearly took his legs off at the knee.
By the time they got to the sea, Newtsbreath's strength had gone, and Hiccup's ankles were dragging in the water.
But they were safe.
Skullions cannot swim, and they loathe the water.
A few more beats of Newtsbreath's wings, and he dropped Hiccup sprawling the deck of the Lucky Thirteen. He then whirled round wearily, and flapped back to try and help his Master.
Stoick was doing surprisingly well without his help, considering he was fighting a lone battle against increasing numbers of Skullions. Normally, this would have resulted in one dead Chief in about ten seconds flat. You have to remember that Stoick was forty and very, very fat.
But with the Stormblade in his hand, Stoick seemed to have been transformed.
He was awesome.
Yelling the spine-chilling Hooligan Yell, eyes crazy with bloodlust, he performed the Fighting-Against-Superior-Numbers Maneuver with spectacular success.
This is a highly complicated Pirate Fighting Skill that only the most coordinated and brilliant fighters can carry out.
The pirate takes the Double-Headed Supa-Axe in his left hand and whirls it around his head in a continuous circle that the enemies are unable to penetrate without getting their heads chopped off. At the same time, with the right hand the pirate lunges out of the defensive circle with his sword to attack the enemy.
As you can imagine if you have ever tried to rub your stomach with one hand while patting your head with the other, this Attacking-While-Defending Skill can only be carried out by the most brilliant and coordinated of Vikings.
Skullion after Skullion fell down dead around Stoick as he walked slowly forwards. But a continuous shining wave of the Creatures had poured onto the beach and were cutting off his route to the boats. It seemed impossible that he could make it through the sheer mass of them all, and Newtsbreath, though flying as hard as he could, was still too far away to be any help.
And then, to the complete astonishment of the watching Hooligans, their corpulent, creaky old Leader leapt onto the BACK of the nearest Skullion. The creature madly twisted and bucked, trying to throw him off, but Stoick held on grimly, gripping with his powerful thighs alone, so that he could reach down to right and left, dispatching Skullions with sword and axe.
He cut his way through the mob, riding the maddened beast right into the sea, for all the world as if he were astride an ancient old broken-in Dragon Steed. When the Creature finally bucked him off in the shallows, he turned the fall into a belly flop forwards, checked for a moment to stow away the sword and the axe, and swam like fury for the boat.
The whole wide bay, and the immediate horizon, was now filled with thousands and thousands of these beasts from hell. It was like a vision out of your worst nightmare.
But the Skullions stopped at the water's edge, and stayed there howling and shrieking furiously. So angry were they that they started turning on the weaker members of their pack, and a few of the creatures were ripped to pieces in front of Hiccup's eyes.
The Hooligans cheered and cheered and cheered. Stoick was very pleased with himself.
He acknowledged the frantic applause, wiped the blood off the Stormblade onto his shirt, and kissed the clean blade.
And then he threw back his hairy head and ROARED like an animal, and so wild did he look with the sword in his hand and the blood on his shirt that Hiccup barely recognized his own father.
13. THE TREASURE
The graze on Hiccup's chest was actually deeper than he had realized in the terror of the moment. It would leave a scar that would stay with him for the rest of his life as a reminder of a morning spent on the Isle of the Skullions.
And his right arm was dislocated from the strain of hanging from the talons of Newtsbreath. Gobber put it back in its socket (a very painful process, as Gobber was not the most tender of nurses) and tore a strip off his shirt to make Hiccup a sling for it.
The Hooligans gave themselves a couple of minutes to pat each other on the back and celebrate, before grabbing the oars again. They were eager to leave the spooky Isle of the Skullions far, far behind them. It wasn't until they were within sight of the friendly cliffs of Berk that they felt safe enough to ship their oars, and let the Lucky Thirteendrift for a while in calm but misty seas while they investigated their prize.
When Stoick lifted the lid of the box again, the smell had nearly gone. But underneath the treasure there was a scattering of greenish-yellow crystals which appeared to be smoking slightly, and they still gave off that rotten-egg stench. These were J what Grimbeard had used to boobytrap the box -- as soon as they came into contact with the air they let off their smell, which then alerted the Skullions.
A very effective and deadly defense of his treasure.
And WHAT a treasure it was... Alvin could not I speak for at least three minutes. He just stood there, eyes popping, picking up object after object and stroking it, letting his hands run lovingly through the coins.
"Of course, ten percent of this treasure shall be yours, Alvin," boomed Stoick the Vast, sticking his belly out in pride at his own generosity.
"You are tooooo kind, dearest Stoick," murmured Alvin, when he could say anything at all.
"Hang on an oyster-catching minute," interrupted Baggybum the Beerbelly. "Firstly, I want it acknowledged that SNOTLOUT found this treasure."
"Acknowledged," said Stoick the Vast reluctantly.
Hiccup knew he should be thankful to be alive, but he was unspeakably miserable. He knew what all this was going to mean.
Hiccup, although the son of the Chief, was not the True Heir to the Hairy Hooligans. The
True Heir was Snotlout, who had always been bigger, faster and more brilliant than Hiccup at everything.
"Secondly," continued Baggybum, "as the FINDER OF THE TREASURE, technically it belongs to MY SON Snotlout, and I don't know whether Snotlout feels like giving away any of it to some stranger...."
"He definitely doesn't," grinned Snotlout.
Stoick the Vast banged shut the treasure chest. He lifted Baggybum the Beerbelly clear off the ground by the front of his shirt, which was quite some feat considering Baggybum the Beerbelly was about the size of a killer whale who hadn't had much exercise recently.
"I AM THE CHIEF OF THIS TRIBE!" roared Stoick the Vast. "I LAUNCHED THIS EXPEDITION TO FIND THE TREASURE OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY AND THIS TREASURE BELONGS TO ME AND ME ALONE!"
Baggybum the Beerbelly gave Stoick a quick jab in the kidney, which made Stoick drop him, sharpish. He yelled right back in Stoick's face:
"WELL, MAYBE YOU'VE BEEN CHIEF OF THIS TRIBE A LITTLE TOO LONG, BIG
BROTHER! MAYBE THIS IS A SIGN FROM THE GODS THAT IT'S TIME YOU
RETIRED, WHAT DID THAT PROPHECY SAY ABOUT THE HEIR FINDING THE
TREASURE? IF MY SON IS THE HEIR, MAYBE THAT JUST MAKES ME THE CHIEF
OF THE TRIBE INSTEAD OF YOU!!!"
"NO!" yelled Stoick, stamping his foot.
"I'M THE CHIEF!" "ARE NOT!"
"AM TOO!"
They had grabbed each other by the shoulders and were carrying out a Staring Contest, the horns on their helmets locked together like a couple of rutting stags.
"Neff off," said Stoick, with quiet and sinister emphasis. "No, YOU neff off," replied Baggybum.
"No, YOU neff off." "YOU!"
"YOU!" etc. etc. etc.
While all this was going on, nobody noticed Alvin doing something rather strange.
When the Lucky Thirteen sailed into easy flying distance of the cliffs of Berk, most of the dragons had flown off back to the Hooligan Village, for food and rest. The only one who had remained on the Lucky Thirteen was Toothless. Toothless, who was a lazy little creature, considered this too far to fly. And he had caught himself a couple of nice plump mackerel on the way. So there he still was, on the deck, watching the fight with interest.
For some strange reason of his own, Alvin picked up a heavy empty barrel. He placed it over the excited little dragon, trapping him underneath.
He then interrupted the fight between Stoick and Baggybum.
"Now, now," said Alvin soothingly, "little clams in their shells agree. This should be a JOYFUL moment, the beginning of a glorious new era for the Hooligan Tribe. There is plenty of treasure for all of you. I propose a toast to celebrate the finding of the treasure."
The Hooligans cheered, hoping to get over a difficult moment. Gobber and Hugefarts pulled Stoick and Baggybum apart, because otherwise they were clearly prepared to stand there all day. Some of the other Hooligan Warriors handed out black-currant wine for the toast.
Stoick the Vast drew the Stormblade. He had already decked himself out in some fancy earrings from the treasure chest.
"Half-wits and HEROES," he shouted. "We, a small band of unbeatable barbarians, are about to become the center of a New Empire, an Empire to rival Rome in her glory days!
With this treasure," Stoick lifted his cup of black-currant wine, his eyes glittering, "the Hairy Hooligans shall become
INVINCI -- "
14. THE DAY TAKES A TURN FOR THE WORSE
Stoick never finished the word "invincible" because halfway through he was grabbed around the neck by an enormous wild-eyed individual and a not very clean knife was held to his neck. So the word ended up more like "INVINCI-ugh-ugh-ugh/' as Stoick choked and his eyes popped.
All around the rowing benches every Hooligan aboard had been grabbed from behind and knives were held at every throat.
The Hooligans' nerves were still jangling from the flight from the Skullions. And they had been so busy arguing that they hadn't spotted a small sleek boat sneaking up through the mist and drawing alongside the Lucky Thirteen. A boat named the Hammerhead with a sail curved like a shark's fin and a red skull and crossbones painted on the side. A boat packed to the brim with OUTCASTS.
They were not a pretty crew, despite their height, and their handsome red hair, and their gorgeous clothes, and every kind of golden ornament. Many had scars carved into their faces. One or two were without a nose or an ear. Most had filed their teeth into sharp little points, like the teeth of a shark. Even the good-looking ones were disfigured by dark red tattoos, said to be made out of the blood of their enemies. They talked to each other in the most difficult of Viking languages, Outcastese, which sounds very much like the barking of a dog.
The Outcasts had swarmed over the side and crept up behind the Hooligans as they were admiring the Treasure and themselves. Toothless had smelt them, of course. He knew they were coming and he had been going crazy inside the big heavy barrel, shrieking at the top of his voice, "OUTCASTS! R-R-RUN FOR YOUR LIVES, YOU S-S-S- STUPID H-H-HUMANS!!!"
But nobody had heard him.
All in all, this was turning into a very bad day for the Hooligans. Outcasts, like Skullions, are the kind of creature one really hopes one can live a lifetime without bumping into, let alone seeing BOTH of them at close quarters in the space of one morning.
Hiccup did not realize they were Outcasts. But he knew they were Bad Trouble.
His heart started jumping in his chest like a mudskipper as he looked into the terrible face of the man who had Stoick the Vast by the throat. His curly horns were quite three feet high. When he opened his mouth he growled like a dog.
For a whole minute, nobody said a word. Nobody dared move a muscle. There was no noise at all except for that terrible dog-like growling from the Outcast who was holding
Stoick... and the sound of Alvin drinking.
There was no knife at Alvin's throat.
Calmly, he finished off the last delicious drops of black-currant wine. Smoothly, he put the cup down.
"I thought that I would provide a -- ah -- surprise ending to our little journey," said Alvin, with his charming smile. "I DO like surprises, don't you, my dear Stoick?"
Stoick gargled inarticulately.
"Such fun, aren't they?" continued Alvin. "I am so sorry to say, however, that the day of glory for the Hooligan Tribe may be -- ah
-- put off for a while. You see, I feel that I ought to have rather more of the treasure then a mere ten percent. And in case you didn't agree I thought I would bring along some of my relatives to
-- ah -- persuade you to give it up."
Stoick gargled again.
Alvin barked out a few words in Outcastese to Curly Horns, who barked back at him again.
"I have to admit at this point that I have been guilty of a little innocent deception," said Alvin. "My name is not Alvin the Poorbut-Honest Farmer. I am, in fact, His Most Mighty Murderousness Alvin the Treacherous, Great High Chieftain of the Outcast Tribe. I don't know why, but I felt that if I had told you this from the beginning you might not have given me a very warm welcome."
"An OUTCAST?" gasped the Hooligans.
Alvin laughed. "That's right," he said, "an Outcast. Us Outcasts don't always go around on all fours dressed in animal skins, you know. Even we are moving with the times." He went over to Stoick and gently removed the Stormblade from Stoick's hand.
"MINE, I think," said Alvin.
Alvin unscrewed the claw from his right hand, as Hiccup had seen him do once before. He attached his "sword-holder" contraption in its place, into which he carefully twisted the Stormblade. He screwed it very tightly, so that it was completely steady. And while he did all this, he talked.
"You see, Stoick," said Alvin, "we Barbarian Chieftains are facing a new challenge. We have to fight the creeping forces of Civilization by becoming FIERCER and CRUELER than ever. YOU, Stoick, have GONE SOFT."
"I have NOT!" protested Stoick indignantly.
"Grimbeard the Ghastly would be turning in his grave if he could see you now," tut-tutted Alvin. "You Hooligans have become bungling
AMATEURS, all noise and show with no real wickedness to you at all. Now, I have worked hard to bring us Outcasts up to date. Outwardly, we now have some of the clothes and the manners of Civilization... but inwardly we are tougher and more truly Outcast than we have ever been. We are your REAL PROFESSIONAL PIRATES, heartless, murdering, bloodsucking slave-traders...." Alvin paused for breath.
"Talking of which," he then continued, "take your last look at your rather plain little island...." He gestured at the friendly cliffs of Berk. 'All of you Hooligans are about to enter the slave trade yourselves, in the very important role of SLAVES."
The Hooligans groaned. There was no worse fate for a proud and independent Viking than to be sold into bondage.
"I am sure you will all make excellent slaves," said Alvin kindly,
"because you are all very strong, and, frankly, none too bright.
And I do hate to threaten, but anybody who objects will thoroughly regret it."
An Outcast with no nose stepped forward and uncurled an ugly black whip from around his waist, with a handle shaped like a serpent.
Alvin clapped his hands and the Outcasts began loading the Hooligans onto the deck of the Hammerhead.
"Yup, you shall all be slaves. All that is...," smiled Alvin, "...
except for you, Stoick."
Curly Horns let Stoick go, and proudly, he stepped forward.
"To Chieftains and their descendants we pay the ultimate sign of respect," said Alvin with just a tiny hint of menace in his voice, "by EATING them."
"But that's CANNIBALISM," said Stoick, shocked.
"I know, I know," sighed Alvin. "It's very old-fashioned of me, but I would lose respect in front of the rest of my Tribe if I dropped ALL the old traditions...."
"But... but... but... but...." blustered Stoick.
"I shall not change my mind, whatever you say," said Alvin gently. "The thing about dinner is, it never wants to be eaten. I mean, you eat PORK, don't you, Stoick?"
"Well, yeees," admitted Stoick.
"There you are then!" said Alvin. "No pig is ever going to VOLUNTEER to be supper, and, thinking of volunteers..." Something seemed to be amusing Alvin. He giggled delightedly. "I mentioned that it would not only be Stoick who would receive this, ah... honor,"
said Alvin, "but also his descendants. I know there has been some sort of argument about this recently. The question is," continued
Alvin, struggling to keep a straight face, "WHO is the Heir to
Stoick the Vast? Could they put up their hand please?"
Strangely enough, Snotlout did not put up his hand at this point. Instead, he tried to hide behind Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, staring very hard at his bronze-tipped sandals, as if he hadn't quite heard the question.
Hiccup sighed.
He stood right up on the bench so that everyone could see him. "I," said Hiccup, "I am the Heir to Stoick the Vast."
Stoick smiled a big, proud smile.
For all their manners, the Outcasts whispered a great deal at that. Hiccup didn't have to speak Outcastese to know that they were saying things like: "That skinny prawn is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans???"
Two gigantic Outcasts lifted Hiccup from the bench and set him down next to Stoick the Vast.
Alvin held up the Stormblade. The sword was now just an extension of his arm, like the horn of a narwhal is an extension of its nose.
"It looks as if it has always been there, doesn't it?" said Alvin. The daylight played across the bolt of lightning motif. Alvin drew a finger across the blade ever so lightly, and blood instantly dropped onto the deck.
"Nice and sharp. This won't take a second," promised Alvin, stepping towards Hiccup.
15. THE BATTLE ON BOARD THE LUCKY THIRTEEN
Alvin advanced towards Hiccup, with the Stormblade raised above his head.
Hiccup closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.
But at that moment Toothless finally managed to overturn the barrel he was trapped underneath.
He had been throwing his entire body weight at one side for the past five minutes. At last he made an extra-strong he-e-e-eave, the barrel tipped over, and rolled at great speed across the deck with Toothless rumbling round and round inside it... and bowled straight into the legs of Alvin the Treacherous... who lost his footing and fell over....
Alvin gave an ooohh of surprise, the Outcasts were distracted for one vital second, and Stoick turned round and felled Curly Horns with a good old-fashioned uppercut right under the chin.
From that moment on, there was chaos aboard the Lucky Thirteen.
The Hooligans took advantage of their captors' surprise as the swords against their throats were lowered for a moment.
"THIS IS MORE LIKE IT! I'LL TEACH YOU TO SAY THE HOOLIGANS HAVE
GONE SOFT!!!!" Stoick let out the Viking War Cry and launched himself on the enemy completely barehanded. He crashed two Outcasts' heads together, jabbed another in the kidney with his foot, and when that one doubled over in pain, leapfrogged over his back to face another couple of the opposition.
All might not have gone well for him, however, unarmed as he was, if Baggybum the Beerbelly had not come to his aid. The two brothers, who had been fighting each other five minutes earlier, now fought the enemy back-to-back for the rest of the battle.
The "Battle on Board the Lucky Thirteen" would be a Saga that the Hooligans would tell their children and grandchildren for many, many years to come. The military prowess of the Outcast Tribe was legendary throughout the Viking World. But the Hooligans were desperate and angry. They were battling for their FREEDOM itself, and so fought more wildly, more fiercely, than perhaps they had ever done before or since.
No fewer than twenty Black Stars* were awarded to Warriors after the battle was over. No wonder, for the Pirate Fighting Skills on display on that occasion were a joy to watch. They were also a tribute to the old soldier, Gobber, who had taught most of the Warriors all that they knew. There, on one corner of the deck, was Nobber Nobrains, performing the highly skilled maneuver known as the Dance of the Axes, in which the pirate rapidly juggles two twirling axes from one hand to the other, hypnotizing and confusing the enemy, before the pirate lunges forward for the fatal blow.
Up around the mast were the boys from the Pirate Training Program, valiantly tackling Outcasts nearly twice their size, putting into practice all that
* The "Black Star" was a medal given to Hooligan Warriors for Outstanding Bravery in the Field of Combat.
they had learnt during those Swordfighting at Sea lessons.
The behavior of Fishlegs was particularly surprising. As soon as the battle began, he completely lost control, throwing himself at the enemy, shrieking furiously and whirling his sword around his head like a madman.
Vikings call this "going Beserk" and Warriors who do this are revered in Viking society.
You could not imagine a more unlikely candidate for being a Beserk than Fishlegs, but there we are, these things are never predictable.
The Outcasts stayed out of his way, for a Beserk is always respected, even if he is only four foot ten with a squint and a limp and no swordfighting skills whatsoever.
It has to be admitted (reluctantly) that Snotlout fought with spectacular brilliance and bravery. His quick wrist made the Flashcut slip neatly in and out, hither and thither, beautifully performing the Destroyer's Defense, Grimbeard's Grapple, the Final Cut, and many, many more of the subtlest swordfighting skills. In the space of five minutes no fewer than three Outcasts lay dead around him, all much larger and heavier than himself. This is a schoolboy record that stands to this day.
I would love to say that Hiccup fought similarly splendidly. But I can't, because it wouldn't be true. Hiccup had dislocated his arm, remember, and his sword, the Stretchapoint, lay somewhere on the beach at the Isle of the Skullions. But Hiccup did what he could. With his quick left hand he picked a key out of Curly Horns's pocket while he fought Gobber the Belch. He used the key to unlock the chains of four or five Hooligans who had already been bound, ready for slavery, who then joined in the fight with the others.
Toothless created an extra diversion when he spilled out of the barrel, dizzy and confused, and bit the first hairy leg that he saw. Which happened to belong to a grossly fat Outcast, who promptly dropped the flare he had been carrying right in the open barrel of black-currant wine.
And Thor only knows what was IN that black-currant wine, but the entire barrel burst into flames.
The fire raged out of control.
The sail burned furiously, and thick black smoke poured over the deck.
Everybody started jumping off the Lucky Thirteen in order to escape the flames.
Stoick belly flopped into the sea, and splashed over to the Outcast boat, the Hammerhead, where the pitched battle was continuing. As he climbed over the side of theHammerhead, he turned back to his son and shouted, "Come ON, Hiccup!"
"Your f-f-f-father's right," panted Toothless, "w-w-we should go." Hiccup hesitated.
Fishlegs was still aboard the Lucky Thirteen.
He was in the grip of the Beserk trance, and was following Alvin, sword in hand, hoping to kill him.
Alvin had turned back to fetch the treasure. "FISHLEGS!" yelled
Hiccup desperately. "WE'VE GOT TO GET OFF THE BOAT!"
But Fishlegs couldn't hear him.
"FISHLEGS!" shouted Hiccup, hesitating some more. "IF WE DON'T GET OFF NOW WE MAY BE TOO LATE!"
It was already too late.
There was a mighty C-R-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-A-AA-K!!!!!! from above and the burning mast crashed into the sea.
Stoick watched in horror from the deck of the Hammerhead as the Lucky Thirteen flipped over onto its back, trapping Hiccup,
Fishlegs, Alvin and Toothless underneath it as it did so.
It then sank before his eyes.
And Stoick knew that this particular part of the ocean, despite being so close to the cliffs, was very, very deep, too deep even for lobster pots.
"HIC-CUP!" yelled Stoick in despair.
He knew that he would never see his son again. For who could get out of that situation alive? 16. AT THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN
Hiccup's first thought was that he was going to drown. He was turned over and over in somersault after somersault, down, down, down in such a rush that he felt like his head was bursting. A strange, calm sensation of no longer really caring came over him, and then he was roughly grabbed by the shoulders and dragged coughing and spluttering to the surface of the water and into an air pocket trapped beneath the sinking ship.
The boat was still traveling downwards with such rapidity that Hiccup's ears popped again and again, but at least he could breathe.
"My turn to save YOUR life," gasped Fishlegs.
"Oh yes," said Hiccup sarcastically, once he'd got his breath back, "and I suppose the reason I'm here in the first place is nothing to do with you? If you hadn't gone rushing after Alvin we would be on board the other boat by now.... Didn't you hear me shouting at you?"
Fishlegs blushed. "Couldn't hear anything, actually," he mumbled.
"A fine time for us to discover you're a Beserk," grumbled Hiccup. Fishlegs blushed even deeper. "Do you think that's what it was?" he asked shyly. He was secretly extremely proud that he had these violent hidden depths.
"Yes, I do," said Hiccup. "Anyway, my life isn't exactly SAVED yet, is it? It's not like we're tucked, up safely in bed in the Hooligan Village. I mean, where ARE we?"
The boat finally stopped its descent and settled gently on the seabed.
"At the b-b-b-bottom of the ocean," said Toothless as he floated by, crouched in an upturned Outcast helmet like a malevolent eagle sitting on a nest, his eyes glowing like candles. (One of the only interesting features of the Common or Garden dragon is that its eyes light up in the dark.)
"The boat turned over and we seem to be trapped underneath in some sort of air pocket," explained
Fishlegs.
Hiccup peered up the length of the upturned Lucky Thirteen. Sure enough, all the benches were now the ceiling of what looked like a long, low, barrel-vaulted hall, with water for a floor. Chairs, oars and cushions floated by, but as far as he could see or hear, there was no one else trapped with them, no furious Outcasts or helpful Hooligans.
"Everyone else must have jumped off in time," said Fishlegs. "Hang on a sec," said Hiccup, "somebody seems to be stuck under a bench down there...." He dived below the surface, his kicking legs swamping Fishlegs and Toothless in a small tidal wave.
He was gone for nearly a minute and a half. When he finally resurfaced, he was holding a very limp and green Alvin the Treacherous.
"What you saving HIM for?" complained Toothless. "He a r-r-rat. Toothless kill him, if you like," he said, cheering up no end, his claws extending towards the sleeping Alvin.
As if he heard these words, Alvin opened his eyes. His face crumpled up and he cried like a baby.
"My treasure," he cried, "my treasure. Gone, gone, gone...." "We are not interested in your treasure," said Fishlegs coldly.
"What about the fact that not half an hour ago you were about to put the entire Hooligan Tribe into slavery? Not to mention serving up poor old Hiccup here as a starter. If it wasn't for YOUR stupid treasure we could all be sitting in one of Gobber the Belch's classes staring vacantly out of the window while he bangs on about
Frightening Foreigners."
"We can still find it," said Alvin urgently, trying to peer into the water below him. "It's down there somewhere, the ground isn't far beneath me. HELP ME everybody, and we shall live like kings...."
"Oh belt up, you madman," snapped Fishlegs.
"We haven't got time," interrupted Hiccup. "This really is our lucky day. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think this air pocket is getting smaller."
Hiccup was right.
The air pocket was getting smaller. 17. HOW BAD COULD THIS DAY GET?
The "ceiling" was definitely nearer to their heads than it had been a few minutes before. It was now just a few inches above the horns on Hiccup's helmet.
There was silence for a second. Alvin's mad eyes swam back into focus again. The only thing that mattered more to him than the treasure was the preservation of his own life.
Hiccup found everyday life rather a trial but was always good in a crisis. "RIGHT," he said, "Toothless, I want you to swim out from under this boat and see whether you think we're too far to swim to tie surface. HOW," he added, as Toothless seemed to be taking his time about it.
"Okay, okay," grumbled Toothless, "k-k-k-keep your horns on...." The little dragon dived underneath the water and disappeared. He left the Vikings in nearly total darkness, for without the friendly light of his glowing eyes it was almost impossible to see. There was an eerie silence, apart from the lapping of the water against the sides of the boat, and a faint rushing noise, which Hiccup was sure was the sound of the air leaving the air pocket like a leaking balloon.
And indeed, after five minutes the air pocket had reduced so much that Hiccup's head was squashed against the wooden "ceiling" of the Lucky Thirteen, and he had to remove his helmet.
Alvin was panicking. "Where is the wretched reptile?" he hissed, and then choked as water sloshed into his mouth.
"That wretched reptile," scolded Fishlegs, as terrified as Alvin but bravely trying not to show it, "is trying to save your wretched life...."
Five minutes more and they had to turn their heads in order to keep their nostrils clear of the water. "If Toothless takes any longer," thought Hiccup, "we're going to drown here in this blackness...."
Two lights flickered in the dark below him. It was Toothless, swimming up towards them in the nick of time.
"Okay," said Toothless. "Surface t-t-too far away for h-h-h-hhumans... hut there's a c-c-c-c-cave thingy.... F-f-follow Toothless...."
"Just hang on to me, Fishlegs, and kick like crazy," ordered Hiccup, because, of course, Fishlegs could not swim.
Hiccup took a huge breath, just before the sea swallowed up the last remains of that air pocket, and dived after Toothless.
He had to swim underneath the rim of the boat, which was resting on some large rocks on the bottom.
He swam out into total darkness, which was very confusing. A little way above him, he could see that Toothless was swimming towards a small hole in the cliff, with light shining out of it. Trying to ignore the panicky feeing of his breath running out, and hampered by Fishlegs gripping on to one leg, he swam as fast as he could towards the hole. Once he had swum into it, he shot upwards through a short tunnel and surfaced in a huge pool of water at the bottom of a gigantic underground cavern, gasping for air.
A second or so later, Alvin emerged to lie in the water beside Hiccup and Fishlegs.
The cavern was huge, and surprisingly light, considering it was so far underground. The eerie green light seemed to be given off by Electricsquirms, a tiny dragon-like creature that glows with phosphorescence. Water rushed down the walls and dripped from the ceiling.
Hiccup was so relieved to be still alive and in the air again that this tomb of a cavern initially seemed like home. It was a while before his scared brain could focus on the fact that they weren't safe yet.
"Right," said Fishlegs, trying not to panic and wringing out his breeches and flapping his arms to get dry. "How are we going to get out of HERE?"
The cavern had some interesting rock formations, if Hiccup had been in the mood for admiring them. The weird shapes of fossilized dragons were caught in the stone. Some of them were very unusual, extinct species. However, even the discovery of an entire skeleton of the Burrowing Slitherfang, so rare that it was often thought never to have existed, failed to excite Hiccup as it might have done in other circumstances.
They walked round and round in circles for about an hour and a half, looking for a way out, before realizing that there wasn't one. They sat down.
Without his Tribe around him, and facing Death, Alvin seemed to have returned to his old, pleasant self again. He even apologized for getting them into this mess.
"I just cannot believe this," moaned Fishlegs, shivering violently. "It's like some sort of NIGHTMARE. I keep thinking we're safe, and then it seems that, NO, we're in some OTHER life-threatening situation even worse than the one we've just got away from."
"Okay," admitted Hiccup, trying to keep them from despairing, "it doesn't look good, but I'm sure I can think of a way out of here...."
Toothless was sniffing away at the back of the cavern, and he interrupted, calling out, "Toothless can smell something m-metal over h-h-here!"
"Very clever, Toothless," said Hiccup, "but tie Treasure Hunt is over now."
"I mean," continued Fishlegs, "so far today we have narrowly escaped being 1. Torn to pieces by Skullions. 2. Eaten by Cannibal Outcasts. 3. Burned to death on board ship. 4. Drowned at the bottom of the ocean.... And now here we are, trapped in an inaccessible underground cavern facing DEATH BY
SLOW STARVATION.... It's just been a REALLY BAD day."
"N-n-not metal after all," Toothless called back in disappointment. "It's just a d-d-door....."
"A DOOR??" Alvin, Hiccup and Fishlegs scrambled up and over towards Toothless, with a sudden surge of hope.
Once they had scrabbled away at all the dust and earth covering it, they found it was a door. It was surprising they hadn't noticed it before.
"Is it a way out?" gasped Fishlegs.
"Not necessarily," Hiccup replied slowly.
A door with a DEATH'S HEAD painted on it.
A door with lettering on it that was horribly familiar to Hiccup.
Large, scrawling letters gouged out of the surface of the wood, probably with a sword.
"DO NOT OPEN THIS DOOR," it said, "UNLESS YOU ARE THE TRUE HEIR TO 6RMBEARD THE GHASTLY I REALLY MEAN IT THIS TIME, DEATH AND DESTRUCTION AND OTHER TRULY AWFUL THINGS WILL FOLLOW IF YOU OPEN THIS DOOR. THIS IS A PIRATE'S PRIVATE PERSONAL PROPERTY"
Hiccup looked straight into the suddenly glittering eyes of Alvin the Treacherous. All the pleasantness had fallen away from him again.
He raised his arm with the Stormblade fixed into it. Alvin didn't need to say anything.
Hiccup knew what he wanted.
"Ohhhhh no," said Hiccup, backing slowly away, "I'm not going to open this door."
"Oh, but you are, " smiled Alvin the Treacherous, resting the point of the Stormblade right in the center of Hiccup's chest.
"But I'm not the Heir to Grimbeard the Ghastly," Hiccup protested. "Snotlout is the Heir.
He's the one who found the treasure, remember the riddle?"
"Ah, but was that the real treasure that Snotlout found?" asked Alvin. "Perhaps Grimbeard put it there as a decoy, to make people think they'd found the real treasure, when all along it was lying here. What better hiding place than a cavern accessible only by water? And if that wasn't the real treasure, that means Snotlout isn't necessarily the True Heir to the Hairy Hooligans."
"Well, that's a relief, in any case," said Fishlegs, trying to lighten the tension.
"YOU are the True Heir," said Alvin quietly. "When I asked on the Lucky Thirteen who was the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans, who stood up? YOU did. Not Snotlout. This has all been a Test, set by Grimbeard the Ghastly and Fate herself. Only now does the riddle make sense. For what have we just escaped from, but a watery grave?"
"And WHOSE Beast has just sniffed out this door? YOUR Beast."
"S-s-see?" said Toothless. "Toothless is better s-s-sniffer than Fireworm."
"YOU are the True Heir to the Hairy Hooligans, Hiccup," said Alvin. "And so only YOU can open this door and live."
"But I don't want to open this door," said Hiccup. "If you give me enough time I'm sure I can get us out of here without opening it. What about the booby traps? You open Grimbeard's coffin and you lose your right hand.... We open Grimbeard's treasure chest and it triggers a smell that wakes up the Skullions.... I KNOW that if we open this door something REALLY UNPLEASANT is going to happen, sure as fish eggs are fish eggs. And the surprises are getting WORSE, if anything."
"I forgot to mention," said Alvin silkily, "if you don't open the door, you DIE."
He pressed the Stormblade forward a bit so that it pierced the skin just above Hiccup's heart.
"Let me get this straight," said Hiccup, "if I do open this door, you WON'T kill me or my friends?"
"I promise," said Alvin, "word of a Treacherous."
"Word of a Treacherous...," groaned Fishlegs. "It says it all really.... He'll kill us as soon as he has the treasure... if there is any treasure behind that door...."
"But otherwise he's going to kill us now," Hiccup pointed out. "I haven't got a lot of choice."
Hiccup leaned forward, biting his lip, and slid the heavy iron bolt to the left.
"NOT a good idea, NOT a good idea, NOT A GOOD IDEA," repeated Fishlegs and Toothless to themselves, closing their eyes.
Hiccup slowly opened the door.... cr-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-k.... 
Alvin, Fishlegs, Hiccup and Toothless stood there, their mouths flopping open and shut like fish in their astonishment.
The door had opened on to another GIGANTIC cavern. This was filled to the brim with more treasure than you could possibly imagine in your wildest dreams, even were you as greedy as Alvin himself.
So indescribably beautiful was this treasure that it drew them into the room like a magnet.
It was all piled up on top of itself in crazy giant mountains. Mound after mound of golden coins with Caesar stamped on one side and Neptune on the other. Heap after heap of rubies fat and ripe as scallops and emeralds green as a mermaid's eye. Gorgeous silver cups with seahorses galloping delicately around them and golden necklaces as plump as oysters and swords as sharp as a conger's tooth with octopus tentacles winding themselves around the hilt.
It was the sort of treasure you could get lost in, and forget yourself and your mind and this world at all.
"Oh my," breathed Alvin the Treacherous, stepping forward. "Oh my, my, my..." And he reached out to grasp a cup, a glorious golden goblet, perfectly round in shape, with dolphins playing around the rim, so beautifully carved that it looked as if they were alive and leaping in a miniature golden sea.
Toothless, Hiccup and Fishlegs recollected where they were, and slowly backed towards the open door while Alvin was so preoccupied.
But Alvin caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye, and he stretched out and shut the door with the point of the Stormblade.
"Nobody leaves the cavern without asking Alvin," he said.
"Now, Alvin," said Hiccup nervously, "remember your promise. If I opened the door, you said you'd let us all live."
"Ye-e-e-e-s-s-s," said Alvin, considering the cup again, and then dropping it softly back on the pile. "The thing is, Outcasts don't always keep promises to other people. I blame our upbringing. My mother never really loved me, you know. But I always keep promises I make to MYSELF. And long ago, when that coffin lid snapped down and chopped off my hand, I made myself a very solemn promise indeed."
Alvin's pleasant eyes narrowed, and he sidled towards Hiccup like a predatory crab. "It's not that
I dislike you personally, Hiccup, but I swore to myself," said
Alvin, still smiling, "that I would FIND Grimbeard's precious
Treasure, and I would KILL his precious Heir. That's fair, isn't it, an Heir in exchange for a hand?"
And he made a vicious swipe at Hiccup with the Stormblade. Hiccup dodged out of the way in the nick of time. He leapt nimbly onto the nearest mound of treasure and started scrambling up it.
"And with Grimbeard's own precious sword, too," chuckled Alvin. "Isn't fate ARTISTIC?"
"TOOTHLESS!" yelled Hiccup. "Get me a SWORD!"
Alvin climbed after him and made another wild lunge at his head. Hiccup ducked behind a large golden chariot wheel.
"TOOTH-LESS!" cried Hiccup. "HURRY UP!"
"Okay, okay," muttered Toothless, who had flown to a pile of weaponry not far away. "K-k-keep your helmet on. T-t-toothless doing his BEST."
Toothless tried to pick up three of the swords, all of them as big and beautiful and flashy as the Stormblade itself. But they were all too heavy.
So he turned to something smaller, an undistinguished but serviceable object, a bit rusty at the edges perhaps. He could lift it easily with both talons, and flew with it to where Hiccup was climbing. He was a quarter of the way up a hill of treasure, hotly pursued by Alvin, who had little red lights dancing in his narrowed eyes and was swishing that Stormblade like he was a human flail.
Toothless dropped the rusty sword into Hiccup's hand, and he caught it just in time to parry a blow by Alvin so terrible that if it had actually connected with Hiccup's neck, it might have removed his head from his shoulders then and there.
Hiccup caught the sword in his LEFT hand, because, if you remember, his right arm was dislocated and in a sling.
"This isn't going to last long," he thought to himself. It was a case of Man against Boy, and Hiccup wasn't exactly the greatest swordfighter in the Inner Isles even with hisright hand.
"Keep your point UP, Hiccup," shouted Fishlegs, desperately trying to clamber up after them so he could help. "Eye on the swords at all times, a strong wrist, remember your footwork...."
Alvin the Treacherous gave a great swipe at Hiccup's belly, and Hiccup was surprised to find his left arm jerk up and his own sword block Alvin's in the nick of time.
Alvin was equally surprised, and he hauled his great sword over his wicked head and he brought it down towards Hiccup's neck, and Hiccup's arm flashed up and parried the blow just before it bit.
Astonished, Alvin began raining blows thick and fast, swiping and slashing and lunging, and Hiccup's left arm parried every thrust as if it had a life of its own.
"Well, suffering swordfish," exclaimed Fishlegs. "Hiccup is LEFT- HANDED."
I would not have you think that this was a fight that Hiccup would be proud to look back upon NOW. For Hiccup would grow up to be a Master Swordsman, a Genius of the Art, and this fight, by comparison with the extraordinary skill with which he fought later, was clumsy work, mostly defensive strokes.
And although I would love to say that Alvin the Treacherous was a brilliant swordfighter, the truth is that he was just so-so at the Art, preferring to poison his enemy's cup or bash him from behind with a rock to fighting him face to face.
But he was still much older, stronger and more experienced than Hiccup.
And while it might not have been the best fight Hiccup ever fought, it was certainly the one he would look back on with the most astonishment and pride.
For it was the first time in his life that Hiccup realized he was left-handed.
Imagine if you had spent the whole first part of your life trying to walk on your hands. The clumsiness of it, always falling over, always stumbling, always the last at everything. Imagine the joy of discovering that in fact you could walk on your feet after all.
That is what it felt like to Hiccup fighting with his left hand for the first time. So exhilarating was the feeling that he was even starting to enjoy himself.
Hiccup was helped by Toothless, who swooped down and attacked Alvin's head so that Alvin was constantly distracted.
"Unfair," smiled Alvin. "I never thought Grimbeard's Heir would stoop to TWO AGAINST ONE."
The excitement made Hiccup overconfident and so he called out,
"Leave him to me, Toothless!"
"Leave him to you?" Fishlegs shouted up furiously. "What do you mean, LEAVE HIM TO YOU??? CARRY ON, TOOTHLESS, AND THAT IS AN
ORDER! This is REAL LIFE, Hiccup, not a Swordfighting at Sea lesson, and you need all the help you can get...."
In fact, the practice from the Swordfighting at Sea lessons were a big help to Hiccup.
The shifting, moving ground of the treasure mound was rather similar to the movement of the deck at sea. Hiccup kept his balance more easily than Alvin, who continually staggered and lost his footing.
Nonetheless, it was soon clear that although Hiccup was enjoying himself, he wasn't winning the fight, even with Toothless's help. With a grim smile on his lips, Alvin the Treacherous fought Hiccup back and back, eyes aglow with that red light, back to his old smooth self again.
"Come on, Hiccup," he wheedled, "don't be scared of your old pal,
Treacherous. I wouldn't harm a hair" (swipe) "on your head" (swipe).
"Listen, Alvin," urged Hiccup, as he parried each blow, "I'm sure we can all get away safely if you forget about the treasure...."
"Oh, I will," promised Alvin, "just as soon as I've killed you, I will."
"Look, Alvin," reasoned Hiccup, "it's never too late to change. You've still got a chance to live life differently, make friends, start a family...."
"Stop it," said Alvin, "you're making me laugh. You give me a second chance? That's really funny, that is. You're a heartbeat away from the abyss, a mere child fighting a fully grown man, and you're giving me second chances? It's too kind of you." He made a particularly violent lunge that Hiccup just managed to dodge, and very nearly lost his balance doing so.
"It's too late for me," laughed Alvin. "I'm rotten to the core and I like being rotten. The treasure has got me and I like being got." He raised his sword way above his head as Hiccup clutched desperately at the shifting coins to steady himself.
"But I appreciate your concern," said Alvin, bringing the sword down with such savage force that it would have cut Hiccup in half
-- if he had not spotted it coming and made one last leap out of the way.
So that the blow, instead of separating Hiccup into two pieces, caught Alvin completely off balance, and he stepped back onto the treasure mound behind, one on which they had not fought before...
... and the treasure unexpectedly reared up beneath him, as if it were alive.
18. GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY'S FINAL SURPRISE
The entire mound reared up and shook itself, cups and jewels and swords and coins cascading down the sides like molten lava.
And something that looked like a big white rope reached out of the treasure and wound its way around Alvin's waist.
It wasn't a rope.
It was a singularly unattractive white tentacle that looked as if it were made out of a quivering piece of fat. The tentacle was dotted with small indentations out of which there oozed a disgusting whitey-gray sticky sludge that smelt indescribably awful.
Alvin shrieked in horror as the treasure dropped away to reveal the creature that had been sleeping underneath it, a creature they had awoken with their swordfight.
It was Grimbeard the Ghastly's last surprise, his FINAL booby trap.
He had left it there to guard the treasure, a monster that Hiccup had heard of in Legends, but never seen before, and one that he sincerely hoped he would never, ever have to see again.
It was the same animal that surprised the little lost Deadly Nadder, the day before, if you remember, and it was called a Monstrous Strangulator.
A Strangulator was a gigantic Monster genetically related to dragons, octopuses and snakes. It had tiny withered dragon wings and tiny crippled dragon legs that were basically useless, as it heaved its great body through underground tunnels like a serpent, leaving a trail of gooey slime.
It had never seen daylight and was the color of nothing. Its tentacles had obviously found a way up through to the upper caves of the Wild Dragon Cliffs, for it was transparent, and you could actually see the forms of unfortunate dragons it had eaten moving through its digestive system. Some, further down the Strangulator's great length, were lying quite still. Others that he had eaten more recently were jerking about, and one was trying to fly, trapped in the Monster's great throat.
The naturalist in Hiccup automatically identified the species -- Monstrous Nightmare, Deadly Nadder, Common or Garden times three -- making their slow progress through the Serpent's alimentary canal.
So small was the Creature's brain in proportion to its size that it had difficulty in keeping sensory track of all of its squirming tentacles, and they wandered about as if they had independent lives of their own. The Creature had to concentrate hard to make the tentacle that was holding Alvin move very slowly up to its head so it could have a look at him, unsure of what to make of this weird new animal.
"Isss food?" hissed the Serpent musingly to itself.
Hiccup practically cried with relief. For the creature was speaking a dialect of Dragonese, a very ancient form of it, but Dragonese nonetheless.
And Hiccup was of the opinion that if you could talk to your killer, you were in with a chance.
Alvin struggled wildly and slashed at the great squeezing tentacle with the Stormblade.
"Jickle me with your prickle, would you? said the Creature. " Then I'll tickle you with mine...."
And languidly, it dangled the tip of its tail in front of Alvin's face.
Hiccup had seen such a tail on much smaller animals. It was filled to the tip with a grass-green venom, pure as glass. There was a plunger a little way down, and the tip just had to penetrate its victim, the plunger go down, and it was goodnight sweet world, hello Valhalla.
"Oh excellent," thought Hiccup to himself. "A poisonous Monstrous Strangulator. My favorite kind."
Alvin fainted as soon as he set eyes on that deadly tail. He was frightened of needles.
So the Strangulator didn't even bother to inject him. It just swallowed him whole, alive, just as he was, Stormblade and all.
In fascinated horror, Hiccup watched the now awake and struggling form of Alvin traveling down the Strangulator's transparent throat.
"So," thought Hiccup, "the Eater of Human Flesh is eaten himself. Isn't fate artistic?"
Sometimes it is harder to force yourself to stand still than it is to run away, but Hiccup knew that he wouldn't have a chance if he tried to escape. This animal was just too big. So Hiccup froze, in the hope that the Creature's eyesight was poor, like other beasts that lived solely underground.
Hiccup was probably right, but one of those constantly moving tentacles accidentally bumped into him, and as soon as it made contact with his warm body it automatically wrapped itself around Hiccup, and lifted him into the air.
"A Plan!" Fishlegs shouted out wildly from below. "You need a Fiendishly Clever Plan!"
"Thank you, Fishlegs," said Hiccup, his mind flicking about like a shrimp in a net, and trying to ignore the terrible squeezing around his chest. "I'm aware of that... TOOTHLESS! Come up here!"
The tentacles were turning Hiccup over and over. Toothless flapped up, and hovered as close as he could. Hiccup shouted something into the little dragon's ear.
"That's a t-t-t-terrible plan," moaned Toothless, shaking his head. "Just do as you're told. for ONCE in your life," yelled Hiccup. While the Creature remained unconscious of having caught anything,
Hiccup still stood a chance of escape. With his sword, he jabbed away at the sticky tentacle that was encircling his trunk and it seemed to be loosening....
Way down at the bottom of the treasure mound, Fishlegs was frantically trying to be helpful.
In front of him, there lay a heavily bejeweled monstrosity of a sword. Despite the fact that it was nearly as big as himself, Fishlegs managed to pick it up from the floor. Purple in the face with the extraordinary effort, he lifted it high, high above his head, ready to launch it at the Creature's stomach....
Unfortunately the backwards momentum of the sword was so great that
Fishlegs toppled very slowly backwards with it. There was a bronze shield on the floor behind him, and he landed on it with such force that he knocked himself out.
The noise of Fishlegs's head connecting with the shield caught the Creature's attention and light finally dawned in its dull eyes, which swam into focus on Hiccup. Its tentacles gripped strongly and escape became impossible.
"More food?" it mused to itself.
"NOT food!" Hiccup shouted out. "I'm POISONOUS. Very, very POISONOUS!"
"Poissonoussssss?" hissed the Creature. "It ssspeakss and iss poissonousss, is it? I'M poissssson-ousssssss. Sssssssee?"
And it waved the deadly plunger of its tail menacingly in front of Hiccup.
"Don't like it when the food sssspeaks...," whined the Creature to itself. "Isss trickssssy when it ssspeaks... kill it quickly before it trickssss me...."
It wrapped its tentacles a little tighter around Hiccup in order to suffocate him.
"This is all very, interesting," Hiccup managed to choke out, his eyes popping. "So, how were you thinking of killing me, exactly?"
Gradually, the awful pressure on Hiccup's chest eased as the Strangulator considered this question.
"Well," it said slowly, "I wasssss thinking of ssssssqueezing you to death...."
"I onlyask," said Hiccup, gasping for air, "because I was recently nearly swallowed by a Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus, who said, that you Undergrounders were very primitive animals, poorly armed, and only capable of basic forms of killing, such as strangulation."
The Creature stopped squeezing entirely.
"That'ssss very rude," it hissed eventually, rather hurt. "What isssss thissss giganti-Maxi-thingy anyway?"
"Release your tentacles a bit," said Hiccup, "and I'll tell you."
"Okay," said the Strangulator, "but no tricksssing or I'll get crossssss."
Slowly the Creature unwound its tentacles, leaving them only loosely wrapped about the boy. Hiccup took in great relieved gulps of air.
"A Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus," Hiccup continued, "is a gigantic, scary killing machine as big as a mountain...."
"I'm big...," the Creature pointed out.
"It has at least three ways of killing," said Hiccup. "It can rip you to pieces with its talons, bite you to bits with its teeth or fry you to a frazzle with its fire."
"I can do that...," said the Creature, less certainly.
"No, you can't," said Hiccup. "You haven't got any talons, teeth or fire."
"Ssssso I haven't," said the Strangulator, very disappointed. "But I can sssssssqueeze you to death...." He brightened up and began to wrap his tentacles around Hiccup again.
"So OLD-FASHIONED!" shrieked Hiccup hurriedly. "What about tie POISON? That's tie most modern method of killing around. A Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus hasn't got any foison...."
"Hasssssssn't it?" asked the Creature delightedly.
"No, it hasn't," said Hiccup. "I'm very curious to see how one of these fancy new poisons works."
"It'sssss not a nicccccce way to go," warned the Creature. 
It pointed the sharp needle of its tail straight at Hiccup's heart. Suddenly, Toothless flew into the Strangulator's field of vison.
The Creature lost concentration for a second as the little dragon zoomed up and down right in front of its eyes. By the time it had coordinated its tentacles enough to frighten Toothless away, the
Strangulator was very, very cross.
"I told you, no trickssssssing!" it hissed, with venom in its voice. "Thisssss will shut you up...."
Fishlegs came back into consciousness just in time to see the Strangulator inject the whole tail's-worth of green poison, enough to kill the entire population of Rome, into the flesh beneath Hiccup's shirt.
19. THE HEIR TO GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY
"So," chatted Hiccup, "while we're waiting for this poison to take effect, why don't you tell me how it works?"
"Well," crowed the Strangulator, "you will lose control of your tentaclesss ass they sssstart to sssstiffen...."
"I can feel a sort of tingling in my feet, like pins and needles," admitted Hiccup.
The Strangulator's own tentacles were leaping about wildly, as stiff as boards.
"The poissson turnsss sssome victimsss green Before they die...," hissed the Strangulator gleefully.
"Is it just me, " said Hiccup, "or is there a sort of greenish tinge to my left arm?"
There wasn't. It was as white and freckled as ever.
But a strange green cloud was building within the Strangulator's transparent body, gradually obscuring the unfortunate dragons he was digesting.
"... and then as the poissson reaches the head"
continued the Strangulator, "the nervoussss ssyssstem sssssimply explodesss...."
He looked at Hiccup hopefully. Nothing seemed to be happening.
"That'sss funny," said the Strangulator.
"It doesn't sssseem to be working...."
"Maybe some people take longer," said Hiccup reassuringly. "You're looking a little peaked yourself, maybe you should lie down."
The Strangulator looked down at itself. The green cloud had now blown into every crook and cranny of its body, and was finally approaching its tiny brain....
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
screeched the Strangulator.
The nervous system of the Strangulator simply exploded.
All of its electric circuits lit up like lightbulbs. It thrashed around like a mad thing, knocking out great chunks of rock from the sides of the cave and sending treasure flying through the air in all directions.
Fishlegs hid himself underneath an overhanging rock in order not to be hit by the whirling coils. Toothless crawled into a crevice in the ceiling. For about a minute and a half the Strangulator threw itself wildly off the walls of the cavern, screeching a strange primeval agonized shriek. Then all of its tentacles stood out straight and stiff and it fell to the ground.
The Strangulator jerked a few more times in agony. Its tail with the dangerous tip lashed ferociously for a moment or two. And then all was silence in the Great Cavern. Huge clouds of dust gradually dispersed.
Fishlegs crawled out of his hiding place.
He scrambled over slimy rockfalls, slimy treasure and even slimier coils of Strangulator, looking for Hiccup.
Hiccup was dazed but alive. He'd had a tidal wave of a ride, thrown this way and that way until his teeth rattled. But the great coils of the tentacle wrapped around his body had cushioned him from any hurt.
He beamed at Fishlegs and Toothless. "That was one STUPID Monster," he said.
"How did you DO it? How did you DO it?" asked Fishlegs again and again in amazement as he and Toothless unwound the tentacle from Hiccup's body.
For answer, Hiccup lifted up his shirt, and there, wrapped around his chest, was the very tip of the tentacle... and in the gelatinous transparent flesh of it was a giant needle puncture mark, with the green poison clearly visible coursing underneath the skin.
What Hiccup had done was to pull his shirt OYER the end of the tentacle while Toothless was distracting the Creature. The Strangulator had so lost sensory contact with the ends of its tentacles that it did not realize that it was in fact injecting ITSELF under the white material of Hiccup's shirt.
"That particular plan," said Fishlegs at last, "required a Fiendish Amount of LUCK."
"It WAS lucky," admitted Hiccup happily, "but we're ALIVE, aren't we?"
Fishlegs grinned back at him and Toothless did three back somersaults in the air and a congratulatory cock-a-doodle-doo.
"And that swordfighting. Where did THAT come from? You've always been grim at swordfighting."
"Swapped hands," mumbled Hiccup, beaming but a bit embarrassed. 
" A left-handed genius who single-handedly defeated Alvin the Treacherous AND a Monstrous Strangulator," gloated Fishlegs. "This is going to look so GOOD when we tell everybody back home. I just can't WAIT to see the look on Snotlout's face when he sets eyes on this treasure. It makes that poxy little box he dug up on the Isle of the Skullions look pretty measly. "
"Yeeees," said Hiccup slowly. "But we ARE still trapped in an inaccessible underground cavern, aren't we? We have to GET OUT OF HERE first."
Fishlegs's face fell. "So we do," he admitted. "But the Creature must have some way from this cavern up to the caves in the Wild Dragon Cliff.... I mean, look at those dragons in his digestive system, he must have been feeding off the Dragon Nursery for years. All we have to do is go through these Caliban Caves and -- "
"N-n-no," said Toothless firmly. "T-t-toothless knows. Toothless grow up here. Other C-c-creatures in there much bigger and b-bbadder than that one....."
"Okay then," said Hiccup. "We go back the way we came. Let's hope that door still opens."
The door did still open. As they were opening it, Hiccup noticed a piece of paper nailed on their side of it.
It was a letter. 
It was written in the same scrawly handwriting as Grimbeard's riddle, and it was addressed to the "TRUE HEIR OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY."
Hiccup took the letter off the nail and read it.
"Maybe Grimbeard the Ghastly wasn't so bad after all...," said Hiccup slowly.
"There you are," said Fishlegs, who was reading over Hiccup's shoulder. "He said it was YOUR treasure, to do as you liked with."
Hiccup sighed. He thought of the greedy look in Stoick's eyes when he held the Stormblade. He thought of Baggybum and Stoick arguing over the treasure chest.
"Yes," said Hiccup, "and I DO know what to do with it."
He picked up a piece of charcoal from the cavern floor, wrote some words on the bottom of the letter, and pinned it back on the door.
"STILL... NOT... READY...."read Fishlegs.
Fishlegs hurried after Hiccup, who was now looking at the cavern's exit hole to the sea, thinking hard.
"What do you mean, still not ready?" demanded Fishlegs.
"I mean," said Hiccup, "that the treasure is staying right here. That this is our SECRET and we tell NOBODY. If we get out of here alive, we just say we washed up on the shore a couple of beaches down, no mention of the existence of this cavern, nothing."
"You CANNOT BE SERIOUS," said Fishlegs. "We could be HEROES here, and besides, if we don't tell everybody what happened, they'll all go on thinking that Snotlout is the True Heir to the Hairy Hooligans."
Hiccup looked miserable. "I guess that's right," he said. "But then if I really am the True Heir, I have to do what I think is the right thing for the Tribe, don't I? And this is definitely the right thing. That treasure is Bad Trouble."
Hiccup would not change his mind.
"Let's just concentrate on getting back home," he said.
It took Hiccup two or three hours of hard thinking to work out how to use one dragon to get himself and Fishlegs up through hundreds of feet of water and back to the surface without drowning.
The solution is quite simple, if you ever find yourself in a similarly tricky situation.
A dragon's breath, even when it exhales, is composed almost entirely of pure oxygen. It is this that makes it so very flammable. All they needed to do was to rise to the surface (slowly so as not to get the bends) with Toothless swimming beside them and occasionally blowing into their noses when they ran out of breath.
A dragon never runs out of breath because just below its horns it has a fully working set of gills. As soon as it enters the sea it can shut off its lungs and get its oxygen from the water rather than the air.
Hiccup and Fishlegs resurfaced after about ten minutes. There was plenty of debris floating around, because they were not far from where the Lucky Thirteen had made its final journey to the bottom of the ocean. The boys each got hold of one end of an oar, and steered their way around the corner to where there was a beach to land on.
Fishlegs tried to persuade Hiccup to change his mind all the way home.
At last he said in exasperation, "You're NEVER going to be a Hero with this attitude. How can you be with no one to cheer, no one to clap?"
"Okay then," Hiccup sighed. "I'll never be a Hero. All I know is that I'm supposed to be the
Future Leader of this Tribe and I want there to be a Tribe left to lead. And that seems more important to me than being a Hero."
They staggered through the heather towards the Hooligan Village, which was strangely silent and deserted. No smoke curled from the rooftops, no children quarreled in the streets, no dragons were fighting in the thatch.
"Please, please, good god Woden," prayed Hiccup, "PLEASE let everybody be alive."
Everybody was alive.
Miraculously, no one had drowned during the sinking of the Lucky Thirteen.
The Hooligans sailed the heavily overloaded Hammerhead back to Berk, with the Outcasts tied up as their prisoners.
With typical generosity, they set the Outcasts free.
I fear the Outcasts were not as grateful as they should have been, and this would not be the last the Hooligans would see of these vicious people. For the moment, however, they returned to the Outcast Lands humiliated, unarmed and with a hunger for revenge.
The Hooligans were not in much better shape themselves. They were a hardy race, and drowning was an occupational hazard, but the loss of the only son of the Chief was a big blow, whether he was the Heir or not.
Stoick sat for an hour at the edge of the sea. As soon as Snotlout's treasure had disappeared beneath the waves it had lost its magic for him. He kept on seeing in his mind's eye his son, Hiccup, standing on the deck of the Lucky Thirteen, saying,
"I AM THE HEIR TO STOICK THE VAST."
He tore out his golden earrings, and threw them into the ocean. And then he went home and sat in front of his shrine to Woden.
So this was why, when Fishlegs, Hiccup and Toothless came stumbling and limping into the Hooligan Village, everyone had locked themselves indoors, the shutters were shut up, doors were closed, fires were unlit.
It was only a chance that the wooden window had blown open in Gobber the Belch's home. He went to close it, and happened to spot the bedraggled friends lurching along.... And then he let out a great bellow of, "They're ALIVE!!!"
The shout went from house to house like watch fires lighting from hill to hill, and the Hairy Hooligans rushed out of their front doors like a crowd of jubilant sea elephants, and they swooped on the three companions and lifted them onto their muscly shoulders with great happy shouts of, "They're ALIVE! They're ALIVE! THEY'RE ALIVE! THEY'RE ALIVE!"
Snotlout was already furious to find that people had been more concerned about mourning Hiccup and Fishlegs than congratulating HIM on being the Hero of the Hour on the Isle of the Skullions.
Imagine how cross he was to run out of his house in curiosity at the commotion, to find himself barged out of the way by Gobber the Belch and Nobber Nobrains, and practically trampled into the ground by a clapping mob carrying Hiccup shoulder-high through the Village.
Hiccup, who was quite clearly, yet again, NOT dead, NOT drowned, NOT safely out of the way.
The happy Hooligans reached the door of their Chieftain's house and banged on it, crying, "Open up, open up, they're alive, they're alive!"
Stoick the Vast lifted his great hairy head as if he was dreaming, staggered to the door, and there, on the doorstep, was HIS SON, Hiccup.
Stoick the Vast, Terror of the Seas, Most High Ruler of the Hairy Hooligans, O Hear His Name and Tremble,
Ugh, Ugh, picked up his son and hugged him, while the crowd cheered and cheered. And that was how Toothless found and lost a marvelous treasure all in the space of an afternoon...
... And how Hiccup finally got himself a sword and learnt how to use it...
... And how Fishlegs discovered that you don't always have to be a Hero to get a Hero's Welcome.
EPILOGUE
A few months afterwards, I had a dream.
It was a dream about shipwrecks, perhaps because I had been doing a lot of that lately. The ship was called the Endless Journey, and just before it disappeared beneath the waves, the ferocious looking captain, who had a strange smile on his face, threw a sword up, up into the air. It spun end to end over the waves, through the atmosphere and into space and stars and never-ending time, where, to my surprise, my own left hand sprang out of its own accord and caught it.
As soon as I awoke, I got up and brought out that uninspiring sword that Toothless had picked for me in the cavern of the Treasure, the one with which I had fought Alvin the Treacherous. I turned it over and over, and inspected the dull little object for quite half an hour. And eventually I found that by twisting and twisting it, the knob at the end fell off and there was a small piece of paper rolled up in a little hollowed-out compartment inside. A small fragment of paper on which was written the following words:
Now I am an old, old man, the same age as Grimbeard the Ghastly when he got his dragons to swim down to the cavern with the treasure. Toothless and Fishlegs and I have kept the secret of what really happened on that terrible day all those years ago....
But because I am writing my memoirs I find I have to write it down, as it is such an important part of my journey to becoming a Hero. Even though I know I will never be able to show it to anyone of my own time.
As soon as I have finished writing these papers, I shall lock them in a box. I shall throw that box into the sea.
And I shall throw it hoping, like Grimbeard the Ghastly, that someday it may be found by someone who will be a better Leader than I have been.
Someone living way, way in the future, in times more civilized than those in which I have lived, where men can own beautiful and dangerous things and use them wisely.
Surely that would be the last Hiccup would see of that wicked villain, Alvin the Treacherous?
His grim hook sank to the bottom of the ocean with the wreck of the Lucky Thirteen. He himself was last seen struggling in the throat of a Monstrous
Strangulator in an inaccessible cavern deep, deep underground.... Nobody could get out of that situation alive...
Or could they???
Look out for the next volume of Hiccup's memoirs....
Once there were dragons.
Imagine a time of DRAGONS -- some larger than mountainsides, slumbering in the depths of the ocean; some smaller than your fingernail, hopping through the heather.
Imagine a time of VIKING HEROES, in which men were men and women were sort of men too and even some little babies had chest hair.
And now imagine that you are a boy called Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, not yet twelve years old and not yet turning out to be the kind of Hero his father would have liked him to be. That boy, of course, was really ME, but the boy I was then seems so far away to me now that I shall tell this story almost as if he were a stranger.
So, imagine that instead of being me, this stranger, this Hero-in- Waiting, is YOU.
You are small. You have red hair. You don't realize it yet, but you are about to set out on the most alarming episode of your life so far... When you are an old, old man like I am you will call it "My First Encounter with the Roman Empire" -- and even at this distance in time it will still cause your old wrinkled arms to prickle with goose bumps as you remember the perils and dangers of that terrifying adventure...
1. THE BOARDING-AN-ENEMY-SHIP LESSON
Once upon a foggy day in a cold, cold country long, long ago, seven small Viking boats floated through the Sea-Known-as-Woden's-
Bathtub. The fog had swallowed up the Peaceable Country to the north, and the Isle of Berk to the west, and, indeed, had swallowed up so much of everything that it was as if the boats were skyboats, and had left the earth entirely, and were sailing through cloud banks way, way up in the air.
In the first boat, The Fat Boar, sat Gobber the Belch, a six-and-a-half-foot giant in teeny-weeny hairy shorts, who had leg muscles so enormous they had muscles of their own, and a beard like a hedgehog struck by lightning. Gobber was the teacher in charge of the Pirate Training Program on the Isle of Berk, and this sail through the fog was part of a Boarding-an-Enemy-Ship lesson.
The six boy-sized boats that were following The Fat Boar each had two boys in them, and these boys were Gobber's pupils, young members of the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans.
"OK, YOU DISGUSTING GLOBS OF GIRLY SNOT!" yelled Gobber, in a bellow so loud it could be heard several miles away. "WE ARE NOW
GOING
TO PRACTICE BOARDING AN ENEMY SHIP ON THE EASY TARGET OF A PEACEABLE FISHING BOAT... CAN ANYONE REMEMBER THE FIRST RULE OF
AMBUSH?"
"TAKE THE ENEMY BY SURPRISE, SIR!" shouted out Snotface Snotlout, a tall, unpleasantly smug-looking boy with gigantic nostrils and the beginnings of a small mustache.
"Very good, Snotlout," purred Gobber the Belch, and he continued at full volume: "IN A FOG THIS THICK YOUR VICTIM SHIP WILL NOT HAYE A CHANCE OF SEEING YOU COMING!"
They can hear us, though, thought Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, gloomily trying to peer through the fog, unless, of course, we have the luck to stumble across some completely deaf peaceable fishermen...
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third is, rather surprisingly, the Hero of this story. I say surprisingly, because the first thing you noticed about Hiccup was how very, very ordinary he was. He was on the small side, with a slightly freckled, absolutely average face that would always get overlooked in a crowd.
His dragon, Toothless, who was at that moment asleep down the front of Hiccup's shirt, was just as average as his owner. The only truly remarkable thing about Toothless was how remarkably small he was. He was at least half the size of the other boys' dragons.
And, as you can imagine, this wasn't something to boast about. Gobber's shouting woke the little dragon up. He poked his nose out of the neck of Hiccup's tunic. "W-w-what's happening?" he asked sleepily in Dragonese.
* Dragons spoke Dragonese. Only Hiccup could understand this fascinating language.
"Oh, nothing unusual," Hiccup whispered back, scratching Toothless behind the horns. (He loved that.) "Gobber is shouting, Snotlout is showing off, and. we're all out here floating in tie fog and the cold when we could be tucked up in front of a roasting fire... Ton can go back to sleep if you like."
Toothless chuckled. "You V-v-vikings are as m-m-mad as mackerel," he said. "W-w-wake Toothless up when it's l-l-lunchtime..." And he burrowed back down to the nice warm spot just next to Hiccup's left armpit and closed his eyes again.
Hiccup was sharing his boat with his best friend Fishlegs, who was even skinnier than Hiccup and looked a lot like a daddy longlegs with asthma and a squint. Fishlegs put his hand up in the air.
"It's all very well that they can't see us coming, sir," he pointed out logically, "but how are we going to see them so we can board them in the first place?"
"Easy-peasy, o plankton-brain," boomed Gobber, very pleased with himself. "Peaceable fishing boats are always followed by flocks of Lesser
Blackbacked Seadragons, hoping for a bite. All you have to do is follow the racket they make and you'll have found yourself a boat.
You then simply board the boat yelling the Hooligan War Cry: repeat after me... YAAAAAAAAAH!" yelled Gobber the Belch.
"YAAAAAAAAAH!" yelled ten of the boys back at him, brandishing their swords like maniacs.
"Yaaaaah," repeated Hiccup and Fishlegs, without much enthusiasm. 
"The Peaceables are terrified of us Hooligans, Woden only knows why
... Right, lads -- you steal one of their helmets to prove you have completed the exercise, and report back to me. THIS IS GOING TO BE
LIKE BURGLING BERRIES FROM A BABY!" boomed Gobber the Belch.
"Oh, I nearly forgot. Silly me..." Gobber laughed carelessly. "The one thing you do have to bear in mind is that ON NO ACCOUNT SHOULD YOU LEAVE THIS BAY. This is VERY IMPORTANT because just to the south of here runs the Summer Current, a warm stream of water, and you all know what lives in the Summer Current..."
"Sharkworms," gulped Fishlegs.
"That's right, Fishlegs," boomed Gobber. "I know Hiccup, our natural history expert, can tell us something about Sharkworms."
"Certainly sir," replied Hiccup, delighted to be asked a question about his favorite subject, dragons. He took out of his pocket a small scruffy notebook with How to Speak Dragonese written in large scrawly letters on the front. In this book Hiccup kept notes on the Dragonese language and descriptions of the various species of dragons and their habits.
"Well," said Hiccup, having trouble reading his own handwriting,
"Sharkworms are a kind of dragon that look a lot like sharks. The adults can grow to about six meters in length, they have at least five rows of teeth -- "
"GET ON WITH IT, BOY!" yelled Gobber.
"They are highly carnivorous and they not only scavenge off ships but climb aboard and attack you there... On land they can easily outrun a man... I would suggest, sir, that if there was even a chance we could run into Sharkworms we should leave the area immediately."
"For Thor's sake, boy," grinned Gobber the Belch, "with that kind of attitude you might never leave the house. I'm training you to be pirates, not softies."
"What happens if we get lost, sir?" pleaded Fishlegs. "Lost?" snorted Gobber. "LOST! Vikings don't get LOST!"
"Honestly, sir," sneered Snotface Snotlout, "I don't know why you don't throw Hiccup the Useless and his fishlegged failure of a friend out of the Tribe completely. They're a disgrace to all of us."
Hiccup and Fishlegs looked miserable. "I mean look at their boat, sir," continued the sneering Snotlout.
"We're Vikings, sir, the greatest shipbuilders the Ancient World has ever known, sir. A raft like that just makes us look ridiculous."
"You think you're so clever, Snotlout," retorted Hiccup determinedly, "but this boat can go a lot faster than you think.
Looks aren't everything, you know..."
Unfortunately, Snotlout had a point.
The Hopeful Puffin was more of a floating accident than an actual boat.
She had been built by Hiccup and Fishlegs in Shipbuilding lessons, and they were both hopeless at woodwork. Something kept on going wrong with the design and instead of being long and thin like a Viking ship should be, she had ended up fat and almost completely round. Her mast was too long and leaned lopsidedly to the left, so that in a strong wind she went round in circles.
She also had a leak.
Every half an hour Fishlegs or Hiccup had to remember to ban out the seawater that had collected in the bottom of the boat with Hiccup's helmet (Fishlegs's helmet also had a leak).
Gobber the Belch looked at The Hopeful Puffin.
"Mmm," said Gobber thoughtfully. "You might have a point, Snotlout.
NOW!" he continued briskly.
"At the sound of my horn, the exercise will begin." He raised a curly-wurly bugle to his lips.
"Ooooh, jumping jellyfish," moaned Fishlegs, "I HATE the Pirate Training Program! We're going to get lost... We're going to sink... We're going to get eaten slowly by Sharkworms..."
"S-C-R-E-E-E-ECH!" screamed the bugle. 
2. SHARKWORMS
Just as the sound of the bugle died away, the fog lifted, for a second giving a glimpse of the entire bay. Over to the right, further toward the gray outline of the Peaceable Country, there were the shadowy shapes of four or five Peaceable fishing boats, surrounded by clouds of screeching Blackbacked Seadragons.
"Over there!" yelled Sharpknife and Tuffnut Junior, turning their boat, The Raven.
"It's all under control, Fishlegs!" shouted Hiccup excitedly. "I can see where we're going!" Hiccup yanked the rudder of The Hopeful Puffin so sharply that Fishlegs lost his balance and fell face-first into the water at the bottom of the boat.
The wind caught the sails at exactly the right speed and The Hopeful Puffin surged forward after the others... But Hiccup hadn't noticed Snotlout's boat, Sparrowhawk, steaming up behind him at great speed.
Sparrowhawk was as lean and mean and hungry as Snotlout himself. Beautifully built out of elm wood, she came to a point so sharp at the prow that she sliced through the water as easily as an axe through a scallop. She was being steered by Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, Snotlout's best friend -- a great, hairy bully of a boy with a ring through his nose, who was snorting so hard with laughter that snot flew in all directions.
"Get him, Fireworm," whispered Snotface Snotlout, and his dragon, a glistening blood-red Monstrous Nightmare, leaped from Snotlout's shoulder and dive-bombed Hiccup from behind with a furious shriek.
Fireworm swooped down and pushed Hiccup's helmet down over his eyes with her talons. Hiccup took his hands off the rudder in surprise, and at the same moment, Sparrowhawk rammed into the port side of The Hopeful Puffin, denting her severely.
"So sorry, Useless!" jeered Snotface Snotlout as Sparrowhawk sailed on, completely unhurt. "Your pathetic raft is so small we didn't see you!"
"Har har har," guffawed Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.
The ramming sent The Hopeful Puffin into one of her spins. 
For a long time she spun round in wobbly circles, like a confused sea urchin. Eventually,
Hiccup regained control of the rudder and Fishlegs picked himself up from the bottom of the boat, moaning slightly.
The Hopeful Puffin completed her final spin and began moving swiftly forward.
But the fog had come down again, if anything even thicker than before. After all that spinning, Hiccup had absolutely no idea which direction they were facing. And when the last faint echoes of Snotlout and Dogsbreath's jeering had faded away, they sailed on in spooky silence.
"Where is everybody?" asked Fishlegs.
"Ssssh," scolded Hiccup. "I'm trying to listen." The boys were quiet for ten long minutes.
The only sound to be heard was the lapping of water against the sides of the boat and a brisk wind filling out the sail. They were gliding along at quite a rate now, but where were they going? Hiccup and Fishlegs strained their eyes into the fog and their ears into the silence, desperate to see or hear something, anything at all.
But there was nothing.
It might have been Hiccup's imagination playing tricks on him, but it seemed to him as if the air suddenly felt just a tiny bit warmer, and when he trailed a finger briefly into the water it felt just a tiny bit less icy than it should have done. And then he got to thinking about the Summer Current and Sharkworms and a prickle of fear ran all down his back, and everywhere about him the drifting, ghostly fog seemed to be taking the shape of Sharkworm fins...
"Just out of interest," asked Fishlegs casually, "how does a Sharkworm attack you, exactly?"
"Well," replied Hiccup, changing direction yet again in the hope of getting back to the safety of the bay, "Sharkworms should only attack if you are wounded. Even if you're not in the water they can smell the blood and that drives them crazy And then, because they have legs as well as a fishy tail, they can actually CLIMB ABOARD a ship to get you. That's where they got their nickname of Pirate Dragons,' because, although they can survive at least ten minutes in the air, they generally drag you back into the water to kill you."
"Oh, brilliant, " said Fishlegs, frantically checking himself all over to see if he had any grazes. "Do you think eczema counts or does it have to be an actual cut?"
"I'm not sure," said Hiccup. "I've never actually met a Sharkworm." "Better and better," said Fishlegs. "It's at times like this that I am so glad that I was born a Viking and not a Roman." (The Romans were the Vikings' deadly enemies -- a very bossy lot who wanted to take over the world and had jolly nearly got there.) "Think how BORING it would be to be a Roman. All those warm baths and lounging around in togas when you could be out here enjoying the fresh air and the multi-fanged blood-crazy carnivores..."
"Ssssh," said Hiccup, changing direction for the ninth time. "Let's just see whether we can hear anything this time..."
But again there was silence, and the splash of seawater coming over the side onto Hiccup's ankle felt definitely warm.
"I'm h-h-hungry," said a deep little voice from Hiccup's chest, and both boys jumped at the sudden sound.
The nose of Toothless, Hiccup's disobedient little dragon, poked out of the top of Hiccup's shirt, closely followed by the rest of him. He crawled sleepily up Hiccup's neck to his familiar perch on the top of Hiccup's helmet, where he shook out his wings, had a quick rummage for dragonfleas, and gave an enormous yawn, revealing a very pink forked tongue and the fang-free gums that gave him his name.
Even though he was only a Common or Garden dragon, the most ordinary of the dragon species,
Toothless was a beautiful little creature. He was a deep emerald green in color, fading to shimmering pearl on his tummy like a mackerel, lightly sprinkled with pale brown freckles.
Enormous, innocent, grass-green eyes peered out from between absurdly long eyelashes.
Appearances, of course, were deceptive, for dragons are among the most selfish animals on the planet, and Toothless was, in fact, a shark in a baby seal's clothing.
"You can help us, actually, Toothless," said Hiccup. "This is IMPORTANT. We need to find ourselves back to the bay. We're a bit worried that we might have accidentally got ourselves into the Summer Current and we don't want to bump into any SHARKWORMS, now, do we?" Hiccup laughed nervously. "So what YOU could do is flap around and look for boats so we can get back on the right cores."
"Ask Horrorcow. Toothless h-h-hungry," said Toothless grumpily. He had woken up in a bad mood.
Hiccup raised his eyes to the heavens before explaining patiently that Horrowcow was asleep and there was no way she was going to wake up.
Horrorcow was Fishlegs's dragon -- a nice enough beast, but she spent most of her time asleep. She was lying, sprawled full length, underneath one of the rowing benches. Fishlegs had put a coat under her head to lift it clear of the water so she didn't drown.
"T-t-toothless into m-m-moving." Toothless was in a big sulk now. "n-n-no food -- no moving. Toothless on strike. Hiccup BOSSY BOSSY BOSSY. D-d-d-do this Do that. Toothless ad-d-dragon, not a slave. Work, work, work,, that's all you make poor Toothless do."
"Toothless, you've been asleep since breakfast! protested Hiccup. "And that's the most unfair thing I've ever heard. I wait on you hand and foot, you know I do. I feed you constantly, I tell you jokes, I carry you everywhere..."
"Toothless h-h-has w-w-weak wings," said Toothless pathetically. "You woke me up FOUR TIMES last night...."
"Toothless had a n-n-nightmare." Toothless opened his big green eyes wider. "Great big fat horrible h-h-humans with BIG TEETH chasing poor
Toothless all through his b-b-bed, want to get Toothless because
Toothless is so s-s-special..."
"You wanted OYSTERS!" howled Hiccup. "Oysters at three o'clock in the morning!"
"Oysters g-g-good for nightmares," Protested Toothless.
Hiccup ran out of patience
"You wouldn't shut up! You perched on my father's bed and said you'd screech in his ear if I didn't get them! I had to get up, dressed, go down to the Oyster Hoard in Hooligan Harbor and then when I got back again you wouldn't even EAT them because you said they were the wrong color or something!
"They had b-b-black bits on them," whined Toothless. "Toothless hh-hates black hits, they're YUCKY..."
"Oh, don't be such a BIG BABY, Toothless," snapped Hiccup. "It was only bits of seaweed and even when I picked them all off you STILL wouldn't eat them!"
"I hate to interrupt," said Fishlegs nervously, "but I'm pretty certain I saw the fin of a Sharkworm over there..."
But Toothless and Hiccup were so cross they didn't even hear. They were nose to nose, eyeballing each other. Toothless had puffed up to nearly twice his normal size and had turned an unpleasant mustardy-red color. Hiccup had forgotten you shouldn't really look a dragon in the eye for too long because their gaze is hypnotic, and he was starting to feel dizzy. But he was so angry he didn't care.
This dragon had gone too far this time. Hiccup had HAD ENOUGH.
He was going to put his foot down.
"I do All these things for YOU," continued Hiccup, "and EVERY now and then I ask you to do a few SIMPLE thing for ME, like catch some mackerel in a Dragon training Lesson, or look out for Sharkworms so we don't all get dragged off and torn to pieces, and what do you do? You go ON STRIKE. Well, you've gone too far this time. I've HAD
ENOUGH. I'm putting my foot down. You can just GO on strike then and see if I care."
"OK then," hissed Toothless. "T-T-Toothless really will go on strike."
With great dignity Toothless flapped off Hiccup's shoulder and up to the top of the mast where he perched, muttering to himself in a furious undertone, "T-T-
Toothless a BIG BABY, is he? HA! We'll SEE about that, M-M-Mister
Smartypants Hiccup.
L-l-let's just find out how l-l-long you last without the help of the BIG BABY..."
"What's he doing?" asked Fishlegs.
Fishlegs didn't speak Dragonese, so he wasn't sure what was going on. "Is he listening out for boats so we can get back to the bay?"
"Er, no..." admitted Hiccup, whose head was still spinning after the staring contest with Toothless. "We had a bit of a fight and he's gone on strike. But I've had it up to here with that dragon. He's pushed me too far too often... I'm drawing a line in the mud
..."
"Oh, for Thor's sake!" Fishlegs exploded. "We haven't got time for that now... LOOK!"
Hiccup's eyes finally swam back into focus. He looked.
The fog had shifted around, making it difficult to see, but for a moment Hiccup thought he might have glimpsed a black fin, with the jagged edge that made it clear that this was the fin of a Sharkworm, rather than that of its less dangerous relative, the ordinary shark...
"I don't think that was a Sharkworm, you know, Fishlegs," said Hiccup uncertainly. "I think it's just the fog playing tricks on our eyes..."
But Fishlegs wasn't taking any chances. He tried to shake Horrorcow awake, but the little reptile only snored all the harder.
"We need Toothless! " panicked Fishlegs. "For Thor's sake do something! Apologize! Promise him something large that he can EAT!"
"You could be right," admitted Hiccup. "OK, Toothless," he called up. Through the fog he could just see the dragon-on-strike perched on top of the swaying mast. "I apologize. We need you. If you fly down and help I'll give you all my supper for the next three weeks!"
"S-s-sixty seconds," said Toothless to himself with satisfaction. "Sixty seconds and they n-n-need Toothless again."
"N-n-need listening!" he sang down, examining his talons. "H-H-
Hiccup not need the help of a BIG BABY..."
"Honestly I think we're sort of OK," said Hiccup, squinting at the seas around them. "I can't see anything now and Sharkworms really are only supposed to attack if somebody has an open wound..."
Fishlegs was too panicked to hear what Hiccup was saying. He started yelling up the mast.
"Toooooothlessssss!"
"Not listening! Not l-l-listening!" Toothless called back with his wings over his ears.
Fishlegs shut his eyes in the hope that this wasn't really happening... and then he opened them again.
"Listen!" he hissed with frantic relief. "Can you hear what I hear? Sea-dragons!"
Hiccup sat very still.
And there it was, a very faint noise of dragons shrieking.
"A Peaceable fishing boat!" said Fishlegs joyfully. "Just in time, too! This is our lucky day!" He grabbed the rudder off Hiccup and swung it hard around to face in the direction of the noise.
"Come on, come ON," Fishlegs urged The Hopeful Puffin as the wind caught her sails and took her swiftly forward, "and please don't start turning round in circles."
To Fishlegs's relief the noise of screaming dragons grew louder and louder and the gray shadowy shape of an enormous boat loomed at them out of the fog.
It was a far, far larger boat than Hiccup was expecting. Surely
Peaceable fishing boats didn't normally have three layers of oars?
And the sound the dragons were making was also unusual.
"Those dragons aren't hungry, they're angry," said Hiccup slowly.
"Who cares?" shrieked Fishlegs, grabbing a grappling hook that was on a rope attached to the prow of The Hopeful Puffin. He threw it so that it caught perfectly over the rim of the larger boat and held.
Fishlegs was not a great athlete. He had tried this countless times in Boarding-an-Enemy-Ship Lessons and had never managed to throw it successfully before.
In fact, several times he had nearly knocked himself out in the process. Which just goes to show, it's amazing what a person can do when he feels he is in deadly mortal danger.
"Hang on a second, Fishlegs!" warned Hiccup. "We have to keep our heads here! We haven't definitely seen a Sharkworm yet, have we? And those dragons are screaming the most awful things in Dragonese..."
VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
The SHARKWORM
One of the scariest predators in the ocean. You are not safe either in the water or out, for the Sharkworm has thick, muscly alligator legs that allow it to Climb on board ship to kill.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Black, green, gray. ARMED WITH: Serrated fangs, claws, etc... RADAR: Absolutely POISON: None HUNTING ABILITY: Unbelievable on sea and land... 10 SPEED: Astonishingly quick FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Don't get in the water But Fishlegs was in too much of a twitter of terror to listen to
Hiccup.
"Have you forgotten? We're supposed to be boarding a Peaceable fishing boat right now!" he scolded. "Remember Boarding-an-Enemy- Ship lessons? Remember Gobber? Big chap, bad breath, muscles like Bashyballs? He's going to KILL us if we don't come back with a Peaceable helmet, right? Although, of course, it's a fascinating question whether or not that was a deadly man-eating Sharkworm or just a trick of the eyes, I really don't feel like staying here and discussing it somehow..."
Fishlegs started climbing the rope.
Again, Fishlegs was normally hopeless at rope-climbing. But this time he was up that rope as quick as a Shortwing Squirrel serpent scrambling up a tree.
Hiccup hopped nervously from one foot to another, listening to the furiously angry dragons shrieking from the enormous ship towering above him.
He couldn't let Fishlegs board the ship alone.
Hiccup said a quick prayer to Woden, put his hands upon the rope and began to squirm up after his friend.
"Here goes..." muttered Fishlegs, as he reached the top of the rope and prepared to climb over the edge and into the boat. He pulled out his sword with one trembling hand. "Remember, they're only fishermen, they're scared silly by
Hooligans," he reminded himself. "What was it Gobber said to say when we went over the top? Oh I know, that stupid Hooligan War Cry
-- YAAAAH!"
"Wait!" whispered Hiccup, frantically scrambling up behind him. "Don't do anything rash!"
But it was too late.
Hiccup reached the top and Fishlegs threw himself over the side, screaming "Y-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-H!" at the top of his voice. Gobber really would have been proud of him.
Fishlegs landed on the deck, swinging his sword around his head in his most menacing and barbaric fashion, expecting to be faced by two or three terrified Peaceable fishermen.
Instead of which, three hundred and fifty of Rome's finest soldiers, heavily armed with the latest in modern weaponry, swiveled round to look at him.
"Oh brother..." whispered Hiccup to himself, still swinging from the rope and peering over the rim of the boat. "So much for this being our lucky day..."
3. OUT OF THE COOKING POT AND INTO THE BARBECUE
"Uh-oh..." said Fishlegs.
This was most definitely NOT a Peaceable fishing boat.
It was, in fact, a sizable Roman ship, seventy meters long from stern to prow. The sails were pure white, and high above, when Hiccup craned his neck, he could see the Roman flag of the Imperial Eagle flapping cheerily in the wind. The boat was crammed with what looked like an entire legion of Roman soldiers, who were now looking at Fishlegs with astonishment and fury.
There was a gigantic iron cage set near the mast of the boat.
An enormous number and variety of dragon species were being held prisoner behind the bars of this cage. Deadly Nadders, Flying 'Gators, Big Spotted Gormlesses, Yellow Vampires, Common or Gardens
-- you name it, they were all there, trapped together in a furious tangle of talons and wings and fangs, ready to be sent back to the restaurants and shoemakers in Rome.
"Oh, for Thor's sake," whispered Hiccup. "Roman Dragon rustlers. I do not believe this..."
'Ah..." said Fishlegs with a nervous smile, backing toward the edge of the boat, "I seem to have made some sort of mistake. This is the wrong boat, you see..." He tried to laugh in an airy fashion. "So sorry to disturb... Carry on with what you were doing, why don't you..."
The nearest soldier, who was a six-feet-five centurion with legs like tree trunks, drew his sword with a nasty flourish.
"And where do you think you're going?" he asked Fishlegs in Latin.* He put out a big hand to grab Fishlegs, and Fishlegs ducked under his arm in the nick of time.
"GET HIM!" yelled the big centurion, and six or seven more soldiers made a leap toward Fishlegs.
* Latin was the language spoken by the Ancient Romans. Most Vikings did not understand this language, but Hiccup had been secretly taught a little Latin by his grandfather, Old Wrinkly. "Might come in useful," Old Wrinkly had said. (As indeed it did, on occasions too numerous to mention.)
Now, if Hiccup had been a traditional Hooligan Hero, he would have drawn his sword, Endeavor, and launched himself over the side to the aid of his friend, shouting the Hooligan War Cry at the top of his voice.
But then if Hiccup had been a traditional Hooligan Hero, he would have been dead as a kipper several books ago. A noble kipper, perhaps, a gloriously brave kipper; but, nonetheless, a very, very dead kipper.
Instead, Hiccup sneaked over the edge of the boat as quietly as he could. As soft as a ghost, he hid behind a couple of jars of olive oil beside a bit of the deck that was covered by a large tent.
In the meantime, Fishlegs was being chased by the Roman soldiers. The chase didn't last long. Fishlegs ducked and dodged as best he could but finally ran into the stomach of a gigantic centurion, who picked him clear off the ground.
"Look who we have here..." bellowed the centurion, as Fishlegs kicked his legs like a stranded beetle. "A scary little Viking trying to attack us all on his own..."
"Har har har!" The other three hundred and forty-nine soldiers thought this was very funny.
"This is all a big mistake," wailed Fishlegs, scratching himself violently as his eczema started coming out with the anxiety of the moment. "Please let me go..."
"Let's take you to the Boss, little barbarian, " said the centurion. He carried Fishlegs over to the tent where Hiccup was hiding.
Hiccup peered out from behind his jar. Gently he drew back the curtain so he could see what was happening.
Bright red in the face and trembling and itching, Fishlegs was brought before two richly dressed men reclining under the tent just a meter away from where Hiccup was crouching.
One of these men was very, very fat. So fat that parts of his stomach were dripping over the edge of his couch and were being held up by a small slave. The other man was thin and wearing a fancy helmet with a gigantic plume and a face guard that covered his eyes.
The Fat Roman was eating nanodragons in honey from a plate on a low table in front of him. Nanodragons were a tiny species of dragon as numerous as insects. They were about the size of locusts. The poor creatures were still alive and were wriggling but unable to escape from the honey that gummed up their wings. Hiccup could hear their pathetic cries for help as the fat fingers picked them up and gobbled them down.
The Fat Roman was difficult to understand because he was talking with his mouth full.
"By Jupiter, Prefect," drawled the Fat Roman through a big helping of nanodragon. "I do believe we have been attacked by a teeny-weeny little barbarian..."
"So we have, Consul," replied the Thin Prefect. "I recognize this one. He is a member of one of the local Tribes I was telling you about. I'm worried that these Tribes might object to OUR FIENDISHLY CLEVER PLAN."
"Oh yes, remind me what is our Fiendishly Clever Plan again?" asked the Fat Consul.
"One, disguise ourselves cunningly as Hooligans and kidnap the heir to the Brutish Bog-Burglars..."
"Marvelous," spluttered the Fat Consul.
"Two," said the Thin Prefect evilly, "disguise ourselves cunningly as Bog-Burglars and kidnap the heir to the Hairy Hooligans..."
"You're a genius," gurgled the Fat Consul.
"Three, the Bog-Burglars and the Hooligans are so busy fighting each other, they do not notice us STEALING EVERY SINGLE DRAGON IN THE INNER ISLES!"
"Bravo!" shouted the Fat Consul.
Hiccup would have loved to hang around and discover more about the plan. But he had important
The Romans Fiendishly Clever Plan
I The Romans disguise themselves cunningly as HOOLIGANS and kidnap the Heir to the BRUTISH BOG-BURGLARS...
II The Romans disguise themselves cunningly as BOG-BURGLARS and kidnap the Heir to the HAIRY HOOLIGANS...
III The BOG-BURGLARS and the HOOLIGANS are so busy fighting EACH OTHER they do not notice the Romans... stealing EVERY SINGLE DRAGON IN THE WHOLE OF THE INNER ISLBS!!!
Her her her her her (evil laughter) work to do. He had to get Fishlegs and himself off this ship alive.
Luckily, although everyday life as a Viking was a big struggle for
Hiccup, he always came into his own in a crisis. And this sure was a crisis.
Hiccup quickly summed up the problem. On the other side: three hundred and fifty of Imperial Rome's finest soldiers armed with javelins, swords, spears, arrows, entrenching tools, etc., etc., etc. On his side: two scrawny Vikings and two small dragons, one on strike and one in a coma.
Yup, it was a crisis.
Hiccup's eye was caught by a tiny Electric-squirm clinging to the edge of the curtain. He looked from the Electricsquirm back to the cage of dragons. All that talk about distracting had given him an idea.
Perhaps he could use the Electricsquirm to distract the Romans' attention so that he could tiptoe up and open that cage of dragons. The dragons would rush out and attack everybody, and in the confusion, Hiccup could rescue Fishlegs...
Hiccup got out his handkerchief, wrapped it VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
The ELECTRICSQUIRM
This nanodragon is not aggressive, but it gives a truly terrible (although not fatal) electric shock when touched. Like their close cousins the Glow-worms, these creatures can he used as a source of light if no flame or candle is available.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Transparent SIZE: Very small POISON: None RADAR: None ARMED WITH: Electricity DEFENSE: Electricity SPEED: Quite nippy 
FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Harmless if picked up by tail around his hand and picked up the Electricsquirm very, very carefully by the tail.
As its name suggests, the Electricsquirm gives a truly terrible electric shock if you touch it in the wrong place. The tail is fine, because it is made of some sort of horny material that does not conduct electricity. But every other part of its body is likely to electrocute you.
Hiccup dropped to his hands and knees and softly pushed aside the curtains of the canopy.
The Thin Prefect and the Fat Consul were still deep in conversation.
The Fat Consul had nearly finished his nanodragons-in-honey. There was only one nanodragon left on the plate, struggling to escape. No one was looking at it; the two men were far too busy talking.
Hiccup crawled forward, reached up and removed the nanodragon, putting it in his pocket. At least he had saved one of the poor creatures. He replaced the nanodragon with the Electricsquirm, which was almost exactly the same size.
Hiccup then crept away toward the cage of dragons.
Still talking, the Fat Consul reached out with one fat hand to grab another portion of nanodragon. His porky fingers scrabbled around in the honey for the final juicy morsel... and closed around the stomach of the Electricsquirm.
All thirty-eight stone of the Fat Consul soared quite one meter in the air.
His hair stuck up and out like a hedgehog, sparks flew out of his ears and his great blubbering mounds of flesh lit up with a strange blue light and quivered and shivered and wobbled and jiggled hysterically like a truly gigantic pink jelly that has been struck by lightning.
A few seconds later he fell to earth again. His toga turned to ashes around him and the vast flabby acres of his enormous stomach went on wobbling for the next ten minutes.
While everybody's attention was being drawn to the Fat Consul doing a one-man impression of the northern lights, Hiccup quietly lifted the wooden bar of the dragons' cage.
The next moment there was pandemonium aboard the deck of the Roman ship as the dragons poured out in a furious, shrieking, snapping and flaming river of beaks and wings and talons and tails, attacking the Romans, setting fire to the sails and causing no end of damage.
The Thin Prefect climbed on top of his couch in order to have a better view of what was happening.
"Hiccup!" he said to himself under his breath. "This is the work of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third or I am a freshwater crayfish
-- which I'm not of course. Well, I'llflush you out of your hiding place, my fine fellow, you see if I don't... CENTURION!"
This command was directed at the Roman soldier who was still holding Fishlegs upside down by his left ankle.
'Trepare to execute the prisoner!"
The centurion drew his sword with a flourish and swung it up over his head.
"HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICCUP!" screamed Fishlegs, absolutely terrified.
This was not part of Hiccup's plan. "TOOOOOOOOOTHLESS!" screamed Hiccup. 
4. TOOTHLESS TO THE RESCUE
Toothless had spent the last ten minutes muttering to himself at the top of the mast. At first he was so full of self-pity he had no time to worry about what was happening to his masters. "NOBODY loves T-T-Toothless," he said to himself. But then the noises from the Roman ship got louder, and the boys did not reappear, and he started to get worried.
When he heard Hiccup's YELL for help the little dragon called off his strike.
He zoomed off his perch and flew to the ship, and even from the height he was flying, his sharp little eyes immediately spotted that way down below on the deck there was a large Roman centurion who was holding Fishlegs by the leg. The centurion was about to execute Fishlegs with his sword.
Toothless folded his wings back and went into a dive, just as he might do if he were hunting mackerel or herring. His target was the centurion's head, and by the time he reached it, he was going so fast he was a little dragon blur. He tore into the helmet, sending feathers from the plume flying in all directions, and bit and scratched as hard as he could.
The centurion let out a yell of surprise and rage. For a moment he was knocked off balance, but he recovered when he realized his attacker was only a very small dragon. Fishlegs swung desperately from side to side, trying to break free; but the centurion was made of tough stuff. He tightened his grip on Fishlegs's ankle and swung his sword around, trying to hit Toothless with it.
So Hiccup grabbed a passing Slitherfang and shoved it up the centurion's tunic. The centurion let out a bellow and dropped Fishlegs.
Wouldn't you?
A Slitherfang in the knickers is no laughing matter. The centurion hopped from foot to foot, clutching his bottom and squealing like a pig as he tried to catch hold of the nibbling, wriggling, scratching Slitherfang in his underwear.
"Let's get out of here!" howled Hiccup, hauling Fishlegs to his feet.
He also picked up a Roman helmet that was lying on the deck nearby. They were going to have some explaining to do to Gobber when they got back, and this might help.
All around them there was chaos, with dragons attacking Romans and
Romans attacking dragons and trying to put out the fires the dragons were making.
Hearts racing as fast as rabbits, panting and stumbling, Hiccup and Fishlegs ran as fast as they could to the spot where they had boarded the ship. The rope was still in place, The Hopeful
Puffin would be waiting down below on the other side... Fishlegs got to the edge first, and scrambled over. Hiccup was only a few steps away from him.... when a hand grabbed the back of his tunic, ripping out his pocket.
Hiccup's book, How to Speak Dragonese, fell onto the deck. Hiccup stopped to reach down and pick it up...
... and came face to face with the glitteringly triumphant eyes of the Thin Prefect through the iron visor of his helmet. Hiccup's heart turned to ice. The Prefect was holding on to the other end of the book.
"AHA!" spat the Thin Prefect.
They both pulled. "Let go!" hissed the Thin Prefect. "You can't win, you know. This is mine now..." Hiccup could have let go but this was his book after all and despite his terror, some deep, indignant rage made him hang on strongly until...
... something sharp and iron shot out from beneath the Thin Prefect's cloak and cut into the back of Hiccup's hand.
Hiccup screamed and jumped backward.
The book split in two, and before the Thin Prefect could pull himself together and catch hold of him again, Hiccup scrambled away and over the edge of the ship.
There wasn't even time to climb down the rope. Hiccup swung from it, and then let go, crashing onto the deck of The Hopeful Puffin some way below
Fishlegs cut the rope that tied them to the ship, and their little boat was pulled away so swiftly by the current that she went into one of her spins.
"Where's Toothless?" asked Hiccup. Toothless had been held up.
His foot was caught in the centurion's chin strap, and for a moment they were tied together -- and Toothless had quite a bumpy ride because the centurion was jumping up and down like an octopus with chicken pox, as he tried to get rid of the Slither fang in his knickers.
Toothless finally snapped the chin strap with his hard little gums, and to Hiccup's relief, as The Hopeful Puffin twirled around for the fifth time -- looking for all the world as if she was dancing
-- Toothless came screeching up to the edge of the ship toward them at the speed of a flying arrow.
"Oh, thank Thor!" Hiccup exclaimed joyfully.
But one minute Toothless was flying through the air like a stormy petrel in a hurry; the next a net weighted with stones appeared out of nowhere, wrapped itself round the little dragon in midair and brought him back down onto the deck of the Roman ship as if struck by a spear.
"TOOOOOOOOTHLESS!" cried Hiccup.
Two figures appeared over the edge of the ship. One was the Thin Prefect holding half of the How to Speak Dragonese book. The other was a Roman soldier. In one hand he held a trident. In the other he held a net...
... and within that net, struggling and biting, and turning wild somersaults in his desperation to be 'free, was...
... Toothless.
The Hopeful Puffin made another crazy turn and Hiccup gazed at his captured dragon in despair until the Roman ship was swallowed up by the fog and Hiccup could see him no more.
How to speak Dragoness by Hiccup horrendous Haddock III
Bath time
When a dragon has spent the whole day in a mud wallow and they then want to curl up in your bed you have no option. YOU HAVE TO GIVE THEM A BATH. Good luck.
Dragon: Me na wash di bum. Me na wash di face. Me na wash di claws. Me na splashy oo di splashy ATALL.
I do not want a bath.
You are going to have to be cunning and use PSYCHOLOGY
You: Na bathtime ever never ever never. Me repeeti. Na bathtime EVER NEVER. On no account are you to get in the bath.
Dragon (whining): Me wanti splishy splashy You: Okey dokey just wun time.
All right just this once.
Hoody drunken di bath juice?
Who has drunk up the bath water?
Dinner time
Dragon: Issa yuck-yuck.
This is disgusting.
Dragon: Me na likeit di stink fish. Issa yuck-yuck. Issa poo-poo. Issa doubly doubly yuck-yuck.
I don't like haddock. It's revolting. It's gross. It's really revolting.
You: Okey dokey so questa yow eaty? All right then, so what will you eat? Dragon: Me, eaty di miaowla...
I want to eat the cat...
You: (you can raise your voice now) NA EATY DI BUM-SUPPORT, NA EATY DI SLEEPY-SLAB PLUS DOUBLY DOUBLY ISA EATY DI MIAOWLA!
Don't eat the chair, don't eat the bed and definitely don't eat the cat!
Talking to BIG DraGons
Dragon: ooohserumplush yum-yuminditum eatings di iekle prickleburger!
"Ooh, delicious, a scrummy little deer!
You: Me look a di scrummy may me ow-in-di-tummy.
"I may look delicious but I'm actually very poisonous." And if that doesn't work...
You: Me gambla yow na flicka-flame di gaff da di pestistings. "I bet you can't set fire to that nanodragon nest."
Dragon: Easipeasilemonsqueezi "U can do that no problem."
5. BACK ON BERK
By the time The Hopeful Puffin had stopped turning round in circles, the fog had started to lift a little. Half an hour later, the mist had vanished entirely, and they could see for miles in every direction.
The Roman ship was nowhere to be seen.
The water was as cold as ice again, so there was no further danger of bumping into any Sharkworms. They had not gone as far off course as Hiccup had thought. They set off toward the distant silhouette of Berk to the north. Fishlegs took the rudder because Hiccup was too depressed to do anything.
Hiccup sat staring at his half of How to Speak Dragonese. All that work, all that time spent dragonwatching at the Wild Dragon Cliffs, ripped in two. He was trying not to think of what might be happening to Toothless on board the Roman ship.
Toothless hated the idea of being trapped so much Hiccup even had to leave the door open when they went to bed. And now there he was, most likely locked up in that horrible iron cage.
We'd just had an argument, too, thought Hiccup in total misery. And he flew to our rescue... and now I might never see him again.
Horrorcow finally woke up from her deep sleep. "Did you get that helmet?" she yawned.
"Not exactly," replied Fishlegs grimly. "It's a long story." In her strange, spinning and zigzagging fashion, The Hopeful
Puffin drew nearer to the little Isle of Berk.
The Isle of Berk has been home to the Hooligan Tribes for so long as to seem like forever. It is one of the smallest inhabited islands in the Barbaric Archipelago, and perhaps the best way to describe it is "wet." There are twenty-eight words for "rain" in the Hooligan language. And Berk is the kind of place where the sea is always wandering up onto the land. Even at the Highest Point you can find scallop shells and dolphins' bones, thrown up by some gigantic tide or storm.
So, what with the rain pouring down constantly from above, and the sea sneaking up from below, the
Hooligans spend most of their lives up to their knees in muddy saltwater.
As they got nearer to Berk they didn't have time to feel sorry for themselves. The Hopeful Puffin was in difficulties. Never a very seaworthy boat, she had taken two big knocks, first when she was rammed by Snotlout's boat Sparrowhawk, then when Hiccup jumped down onto her decks from the Roman ship. She was taking on water even faster than normal.
Despite Hiccup and Fishlegs bailing out the water as quickly as they could with their helmets, by the time they reached Hooligan Harbor, she sank entirely.
They had to swim the last hundred meters, Hiccup holding Fishlegs up because (unusual for a Viking) Fishlegs had never quite mastered the doggy paddle.
To make matters worse, Gobber was standing on the harbor wall watching them come in, arms folded, brows as low as Thor's thunderclouds. When The Hopeful Puffin disappeared beneath the water he looked as if he might explode.
"It hasn't been a very successful day, has it?" moaned Fishlegs as they struggled out of the sea and onto the rocks. "At least we didn't meet any Sharkworms, after all..."
"I'm not sure there ever were any Sharkworms," said Hiccup through gritted teeth. He looked back sadly at the three circles of ripples and bubbles that were all that remained of The Hopeful Puffin. She had never been the most beautiful of boats but to him she was the best.
Slipping and sliding on the seaweedy rocks, they clambered reluctantly toward Gobber and stood before him, soaking wet, heads bowed. Fishlegs timidly offered him the Roman helmet.
Gobber was not amused.
"WHAT," he bellowed, pointing furiously at the Roman helmet, "WHAT in the name of Woden is this?"
"A Roman helmet, sir," admitted Fishlegs. "We sort of accidentally boarded a Roman ship by mistake... we got lost, you see, sir..."
"You got LOST?" boomed Gobber, not believing his ears. "Vikings don't get LOST. And how could you possibly board a Roman ship by mistake? A Roman ship doesn't look anything like a Peaceable fishing boat!"
"Yes, I know, sir," stammered Fishlegs. "But we thought there were these Sharkworms, you see -- "
"And WHERE," Gobber interrupted Fishlegs, his voice dangerously calm, "WHERE is your boat?"
"Ah, yes, well," said Fishlegs miserably. "The boat sort of sank, sir."
"THE BOAT SORT OF SANK?" roared Gobber. "YOU CALL YOURSELVES VIKINGS AND YOU SORT OF SINK YOUR OWN BOAT ON A PERFECTLY CALM DAY TWO HUNDRED METERS FROM YOUR OWN ISLAND? WHAT KIND OF HOOLIGANS ARE YOU, ANYWAY? YOU CAN'T BUILD BOATS, YOU CAN'T TRAIN DRAGONS, FISHLEGS HERE CAN'T EVEN SWIM...."
"Saltwater brings out my eczema..." mumbled Fishlegs. 
"YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO BE A PIRATE!" howled Gobber. "AS IT IS, YOU ARE THE MOST USELESS, MISERABLE, PATHETIC EXCUSES
FOR TADPOLE POOS I HAVE EVER MET IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! I AM LOST FOR
WORDS..."
Despite being lost for words, Gobber yelled at them for the next ten minutes, telling them they were a disgrace to their Tribe and the worst recruits he had ever had. He put them on limpet rations for the next three weeks, and said the next time anything like this happened they would be expelled from the Program.
At home, it wasn't much better.
During supper, Hiccup explained to his father about the unfortunate accident of boarding the Roman galley by mistake, and about the kidnapping of Toothless, and how the Prefect had got hold of half of How to Speak Dragonese, and how Stoick really should send a war party to rescue Toothless and the book. Hiccup showed the sad remains of How to Speak Dragonese and the Roman helmet to his father to prove his story was genuine.
"Mmmmmmm," said Stoick thoughtfully. Stoick was a great giant of a man with enough red, haystacky beard and barrels of belly to equip at least two decent-sized Viking chieftains.
He wasn't really concentrating, because he was reading Hiccup's Pirate Training report, which was the worst report he had ever read. Thumbnails of Thor, he was thinking, how can anybody get -- 4 for Advanced Rudery? And nothing at all for Beginner Burping and Hammerthrowing Studies, which had been Stoick's favorite subjects when HE was a boy.
Stoick was trying very hard not to feel disappointed in his son. He kept telling himself that Hiccup was just a slow developer, and would soon start getting muscles and nose hair, and scoring the winning goal in Bashyball games like Stoick had himself. But what was he doing, earning reports like "Hiccup is the worst sailor I have ever taught in twenty years"? How could he have come back from a perfectly straightforward training exercise having misplaced both his dragon and his boat? And how could he possibly have got lost and accidentally boarded a Roman ship rather than a Peaceable fishing boat?
Vikings didn't get lost.
Stoick opened his mouth to bellow at his son.
And then he closed it again.
Small, skinny, freckled and unsatisfactory, Hiccup's worried face looked up at him. He was clearly desperately anxious about that laughably tiny dragon of his. Stoick didn't have the heart to be angry. He crumpled up the report in one gigantic fist.
"Son," he said gently and gravely, "I am sorry you have lost Ruthless -- "
"Toothless!" Hiccup interrupted indignantly. "He's called Toothless."
"Toothless," Stoick corrected himself hurriedly. "But I am about to tell you something very important."
Stoick took Hiccup by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "You," he said solemnly, "are the son of a Chief. You have lost your pet, but you must be brave. You must be a MAN about it. There will be other dragons..."
"Not like Toothless!" objected Hiccup, in distress. "That dragon trusted me and I let him down!"
"Silence!" said Stoick sternly. "What does a Chief feel, son?"
"A Chief feels no pain," replied Hiccup obediently. "But Father -- " Stoick was just getting into his stride. "A Chief feels no pain. A
Chief feels no fear. A Chief must be above mere weak, personal feelings. There is no question of putting together a War Party to rescue your dragon. It would be a waste of our warriors' time. The
Romans are probably halfway back to Rome by now and they'll have turned Useless into a handbag -- "
"Toothless," corrected Hiccup again, "and that's what I'm telling you, Father, I overheard them talking and I think they're not just passing through."
"Talking?" roared Stoick, his eyebrows lowering. "What do you mean TALKING? How did you understand these Romans?"
"Ah," admitted Hiccup. "Old Wrinkly's been teaching me some Latin, you see -- "
"Latin? LATIN?" Stoick exploded. He crashed his fist so hard on the table that the oysters they'd been eating did a couple of cartwheels in the air. "My son, my son, has been speaking LATIN!"
He controlled himself with an effort. "Hooligans do not, I repeat, DO NOT, speak Latin. What are they teaching you in your Frightening Foreigners lessons? When a Hooligan meets a foreigner he shouts at it loudly and slowly. That's the only language a foreigner understands. Hooligans don't talk to dragons either. Or write books about them. you're spending far too much time scribbling about dragons and not enough time preparing to become a Chief."
Stoick took the half of How to Speak Dragonese out of Hiccup's hands and threw it onto the fire. Hiccup gasped. That book had everything he had ever learned about dragons in it. How would he ever talk to dragons again without it?
Stoick stomped off. 
As soon as he was out of sight, Hiccup burned his fingers pulling the book out of the flames. Luckily it was still quite damp, and the edges were only very slightly burnt.
That night, for the first time in a long, long while, Hiccup had to go to bed without the company of Toothless. The little dragon was a small, wriggling, snoring hot-water bottle. Now
Hiccup lay awake till the early hours of the morning, shivering uncontrollably under the thin covers, his feet and hands as cold as the North Pole, his ears trembling in the icy draft. And when eventually he slipped in and out of a feverish sleep, the nightdragons and the wind and the wolves seemed to be howling all together, "You've lost Tooooothlesss! Lost him forever! Lost Toooooooothless! Lost him forever and ever and ever" over and over and over again.
6. THAT NIGHT IN SINISTER ROMAN FORT SINISTER
Far, far away from Berk in the sinister Fort Sinister, there was a dungeon so deep beneath sea level that no light ever reached it, a dungeon so far away that even the gods had forgotten it existed.
Toothless, who was afraid of the dark and of small spaces, lay in utter blackness in a cage so cramped he could hardly turn over.
He was crying.
"H-h-help," whimpered Toothless, in a voice he knew could not be heard.
"H-h-help." [Image: A dragon.
"H-h-help" whispered Toothless, in a voice he knew could not be heard.
"H-h-help...."] 7. THE NANODRAGON
Hiccup woke very early. He had just been having a lovely dream about playing a tickling game with Toothless and he woke up laughing. For a moment everything was all right again and he forgot
Toothless had gone and reached out for him, only to feel the chilly, damp depression in the bed where Toothless should have been. He was instantly miserable again, and lay, teeth chattering, under the bedclothes trying to get up the willpower to brave the cold and get dressed in the still-slightly-damp-and-salty clothes he was wearing yesterday. He gradually became aware that what had woken him was a very faint and tiny singing noise, a reedy little sound like the wind caught in a cowries shell, but with an edge of menace to it.
The song went something like this:
SONG OF THE NANODRAGON (while licking off honey) O Human Fatness who tried to cat me
Great Wobbling Vomit of Repulsive Man-Flesh I cannot kill you NOW
Though I would like to
But you will regret this, Blubber-Man
You will regret this in the quiet darkness of the nighttime For I have friends
I have friends
I have friends who will itch you into nightmares Their feet will plow your skin into rashes
And you will sleep no more, o stomach-with-a-Head-o-it You will sleep no more
O Ballon of Lard who tried to cat me Man Uglier than an Exploded Jellyfish I cannot kill you NOW
Though I would like to
But I can Walt, Ticking in the corner like Fate And I have friends
I have friends who will crawl with me into your coffin
Where you are lying, hoping for the quiet sleep of Death
And we will cat YOU, o Sad Lump of Man Meat we will eat you We will eat you
Where was the song coming from?
Eventually, Hiccup realized the noise seemed to be sneaking out of the jacket he had worn the day before and left to dry on the back of a chair in front of the fire.
And then he remembered the nanodragon he had replaced with the Electricsquirm and put in his pocket.
Hiccup braced himself against the cold, jumped out of bed, dragged his clothes on and approached the jacket. Carefully, he put his hand into the pocket and drew it out again with a gasp. Not only was there a yucky warm mess of honey in there, but the nanodragon had bitten him on the end of his finger.
As Hiccup put the finger in his mouth (you should always do this with a nanodragon bite -- it helps to draw out the sting) the nanodragon flew out of the pocket, fluttered around the room and landed on the windowsill.
The nanodragon had spent the night cleaning the sticky honey off his body with his tongue. He was a handsome little beast. No bigger than a grasshopper, he was a gleaming rust-red with flecks of charcoal, and the morning sun shone through his gossamer-thin wings and threw red and black spots all round the room.
Something about the self-importance of the little animal, the arrogance with which he held himself, made Hiccup ask, "Who are you?"
"I," squeaked the tiny creature grandly, "am the Center of the Universe."
Hiccup looked carefully at the very small animal in front of him. "You ARE?" he said, polite but amazed. "Ton Your mean you are Thor or Woden in disguise?"
"Thor and Woden!" snorted the creature derisively. "Fairy stories! No, I am Ziggerastiea the Living God." Hiccup looked blank. "Most High and Mighty Ruler of the Nano Empire. Despot of the Northern Grasses..."
Hiccup shook his head regretfully. 
Ziggerastica.
"You MUST know about me!" piped Ziggerastica. "Great Scourge of the Bracken Dwellers... Doesn't that ring any bells at all?"
"Nope," said Hiccup. "I'm so sorry. I've never heard of you before."
"I don't know, You Humans," Fumed Ziggerastica, hugely offended. "Ignorant as well as ugly."
"I'm not ugly," protested Hiccup. "That is a very rude thing to say."
Ziggerastica wasn't listening. "You're so caught up in your own world that you never bother to lower your fat noses to the ground and have a look at what's going on in the Real world! Well, Boy- With-a-Face-like-a-Stinky-Haddock, you have had the good fortune to save the life of the most Powerful Being in the Galaxy..."
"If you're the most Powerful Being in the Galaxy," said Hiccup,
"how come you didn't get your nanodragons to come and save you from the big Fat Roman?"
"Even a Living God has his weak spots," replied Ziggerastica. "And mine happens to be honey. I love the stuff. But the Nanodragon cry for help is created by rubbing the back legs together, and honey gums up the noise... It is delicious though..."
And what on earth could someone as small as YOU do? Hiccup thought to himself, but it would have been rude to say it. "How will you hear me?" he asked instead.
The nanodragon ignored the question.
"Just say the word Ziggerastica and I will come. However, fee warned... You can call on my Most Glorious Aid just once, and once alone. When I have repaid my debt you will become just another smelly, repellent human to me. So choose your time wisely, Boywith-Spots-no-his-Ugly-Nose, choose your time wisely..."
And with that the rude little animal gave a last shake of his wings and flew out of the window.
Hiccup wasn't quite sure what to make of this conversation. It seemed unlikely that a creature as small as Ziggerastica could be as powerful as he seemed to think he was. But on the other hand, I need all the help I can get, Hiccup thought gloomily.
At breakfast, Hiccup was more miserable than he had ever been in his life. He couldn't eat a thing. He just sat there pushing his kipper sadly round his plate. His grandfather, Old Wrinkly, tried to ask him what the matter was, but Hiccup just sighed.
"What does a Chief feel?" asked Stoick the Vast, seeing his son drooping.
"A Chief feels no pain, Father," replied Hiccup glumly.
In the middle of the meal a Carrier Dragon flew in the window, dropped a letter addressed to Stoick on the table and flew out again.
The letter was from Big-Boobied Bertha, the chief of the Bog- Burglars. The Bog-Burglars were a tribe of particularly fearsome female warriors who lived on an island some way to the west of the Isle of Berk. (Please see map at the beginning of this book.) The Hooligans had a long-running feud with the Bog-Burglars which had started many, many years ago, when the Bog-Burglars stole the shield of Hiccup's great-greatgrandfather, Grimbeard the Ghastly.
Hiccup read the letter over Stoick's shoulder.
Greetings, You Fat Burglar, I see you have broken the truce we have had for so many years and wish to make war with us again.... How dare you steal the noble Heir to the Bog-Burglar Tribe?
You are a thief and I give you two weeks to return our
Heir to us unharmed... otherwise I shall declare a blood feud and we will sail to Berk in all our strength and exterminate the lot of you... It should be easy peasy -- you Hooligans always did fight like a load of bunny rabbits... Yours very untruly, Bertha, Chief of the Bog-Burglars.
Stoick grew more and more purple in the face as he read the letter. Finally, he came to the end and with a roar he tore the paper up into little pieces and stamped on them.
He was hopping mad. Stoick was often wild, often shouty, often going off the deep end. But this time he lost his temper.
And when a Hooligan loses his temper, he REALLY loses it. A Hooligan in a rage yells so loudly it makes his ordinary yelling sound like a baby's lullaby.
"I DECLARE A BLOOD FEUD!" yelled Stoick the Vast.
"Oh, brother." Hiccup raised his eyes to the heavens. "I do not believe this... this is all we need! Hang on a minute, Father, let's stay calm here. I really don't think this was from the Bog- Burglars. We haven't got their Heir, have we? So SOMEONE ELSE must have stolen her. I overheard the Romans saying they would pretend to be the Bog-Burglars so they can get us to fight each other. "
"YOU STAY OUT OF THIS, HICCUP!"
roared Stoick the Vast. "POLITICS IS FOR GROWNUPS! FETCH ME MY SWORD! SOUND THE WAR HORNS! I WANT EYERY MAN, WOMAN AND CHILD
PRACTICING THEIR SWORD-FIGHTING NIGHT AND DAY FOR THE NEXT TWO WEEKS!"
[Map: Blood Feud Table.]
"But, Father," protested Hiccup, "please use your head here -- " "I AM USING MY HEAD!" roared Stoick the Vast, head-butting the wall. "IF THOSE BOG-BURGLARS SET ONE TOE INTO HOOLIGAN WATERS, BY
THOR, THEY'RE GOING TO REGRET IT!"
Hiccup could feel himself getting cross too. He didn't stand up to his father very often, but he was so upset about Toothless that he got up and stood in front of Stoick with his hands on his hips.
"Why don't you BELIEVE ME?" he asked furiously. "I have told you and told you, this is the work of the ROMANS. I have even brought you back a Roman helmet to prove it."
Hiccup pointed to the Roman helmet, which was sitting on a stool in the corner of the room. "We COULD send out a War Party to go and find these Romans, and Toothless too... but oh no, you would rather stay here beating up the Bog-Burglars than believe the word of your OWN SON..."
For a moment it seemed as if Hiccup was getting through to his father. Stoick's nostrils stopped flaring and he ceased to paw the ground with his foot.
He looked at the Roman helmet. Maybe, just maybe, Hiccup was right...
But then he looked at Big-Boobied Bertha's letter and his temper returned.
"THE ONLY GOOD BOG-BURGLAR IS A DEAD BOG-BURGLAR!" shouted Stoick at the top of his voice, and he stalked out of the room.
"Don't blame your father too much, will you, Hiccup?" said Old Wrinkly sadly "He means well, but when things get complicated, he gets confused. By the way, aren't you going to be late for your Frightening Foreigners lesson?"
"Oh my goodness," said Hiccup. "So I am..." 8. THE FRIGHTENING FOREIGNERS LESSON
It was a glorious, blue, breezy day, but Hiccup had no time to admire it. He ran as fast as he could toward the Great Hall where the Frightening Foreigners lesson was being held. Gobber hadn't arrived yet, so the young barbarians were making a gigantic racket. Sharpknife and Tuffnut Junior were having a swordfight in one corner. The boys' dragons were lying in front of the gigantic fire, snapping and snarling at each other.
Snotlout and Dogsbreath the Duhbrain were sitting on Fishlegs while
Fireworm set fire to a pile of Fishlegs's workbooks.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size, you brainless brutes?" snapped Hiccup at the bullies, putting out the fire with his jacket.
"Thanks, Hiccup," panted Fishlegs. "Well, well, well," drawled Snotlout, removing his knee from Fishlegs's stomach and sauntering over to where Hiccup was sitting.
"Some Vikings you two are! I hear you couldn't even tell the difference between a Peaceable fishing boat and a seventy-meter Roman ship, and you have got to be the first pirates EVER to sink their own boat..."
"Har har har har," laughed all the other boys. "And most pathetic of all," jeered
Snotlout, "you lost your ridiculous fangless microbe of a dragon."
"Some loss," sneered Fireworm, sharpening her claws on Hiccup's helmet with an acutely unpleasant scritching noise. "That creature was a disgrace to us green-blooded FireBrothers of the Snake."
"Toothless was a fine, fine dragon," said Hiccup quietly, trying to keep his temper.
"He was a HOPELESS dragon," mocked Snotlout. "Never mind, Hiccup. He'll make a much better Roman handbag -- "
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU SNOT-FACED, SNOT-NOSED, ELEPHANT- NOSTRILLED, BOTTOM-BRAINED BULLY!" yelled Hiccup.
The door opened with a gigantic crash.
"Excellent Advanced Rudery, Hiccup!" roared Gobber the Belch. "We'll make a Viking of you yet!"
"I hope you don't mind, sir," spat Snotlout, advancing on Hiccup with his fists raised and a nasty look in his eye, "if I just kill him for that one..."
"But I do mind," said Gobber. "This is a Frightening Foreigners lesson, not a free-for-all -- SIDDOWN NOW YOU 'ORRIBLE LITTLE EXCUSES FOR VIKINGS!"
The boys scrambled for their places on the floor at Gobber's feet. Even Snotlout knew better than to disobey Gobber, and he sat down too, muttering darkly to Hiccup that he would get him later.
"This lesson is all about Taking Money with Menaces," yelled Gobber. "HICCUP! WARTIHOG! Stand up here in the front. Hiccup, I want you to be the Hooligan Invader and Wartihog to be the simple Gaulish farmer. What Terrifying Techniques can you use to get Wartihog's belongings?"
Hiccup got to his feet, but he wasn't really concentrating.
"Excusez-moi, mon brave, " said Hiccup absent-mindedly. "Mais pouvez-vous me donner votre -- "
Wartihog bashed him.
"OH FOR THOR'S SAKE, HICCUP!" exploded Gobber loudly "I TAKE BACK WHAT I SAID A MOMENT AGO! HAVE I TAUGHT YOU NOTHING? VIKINGS DON'T
TALK IN SILLY FOREIGN LANGUAGES, THEY YELL, HICCUP, YELL!"
Gobber controlled himself with an effort. "Sit down, Hiccup. Snodout, show PATHETIC Hiccup how to perform this perfectly simple exercise."
Two seconds later, to great cheers of "BRAVO!" from Gobber and the rest of the class, Snotlout had Wartihog in a Baggybum Bearhug and was removing not only his money but also his helmet, jacket and trousers.
Gobber put his hands on his hips, threw back his huge hairy head until the horns on his helmet touched the wall behind him and shouted with laughter.
"YOU SEE, HICCUP?' he bellowed in between great guffaws. "THATS HOW TO FRIGHTEN A FOREIGN -- "
The door flew open.
Two enormous, masked Kidnappers crashed into the room with yells that froze the blood and made the hairs on Hiccup's head stand up like the spines on a sea urchin. They were dressed in traditional Bog-Burglar costume, but it was obvious to Hiccup that this was a couple of Roman soldiers in not a very good disguise. For starters Bog-Burglar soldiers were always women. But these were clearly big hairy muscly men in dresses with pigs' bladders stuffed down their blouses instead of bosoms.
The First Kidnapper was holding a couple of double-headed axes the size of dinner plates, and he threw one of these as hard as he could in Gobber's direction. The axe flew through the air, missed Gobber's head by a hair' s-breadth, and pinned him to the wall by his beard.
"AAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" gurgled Gobber, unable to move and gazing at the shining blade less than a centimeter from his nose.
"HE WHO IS MOVING, PLEASE, LOSES ZE HEAD, AND ZE DRAGONS ALSO,"
yelled the First Kidnapper, speaking very badly in Norse* and swinging the other axe round his head.
Not a boy or a dragon moved.
"Okey-dokey please," continued the First Kidnapper in a quieter voice. "Give us what we is wantings and nobody she gets hurt. Which one of you is being the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans?"
Everyone was silent.
"No make me get cross, please..." warned the First Kidnapper.
"You no like her when she is cross," said the second one, fingering his axe lovingly.
*Norse is the language all Vikings speak. "Just tell me... WHO IS BEING THE HEIR TO THE HAIRY HOOLIGANS?"
Nobody answered them and now they started talking to each other in Latin.
"OK, Marcus," the First Kidnapper said to the Second Kidnapper. "They're not telling, but the Boss said the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans is a weedy-looking kid -- which one is he, then?"
The Second Kidnapper pointed at Hiccup. "It must be that one with the red hair," he said. "Look at him, he's got arms like spaghetti!"
"But what about the one with the face like a haddock?" objected the First Kidnapper, indicating Fishlegs.
"That's got to be the weediest-looking kid I've ever seen in my life..."
"Oooh, it's a toughie," said the Second Kidnapper. "I think we have to take them both, just in case, If we get it wrong the Boss will be cross, and you know what he's like when he's cross..."
So the Second Kidnapper picked up both Hiccup and Fishlegs and put them over his shoulders.
"You must be doing countings to a thousands before you is leavings this room," the First Kidnapper warned the class of openmouthed Viking boys. "Or we be killings these boys! You be tellings your Chief that Big-Boobied Bertha sends you her lovings and is giving you this letter."
The Kidnappers handed Wartihog a piece of paper addressed to Stoick.
Gobber the Belch had turned purple in the face. He was still stuck to the wall by his beard with the Kidnapper's axe. A beard was a Hooligan's pride and joy. The redder, the hairier, the tanglier the better, as far as the Hooligans were concerned. It was a terrible insult to lay so much as a finger on another Viking's beard -- let alone pin him to the wall with it.
"REVENGE!" bellowed Gobber, trying to pull himself free from the axe but only succeeding in tearing out pieces of his precious beard. "CHIEF STOICK
THE VAST WILL DECLARE A BLOOD FEUD ON THE BOG-BURGLARS WHEN HE HEARS YOU HAVE STOLEN HIS HEIR AND RUINED MY BEARD!"
"These aren't Bog-Burglars," warned Hiccup. "Bog-Burglars are always women. These aren't women. Look! That one's bosom's just popped. These are Romans! Be sure and tell my father that -- "
The First Kidnapper clapped a large hand over Hiccup's mouth. But he didn't need to. Gobber wasn't listening to Hiccup anyway. He had gone into a blood-rage just like Stoick ten minutes earlier.
"THE BOG-BURGLARS WILL RUE THE DAY THEY DARED TO MESS WITH THE BEARD OF GOBBER THE BELCH! MAKE NO MISTAKE, I'M GOING TO SEE THE CHIEF ABOUT THIS!"
"You be doings that," grinned the First Kidnapper, and the Kidnappers left the room, taking Hiccup and Fishlegs with them.
9. WELCOME TO FORT SINISTER
The Kidnappers ran down the hillside with the boys bumping on their backs. They threw them into the bottom of their boat -- a small, clearly Roman ship with a very badly made Bog-Burglar flag flying from the mast.
The Kidnappers set sail in the opposite direction to the land of the Bog-Burglars.
"Where are we going?" moaned Fishlegs.
"My guess is next stop Fort Sinister," replied Hiccup.
"Your weedy friend she is right," sneered the First Kidnapper, removing his false beard. "You are havings the honor to be kidnapped by the glorious Empire of Rome, and we is takings you to the noble Fortress of Sinister."
"Yippee," said Fishlegs gloomily.
"You can be shuttings up now," said the First Kidnapper, and the boys shut up.
The wind was very strong. Within an hour they had left the safety of Woden's Bathtub and were entering the tricky currents and needle-sharp rocks of the Mazy Multitudes. This was a bewildering muddle of thousands of small islands some miles south of the Isle of Berk, many with gigantic sea cliffs. Its eerie atmosphere led most Vikings to believe it was haunted.
Huge black mountains with grim scrabbles of rock rose on either side of them. The greasy sea swirled underneath, with every now and then a pointy rock appearing out of nowhere in the mist, so that the Second Kidnapper had to swiftly steer the boat clear.
The closer they got to the Roman Headquarters, the less wildlife there was around them.
Woden's Bathtub had been alive with dragons of all shapes and sizes, screaming and catcalling to each other and skimming across the waves, keeping an eye out for fish. Seals slumbered fatly on the rocks. Birds wheeled in the skies, zooming down on any morsels of fish that went astray during dragon fights.
But as they neared the fort, the seas around them became a desert. Not a bird called, not a fish jumped. The reason for this was clear when they spotted two dead Slither hawks all tangled up in a gigantic net, hanging from a cliff face.
"And they call US barbarians," sniffed Fishlegs. Hiccup began to feel a bit sick.
And then his heart skipped a beat. He could hear the sound of dragons screaming, the same noise that they had heard through the mist in Woden's Bathtub... It was a sound that chilled the blood and frayed the nerves, like a sword being sharpened screechily on a stone. He swallowed hard. "I think we're about to meet the Romans," he said.
Sure enough, the appalling hullabaloo of terrified and furious dragons grew louder and louder and louder... then they rounded a corner and there before them, impossibly huge and spooky, stood Fort Sinister.
Their mouths flopped open in astonishment.
Vikings are used to fairly simple living conditions. A Chief just has a larger hut than anybody else. So they had never seen anything the size of Fort Sinister before.
The Island of Sinister was surrounded by enormous black cliffs plunging dizzily down to jagged rocks. On top of these cliffs the Romans had built the biggest fort you could possibly imagine, covering the entire island.
The wind shrieked through its awful towers and great grim cages, the sea seeped through its iron gates and into its terrible dungeons; it was a fort as black and bleak as the rocks it was made out of.
In the middle was the Consul's Palace, a gorgeous villa built around a central courtyard with an ornamental fountain. Next to the Palace was an enormous wooden amphitheater, and beyond that were the soldiers' barracks.
Countless numbers of dragons were being held in fifty enormous iron cages, with no shelter from the wild wind and bitter cold of the Inner Isles. No wonder they were screaming.
Beyond that were slaves' quarters and kitchens and exercise yards for the horses and training grounds for the gladiators and little temples for the gods and heated swimming baths for the Consul and senior soldiers and stores of ammunition and gigantic equipment for breaking a barricade and field after field of crops.
And this entire, massive area was encircled by high wooden fences, with watchtowers manned by sentries every hundred meters. Four enormous observation balloons sailed overhead.
These balloons were powered by the flaming breath of a dragon kept in a cage just above the basket, and they were manned with more sentries, keeping a sharp eye out for escapees or invaders.
"WOW" breathed Fishlegs at last. "No wonder the Romans have conquered most of the world. It's just amazing they haven't conquered US."
"Yet," said Hiccup grimly. "And what I'm worrying about is how on earth we're going to GET OUT of here."
The Kidnappers sailed right up to the wooden entrance gates. These were in themselves impossibly huge doors, larger than some of the sea cliffs on Berk. As they neared, there were cries from the sentries in the watchtowers and the great doors opened to let them in. They sailed through the open gates, right into the heart of the Fortress, and the doors shutting behind them were like the closing of a shark's mouth.
The Second Kidnapper gave the boys a glittering mile as they moored the boat.
"We is welcoming you to Fort Sinister," he said. 
10. THE SECRET IDENTITY OF THE THIN PREFECT
The Kidnappers threw the boys over their shoulders again and strode through several large courtyards, busy with soldiers and cooks and horses and people selling things to each other. They walked up some steps and through a door into a brightly lit, gorgeously painted room. This was the Consul's Palace. Tapestries hung from the walls, couches were draped in silken covers, the mosaic floor was warm and toasty underfoot.
The Romans certainly knew how to make themselves comfy.
In one corner of the room, the Fat Consul was having his tonsils tickled with a feather so he could vomit and fit in some more Monstrous Nightmare Crme Brule for pudding. In another, the Thin Prefect was having his temples massaged. He looked up when they came in and gave an "Aha!" of evil satisfaction.
At the Prefect's feet lay a particularly large Gronckle, a dragon about two meters high with a spiny ruff around its neck. When they came into the room it heaved its enormous bulk onto its thick muscly legs and an ominous growling began deep in its thick bull neck.
It leaped at the First Kidnapper, who dropped Fishlegs with a scream.
"Stop!" shouted the Thin Prefect in Dragonese. Very poor Dragonese, but Dragonese nonetheless. The Gronckle had grabbed the First Kidnapper by the leg in his immense jaws, and the First Kidnapper uselessly drummed his fists on the gigantic creature's great, warty back. The Gronckle had been enjoying itself, gnawing away at the Kidnapper's knee, its great tail lashing from side to side; but at the Thin Prefect's command it reluctantly stopped.
"Think you." The Thin Prefect had a terrible accent and he kept on getting the words wrong. "You can hold on to the kidnapper now."
The Gronckle didn't move.
"I said 'Hold on to him!'" shouted the Thin Prefect crossly.
The Gronckle blinked at him and still didn't move.
"Oh for Thor's sake, you stupid alligator..." swore the Thin Prefect in Norse. From his pocket he got out his half of How to Speak Dragonese and started flicking through it, muttering to himself, "Release, release -- what's the word for release?"
"I think you'll find the word is 'release,' sir?" advised Hiccup politely.
"Thank you," sneered the Thin Prefect. "Release," he said to the Gronckle, who opened its jaws and the Kidnapper dropped, sprawling onto the floor.
"As you can see," drawled the Thin Prefect, "I need the other half of your book, Hiccup."
Hiccup tried not to look as terrified as he felt.
"How do you know my name?" he asked. "And why are we speaking in Norse, not in Latin?"
The Thin Prefect smiled. "We have met before, you see, Hiccup, many, many times. Why don't you look a little closer?"
Hiccup looked up into the Thin Prefect's eyes, and he gasped as he finally realized who it was.
The man was bald; completely hairless all over. Even his eyelashes had disappeared. But bald as he was and dressed in a toga, this was definitely Hiccup's archenemy -- Alvin the Treacherous, Chief of the Outcast Tribe and the wickedest man in the Inner Isles
"So, " hissed Alvin, "we meet AGAIN, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third..."
Hiccup and Fish legs gazed at him in utter astonishment. The last time they had seen Alain he had been inside the stomach of the
Monstrous Strangulator at the bottom of the underground seacavern.* How on earth had he got out of THAT tricky situation? And what was he doing posing as a Roman?
"I see you are wondering," smiled Alain nastily, "how I got myself out of THAT tricky situation."
Fish legs and Hiccup nodded.
"It's an interesting story," spat Alain, his eyes hissing with fury. "I know you'll enjoy it... I cut myself out of the stomach of the dead Monstrous Strangulator with my sword, and then since you had so kindly ABANDONED me without any dragons, I couldn't get out of the cavern by the sea..."
"We didn't abandon you!" squeaked Fishlegs. "We didn't know you were alive! How could we know?"
Alvin ignored him. "... so I had no choice but to go through the Caliban Caves. THREE WHOLE MONTHS it took me, creeping through the darkness, eating little cavern dragons raw, licking the walls for
* How to Be a Pirate. I would strongly suggest you read this book. water... and then when I finally emerged into the light on your vile little island and stole a ship back to my own land, what happens? My own people SHUN me -- they refuse to have me as their
Chief! Because down there in the darkness, in the vile belly of that Strangulator... something happened to me..."
Alvin's voice became more and more savage.
"The stomach juices of that infernal creature have made my hair fall out. And whoever has heard of a hairless Viking? I was thrown out of my own Tribe and forced into exile. Luckily, I have some Roman blood on my mother's father's side... and the Empire has use for a clever person like myself. I told them I had thought of a way they could conquer the Vikings by turning the Tribes against each other."
"TRAITOR!" yelled Fishlegs.
"Exactly" smiled Alvin. "And I also have my own plans for a... DRAGON ARMY" Alvin drew his right arm out of his toga for the first time. An arm that ended not in a hand but in a huge curved HOOK made out of the most brilliant gold.
"I made this hook," he said casually, "out of a single cup of that
Treasure. It was the only thing I could carry through the Caliban Caves. But I want the rest of it -- 
I need the rest of it...
"With a DRAGON ARMY I can get the Treasure," continued Alvin. "The dragons can swim down and bring it up for me. But you know what I need first, Hiccup..."
Alvin drew the point of his hook right against Hiccup's chest. "I need the other half of that book of yours, How to Speak Dragonese. I need that book to command the dragons in my Dragon
Army. Where is your half of the book, Hiccup? If you tell me I will let you and your fish legged friend live. Otherwise I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you both RIGHT NOW..."
"Tell me what you've done with Toothless first," said Hiccup.
"Oh, Toothless is very safe," grinned Alvin. "He's locked up in one of my dungeons."
Hiccup gave a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't dead. "Give me the book now," commanded Alvin.
"If I give it to you, will you promise you won't kill us?" asked Hiccup.
"I promise," smiled Alvin.
Hiccup felt into his pocket and handed Alvin his damp and tattered half of How to Speak Dragonese. He knew Alvin would find it at some point anyway.
"Thank you," sneered Alvin. He unscrewed the hook from the end of his arm and replaced it with his famous sword, the Stormblade.
"Uh-oh," said Hiccup.
The Fat Consul had finally polished off a large helping of roasted baby Puff Nadders in garlicky Dreamserpent sauce, and he started to take an interest in what was going on.
ELEVENSES MENU for His Most Noble Fatness the Fat Consul
HORS D'OEUVERS
Roasted baby Puff Nadders in garlicky Dreamserpent sauce
Lark's tongue soup with crunchy nanodragon heads on the side ENTREES
Whole roast ox marinated in pickled Slitherhawk and shark's eyeballs
Double Reptoburger with extra cheese and Picallilli penguins Live Frog-and-Dormouse souffls in
Common-or-Garden sauce PAUSE FOR A VOMIT
LES DESSERTS
Monstrous Nightmare Crme Brulee with Smoked haddock and chocolate mousse Sticky toffee Nadder and whelk pudding "Who have you got over there, Prefect?" he drawled, wiping the cream from the third of his chins. Hiccup noticed that he wasn't looking too well. He was covered from head to toe in nasty red bites, and every now and then he reached out a fat arm to scratch his gigantic blubbery behind.
"This," said Alvin grimly, "is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans." "The extraordinarily powerful warrior you were telling me about?"
asked the Fat Consul. He looked at Hiccup in astonishment. "But he's so very, very small!"
"Size isn't everything," replied Alvin the Treacherous.
"What are you going to do with him then, Prefect?" asked the Fat Consul.
"I'm going to kill him," said Alvin, giving the Storm blade a nasty swish.
"You promised you wouldn't!" protested Hiccup.
"Tsk, tsk," tutted Alvin, "haven't you learned by now that a Treacherous never keeps his promise?"
"Hang on a second, my dear Prefect," drawled the Fat Consul. "It seems a waste to kill him now.
Let him live until Saturn's day Saturday -- I would like to see this extraordinary warrior in action in the gladiatorial arena..."
"That's not a good idea, Consul," said Alvin. "This boy may not look much, but I assure you I have seen him in action and he could ruin all our plans. We must kill him NOW while we have the chance."
"Who gives the orders round here?" asked the Fat Consul.
"I d -- " Alvin recollected himself just in time. "I mean, you do, of course, Consul." Alvin bowed fawningly at him. "But -- "
"No arguing, please, Prefect," ordered the Consul.
"At least let me kill the one who looks like a haddock," pleaded Alvin the Treacherous.
"Fishlegs is a BERSERK*, you know, Consul," said Hiccup hurriedly. "I'm sure he'd put on a very exciting fighting display as a gladiator."
"Really?" exclaimed the Fat Consul. "This is proving a very interesting morning. I've never met
*You know the expression "going berserk"? Well, Berserks were Vikings who vent crazy on the battlefield. Good men to have on your side. Not so good when hey were on the otherside, though...
a Berserk before. He should be most amusing at the Games. The one with the face like a fish lives too, I'm afraid, Prefect."
"But sir -- "
The Fat Consul waved away Alvin's objections with one fat hand. "Put the prisoners in the dungeon with the Bog-Burglar Heir!"
Alvin fought to control his temper. He smiled at the Consul through very gritted teeth. "Of course you know best, sir," he said. "But don't blame me if it all goes wrong..."
Alvin turned to the Gronckle. "Sit on me!" he ordered in his extremely poor Dragonese. "And put me in the toilet with the other Heirs!"
The Gronckle promptly sat on Alvin. The First Kidnapper had to prod the dragon very hard with the handle of his sword to get the Gronckle off before he squashed Alvin entirely. When he finally emerged from underneath the creature's bottom, Alvin was hopping mad.
"No, no, no!" he shrieked, and then tried to put together the two halves of How to Speak Dragonese, muttering swearwords under his breath as he looked for the right page. "Ah, here it is!" he said with satisfaction. "Pick my nose and put me in the toilet with the Bog-
Burglar Heir!"
The Second Kidnapper had to lash out furiously with his swordhandle to prevent the Gronckle from picking Alvin's nose with its gigantic talons. And then the creature picked Alvin up and started trying to stuff him in the Fat Consul's gigantic toilet.
"Carry on!" shrieked Alvin. "Can I help?" asked Hiccup. He talked to the Gronckle directly. "I think what the Prefect is TRYING to say is, pick US up and put US in the Tower with the Bog-Burglar Heir..."
The Gronckle picked up Hiccup and Fishlegs by the scruffs of their necks as if they were two kittens.
"At least," pleaded Hiccup to Alvin as he swung from the Gronckle's jaws, "won't you do a good thing for once in your life and set Toothless free? You don't need him and he's never done anything to you..."
Alvin tried to look dignified as he climbed out of the toilet. Which was tricky.
"That isn't true," he said. "That dragon once did a poo in my helmet. A Treacherous Never Forgives. He can stay in that dungeon and rot for all I care... Actually, I've just had a better idea -- he can join you in the arena on Saturn's day Saturday and you can all die a horrible death together..." Alvin gave a gruesome smirk and waved his hand at the Gronckle.
"Take them away," he ordered, for once getting the Dragonese right, and the Gronckle trotted off to the Tower with the boys in his mouth, followed by the First Kidnapper. The huge animal clattered up the wooden steps and stopped outside a large door. This was the door to the prison where Alvin was keeping the other Heir. The First
Kidnapper opened it with a large key that was hanging from his belt.
"Welcomes to your home for three weeks, please," he smirked unpleasantly. "Do much sword-fighting's... Roman gladiators are very, very good, me thinking..."
"At least we'll meet the heir to the Bog-Burglars," said Hiccup to Fishlegs. "Maybe this whole mess is a chance to meet her and make some sort of peace between the Hooligans and the Bog-Burglars..."
11. THE BOG-BURGLAR HEIR
The Gronckle trotted into the room. It was a large, bare space with a table and a few chairs and some straw in the corner that served for beds. The windows were barred. The boys were clearly not going to have the same luxuries the Romans gave themselves. The Gronckle dropped Fishlegs and Hiccup on the floor and backed out of the room.
"Making yourselves at home," sneered the First Kidnapper, and the door clanged shut.
Standing in the middle of the room was a small girl with wild blond hair and a ferocious expression.
The girl drew her sword with a flourish.
"Who are you? What are your names?" she demanded fiercely. "Who sent you? Where do you come from?"
"My name is Hiccup," stammered Hiccup. "And this is Fishlegs -- we're Hooligans..."
"I don't believe you!" yelled the little girl. "You're Roman spies! Draw your swords and FIGHT like men, you Latin lowlifes!"
The boys looked at the furious little girl in amazement. Fishlegs began to laugh. He wasn't laughing two seconds later when the little girl cut the cord of his trousers and they fell down around his ankles.
"Hey!" objected Fishlegs, indignantly hauling them up again. "Watch what you're doing with that sword!" In reply the little girl hoisted the sword over her head and ran toward Hiccup shouting the Bog-Burglar War Cry, which sounds like a very rude word shouted at the top of the lungs. Hiccup drew his sword just in time to parry her lunge, and they began to fight.
Last year, Hiccup had found out that he was left-handed. Since then, he had discovered he had a gift for sword-fighting. It was the only thing on the Pirate Training Program he was truly good at. He could beat even Oikish and Dogsbreath quite easily, and was having extra lessons with Gormless the Grim, the best sword-fighter in the Hooligan Tribe.
But this little girl was just as good at sword-fighting as Hiccup. Her arm moved so quickly you could hardly see it. She turned cartwheels between moves. And she TALKED constantly throughout, which made it difficult to concentrate.
"FIGHT, you nano-eating, locust-baking, toga-wearing Jupiterworshipper! Ooooh, you're actually quite good at this -- for a boy -- I've been getting SO bored, you have no idea..."
"Can't we just have a quiet talk about this?" asked Hiccup breathlessly. "There really is no need for us to be fighting..."
But the little girl took absolutely no notice of him and carried on talking.
"I see you mow the Grimbeard's Grapple, and the Flash cut Lunge, and the Deathwatch Parry, and the
-- "
"Will you STOP!" panted Hiccup, frantically parrying all of these moves, and getting his sleeve cut off in the process. "My name really is Hiccup... I really am a Hooligan..."
"I don't believe you," said the little girl. "You're a Roman SPY! Admit it, or I will UNZIP you from your BREADBASKET to your OYSTERGOBBLER! Oooooooh, your defense is a bit WEAK, you know, you should really work on that... otherwise, a person could just nip through -- and..."
She made a perfectly executed lunge which Hiccup parried at the last minute but which cut off his second sleeve.
"Whoops!" crowed the little girl joyfully. "There goes the other one!"
"I -- AM -- NOT -- A -- ROMAN..." gasped Hiccup, his back against the wall.
"Well, a Hooligan isn't much better," said the little girl, pausing for a second and then carrying on. "My mother says the only good Hooligan is a dead Hooligan."
"That's funny," panted Hiccup, "because my father says that the only good Bog-Burglar is a dead Bog-Burglar -- and the really amusing thing is, unless we join together, in about two weeks' time, we are both ping to be VERY GOOD, and VERY DEAD."
"Oh BOTHER," sighed the girl, stopping at last. 
Now that she wasn't moving around so much, Hiccup could see that she really was quite a small girl, at least a head shorter than he was. "I was really looking forward to spilling some blood."
She grinned at Hiccup. "You're not a bad sword-fighter, actually, for a boy, of course..."
"Thanks," said Hiccup, still trying to catch his breath.
The little girl stuck out her hand for a handshake. "My name's CAMICAZI, the Heir to the Bog-Burglars. Nice to meet you. What are you doing here, anyway?"
"We got kidnapped just like you," replied Hiccup. "And we're also looking for a dragon that I've lost. He's about so high, green eyes, a Common-or-Garden..."
"Oh, yes," said Camicazi. "The soldier who brings the food told me about HIM. He bit the Prefect on the nose when they brought him in!"
"Good old Toothless," said Hiccup.
"The Prefect really doesn't like HIM," said Camicazi.
"Yes, I know," said Hiccup. "Toothless once did a poo in his helmet, and a Treacherous never forgives."
"They've put him in Level Seven, Top Security."
"Oh poor, poor Toothless," said Hiccup. "I can't bear to think of him being trapped. He hates small spaces -- he can't even go down rabbit holes, despite rabbit being his favorite food; he stays at the entrance shrieking his head off -- "
But at that very moment the door to the prison cell opened again. It was a stout soldier carrying a small green ball in one hand.
"I've got a present for Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third from the Prefect," leered the soldier.
He threw the ball roughly at Hiccup and it struck him heavily in the stomach, winding him severely. The little ball unrolled itself with a furious "D-d-d-do you m-m-mind?"and with a sudden burst of happiness Hiccup realized who it was.
"Toothless!" he exclaimed joyfully, once he had got his breath back. "TOOTHLESS!"
He bent down to pick up his dragon. The poor little animal had lost so much weight he was all skin and bones. Hiccup could feel his ribs sticking out, and his tail had gone all floppy and lost its pointy fork, which is what happens if a dragon is imprisoned or deeply unhappy.
For a moment Toothless pretended that he didn't care -- "Y-y-yucky -- put me down!" -- and then he put his little dragon arms around Hiccup's neck and hung on for dear life, whispering in Hiccup's ear, so that only he could hear, over and over again, "Th-th-thank you... thank you... T-T-Toothless would have died. if he spent one more hour in that h-h-horrible place... TH-TH-THANK YOU..."
12. THE MASTER ESCAPER
It may not sound like much, but one of the first facts you learn about dragons is that they are hardly ever grateful. This was the first time in Toothless's life he had thanked Hiccup for anything.
He soon recovered himself, and to make up for this moment of weakness he gave Hiccup an embarrassed nip on the ear.
He then became thoroughly overexcited and twirled himself around Hiccup's neck three times, before diving down Hiccup's shirt and running all over his chest and round his back and under his armpits, which made Hiccup laugh a lot, because the light pattering of a dragon's feet and the swirl of its tail is almost unbearably ticklish.
"Stop it!" shouted Hiccup, in between gasps of laughter. Toothless emerged from the shirt and scurried onto Hiccup's head, his little green paws making Hiccup's hair stand up on end even more than it did already. Sitting high up on Hiccup's forehead, Toothless puffed out his chest and crowed three joyful
"Cock-a-Doodle-Doos" of triumph.
Camicazi watched all this with interest, particularly the strange pops and whistles that Hiccup made with his mouth when talking back to Toothless in Dragonese.
"Oh, I've heard about you," she said, "You're the geek who talks to dragons..."
"Talking to dragons is not geeky" said Hiccup crossly. "Dragonwhispering is a very ancient and rare skill."
"OK," said Fishlegs. "So if we've rescued Toothless, I have just one question -- who's going to rescue US?"
"We're going to rescue OURSELVES, of course!" cried Camicazi, drawing her sword again. "We ESCAPE or we DIE!" she shouted with a mad gleam in her eye. "As it happens, I am the master escaper. This isn't the first time I've been kidnapped, you know."
"The MASTER ESCAPER," snorted Fishlegs. "You Bog-Burglars are very pleased with yourselves. Who's kidnapped you before?"
"Oh... other Viking Tribes, mostly," replied Camicazi carelessly.
She hummed a little tune and happily swung her sword around her head.
"The Meatheads... the Visithugs... us Bog-Burglars are always quarreling with EVERYBODY... we have anger issues... Anyway, I escaped from the Visithugs, no problem..."
"No problem?" said Fishlegs. The Visithugs were supposed to be TOUGH.
"I think you'll have a problem escaping from a Roman Fortress," said Hiccup, stroking Toothless, who was beginning to purr. "Roman Fortresses are built to be impossible to get into and impossible to get out of. Have you noticed the four perimeter fences? The four observation balloons? The guards at every watchtower? Not to mention the bars on this cell and the locked door. I don't think you've got a hope of escaping."
Camicazi smiled confidently. "Nothing is beyond the powers of a master escaper," she assured them. "You can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. No prisons can hold us -- we're as wriggly as eels..."
"So why are you still here then if you're such a great escaper?" said Fishlegs.
"I suggest that we wait for my father to send a War Party to rescue us," said Hiccup.
"He didn't send a War Party to rescue Toothless," Fishlegs pointed out.
"Yes but I nearly persuaded him to," replied Hiccup eagerly. "I think I really got through to him... And I am his SON after all, and not just a dragon..."
Toothless gave him a reproachful bite.
"He'll come, I know he will," said Hiccup. "I think I'll just sit here and wait for him." And Hiccup sat down on a stool by the barred window that looked out over the sea in the direction of Berk. It was raining, a dull never-ending sort of rain that would have you soaking wet in two seconds if you went out in it. "He will come, I'm telling you."
But Hiccup was anxious. His father had been so disappointed with Hiccup's report. Maybe his father thought that Snotlout, who always got 10 out of 10 in everything, would make a better Heir than Hiccup... Maybe his father was relieved Hiccup had gone... Maybe, just maybe, his father wasn't coming at all...
13. BACK ON BERK
Back on Berk, Stoick the Vast sat in front of the table in his
Chiefly Hut with his head in his hands.
"A Chief feels no pain..."he was saying to himself over and over again. "A Chief feels no fear... A Chief is above mere weak personal feelings..."
But oddly enough this didn't seem to make him feel any better. "There will be other sons..." he said to himself. And the wind howling across the ocean and through the wet bracken and blowing open the doors in a flurry of rain seemed to call back to him...
"... but not like Hiccup."
What kind of a Chief am I? he thought to himself wretchedly. Grimbeard the Ghastly would never have hesitated like this! Grimbeard the Ghastly would know it was the Bog-Burglars'
fault yet again. He'd have been over there bashing those Bog-
Burglars all the way to Valhalla by now...
But then he caught sight of the Roman helmet, and doubts started to creep in.
Could it possibly be that Hiccup was right and the Romans had found their way into the Inner Isles and were trying to make trouble?
Sighing, he picked up the piece of paper sitting on the table in front of him. On it he had written:
Plan A: Sale to the land of the Bog-Burglars and starte bashing everybody.
He picked up the quill, dipped it in the ink and wrote: Plan B: Send a War Partty to look for A Romman Forte.
But which was the right thing to do? Being a Chief was a lonely business.
14. CAMICAZI'S ESCAPE PLANS
For the next week Hiccup sat by the barred window looking out for his father's War Party.
Toothless came and sat on Hiccup's head. This was a familiar ritual to both of them, as it was Toothless's usual seat when Hiccup was dragon watching at the Wild Dragon Cliffs. Hiccup would draw and write in his Dragonese book, while Toothless perched on his head, one eye shut, the other half open, watching out for careless rabbits or small mice that he could catch. They could sit there for hours in happy, companionable silence.
Now they sat looking out the window, searching, searching, for the boats that were not there.
They were being held in a barred tower room high in the air. The one good thing about being held prisoner was that they didn't have to go outside.
Because outside it was raining. Not your ordinary, average kind of spitty little rain, but rain such as you only really get in the Barbaric Archipelago, one of the wettest places on this good green earth. For the whole week it rained as if the sky above was one big endless bucket of water, pouring down without stopping on the poor souls beneath.
The Romans are excellent travelers, but they are not used to this kind of weather. Nobody is. Hiccup watched with interest from his tower window high above as the soldiers' training grounds turned into one big puddly mess of black mud. The Consul's heated swimming baths overflowed into the horses' exercise yards. The kitchens were knee-deep in water. Even the Tower itself seemed to sink a few centimeters as its foundations softened and oozed.
The one good thing about the rain was that it silenced the screeching dragons being held prisoner in the giant cages down below. Dragons tend to sleep through rain. Their skin is waterproof, so they put up their wings like umbrellas, and sleep underneath them.
Inside the Tower room, although it was bare, it was at least dry. The young Vikings were allowed to keep their swords and shields to practice for their appearance in the arena on Saturn's day Saturday.
A soldier brought them food every day. There was lots of it, although it was all a bit too rich for Hiccup's liking. Pig stuffed with dormice stuffed with baby frogs carbonara and oysters fried in cream is a bit of an acquired taste. They all refused to eat it when it was fried dragon pie or Common-or-Gardens in batter.
Toothless hardly ate at all. Hiccup tried to persuade him, but Toothless put his nose up.
"Roman f-f-food YUCKY," he said. "Too much g-g-garlic. Want some good f-f-fish. Want mackerel."
Camicazi carried on with her escape plans. They were all completely crazy.
For the first one she persuaded Hiccup and Fishlegs to help her knit their waistcoats into two ropes and she attached one end of a rope to a fish head and the other to one of the bars in the window. She then spent three nights in a row throwing the fish head out the window, hoping for a passing dragon to catch it.
Finally her patience was rewarded when it was snapped up by a hungry Gronckle who flew off with it, the rope pulling out the bar in the window before it snapped. Camicazi squirmed out the window and down the rope, which dangled twenty meters above the ground. She held on for as long as she could, but eventually had to let go, and landed on a fat soldier playing dice under an umbrella with a dozen fellow soldiers below.
They were then moved to another, supposedly more secure, cell on the ground floor.
Camicazi wasn't about to give up with this little setback, though.
She spent four days tunneling her way out of their new prison with
Hiccup's helmet. Unfortunately the tunnel came out right slap bang in the middle of the Consul's bathroom. A naked Fat Consul screeched for reinforcements and they were moved back to the Tower room again, where the window had been repaired.
Her third plan was the craziest of all.
She ambushed the soldier who brought them their food every day, knocking him out with his own food tray.
She was planning to wear his clothes to pass herself off as a soldier.
"It'll never work," said Hiccup. "You'll get caught. You're a girl for starters. And you're only four feet high. There are no four-foot-high soldiers. They don't let them in the army."
"Oh, you're always bringing up PROBLEMS," grumbled Camicazi, putting on the soldier's helmet, which was so big she could hardly see out of it.
"And let's face it, they're going to be really cross you knocked out one of their men," Hiccup pointed out, looking at the soldier slumbering peacefully in his Roman underwear on the floor.
"Why don't YOU face it?" snapped Camicazi. "Look at you, staring out the window all day long. Your father is NEVER GOING TO
COME..."
Hiccup flinched.
"He'll come," he said defiantly.
Camicazi had to turn up the sleeves of the soldier's shirt four times. The tunic trailed some way along the ground behind her. She looked like a very small military person in a wedding dress.
"Ze great CAMICAZI will be back home, guys, while you are facing those gladiators on Saturn's day Saturday..."
She took three steps and fell flat on her face. The boys tried very hard not to laugh.
With great dignity Camicazi got back onto her feet again. She picked up the front of the tunic like she really was a bride. "You can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key," she said, taking the keys from the tunic pocket and unlocking the cell door. With a final bustle of skirts she was gone.
Hiccup looked out the window again. 
"He'll come..." said Hiccup. The rain was being blown through the window at such a rate that he had been driven from his usual post. But now he peered through the bars, seeking, seeking, for the sails that were not there. There was only rain and more rain, pouring down relentlessly on the ocean, drumming on the rocks, sogging up the heather, and filling the pockets of the poor sentries as they stood, sandals full of mud, dreaming of Roman sunshine.
The wind shrieked across the ocean, up over the grim black cliffs, and through the Roman courtyards of the fort. And as it came through Hiccup's barred window, blowing in great drenching streams of water, it seemed to be answering...
"... but he's late..."
Camicazi didn't return that night. Hiccup and Fishlegs wondered with amazement if she really had escaped this time. But the soldier who brought their food that evening very grumpily told them she had been caught within two seconds of leaving the Tower and put into solitary confinement for three days.
"And serve her right, the little barbarian," said the soldier, rubbing the lump on his head.
"Three days!" said Fishlegs excitedly. "At least we'll have some peace and quiet around here."
"... dreaming of Roman Sunshine..."
"Camicazi's all right, really," said Hiccup.
"Mmmm," said Fishlegs, unconvinced. "But she's very pleased with herself and she never stops talking. I'm looking forward to a nice, quiet night."
15. THE COMING OF THE SHARKWORMS
As the long night wore on, something strange and frightening was happening in the seas around Fort Sinister.
The rain poured down without stopping, and for several days the heated swimming baths of the Fat Consul had been overflowing, sending a stream of hot water pouring down the hillside and into the ocean. And this warm current was attracting some unwelcome visitors... SHARKWORMS.
From far and wide the Sharkworms came. Terrible creatures half out of nightmares, but only too true, I'm afraid, propelled not only by the tremendous force of a shark-like tail, but also by thick, muscly alligator legs that poured through the water, sending them forward at extraordinary speeds.
They were swimming toward the Roman Fortress, not just in ones and twos but in tens of thousands, and when the sun came up on the morning before Saturn's day Saturday there was a boiling mass of black fins with jagged edges, circling like vultures around the island of Fort Sinister.
It was as if they were waiting for something. Sharkworms are ancient animals, and their brains were formed in who knows what dark and terrible furnace. They knew not why they waited, only that they smelled warm water, and blood-yet-to-be-spilled, and guts-inthe-offing, and trouble-about-to-happen.
And so they waited, patiently and greedily, waiting and waiting and waiting for some awful event to unfold in the future that would bring them their supper.
16. THE CUNNING BUT DESPERATE PLAN
Camicazi returned the day before Saturn's day Saturday.
She was not as cheerful as usual. She drooped around the cell, sighing. Even Fishlegs was worried. Camicazi came and sat next to Hiccup beside the barred window.
"Maybe," she said sadly, "maybe you can keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. I don't understand it. I'm the MASTER ESCAPER -- no prison can hold me..."
"The Romans make good prisons," replied Hiccup.
"The only good Roman is a dead Roman," said Camicazi.
Hiccup sighed. "That isn't true. I'm sure there are loads of good Romans. But all the good Romans are probably quietly minding their own business back in Rome. Anyway, Alvin isn't a Roman, he's a Viking just like us."
"Your father really ISN'T going to send a War Party, you know,
Hiccup," said Camicazi gently.
Hiccup looked out the window. Camicazi was right. HIS FATHER WASN'T COMING. Maybe he thought that Hiccup wasn't worth it...
"OK," said Hiccup, trying to keep them from despairing. "I think it's time we made another plan."
"I know what we do!" cried Camicazi, drawing her sword with her old swagger back again. "We practice our sword-fighting! We die, yes -- but we die in STYLE!"
"No," said Hiccup.
"But you're a great sword-fighter -- for a boy, of course..." said Camicazi, disappointed.
"I only sword-fight when there's a point to it," said Hiccup. "No, this is the plan. I have this dragon called Ziggerastica who owes me a favor..."
"OOOooh, Ziggerastica -- he sounds scary," said Camicazi. "Do you think he can help us?"
"I don't know," Hiccup admitted.
Hiccup felt a bit silly shouting to someone who wasn't in the room, but he did so nonetheless, calling "ZIGGERASTICA!" three times at the top of his voice.
"How is this dragon going to get IN here, when we can't get OUT?"
asked Camicazi. "You'll see," said Hiccup. Nothing happened for about three hours. Hiccup wasn't really expecting this plan to work, in his heart of hearts -- he was just trying to cheer
Camicazi up. But then there was a faint rustling noise, and the tiny black and red dragon squeezed through the double bars and fluttered around the room.
"Don't tell me," said Camicazi, "Please don't tell me that THIS is the dragon who owes you the favor..."
"Yup," said Hiccup in astonishment. "That's definitely him. How amazing that he came when I called!"
"This dragon," said Fishlegs "is even smaller than Toothless -- that's really going to help us, isn't it? The entire Roman Army is going to be shivering in its shoes when it sets eyes on a dragon the size of a bumblebee. How can a dragon not much larger than a beetle help us fight a whole Roman Legion?"
"What were you expecting?" asked Hiccup. "A Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus? Hang on, Toothless... what are you doing?"
Toothless was stalking Ziggerastica like a cat following a mouse. "Toothless, STOP!" yelled Hiccup. "You mustn't eat him, he's our only chance of getting out of here alive!"
But Toothless hadn't had the pleasure of hunting for a couple of weeks now. He chased a shrieking Ziggerastica all around the room until he finally trapped him in a corner of the ceiling and closed his jaws around him.
Toothless hovered just out of reach, one cheek bulging, and
Ziggerastica's furiously swinging tail trailing out of his mouth.
"SPIT HIM OUT!" howled Hiccup, frantically jumping up and trying to grab Toothless by the tail. "I mean it, Toothless, this is not a game -- our lives depend on that nanodragon!"
Toothless shot him a naughty look and dodged to the other corner of the room.
The others joined in the chase, leaping after Toothless as he swooped from one side of the ceiling to the other, squealing with delight.
Camicazi climbed onto Fishlegs's shoulders, while Hiccup got on a chair and tried to sweep Toothless in her direction with a broom.
Unfortunately, Hiccup missed, and the brush cannoned into Camicazi and Fishlegs, who then knocked over the chair Hiccup was standing on and they all landed in a heap on the floor.
Toothless somersaulted across the ceiling in his glee. He laughed so hard he nearly dropped Ziggerastica. He hadn't had so much fun in ages.
"OK," said Hiccup under his breath to the other two, "I've got a new tactic here...
"We don't have time for this nonsense," Hiccup said loudly. "Just ignore Toothless and everybody gather round me while I tell you our plan..."
"Oh, I get it," said Fishlegs.
Fishlegs and Camicazi got into a huddle around Hiccup, who started whispering loudly.
Toothless remained on the ceiling, making rude raspberry noises. Nobody paid him any attention.
Eventually Toothless's curiosity got the better of him, and he flapped down to see if he could hear what was being said -- and Camicazi leaped out of the huddle and grabbed him.
"HA!" said Hiccup triumphantly, looking sternly down on the struggling little dragon. "Now, Toothless, DROP IT."
Toothless crossed his eyes and made a gulping noise with his throat as if he was swallowing...
"AAAAAAARGH!" screamed Hiccup.
Toothless spat Ziggerastica onto the floor. "Only j-j-joking," he said.
Ziggerastica was FURIOUS.
Hiccup put him carefully on the table and for five minutes he refused to say anything at all, concentrating on shaking out his wings and removing Toothless's saliva.
"I am SO sorry about Toothless, Your Highness," said Hiccup, thinking that a little flattery might be necessary.
Ziggerastica's voice was icy. "If I didn't owe you a favor O-Boy- With-Legs-Like-a-Heron," he spat, "that dragon would be history..."
Toothless laughed scornfully. "What you g-g-gonna do, tough guy? Tt-tickle Toothless to d-d-death?" "Shut up, Toothless," said Hiccup. "Thank you for coming Ziggerastica. And for looking so very, VERY handsome as well, if I may say so... You have such kingly legs..."
Ziggerastica looked slightly less cross. He admired his own royal knees with approval.
"And your wings! The finest I have ever seen! I'll explain what I would like Your Highness to do..."
Hiccup told the nanodragon his cunning but truly desperate plan. The nanodragon was silent for a moment.
"That," he said at last, "is a truly terrible plan." "T-t-told you," said Toothless. "H-h-hiccup's plans are always terrible..."
"You're still alive, aren't you?" retorted Hiccup.
"Also," said the nanodragon, "that is actually two favors, and I have offered you only one."
"Think how cross the Fat Consul will be..." pleaded Hiccup.
The nanodragon thought about that. He shook out his black and red spotty wings, and Hiccup began to see the suggestion of a smile on his tiny face.
"Ok," said Ziggerastica, "I'll do it. But don't blame me if it fails... By the way, O-Boy-With-a-Small-Potato, your friends are even uglier than you are! Where did you find these people? Never in my life have I seen anybody who looks so much like a lemon sole..." He pointed rudely at Fishlegs with one wing.
And with that the little nanodragon gave a self-important wriggle of his behind and flew out the window. "Did he agree to carry out your plan?" asked Camicazi.
Hiccup nodded, trying to look confident to keep everybody's hopes up.
"The thing is," he said, "I don't think in this kind of weather they'll be able to hold those Games tomorrow anyway. I've seen the arena from the window, and it's knee-deep in water -- the ground is far too wet and slippy for gladiatorial combat. With any luck the rain will make them cancel the whole thing."
17. THE CIRCUS ON SATURN'S DAY SATURDAY
The next day was Saturn's day Saturday. For the first time in a week the wind dropped and the clouds cleared. It was a glorious day for a celebration, the sky a bright blue with not a breath of rain.
From about ten o'clock in the morning Hiccup watched the stadium being prepared for the circus. The stands were hung with Roman flags. Tents and cushions were laid out in the Consul's seating area. Metal nets were set up across the top and insides of the amphitheater to prevent the performing dragons from escaping or attacking the audience.
The stands of the amphitheater began to fill up with spectators, anxious to get a good view. They were mostly soldiers, cooks and carpenters, given the day off for the national holiday. They could buy food and wine within the amphitheater to while away the hours, so, by early afternoon, when the performances began, the atmosphere was very lively, everybody singing songs and even dancing on the seats.
At two o'clock exactly the trumpeters came out onto the Consul's Pavilion, the luxury covered area which was draped with Roman flags and Imperial Standards. They blew an impressive fanfare, and everyone stood up and fell silent as the Consul's party entered the stadium. The Fat Consul came first, waddling very slowly with a slave at each elbow and one to carry his stomach. He had to stop every couple of steps to catch his breath.
He wasn't looking too good. The Fat Consul was covered from head to toe in ugly red rashes and eczema weals. Once the slaves had got him seated, they took turns scratching different parts of his body with an instrument like a large fork, and this seemed to give him some relief, but judging from his restless wriggling and scratching he was still in considerable discomfort.
He was eating a light snack of double reptoburger with tomato-anddormouse relish and popdragons on the side.
Alvin the Treacherous sat beside him in the Pavilion. In time to another trumpet fanfare two slaves brought in the Ceremonial Shield of the Legion, gorgeously decorated with a golden eagle carrying a fish. Alvin the Treacherous banged the Ceremonial Shield three times with his hook.
"I officially declare these Saturn's day Saturday Games OPEN," shouted Alvin the Treacherous. "Friends and fellow Romans... Watch our Circus and marvel at the glory of the Roman Empire! Your entertainment this afternoon is called THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST..."
The audience clapped wildly.
Three hundred beautiful doves, dyed every color of the rainbow, were released into the arena. The doves fluttered through the stadium, cooing to each other.
Suddenly the barred gates opened and the coos of the doves turned to cries of alarm. To the cheers and catcalls of the audience, fifty little Sidewinder dragons came slithering through the dust into the arena, their greengage eyes glistening greedily.
The Sidewinders were not large but they were vicious pack hunters. They were also chameleons. Every one of them was exactly the color of the dust it was lying in.
The doves desperately threw themselves against the metal nets covering the amphitheater, but there was no escape for them.
The Sidewinders crept into the air like an army of cats stalking sparrows. As they rose up they gradually turned as pale blue as the sky above them, and the doves flew desperately hither and thither in confusion, until the leader of the Sidewinders gave the signal to attack.
Less than sixty seconds later the air was filled with blood and multi-colored feathers and there was not a dove left alive in that stadium.
The Sidewinders celebrated by turning the color of the dove they had just eaten. They made a glorious multicolored sight, swooping and shrieking through the air in victory rolls, singing a song of praise and thanks for the meal they had been given.
And then the barred gates opened again, the Song of the Sidewinders stopped abruptly and they instantly turned the color of the sky again. Now it was they who were throwing themselves at the metal nets above them and finding they were trapped.
For creeping into the arena came twenty heavily armored black Flashfangs, their razor-sharp teeth glistening in the sunshine, their talons making slashing patterns in the dust. The audience laughed cruelly at the fear of the Sidewinders, who seconds ago were the hunters and had now become the prey.
From his barred window high up in the Tower, Hiccup could watch no longer. He knew that a Sidewinder was no match for a Flashfang. He stepped away from the window with a heavy sigh.
Toothless had taken one look at the Flashfangs and was now hiding in Hiccup's shirt.
The door of their prison cell opened with a crash. The First Kidnapper stepped in, followed by twenty heavily armed soldiers.
"Is the timings for your big day in the Circus," beamed the First Kidnapper.
"Here goes..." said Camicazi grimly. "Let us face certain death like HEROES." ' "It isn't certain death," protested Hiccup. "Don't forget my plan..."
"Would that be the plan where we get rescued at the last minute by a dragon the size of an amoeba?" asked Fishlegs.
The soldiers led the boys down from the Tower, across several courtyards and then down many long flights of steps so slippery Hiccup fell and grazed his calf. The steps ended in an underground chamber, where a Viking boat was tethered on the ground. On one side of the boat was painted its name: The Valhalla Express.
The chamber was beginning to fill with water -- a dam in one of the chamber walls was open, and seawater was flooding in.
"Please to jump in," grinned the First Kidnapper.
Camicazi was astonished. "Are they setting us free, do you think?" she asked Hiccup.
"No chance," replied Hiccup grimly. "Look, they've half opened the gates of the dam... They think the ground isn't suitable for fighting on, like I said last night, so they're flooding the stadium. I thought they might do this... We're going to be part of a Sea-Battle for the entertainment of those Romans."
"What about the F-F-Flashfangs?" asked Toothless from somewhere inside Hiccup's shirt.
"Tie water will kill the Flashfangs," said Hiccup. "Flashfangs can't swim... So who will WE be fighting, then? I suppose they'll put in a boat full of Roman gladiators -- I've heard about these Sea-Battles."
The First Kidnapper laughed. "Waitings and seeings," he said. The three Vikings and Toothless were now all aboard, the underground chamber was half full with water and the boat was bobbing clear of the ground. The Kidnapper gave them a cheery wave goodbye and cut the rope that moored The Valhalla Express to the dock.
18. THE VALHALLA EXPRESS
The Valhalla Express shot off down the tunnel, carried by the strong current of water.
The tunnel ended in a gate that led into the stadium. The gate was open and The Valhalla Express sailed into the central arena, now filled with three meters of water. Massive cheers rocked the stadium.
"FRIENDS AND FELLOW ROMANS!" yelled Alvin the Treacherous from the Consul's Pavilion. "I GIVE YOU THE VALHALLA EXPRESS, THE HEIRS OF THE LOCAL VIKING TRIBES, AND THEIR PATHETIC CHAMPION DRAGON, TOOTHLESS, WHO WILL FOREVER REGRET THE POO HE DID IN MY HELMET."
Always delighted to be the center of attention, Toothless crept out from Hiccup's shirt. He bowed From side to side and performed a couple of somersaults to huge cheering from the crowd. He had no idea they were laughing at how small he was, and he puffed out his little chest and threw out a few flames and his rooster cry of self-congratulation.
"Now why," said Hiccup, frowning to himself as he trailed one hand in the water, "why is this water so warm? I suppose it's from the Consul's swimming pool..."
Camicazi drew her sword, Invincible, with a flourish. "LAUGH at us, would you, you Latin cowards?" she cried. "Come down here if you dare and we'll see who's laughing then, shall we, you dragon-eating, lily-livered BABIES..."
The crowd positively SCREAMED with laughter at this. "Look!" they cried, slapping each other on the back and sending their dragons'- toes popcorn flying. "It's a little GIRL Viking! The Vikings are so weak they have GIRLS for Heirs! This is too funny for words..."
Camicazi couldn't understand Latin but she could guess what they were saying. She turned as red as a lobster and yelled at the top of her voice, "I'LL KILL THE LOT OF YOU! I'LL UNZIP YOU FROM YOUR BREADBASKETS TO YOUR FOOD-GARGLERS! COME DOWN AND SEE HOW A GIRL FIGHTS IF YOU DARE!"
The crowd only laughed the louder.
"Let's get on with it, Alvin!" Hiccup called out. "Bring out your gladiators and we'll do our best!"
"Yes, do get on with it, Prefect," yawned the Fat Consul. "I want to see the little Berserk go Berserk... and this famous warrior in action..."
"HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD!" shouted Alvin. "PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DOOM! SOLDIERS, OPEN THE TUNNEL!"
With a creak the portcullis covering a tunnel to their left began to slide upward...
19. AAAAAAARGH!
The tunnel was open, but there was no sign of any Roman ships packed with heavily armed gladiators.
"What's going on?" shrieked Fishlegs. "Where are the gladiators?" Hiccup was staring intently at the tunnel. There still seemed to be nothing going on down there. All that came out of it were four long, dark waves -- no more threatening than ripples, really.
The ripples curled sinuously into the stadium. Slowly, languorously, they began to circle the ship.
That's strange, thought Hiccup, and just as he was staring closely at one of the dark ripples, something neat and sharp cut through the surface of the water...
It was a black fin, with serrated edges like a bread knife. 
"SHARKWORMS!!!" yelled Fishlegs. "I knew it! I just knew it! I knew we were going to bump into those monsters at some point..."
"YOU SEE, WE HAVEN'T GOT GLADIATORS FOR YOU TODAY," Alvin shouted down, from the safety of his balcony. "YOU ARE KNOWN IN THESE PARTS, HICCUP, AS SOMETHING OF A DRAGON-TRAINER -- LET'S SEE HOW YOU DO AT TRAINING THESE LITTLE BEAUTIES..."
"Is this part of your plan?" asked Camicazi hopefully.
"Not exactly," admitted Hiccup. "I was expecting gladiators -- it is a gladiator show, after all..."
"Can you TRAIN them?" asked Camicazi.
"What, in the next sixty seconds?" asked Hiccup. "Not likely. Besides, Sharkworms are unattainable. The important point is -- has anybody got a cut?"
"You have," Fishlegs pointed out. "You fell over on the steps, remember?"
"Great," said Hiccup, glancing at the long graze on his shin. "Our lucky day. So, there's only one thing to do. Nobody panic and I'll call for... ZIGGERASTICA!"
Nothing happened.
The ripples had now turned into four Sharkworm fins, and they were circling nearer and nearer, closing in on the boat.
"ZIGGERASTICA!" screamed the Vikings all at once.
There was a streak of black and red and the tiny nanodragon appeared out of nowhere and landed on Camicazi's head.
"You called?" said Ziggerastica.
"About time too!" said Hiccup. "How is plan going?"
"It's a terrible plan," said Ziggerastica, "but so far the plan is going to plan, so to speak..."
"Everybody else, leave me!" urged Hiccup. "Roll me into that barrel over there and throw me over the side!"
"What about the plan?" asked Fishlegs. "This is the plan," Hiccup replied.
"Oh, I see," said Fishlegs. "When you said 'desperate plan' you meant really desperate..."
"That barrel won't protect you from the Sharkworms!" protested Camicazi. "Will you stop arguing and just do what I ask?" raged Hiccup. "We're running out of time -- those Sharkworms are going to climb on board any minute! It's me and my cut that they're really after..."
The Sharkworms were indeed circling the boat in tighter and tighter circles. Fishlegs could have reached out and touched one of the fins.
Fishlegs and Camicazi stuffed Hiccup into the barrel, and Ziggerastica flew in with him. They then hesitated.
"Are you quite sure you want us to throw you over the side?" asked Fishlegs, looking in absolute terror at the fins slicing through the water.
"Quite sure," came Hiccup's voice from the barrel, rather muffled.
"With the Sharkworms?" asked Camicazi.
"Just do it, will you!" yelled Hiccup. Camicazi and Fishlegs reluctantly rolled the barrel over to the edge of the boat, heaved it up between them and dropped it over the side to the gasps of the watching audience.
"BRAVO!" the spectators cried, for the Romans admired bravery, even in a barbarian.
"It's such a shame," whispered Camicazi. "He was quite nice -- for a boy, of course..."
The barrel bobbed merrily in the water.
Almost instantly the Sharkworms stopped following the boat and turned their attentions to the barrel. To start with they circled it in a leisurely way, almost as if they were sniffing it out. And then they began to move faster and faster around it, coming in closer and closer with more and more intent...
"Oh, H-H-HICCUP," moaned Toothless, fluttering overhead with his wings over his eyes. "I hope this is a really good plan...."
Inside the barrel Hiccup was hoping the very same thing. He was sitting up to his waist in water, unable to see out of the wooden walls of the barrel. The water was vibrating and the barrel was rocking from the wake of the Sharkworms' tails as they passed it.
He was regretting this stupid plan already. He couldn't see or hear anything but the horribly fast beating of his heart. And then the water in his barrel began to vibrate.
That's the sound of the Sharkworms calling to each other, thought Hiccup to himself, shivering uncontrollably.
CRUSH!!
The barrel rocked crazily from side to side and Hiccup put both hands out to try to right it, frantically trying to see where the danger was coming from.
That must be the wake from the Sharkworms' tails as they pass, he thought to himself, almost hysterical with fear.
CRASH!!!
The barrel spun around again, more violently this time. Hiccup was sent somersaulting upside down and rolling over and over.
Watching from above, their hands over their mouths, Camicazi and Fishlegs could see the Sharkworms playing with the barrel almost as if they were gigantic cats playing with a mouse. Toothless was dive-bombing them, trying to attract their attention, but they took no notice.
They batted the barrel to each other with the wakes from their tails, but they hadn't touched it yet.
Suddenly they withdrew and re-formed in a slightly wider circle. Inside the barrel Hiccup rose spluttering to the surface. The barrel stopped spinning and there was quiet again, apart from the lapping of the water against the sides. Hiccup knew his dragons, he knew that they would only have retreated to strike now in earnest.
He had to fight the urge to burst out of the barrel and swim for the boat.
He knew if he did this he was as good as dead.
But it was so scary not to be able to see what was going on, and so hard to stay completely still when he knew the beasts were all around him, could be underneath him, could be just a meter away, could strike suddenly at any moment from any direction...
C-C-CRUNCH!!!!!
The left-hand side of the barrel caved in as some immense force crashed into it. The wood just about held from splitting in half. Hiccup caught a glimpse of terrible black teeth no distance away from his nose before they retreated.
"Ziggcrastical!" screamed Hiccup. "HURRY UP!"
The Sharkworms were so close they were nearly touching each other now as they swam round and round. One of them let out a jet of fire like an underwater torpedo, and the barrel burst into flames.
"And now, my clever friend," said Alvin, matching the floating, flaming barrel with the four predators surrounding it, "O Defeater of the Seadragonus Giganticus Maximus and the Mighty Monstrous Strangulator -- let's see you get out of THIS situation! I think I may safely say I've got you now..." SPLASSSSSSSH!!!!
All four Sharkworms reared out of the water at the same time and spread out their wings.
They were a terrifying sight.
These two-headed beasts had eyes out on stalks, rather like a hammerhead shark. They were sometimes known as Thor's Lapdogs because of those hammer-shaped heads. Their back set of teeth could shoot forward to grab prey and then retreat back, dragging the unfortunate victim with them, as the tongue of a lizard flicks out to catch a fly.
Their hammerhead eyes swiveled on their stalks; their powerful tails lashed the water. They drew back their first sets of teeth in vicious snarls, and the second sets shunted forward as if they had a life of their own, madly snapping together like an automatic killing mechanism.
For a moment they hovered in a terrible ring, their hammerhead eyes swiveling on their stalks to focus in on their target.
And then they let out a scream and pounced, all of them diving in on the barrel together...
CRACK!
The barrel split from side to side, and to the utter amazement of the watching Vikings, the audience and the Sharkworms themselves... Hiccup FLEW out of it.
20. HICCUP THE GOD
The Romans flocked to the Circuses in their thousands to be entertained.
They expected a glorious theatrical experience -- blood, guts, heroism, feats of astonishing physical prowess.
They were certainly getting their money's worth NOW
This was a sight no one had ever seen before. A flying boy?
The crowd leaped to their feet, amazed. Fishlegs nearly fell out of the boat.
And slowly, majestically, Hiccup rose up through the sky with his arms spread out wide, as if held up by magical forces.
"Brilliant," whispered Camicazi. "I don't know HOW he's doing it, but it's brilliant."
Hiccup rose and rose up to the metal "ceiling" of the amphitheater, the netting that the sharp teeth of the
Flashfangs had failed to bite through in their terror...
At a single stroke of Hiccup's hand the netting split in two... He burst through and hung in the air, every awestruck eye upon him. The Fat Consul fell to his knees. Even Alvin's jaw dropped.
"MY NAME," boomed Hiccup, in a voice he had never used before, "MY NAME IS THOR THE THUNDERER, ANCIENT GOD OF THE VIKING TRIBES!"
The crowd gasped.
"WELL MAY YOU TREMBLE," bellowed Hiccup. "FOR YOU ROMANS HAVE INVADED SACRED VIKING TERRITORIES AND MADE ME MAD..."
"We're very, very sorry..." stammered the Fat Consul.
"FOR THIS," boomed Hiccup solemnly, "I HAVE
SENT A PLAGUE UPON YOU AS THEIR LEADER..."
The Consul scratched himself miserably. "AND I SHALL PLAGUE YOU FOREVER UNLESS YOU PROMISE TO GO FROM HERE AND NEVER RETURN."
"We promise," said the Consul. "Here," he sobbed, "I offer you my shield, O Mighty One, as a sign of your protection from the Romans. Never again shall we come this far north."
"I WILL TAKE YOUR SHIELD AS A SIGN OF YOUR PROMISE," cried Hiccup, "AND ALSO THE BOOK YOUR SERVANT STOLE FROM ME... OH, AND ONE MORE THING..."
"Anything, anything," pleaded the Consul. "I EXPECT YOU TO BE A STRICT VEGETARIAN FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE."
The god-like Hiccup flew toward the Consul's balcony.
Still on his knees, the Consul offered him the rectangular Roman shield. Alvin put his trembling hand into his breast pocket and found the tattered copy of How to Speak Dragonese, the two halves sewn together carefully with golden Roman thread.
He fumbled to get rid of the booby trap he had placed inside the book. For Alvin was a careful man. He had slipped something very nasty indeed between the pages, a nanodragon called the Venomous Vorpent, so that anybody who tried to steal the book would get a horrible shock. But one does not booby-trap a god, and Alvin was desperately trying to shake out the poisonous nanodragon, when he caught a close-up sight of the shirt Hiccup was wearing...
"Hang on a second..." said Alvin. But it was too late.
Hiccup snatched the book from him (still with the Venomous Vorpent inside it, please note), and rose swiftly into the air.
He held the shield victoriously above his head and made his final speech.
"I HOLD THE SHIELD AS A SIGN OF YOUR PROMISE... BUT IF YOU EVER BREAK THAT PROMISE, YOU CAN TELL YOUR CAESAR THAT THE FORCE OF MY ANGER SHALL REACH INTO THE HEART OF THE EMPIRE AND ROME HERSELF WILL BE SWEPT AWAY BY THE DELUGE..."
Hiccup pointed his sword at the dam. Right on cue a couple of cracks appeared.
And the dam split in half and numberless tons of seawater burst into the stadium.
21. YOU CAN'T KEEP A BOG-BURGLAR UNDER LOCK AND KEY
The spell that Hiccup had cast on the audience was instantly broken.
It was as if they had been sleeping, and had suddenly woken up to the reality that they were about to be swept away by the flood.
Furthermore, everyone had forgotten about the Sharkworms. The metal netting that should have protected the audience had been broken by Hiccup. The Sharkworms were back in the water again, and they were already nearly able to reach the wooden seating.
The audience screamed in terror as one of the Sharkworms leaped upward and was almost among them... It lost its grip on the slippery edge and fell back into the water -- but the water was rising so quickly it was clearly only a matter of time before it succeeded in getting up to their level.
Suddenly the afternoon's entertainment of "SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST" had taken an interesting twist. The audience who had laughed so heartily at the tables being turned on the greedy Sidewinders didn't seem so amused to find they themselves had become the prey...
They stormed toward the entrance, shoving each other out of the way and screaming for the doors to be opened.
The pressure of the water on the doors caused them to open anyway. They burst apart, and the water poured out and down the hillside.
Fishlegs and Camicazi turned their attention to steering the boat. The flying Hiccup descended and landed beside them on the deck. Toothless appeared from nowhere and perched on his shoulder.
"I am lost for words," said Camicazi. "How did you do it?" Hiccup pointed to his shirt. "Look a little closer," he said.
The Vikings craned forward. Hiccup's shirt seemed to have changed color. Indeed, when they looked closer still, it seemed not to be a shirt at all. It was made up of millions and millions of tiny winged creatures, all practically invisible to the naked eye and all clinging to Hiccup's clothing underneath. This was what had caused Hiccup to fly.
The numberless armies of Ziggerastica. The little nanodragon himself flew out from his position of command on Hiccup's chest to bow to the Vikings.
"This terrible, terrible plan," announced Ziggerastica joyfully, "has worked beautifully. I, Ziggcrastica the Mighty, have made it do this! How wonderful I am! How Glorious is my Empire! How numerous and powerful are my peoples!"
"We were lucky too," grinned Hiccup.
"I am almost sorry to leave you, O-Boy-With-No-Muscles-At-All," said Ziggerastica sorrowfully. "But we are quits now. I have saved your life in exchange for you saving mine and you are still a stinking HUMAN after all..." "Thanks," said Hiccup.
"But this has been a great day for the little creatures of the world...'
Ziggerastica gave a single command and the nanodragons instantly rose in a gray mass, like a small thundercloud, and disappeared into the sky.
As they rose, they sang a song that the Romans would have been wise to listen to... but they were too busy panicking.
A WARNING TO EMPERORS
Watch out
O Romans with your Empires and your Stinking Breath Watch out for the smaller things of this world
For we are going to get you... one day You live your lives up in the skies
Building your aqueducts and your coliseums And you never think of US
Ticking away in the grassed But we see you
And if you bend your car you just might hear
The steady beat of countless feet that come to cat
The wall that curls a hundred miles across a continent. That temple built with the tears of millions of slaves And turn to dust in our months
So watch out
O Caesars with Fat Bottoms and Hard Hearts
Watch out "Goodbye, O-Boy-with-Arms-Like-Pieces-of-String..."sang Ziggerastica, "and may the winds that blow you be strong..."
And with that, he was gone.
"Why did you let him go?" shrieked Fishlegs. "I hate to mention this but we're not free yet, we're still stuck in an arena surrounded by Sharkworms!"
"The Sharkworms seem more interested in the audience," said Hiccup. "That's why I got Ziggerastica's armies to eat through the metal netting and to spend all night chomping through the dam. It was all part of my plan, you see -- now the dam has cracked, we can simply sail out..."
Hiccup gestured to the open doors of the auditorium. The water was pouring out of them in a great river.
"Brilliant," said Camicazi. "I've got to admit, that's brilliant... for a boy, of course."
Hiccup was already at the tiller and he pointed the ship toward the open doors of the stadium.
The Valhalla Express nosed its way toward the entrance.
"We're going to make it!" yelled Fishlegs. "We're nearly there!" The Valhalla Express was halfway through the door...... but Alvin had spotted them trying to escape and given the order to send the portcullis rattling down. It cut The Valhalla
Express in two. Fishlegs and Camicazi and Hiccup were thrown into the water on the wrong side of the bars. The sea was breathquenchingly cold.
"AAAARGH!" shrieked Fishlegs, almost rearing out of the water, he was so terrified of the Sharkworms.
"Climb the portcullis," ordered Hiccup.
The three young Vikings swam to the portcullis and climbed it, Hiccup towing Fishlegs, and with Toothless flapping behind them. Two meters or so up, they clung, dripping and terrified, like four little spiders.
Through the slippery bars they had a tantalizing view of the freedom of the open ocean, hopelessly out of reach. All around them were the shrieks of the crowd, and clouds and clouds of escaping dragons. (The nano-dragons had eaten the locks of those giant cages too.)
The Romans were running to their ships and setting sail back to Rome as fast as they could.
The Sharkworms were taking over the island, climbing over the battlements and destroying the soldiers' tents.
One or two of them had already made their way to the Fat Consul's swimming pool and were wallowing in the water.
"So what do we do now, then?" shouted Camicazi, her teeth chattering.
"I give up!" Hiccup shouted back, a sudden gust of wind nearly blowing him off the portcullis. His fingers were so frozen he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on.
"This isn't part of my plan. What more do you want of me? It's all up to you now. You're the Master Escaper, aren't you? You're Ze Great Camicazi, no prison can hold you..."
"Ze Great Camicazi will get us out of here," shouted Camicazi, "if you admit that girls are way, way better than boys and always have been..."
"Dream on, sunshine," grinned Hiccup.
"OK!" shouted Camicazi. "Ze Great CAMICAZI will get us out of here anyway... You can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. Are you sure you want to follow me?"
"Lead on!" said Hiccup, with a slightly mad laugh. "We can't hang around here forever."
Camicazi craned her neck upward. Some way above them, tethered to the top of the amphitheater entrance, was one of those enormous Roman observation balloons.
"If we can't sail our way out of here," she yelled, "I vote we fly!" and she pointed to the balloon.
"Ohhhh brother..." moaned Fishlegs miserably as he climbed slowly after the others, "if Woden had meant us to fly he'd have given us wings... Don't look down, Fishlegs -- don't look down."
Camicazi climbed expertly upward, and she got to the balloon first, closely followed by Hiccup. They scrambled into the basket.
It was empty except for a rather depressed-looking Gronckle, trapped in a cage right underneath the open mouth of the balloon. Every now and then he shot out a burst of flame that heated the air, and this would send the balloon bouncing upward for a moment before it was stopped by the rope that moored it.
"Hello, Brother-of-the-Snak," panted Hiccup. He looked carefully around the basket for any hidden soldiers. "Are you on your own here?"
"The soldiers are all watching the Saturn's day Saturday, celebrations," said the Gronckle. "Actually, it's nice to have some peace and quiet for a change."
"Well, I'm so sorry, to disturb you," said Hiccup, "but we're taking over this balloon. -- it's a military emergency..."
"No problem," said the sad Gronckle. "It would be my pleasure. Nobody's bothered to ask me nicely before -- they. Usually just hit me."
"Oh dear," said Hiccup sympathetically. He hated to see his fellow creatures trapped or ill-treated. "Of course we'll let you go as soonas we get home, but at tie moment we're in a bit of a hurry"
"It's not that I don't like tie job," the Gronckle assured him.
"It's nice up here -- peaceful, you know. When would you like to leave?"
"Very soon," said Hiccup. "We're just waiting for a friend." He peered back over the edge of the basket. He could see the top of Fishlegs's head, making painfully slow progress up the portcullis. Below him, the excitable Sharkworms leaped, and the crowds stampeded. "FISHLEGS! Will you get a move on!"
"I'm climbing as fast as I can!" Fishlegs shouted back up indignantly. "I'm not stopping to admire the view or anything!"
"H-h-he'd better make it quick," advised Toothless into Hiccup's ear. "Toothless s-s-sees nasty Alvin coming our way."
Sure enough, Alvin was running toward them along the top of the battlements. "You try and DELAY him, Toothless," Hiccup ordered. "FISHLEEEGS! YOU REALLY, REALLY NEED TO HRRRY UP!!"
Toothless held Alvin up by attacking his toga. "I should have killed you while I had the chance, you wretched reptile," cursed Alvin, lashing out with his hook and trying to catch him, while Fishlegs climbed the last couple of meters.
Hiccup helped haul Fishlegs into the basket and Camicazi cut the rope. "GO, GO, GO!" yelled Camicazi, and the Gronckle sent a bright breath of flame up into the balloon and it rose off the battlements into the air.
But just as it rose, a golden hook clunked into the bottom of the basket and held fast.
The Gronckle gave another big puff and the great balloon shot gracefully upward, and the grim hook, together with Alvin the Treacherous, shot up too.
"S-s-sorry," said Toothless, crash-landing on Hiccup's helmet. "I couldn't keep him back any longer."
Fishlegs glanced over the basket's side and then looked at Hiccup with popping eyes. "Oohh, dear, is that who I think it is?" he moaned. "It's like a nightmare -- we can't get rid of him!"
Hiccup dared himself to take a look over the rim.
There was Fort Sinister, rapidly getting smaller as they rose away from it.
And there swinging from the bottom of the basket by his hook alone, was Alvin the Treacherous.
He made a savage swipe at Hiccup with his free arm, and Hiccup ducked quickly back into the safety of the basket.
"Right," said Hiccup. "I wouldn't put it past him to climb in from that position... Everybody start running clockwise. Toothless, I want you to grab this rope and pull it in the same direction. We have to get this balloon spinning around..."
All together, they began to run and the balloon began to spin, slowly at first and then with gathering speed, round and round and round like The Hopeful Puffin having one of her turns.
And as that balloon spun it slowly, slowly, slowly unscrewed the hook of Alvin the Treacherous.
He felt his hook loosening and realized what was happening, but there was nothing he could do. "I'll get you, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third!" cursed Alvin as the hook unscrewed as far as it would go. "I'll get you one daaaaaaaay!" and he plunged downward into the sea and a mass of waiting Sharkworms, leaving only a great, golden hook swinging from the bottom of the basket.
The balloon soared upward, and as the screams of Alvin grew fainter and fainter, so too did the shrieks of the dragons, and the whole wild cacophony of Fort Sinister died away in a matter of moments.
Hiccup, Fishlegs and Camicazi slumped to the floor of the basket. Quietly, softly, the balloon drifted on. The only sounds were the gentle puffs of the Gronckle's flames, and the panting of the Vikings as they caught their breaths, their hearts beginning to slow down. Gradually, they smiled at one another as they realized that they might, just possibly, be safe at last.
"Phew," said Camicazi, bright red in the face, "that was a close one... What did I tell you? You can't keep a Bog-Burglar under lock and key. And you didn't do too badly... for boys, of course."
Hiccup staggered to his feet and peered over the edge of the basket.
A warm breeze blew his hair back.
"Look!" cried Hiccup, pointing downward and then turning back to the others in sudden excitement. "My father's War Party! He did send it after all!"
"Well, I don't know what you're so pleased about -- it's a bit late, don't you think?" grumbled Fishlegs. "One day earlier and it could have saved me about three thousand heart attacks..."
"It doesn't matter," grinned Hiccup. "He sent it, and that's the important thing. He doesn't think Snotlout would make a better Heir after all."
22. THE RETURN OF THE HEROIC HEIRS
On the deck of The Blue Whale, Stoick the Vast waited to receive a visit from Chief Big-Boobied Bertha Bog-Burglar, who was about to come aboard.
Stoick had decided on Plan B, send out the Rescue War Party, rather than Plan A, fight the Bog-Burglars; but Big-Boobied Bertha was making Plan B difficult to carry out by following the Hooligan Rescue War Party with the entire Bog-Burglar Navy the whole way from Berk.
So Stoick had sent a Carrier Dragon with a (very polite) message to Big-Boobied Bertha suggesting that they talk things through. And now he was pacing up and down, trying to tell himself how Hiccup would act in this situation. "I have to stay calm," he muttered. "Hiccup was right -- these blood feuds will be the death of us Vikings and it is my job as Chief to put a stop to them..."
"I hope you're going to bash this Big-Boobied Bertha Bog-Burglar Chieftain on the nose, Stoick!"
roared Baggybum the Beerbelly. "If you don't do it, I might have to myself..."
"The only good Bog-Burglar is a dead Bog-Burglar," sneered Snotlout. Snotlout was feeling extremely pleased with the way things were turning out. It looked like Hiccup was finally out of his way, and now they could have a big fight with the Bog-Burglars and Snotlout could show off about what a great fighter he was...
Stoick ignored both of them and went on with his pacing. "I have to explain to Big-Boobied Bertha -- calmly -- that I think the Romans have stolen our Heirs and that is why I am sending out this War Party. I have to stay calm at all times..."
Big-Boobied Bertha stomped on board, her beard bristling. Fists like sledgehammers, ears like cauliflowers, she had once stunned a stag with one blow of her mighty bosoms, and many a smaller animal had suffocated in their stern depths. She gave Baggybum the Beerbelly an arrogant shove out of the way, and stood in front of Stoick with her hands on her hips.
Stoick swallowed hard. He could feel his ears beginning to burn. "Stay calm, Stoick," he warned himself. "Ohhh, this is going to be hard..." It was going to be impossible.
"I ALWAYS KNEW YOU WERE A FAT BURGLAR AND AN HEIR-STEALER," roared Big-Boobied Bertha, "BUT I NEVER KNEW YOU WOULD RUN AWAY LIKE A COWARDLY JELLYFISH!"
"I WAS NOT RUNNING AWAY!" yelled Stoick. He nearly exploded with the effort of trying to control himself. "Now, calm at all times, Stoick -- calm at all times, remember," he muttered, before continuing. "I have strong reasons to believe that our Heirs have been stolen by the Romans. I am sending out this Rescue War Party-- "
"STRONG REASONS MY BOTTOM!" boomed Big-Boobied Bertha. "YOU WERE RUNNING AWAY BECAUSE HOOLIGANS ARE THE YELLOWEST BABY RABBITS IN THE INNER ISLES!"
"THIS HOOLIGAN COULD TAKE YOU WITH ONE HAND BEHIND HIS BACK AND ONLY USING HIS LITTLE FINGER!" screamed Stoick the Vast, and there was a strong chance that Plan B might have turned rapidly back into Plan A again if the two Chiefs -- who were nose to nose, yelling at one another -- had not heard a noise that made them look suddenly upward, where they saw, to their astonishment, an enormous Roman observation balloon descending very rapidly in their direction. The Bog-Burglars and the Hooligans had been so busy focusing on each other that they hadn't even noticed the balloon above them. But they certainly noticed it now, as it was partly deflated and screaming toward the deck of The Blue Whale at about a hundred miles an hour.
When they spotted the Hooligan War Party, it was Hiccup who suggested that they try and land the balloon on one of the ships. He got the sad Gronckle to stop blowing flames so the balloon could descend, and he got Toothless to take a rope in his mouth to steer the balloon in the right direction.
"Work, w-w-work, work;" grumbled Toothless. "Why can't somebody else do it?"
"Because you're the only one with wings, Toothless," explained Hiccup patiently.
Camicazi half hung over the edge of the balloon as it descended, enjoying the wind blowing through her hair.
'"You've got to hand it to those Romans, they are CLEVER! This is the only way to travel... I wonder if WE could build one of these things? Hey -- aren't they my MOTHER'S boats alongside the Hooligan ships?"
Hiccup leaned over to check. "So they are," he said in surprise. "Maybe the grown-ups saw sense at last and decided to send a joint Rescue Party! I must say I'm amazed -- that's a real sign of progress for the Viking Tribes."
The descent would have continued in this controlled fashion if it hadn't been for the little booby trap that Alvin the Treacherous had slipped between the pages of How to Speak Dragonese when he returned it to Hiccup.
The booby trap was a tiny little bright yellow dragon, about the size of Ziggerastica, known as the Venomous Vorpent.
This particular Vorpent had crawled out of Hiccup's pocket, had a long slow look around the basket while everyone was relaxing, and then begun to climb up Fishlegs's trouser leg.
Fishlegs only noticed it when it began to walk VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
The VENOMOUS VORPENT
This bright yellow nanodragon carries poison in both the glands in its neck and also its tail. The sting of a Venomous Vorpent is absolutely always fatal.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Bright Yellow
ARMED WITH: Deadly Venom 
POISON: (see above).... 15 SIZE: Teeny Weeny FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:
Do NOT Tread on this animal... 15 
across his hand, and then he let out a scream and flicked his hand so that the Vorpent sailed upward and the immensely pointy sting in his tail tore a great rip in the surface of the balloon.
The descent then became a bit more rapid.
Stoick the Vast and Big-Boobied Bertha jumped apart, and the basket of the balloon crashed onto the deck between them.
The balloon itself became entangled in the sails of The Blue Whale.
There was an astonished silence, and then one by one, the sad Gronckle, Toothless, Camicazi, Fishlegs and Hiccup came crawling out of the tipped-over basket.
Great were the celebrations in the Hooligan and Bog-Burglar Tribes when they realized their Heirs had been returned to them unharmed. The battle songs being beaten out on the War Drums turned to songs of triumph. The two great snaky lines of warships rang out with cheers, and the Warriors fired their arrows into the air in their joy. (Which incidentally is not to be recommended -- someone could take their eye out doing that. But Hooligans and Bog-Burglars were not known for their common sense.)
Stoick hugged his son and said no words... but Hiccup knew what he meant.
"Stoick," Big-Boobied
Bertha said at last, as she lifted her daughter onto her mighty shoulders in triumph, "by way of apology, I would like to give you a little gift."
Big-Boobied Bertha clapped her hands, and one of her Warriors brought forward a gigantic shield.
"Waistline of Woden!" exclaimed Fishlegs, staring down at the shield. "You realize what this is, don't you? It's only the shield of Grimbeard the Ghastly!"
It was indeed Grimbeard the Ghastly's famous shield, taken in battle by the Bog-Burglars many years before and held by the Tribe as a trophy ever since. Perfectly round, in the center was a skull crowned by seaweed, around which waves and dragons chased each other in an endless circle.
Snotlout's eyes gleamed.
Snotlout was feeling extremely put out. Here was Hiccup turning up, YET AGAIN not dead, not drowned and not eaten by Sharkworms, and it didn't look like there was going to be a fight after all.
But now he saw he could prove he was destined to be Chief, not Hiccup.
Snotlout picked up the shield of Grimbeard the Ghastly and held it victoriously over his head.
It was a glorious moment. Snotlout looked magnificent, standing there nobly, all muscly and tattooed, with the last rays of the setting sun blazing over the horizon and sending flashes of silver off the shield and into the sky.
The watching Hooligans, some of whom were not very sure what was going on and all of whom were not very bright, assumed that Snotlout had saved the day in some way. He certainly looked good. They started shouting, "SNOT-LOUT! SNOT-LOUT!
SNOT-LOUT!" and the Bog-Burglars replied with cries of "CAMI-CAZI! CAMI-CAZI! CAMI-CAZI!"
"Oh, for Thor's sake!" said Fishlegs. "I'm not having this happening all over again! This was nothing to do with you, Snotlout -- you weren't even THERE, for Thor's sake! It was Hiccup who just saved all our lives, Hiccup who had the clever plan, and Hiccup is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans!"
"PUSH him, Fishlegs," advised Camicazi from her mother's shoulder. Fishlegs gave Snotlout a big shove in the stomach.
Ordinarily, Fishlegs would never have been able to push Snotlout over. But the shield Snotlout was holding above his head made him a little unsteady. He fell overboard into the water with an enormous splash.
There was a bit of a horrified silence.
And then Chief Stoick the Vast threw back his great hairy head and shouted out "HA HA HA!" in a huge guffaw.
The cheers of the watching Tribes turned to great yells of laughter, for there is nothing they enjoy more than a really simple joke where someone falls over or gets wet or covered in mud. So they laughed as long and loudly and rudely as only Vikings can -- splitting their sides and bending over double and thumping each other on their hairy backs -- as the sun set on Saturn's day Saturday in a spectacular display of red and pink and gold.
Snotlout was pulled out of the sea by his father, Baggybum the Beerbelly, still clinging onto the shield of Grimbeard the Ghastly. And even Snotlout was forced to join in the laughter so he didn't look like a bad sport. "Hiccup," said Stoick at last, wiping the tears from his eyes. "I have a present for you..."
Stoick led Hiccup over to the back of The Blue Whale and there, being dragged behind by a rope, was the familiar sight of a small, fat boat with a slightly wonky mast and a drunken wobble to the left...
"The Hopeful Puffin!" exclaimed Hiccup joyfully. "Gobber dived down into the Harbor and brought her up for you," beamed Stoick.
"I mended a couple of holes for you," boomed Gobber, slapping Hiccup on the back. "We'll make a Viking of you yet."
"Maybe you and your dragon, Juiceless, and Fisheggs and Camiwhatsit here could lead us back to Berk in triumphant procession?" said Stoick. "After all, it's not every day that the noble Tribes of Bog-Burglar and Hooligan have their Heirs returned to them..."
As darkness fell all around them, the islands of the Archipelago turned from green to gray and then to black, and the Viking Warriors lit the flares that hung along the sides of the gently rocking ships.
The Electricsquirms flickered into life and danced across the ocean like little fiery sparks, trailing tails of sparkling, dusty light behind them.
The sea was as flat as glass, and the reflection of the full moon in the water made a flickering path of moonbeams, leading all the way up to the distant silhouette of the Isle of Berk on the horizon.
Hiccup and Toothless and Fishlegs and Camicazi climbed on board The Hopeful Puffin, which seemed none the worse for having been down to the bottom of the ocean and come back up again.
And if strangers could have observed that nighttime procession they would have thought it odd indeed to see the progress of the Viking warships that night.
For were not the Vikings supposed to be the Masters of the Seas, the greatest pirates and navigators the world has ever known?
And now here were these two great, snaking, flaming lines of Hooligan and Bog-Burglar ships, zigzagging wildly this way and that, turning round in circles and doubling back on themselves, laughing and apologizing and cursing in the darkness.
They were all following the lead of one tiny boat at the front, The Hopeful Puffin, as she twirled and spun and revolved in her own peculiar way across the path of the moon toward Berk.
EPILOGUE BY HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD, THE LAST OF THE GREAT VIKING HEROES
Here I am, back where I started; this all happened such a long, long time ago.
But now I come to think of it, if I look around the desk where I am writing now I can see things all around me that remind me of that time.
The hook of Alvin the Treacherous hangs on my wall like a golden question mark. By the door rests the shield given to me by the Fat Consul.
I have taken that shield into battle with me all my life, much to the amusement of my friends, for instead of being circular like Viking shields it is square in the Roman fashion.
But then I have always been somewhat of a square peg in a round hole.
Even the quill with which I am writing now is made out of a Roman golden eagle's feather that I found in my cell at Fort Sinister.
I look at these things and I remember, and what I remember most clearly is the moment when the balloon rose out of the jabber and hullabaloo of the prison of Fort Sinister and into the clear blue sky like a perfectly round bubble of happiness, or a balloon of thought.
I remember the quiet stillness of that moment, floating free of all care and worry, suspended magically in the endless nothingness of the air below and above us.
I remember my child-self looking down over the rim of the basket and seeing my entire world laid out beneath me like a map in a made-up story. For the first time I saw that the place where I lived and struggled and worried was part of an Archipelago of staggering beauty: hundreds of tiny green islands set in a shimmering blue sea.
And suddenly I realized with such clearness what pinpricks we were on this ocean universe. What swaggering insects! What posturing amoebas!
But size isn't everything, as I am always telling Snotlout. However small we are, we should always fight for what we believe to be right. And I don't mean fight with the power of our fists or the power of our swords. That has always been the problem with us Vikings. I mean the power of our brains and our thoughts and our dreams.
And as small and quiet and unimportant as our fighting may look, perhaps we might all work together like the numberless armies of Ziggerastica, and break out of the prisons of our own making. Perhaps we might be able to keep this fierce and beautiful world of ours as free for all of us as it seemed to be on that blue afternoon of my childhood.
Once, my hand held the sword Endeavor so strongly. Now that same hand is as brown and wrinkly as an old salt kipper as it writes these words slowly and shakily across the page. The ink splutters and splotches where once it ran so smoothly. Sometimes I forget what I was doing last Tuesday, let alone sixty-five years ago.
But the winds will still blow when I am no longer here. The storms will still rage, and the forces of Empire and oppression, be they Roman or otherwise, will still be waiting at the corners of the ocean.
The fight goes on for the Heroes of the Future. 
The Sting in the Tale
Surely, surely, that must be the end of Alvin the Treacherous, last seen dropping from a height into a heaving mass of Sharkworms? And surely, surely, there must be a happy ending at last for all our Viking warriors large and small?
But as with many happy endings, there is a sting in the tale. In this case, unknown to everybody, in the confusion when the balloon fell out of the sky, one of our Heroes was stung with a single drop of poison from the terrible tail of the Venomous Vorpent.
And, as everybody knows, the sting of the Venomous Vorpent is absolutely always fatal...
Which of our Heroes was unlucky enough to be stung? Look out for the next volume of Hiccup's memoirs... [Image: A dragon.
I don't like happy endings.
They are too neat, too nice
I like a little spice in my stories. So this is Not a happy ending.
It is just "Toodlcoon secyasoon..."
Which is Dragonese for "the story continues."] Read more of Hiccup's memoirs...
HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III
Translated from the Old Norse by Cressida Cowell
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was a truly extraordinary Viking hero, known throughout the Viking kingdom as "the dragon whisperer" on account of his power over these terrifying beasts. But it wasn't always like that...
In fact, in the beginning, Hiccup was the most put-upon Viking you'd ever seen. Not hard enough to beat his chief rival, Snotlout, at Bashyball; and CERTAINLY not able to control his lazy dragon Toothless!
Read about Hiccup Horrendous Haddock Ill's rise to fame and desperate dragon-training exploits.
Read more of Hiccup's memoirs...
HOW TO BE A PIRATE by Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III
Translated from the Old Norse by Cressida Cowell
Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III was a Viking hero -- dashing, brave and ever so clever. Hut even Viking heroes had to start somewhere...
Hopeless at advanced rudery, awful at badd spelling and truly pathetic at spitting, Hiccup blunders his way through the Pirate Training Program and unsuccessfully attempts to seek out Grimbeard the Ghastly's treasure -- - not exactly the skills needed to be a great Viking chieftain!
Find about Hiccup before he became known throughout the land for his awesome sword-lighting skills'...
"A must read." The Hooligan Observer "Ground-breaking and inspiring." The Viking Times
WHAT GROWN-UPS SAY ABOUT HICCUP:
"Cowell is a new star in children's fiction." Amanda Craig, The Times
"... one of the most enjoyable and original children's stories I have heard in a long time." The Independent
"This book is great fun and has a Blackadderish sense of humour... full of the sort of jokes that make schoolboys snigger." The Sunday Times
"Bulging with good jokes, funny drawings and dramatic scenes, it is absolutely wonderful." The Independent on Sunday
WHAT CHILDREN SAY ABOUT HICCUP:
"I bought How to Be a Pirate this week and read it in three days. I couldn't put it down; please write another soon." Jonathan from York
"I really really love your book How to Train Your Dragon. It's the best book I ever read!" Amber from Herts
"If I was given 20 to spend on books, How to Train Your Dragon would be number one on my list. This book was funny, ridiculous, crazy, brilliant, mind boggling and... well, there aren't any more words to describe it. It just shows I'm speechless!" Kim from Year 
I am the Venomous Vorpent And my sting is as deadly as a Black Widow Spider.
Even before this story begins I have already stung one of the Characters (I hope he is not your favorite.) And although he does not know it yet
THE CURSE IS COME UPON HIM!
My poison is creeping through his body. My strong venom is killing his heart.
And at ten o'clock on Friday morning He shall DIE as sure as fish eggs are fish eggs.
Because NOBODY can CHEAT THE CURSE OF THE VENOMOUS VORPENT. 
1. THE HUNTING-WITH-BOWS- AND-ARROWIS-ON-SKIS EXPEDITION
Winters were always cold in the Viking Lands.
But this winter was the coldest in a hundred years. It was so cold that the Sullen Sea had frozen over, and all the islands in the Inner Isles were now joined together by a great flat desert of solid ice, two meters thick in places.
On this particularly cold morning several hours before breakfast, it was as if the whole world was holding its breath, frozen in time. The air was as sharp as broken glass;
no sound disturbed the pure snowy silence.
No sound, that is, apart from an appalling, mad screaming coming from somewhere out in the middle of the ice.
For a small party of young boys and their teacher from the Hooligan Tribe had set out from the little Isle of Berk where they lived to the Island of Villainy to the south.
Not in a boat, of course, for you cannot sail across a frozen sea.
They were speeding far too fast across the ice in an enormous wooden Viking SLEIGH, pulled by six pure white Saber-Toothed Driver Dragons larger than lions and faster than cheetahs.
The dreadful mad yelling was coming from the man driving the sleigh, Gobber the Belch. Gobber was the teacher in charge of the Pirate Training Program on Berk, and he was an enormous monster of a man wrapped up in furs who could easily have been mistaken for a grizzly bear with a dirty red beard and an attitude problem.
"GEDDONWITHIT, YOU MISERABLE WHITE WORMS!" roared Gobber at the Saber-Toothed Dragons, cracking his whip above their heads.
"I'VE HAD SNAILS THAT HAVE MOVED QUICKER THAN YOU LOT! MY GRANNY COULD SKIP FASTER THAN THIS AND SHE'S A HUNDRED AND FOUR! YEEEEEEHAAH!!"
One gigantic furry arm lashed out with a whip that curled through the air like a great black serpent, the other shook the reins in a lunatic frenzy that sent the Driver Dragons bounding forward in terrible uncontrolled leaps.
Behind Gobber on the sleigh sat twelve of his pupils.
Ten of these boys were ugly young thugs yelling as loudly in crazy excitement as their teacher.
"YEEEEEEEHAAAAH!" they whooped, as the sleigh hit a snow bank and sailed ten meters through the air and then slammed back down on the ice with stomach-churning violence.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAH!!
The last two boys were smaller than the rest and a lot less excited.
"I'm glad," gasped Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third as the sleigh tipped over wildly on one runner with an awful screech and spray of ice. "I'm glad I didn't have breakfast because I think it would have come up again..."
Hiccup is, in fact, the Hero of this story, although you would never have guessed it to look at him. He was small, and red-haired, and very, very ordinary.
Hiccup's best friend Fishlegs, a skinny runner-bean of a boy with asthma and a squint, wasn't really listening. He was praying to Thor with his eyes squeezed tightly shut.
"Please, Thor," begged Fishlegs, "please make it stop... Fishlegs's prayer was about to be answered.
The sleigh was approaching the great black cliffs of the Visithugs Territories far too impossibly fast for it to stop in time...
"Don't open your eyes, Fishlegs," advised Hiccup. Gobber the Belch reared up and with a mighty roar of "WOOOOOOAH!!!"
leaned back so far pulling on the reins that he was nearly horizontal. The Saber-Tooths came to a plunging halt so sharply that the sleigh wheeled around in a mad arc.... They were going to slam into that cliff at such a speed they would all be smashed to splinters...
"AAAAARGH!" yelled Hiccup, shutting his eyes too.
The sleigh screeched to a quivering halt. Hiccup opened his eyes again. Astonishingly, they were still alive. But the smooth black wall of the cliff was only centimeters away from Hiccup's cheek. Hiccup held on to the rock for a second to help himself stop shaking.
"RIGHT!" bellowed Gobber, clambering out of the sleigh entirely unconcerned. "WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING SKULKING IN THERE? GET OUT AND STAND TO ATTENTION, YOU PATHETIC DRIBBLES OF EARWIG DROPPINGS!"
Yawning and chattering, all twelve boys unpacked skis from the back of the sleigh and attached them to the bottom of their furry boots.
For six months of the year the Vikings lived under SNOW... so a Viking Warrior had to be just as good at SKIING as he was at SAILING.
This was a Hunting-with-Bows-and-Arrows-on-Skis Expedition. The boys had to ski down Mount Villainy, the largest mountain in the Inner Isles, shooting with their arrows as many Semi-Spotted Snow peckers as they could.
"I'm going to get at least FIFTY," boasted Snotface Snotlout, a tall thug of a boy with huge nostrils and a moustache like a little furry caterpillar squirming on his upper lip.
"SILENCE!" screamed Gobber, cracking his whip.
There was absolute silence immediately. It's a curious fact, but a heavily armed, mad, six-and-a-half-foot teacher holding a whip tends to get his class's attention.
"I will be staying here to guard the sleigh," yelled Gobber. "Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third will be in charge of the Hunting Party when you get to the mountain."
Ten of the boys groaned and turned around to look furiously at Hiccup.
ALL of them reckoned they would make better leaders than Hiccup. Snotlout had won the Senseless Violence Cup three years in a row.
Wartihog could smash chairs to pieces with his bare fists.
Dogsbreath the Duhbrain burped so loud he shattered glass.
Small, skinny, and unimportant, only Hiccup looked like he had no leadership skills whatsoever. He stood on one leg apologetically and this made his skis cross and he fell over.
"Why does HICCUP get to be in charge AGAIN?" demanded Snotface Snotlout through gritted teeth.
"Because Hiccup is the son of the CHIEF and one day he will be in charge PERMANENTLY, Thor help us all...," explained Gobber, helping Hiccup to his feet and dusting the snow off him with one hairy hand.
"Any questions?" boomed Gobber.
Fishlegs put up his hand. "Just a small point, sir," he said. "How are we going to climb up the mountain in the first place?"
"The Saber-Toothed Dragons will DRAG you to the top ON your skis," replied Gobber. "It shouldn't take more than half an hour."
Fishlegs and Hiccup looked dubiously at the great white creatures crouching dangerously on the ice, tongues spilling out over teeth as sharp as swords, cat-like eyes gazing at their small human Masters with the purest hatred.
"So that's that, then," said Gobber. "I shall wait for you here and see you all in three hours' time.... I really need a NAP... way too early for me..."
Gobber settled himself on the furs of the sleigh and gave an enormous yawn. "Oh, and one more thing... as you know, nobody lives on the Island of Villainy, but the Island of Hysteria is just next door and I should warn you that at this time of year there may be Hysterics about..."
"HYSTERICS???" squeaked Fishlegs, somewhat, well, hysterically. "But the Hysterics are trapped safely in Hysteria, aren't they?"
HYSTERICS, I should explain, were a particularly bloodthirsty and lunatic Tribe of Vikings. Even tough Tribes like the Visithugs were scared of the Hysterics. Hiccup had never actually met a Hysteric, but he knew they were renowned for killing you first, and asking questions later.
Normally they didn't trouble the other Tribes, however, because three-quarters of the island ended in dizzyingly high cliffs plunging straight into deep seas, and on the north coast was the Wrath of Thor, where an impossibly huge and monstrous Sea Dragon called the DOOMFANG lived.
[Insert: A page from one of Hiccup's note books from when he was much younger]
Dragon Hibernation
Most dragons hibernate in the winter. Big ones go in a care but smaller ones dig themselves a hole to sleep in, and the deeper the hole, the wider the winter will be.
A Common-or- Garden dragon hibernating for the winter.
Some dragons, like Saber-Toothed Dreier Dragons do not hibernate at all and they are called evergreens because saber-Toothed Dreier dragons are always white.
The good news about this was that nobody could get into Hysteria, and even more importantly, the Hysterics could not get out.
Except at this time of year...
"Because at this time of year," boomed Gobber happily, "the Wrath of Thor is all frozen over, and the Doomfang is trapped under two meters solid of ice. So if you do happen to come across a Hysteric -- and I'm SURE you won't; it's far too early in the morning -- I suggest you ski like fury in the opposite direction."
And just like that, Gobber fell asleep. VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGG Saber-Toothed Driver Dragons
Saher-Tooths are enormous lion like dragons that do not hibernate, and are there/ore very useful to the Vikings for pulling their sleighs, and dragging them up mountains during the winter. They have Been Known to eat their owners.
[Insert: I don't like happy endings. They are too neat, too nice. I like a little spice in my stories. So,]
STATISTICS
COLORS: Always white
ARMED WITH: Those terrible Saher-Teeth and super-scary spikes on head... 9 HUNTING ABILITY: Terrifying to watch... 
SPEED: Not as quick as some, and their heavy bulk makes them slow to maneuver... FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Alarming... 9 2. SABER-TOOTHED DRIVER DRAGONS
Gobber's enormous snores rang out like a walrus calling out to another walrus some fifty icebergs away.
As if they were all a part of the same creature, the pack of Saber- Toothed Driver Dragons settled themselves down on the ice and refused to move. By Woden's Armpit, but those Drivers were BIG.
The boys looked at them.
"Well come on, then, Hiccup," grunted Wartihog impatiently. "Take charge!"
Hiccup cleared his throat and used his most reasonable voice. "OK, guys," he said in Dragonese. "I don't want any trouble..."
"Oh look, it talks...," hissed a particularly large and savage-looking Saber-Tooth. He was missing an eye, and from the specially royal way he held himself, seemed to be the Leader of the Pack. "Tie little Human Tadpole is speaking the noble Dragon tongue..."
The other Drivers laughed jeeringly.
[Insert: Dragonese was the language dragons spoke to each other. Only Hiccup understood this fascinating language.]
"We all know what we're supposed to be doing here...," Hiccup continued.
"We know what WE'RE going to be doing," sneered the Driver, closing his one eye and settling himself comfortably. "We're going to have a nice long sleep right here while you sweat it up the largest mountain in the Inner Isles..."
"Oh for Thor's sake!" exploded Snotface Snotlout. "That girly 'speaking Dragonese' stuff isn't going to work with these brutes!"
Snotlout grabbed the black whip from Gobber's relaxed hand, and cracked it.
Snnnnnnaaaap!
The Driver Dragons blinked open their eyes.
Snotlout cracked the whip again, this time letting the end of it lash the face of the Saber-Tooth with the One Eye. The Driver sprang to his feet with a yowl of pain and the rest of the pack followed him, furious but respectful. The boys cheered.
"That's the way to do it!" grinned Snotlout, whipping another of the dragons for the pure pleasure of it. The animal howled and Snotlout laughed. "Disobey ME, would you, you SNIVELING
CRAWLING PIECES OF FORKED-TONGUE RUBBISH! This'll learn you!"
"Don't do that, Snotlout," said Hiccup quietly. Hiccup didn't normally stand up to Snotlout, but he couldn't bear to see an animal as proud and dignified as a Saber-Toothed Driver made to dance about like a monkey.
Snotlout stopped what he was doing to turn on Hiccup.
"What's this?" sneered Snotlout. "Is Hiccup the Useless trying to tell Snotlout the HERO what to do? Face it, Hiccup, the snow will turn as blue as Gobber the Belch's nose before YOU become the Chief of the Hooligan Tribe."
Snotlout snapped the whip, and it curled cruelly forward at Hiccup, hitting him on the chest.
It would have been a very painful lash, if it hadn't been for the fact that sleeping down Hiccup's waistcoat was Hiccup's small, disobedient hunting dragon, Toothless.
The cutting edge of the whip hit Toothless on the hard, horny skin of his behind, and woke him out of his hibernation sleep.
Toothless climbed up out of Hiccup's collar, sat on his shoulder, and puffed out his neck in fury. "S-something hit T-t-toothless on the b-b-bottom! H-h-how can T-t-toothless s-s-sleep with thing hitting him on the b-b-bottom!"
"Why isn't your ridiculous pinprick of a hunting dragon hibernating like all the others?" blustered Snotlout.
"I was worried he was getting too cold," replied Hiccup, soothing Toothless by scratching him softly in between the horns. "He didn't dig himself a deep enough Hibernation Hole, and if a dragon gets too cold he can stay asleep for centuries. So I dug him up and I've been carrying him around with me to keep him warm."
"And now T-t-toothless woken up too EARLY!" raged Toothless. "Issa f-f-freezing!"
"What," scoffed Snotlout, "what is your pathetic pinprick of a dragon" (for Toothless was the smallest hunting dragon anybody has ever seen, before or since), "what is your ridiculous frogspawn of a reptile wearing?"
Toothless was wearing a fur coat.
Hiccup had made it in a desperate attempt to keep the little dragon warm.
"Oh this is too good -- hold me up, Dogsbreath!" snorted Snotlout. "Hiccup has made his ickle teeny dwagon an ickle teeny furry DRESS!"
"Issa c-c-coat!" hissed Toothless. "Issa C-C-COAT!" "A dragon in a dress!" squealed Snotlout.
"HA HA HA HA!" roared the boys. "A dragon in a dress!" Even the Saber-Toothed Driver Dragons joined in.
"Oh my claws and Jaws," Drawled One Eye. "I do believe that is the smallest hunting dragon I have EVER seen dressed up in HUMAN WAPPINGS! Has it no shame?"
Poor Toothless stood up very straight and stiff on Hiccup's shoulder. Beginning with his horns and spreading slowly downward, he turned a delicate shade of pink. He closed his jaws tightly and smoke rings blew out of his ears.
"Issa v-v-very stylish winter COAT," he said gruffly. Yer all j-jjealous."
Snotlout started barking out orders. "OK, we've wasted enough time here.... Everybody get themselves into pairs and grab on to the harness of one of these Saber-Toothed Brutes.... You two LOSERS."
He pointed at Hiccup and Fishlegs. "Can have the half-blind one."
"You don't like us humans much, do you One Eye?"
said Hiccup as he and Fishlegs shuffled themselves into position behind the enormous Saber-Tooth.
One Eye spat a great burst of fire into the snow. "Don't like you? he hissed. "I LOATHE you with every drop of my pure green blood.... You Humans are treacherous, ignorant, greedy, and violent. I have been Leader of my Pack for forty years through good times and hard. What does Snothlout know about TRUE Leadership? He's just a pig with a whip in his hand.
My fangs ACHE with my hatred.... My claws ITCH to scratch out every single Two-Legged, Mud-Bound, Jaw-Flapping human on this entire planet..."
"Oh great," said Fishlegs nervously. "We have a Driver Dragon who HATES us. This morning just gets better and better..."
By the time they got going, with One Eye dragging them VERY SLOWLY up the gorge, and through a thick pine forest, there was no sign of the other boys.
The forest ended as suddenly as it had begun, and on the final sheer climb to the top of Mount Villainy they did not pass a single tree. One Eye halted at the peak of Mount Villainy. A lone boulder marked the Highest Point. Hanging on firmly to this rock to prevent the wind, or the sheer dizzying pull of the abyss, from carrying him over the edge, Hiccup peered down the other side of the mountain into the Wrath of Thor. Normally, the sea and the Doomfang roared and raged through that spiteful slit, whirl pooling and spiraling and crashing into each other. Now the crack was still and frozen as Death itself, and the only sign of the Doomfang was a dreadful moaning that drummed in the ears like a headache, and a dark shadow moving slowly under the ice, like a gigantic cloud building up before a thunderstorm.
"Let's get out of here as quickly as we can," shivered Fishlegs. "There are a lot of grim, creepy places in the Barbaric Archipelago, but THIS has got to be the GRIMMEST and the CREEPIEST."
I don't know whether YOU have ever tried Hunting-with-Bows-and- Arrows-on-Skis, but it is really quite a complicated skill. Skiing downhill itself is difficult enough, and then you have to concentrate on actually HITTING the pesky little Semi-Spotted Snow peckers, not too easy because they flit about like hummingbirds.
On top of the basic difficulties of the sport, Fishlegs was the most appalling skier and a terrible shot. His bow whirled around like a windmill as he tried to keep his balance, and even if his hands had been as steady as a rock, a dreadful squint meant that his eyes were as crossed as his skis, and frankly, any chance of him hitting ANYTHING AT ALL would be a matter of pure fluke. He wobbled forward, knees bent as if sitting on the toilet, skis pointing inward in the snowplow position, and at the first hint of a little bump in the snow he fell over and his skis fell off.
Hiccup wasn't as bad as Fishlegs, but any sport is not just about skill, it is also about HEART. And Hiccup's heart wasn't really in this. He was secretly on the side of the Semi-Spotted Snow peckers, charming little birds that Hiccup often watched from his window. They built themselves interesting little nests like tiny igloos.
So after an hour and a half, despite the fact that Semi-Spotted Snow peckers were jumping all around them like fleas on a cow's back, Hiccup and Fishlegs had shot not a single bird.
"Bother, bother, bother!" exclaimed Hiccup as he missed yet another one.
One Eye seemed hugely amused by the whole thing.
"You ARE interesting Humans," he drawled. "I've never met Vikings like this before.... You're tiny and not very tough. You can't ski. You can't hunt. You can't yell for toffee."
"Oh, shut up," snapped Hiccup crossly.
Fishlegs had fallen over exactly fifty-four times. He was now covered with snow and wet through, and his aim was not improved by a violent shivering. On top of all this, he seemed to be catching a nasty cold.
'"Oh this is HOPELESS!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely HOPELESS! A-A- ACHOOO!
Snotlout and Dogsbreath will have probably murdered half the bird population in the Archipelago by now and we can't even get ourselves one measly Snow pecker corpse! Why won't the wretched little birds stay still for just a MILLISECOND?"
As Hiccup helped Fishlegs to his feet for the fifty-fifth time, he thought he heard something almost like deep human laughter. It seemed to be coming from some distance below them, from behind a snowdrift.
Leaving Fishlegs leaning on one of his poles, warning Toothless to be quiet, Hiccup peered cautiously over the top of the snowdrift.
And there, a hundred meters down the side of yet another slope, was a sight that sent a nasty trickle of fear down Hiccup's spine.
HYSTERICS
Behind Hiccup's left shoulder, One Eye the Saber-Tooth growled grimly. The spines on his muscly back all stood up; his eyes narrowed. His tail with the spiky point swayed dangerously from side to side. "Now THOSE Humans," he hissed, "THOSE Humans really ARE Badder than most..."
"What's going on?" asked Fishlegs, wiping his runny nose on his sleeve, and rubbing his bottom, sore from falling over so often.
"Hysterics..." whispered Hiccup. "Get down..."
There were six Hysterics dressed in black sitting on the slopes below them. Five enormous stags lay dead on the ground beside them, their blood very red against the white snow. The Hysterics had clearly stopped for breakfast before the long ski back to the Hysterical Village on the other side of the Wrath of Thor. They had built a small fire, and were eating bits of deer in their fingers.
Their skis and their bows and arrows were jammed in the snow behind them.
"Thank Thor they haven't seen us," breathed Hiccup to Fishlegs. "Come on, we'll just ski quietly back the way we came."
This would have been an excellent plan.
But something weird was happening to Fishlegs.
He was already looking terrible, his eyes streaming and his nose running with snot. He was shaking a little with fever, and now as he watched the Hysterics, his face turned first pink, and then a brilliant red. He snorted furiously. "The Big Brainless Muscle- Bound Idiots!" he muttered.
"Yes, yes," whispered Hiccup, "but come on..."
"The murderers.... They've only gone and killed those poor deer in broad daylight... the great Stinking Gormless Brutes..."
"This is all true," said Hiccup, "but we need to get out of here before they kill us... "
But before Hiccup could stop him, Fishlegs had staggered to his feet and drawn his sword, crying out "COWARDS!" at the top of his lungs.
The Hysterics stopped eating. They looked up in astonishment. They couldn't have been more flabbergasted than Hiccup, as Fishlegs set off down the hill straight at the band of fearsome Warriors, in his lunatic uncontrolled slowplow. His ski poles flailed around frantically; his arrows flew out of their quiver like a hedgehog shedding needles; he was gaining speed every second, and shouting at the top of his voice:
"YOU MISERABLE MOLLUSKS! YOU WHIMPERING WINKLES.' I COULD TAKE YOU FRITTERING FAIRY FOLK WITH ONE HAND BEHIND MY BACK! STAND AND FIGHT LIKE MEN, YOU COWARDLY COWERING CUTTLEFISH!"
FISHLEGS S GUIDE ON HOW NOT TO SKI
3. THE HUNTERS BECOME THE HUNTED
Open-mouthed, almost in a trance, Hiccup watched the furious, frantic progress of his friend down the mountainside.
"YOU HORRIBLE HALITOSIS HADDOCK!" shrieked Fishlegs in a frenzy. "YOU PATHETIC PIECES OF PLANKTON! I CAN SEE YOU -- YOU'RE BLUBBERING LIKE BABIES AT THE THOUGHT OF FIGHTING A REAL VIKING!"
One Eye, the Saber-Toothed Driver Dragon, was watching Fishlegs with something approaching awe. "You know, I underestimated your friend," he grunted respectfully. "I thought he was a complete weed, but I have to admit, that is BRAVE... Suicidal, of course, but definitely brave..."
The Hysterics were so completely amazed to find themselves being attacked out of the blue by a single, undersized, underage member of another Tribe that for a moment they just froze, jaws hanging open, hands filled with deer halfway to their mouths.
Fishlegs skied straight at the Hysterics, swinging his sword furiously when he got amongst them, but missing of course, and skiing straight over their campfire and on down the hill. For a moment his furs caught on fire, but the wind blew them out again.
The Hysterics paused for one second in their astonishment as they watched the small shrieking figure careening down the mountainside. They then looked at one another, and you didn't need to see their faces to know that it was a grim, Let's-Murder-Him-Now sort of look. They fastened on their skis in a businesslike, unhurried fashion, hoisted their bows on to their enormous hairy shoulders, and set off after him.
"Oh, by the Bouncing Buttocks of Beaming Baldur," panicked Hiccup, setting off down the slope after Fishlegs, "they're going to kill him, aren't they? What am I going to do?"
"Do?" asked One Eye, bounding beside Hiccup in long easy strides. "There's nothing you can do.... Your friend is as good as dead... He's what we in the Saber-Tooth Pack would call a Walking Corpse... or a SKIING Corpse in his case. There's nothing you can do, and if you ski in this direction YOU may end up dead too..."
It looked like the dragon was right. Hiccup was working hard to keep up with the Hysterics. Hysterics are enormous and very strong skiers indeed.
And Fishlegs was traveling at a very fast speed himself, on account of not doing anything fancy like TURNING, admittedly totally out of control, and it was amazing he hadn't fallen over already. Hiccup could see him twisting his head every now and again to shout more insults over his shoulder.
The Hysterics were gaining, and one Big Brute carrying a gigantic, double-headed, black and gold axe, fastened an arrow to his bow.
Hiccup screeched to a stop, sending out a fan of snow. He fixed an arrow to his own bow.
"Oh my horns and whiskers!" squealed Toothless. "He's going to d-ddo something! Don't d-d-do it, Hiccup! Don't do it!"
Hiccup took careful aim and let go of the arrow, which sailed through the air, and hit the Big Brute with the Axe; who was about to shoot Fishlegs, right bang splat in the bottom.
It was the first successful hit Hiccup had had all morning. "Good shot!" roared One Eye, enjoying himself hugely.
The Big Brute with the Axe let out a roar, and his arms flailed around wildly. He let fly his own arrow, which, in a streak of glorious luck, soared in a perfect arc... straight into the bottom of the Hysteric skiing in front of him.
"Oh, this is too good...," breathed One Eye. "Pinch me... It must be my birthday..."
That Hysteric then screamed in pain, and pitched forward into a complete somersault, taking out the Hysteric in front of him, who slid on his back into the legs of the last three Hysterics, upturning them like bowling pins, and all SIX Hysterics ended up in a groaning, tangled, furious, snowy heap.
"Good, good," muttered Hiccup. "Now, please make all six of them follow me, not Fishlegs."
"I think they will!" cried One Eye, crying with laughter, "Oh, I think they will..."
"OYER HERE!" yelled Hiccup, making quite sure they saw who had caused their downfall, and then for good measure, "IF YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF BEING SHOT, YOU...
WRIGGLING RUFFIAN RUBBISH!"
"Look what you've d-d-done!" moaned Toothless. "Those Hysterics are going to be so m-m-mad! "
Mad those Hysterics certainly were, as mad as fire, and Hiccup set off down the mountain like a little bolt of lightning.
"We've got a head start," panted Hiccup, skiing faster than he ever had done in his entire life.
"But it's not going to be enough," gloated One Eye with relish. "You've got half the mountain to ski down, and they're going to catch up."
Sure enough, a horribly short time afterward, Hiccup could hear the Hysterics beginning their pursuit behind him.
Five of the Hysterics were howling the Hysterical Howl like a pack of insane high-pitched wolves, and the sixth, the one with the Axe, was screaming more personal insults.
"How DARE you assault MY Royal Buttocks, you midget Hooligan Assassin! We Hysterics are the best Hunters in the entire world, and when I get hold of you I shall chop you with my Chopper and feed you to the Doomfang, I shall shoot you full of arrows and use you as a colander!" yelled the Hysteric with the Axe.
"Charming" grinned One Eye. "F ond of visitors, are they Hysterics?"
Hiccup headed straight for the woods, thinking they would find it harder to shoot him in there.
Now, skiing through a thickly forested area is dangerous, hard work, and the first rule you should follow in normal circumstances is to go SLOWLY.
These were not normal circumstances, and Hiccup screamed through that forest, madly twisting and turning, far too fast for safety.
"B-b-be careful!" warned Toothless helpfully. "M-m-mind trees!"
"Oh thank you, Toothless," panted Hiccup sarcastically as he swerved violently this way and that, "I never thought of that..."
Dragons have quicker reflexes than humans, so One Eye and Toothless followed with ease. But the Hysterics weren't doing too badly either. Hiccup did hear one crash, as one of the Hysterics didn't turn in time and smashed into a tree.
But that left five Hysterics still chasing after him, and from the sound of their spine-creeping Hysterical Howls, getting closer by the second...
"You cannot get away!" screamed the Big Brute with the Axe. "When I get hold of you, I shall tear you limb from limb and use your wishbone as a toothpick!"
Meanwhile, down at the bottom of the gorge, Gobber had woken from his nap, and ten of his young pupils had returned from their hunting trip.
Gobber had harnessed five Saber-Toothed Drivers to the sleigh, and was waiting for the return of Hiccup and Fishlegs.
"I shot ninety Snow peckers," boasted Speedifist to an impressed Wartihog.
"That's NOTHING," crowed Snotlout. "I got two hundred and four... easy-peasy lemon squeezy, it was like shooting fish in a barrel. Even Hiccup the Useless and his ridiculous Fishlegged friend must have got a few today; they can't be THAT pathetic."
"WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THOSE
NUMBSKULLS?" roared Gobber, beginning to feel a little uneasy. For Hiccup was the son of the Chief, Stoick the Vast, O Hear His Name and Tremble, Ugh, Ugh, and Stoick had a nasty temper and wouldn't be too pleased if anything had happened to his only son.
"Maybe they got ambushed by Snow peckers?" sneered Snotlout. There was a shouting from the gorge, and down it like an erratic snowplowing rocket came Fishlegs, arms whirring like windmills.
Fishlegs was going so fast he couldn't possibly stop. He went on past the sleigh, past the openmouthed Gobber and the boys, and on and on for fifty meters until he eventually came to a stop, and collapsed on the ice.
Gobber ran after him, with a very nasty feeling now in the bottom of his stomach, and picked Fishlegs up.
Fishlegs looked terrible, purple and sweaty and trembling. "HICCUP?" shouted Gobber. "WHERE is HICCUP?"
"Hysterics...," gasped Fishlegs. "A... a... a... cchoo! Hysterics..."
Gobber turned as white as a Semi-Spotted Snow pecker.
Up above, Hiccup shot out of the cover of the trees like an arrow from a bow.
Directly below him was the gorge.... He could see the little speck of Gobber's sleigh, and little dots moving around it. The other boys must have made it back, then...
Hiccup knew that if he skied down the gorge, he would never make it. The Hysterics were so close behind him now they would shoot him or catch him before he reached the bottom.
He had to make a split-second decision. Instead of heading toward the gorge, he set his teeth grimly and pointed his skis to the right, down the slope that led directly to the clifftop.
"What are you d-d-doing?" shrieked Toothless. "This w-w-way Issa two-hundred-meter cliff! You going to d-d-die!!"
Behind him, the Hysterics burst out of the woods. When they saw where Hiccup was going, they didn't even bother to start shooting. They just swooped after him, shouting out jeeringly:
"Where do you think you're going, Hooligan SCUM?"
"Say hello to Valhalla for me, because that's where you'll end up!"
They could see the edge of the cliff now, where the snow ended, and it was just an endless drop into nothingness.
"Stop!" shrieked Toothless. "S-s-stop!!"
"Why?" asked Hiccup. "I haven't got any choice you think those Hysteries are going to give me a big warm hug and let me go?"
"N-n-no!" screamed Toothless." But you can't ski off a c-c-cliff! Issa long way D-D-DOWN!"
"That's why I need your help, One Eye," said Hiccup to the great Saber-Toothed Dragon, who was bounding alongside.
"And what makes you think," sneered One Eye, " that I WANT to help you? I hate Humans. One less of you little pink slave drivers isn't going to trouble ME." "That's true," said Hiccup, "but if I die, the next Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe will be..."
Hiccup had run out of slope. He launched himself off the cliff, throwing his weight forward, skis wide apart. One Eye followed, unfolding his great wings.
"Will be who?" said One Eye urgently. "Will be who?" For one moment Hiccup soared up into that glorious infinity of blue sky like a bird.
And then he plunged DOWN.
[Insert: SNOTFACE.]
yelled Hiccup as he fell Hiccup screamed toward the ice at a hundred and fifty miles per hour.
Gobber the Belch, watching from below as the precious son of his Boss was about to fall to his death, screamed as well.
In three seconds Hiccup would smash into the ground and that would be the end of him.
After one second Hiccup was pretty sure One Eye would save him. After two seconds he wasn't so sure.
And in fact the great Saber-Toothed Driver Dragon was only just in time. For vital milliseconds his hatred of humans held him back...
But then he folded back his wings and dived after Hiccup. A Saber-Tooth can dive more swiftly and beautifully than a peregrine falcon. One Eye caught Hiccup around the waist with his great talons in the nick of time, and then swept upward, wings stretched out like a great white kite. Hiccup gave a whoop of joy.
Down below, the watching boys cheered, and started the Hooligan Hurrah. Gobber practically fainted, such was his relief.
"Snotface Snotlout," said One Eye, as he spread his wing wide. "Is he the tall red-headed by with a face like a pig?"
"That's the one," crowed Hiccup happily.
"Then you're right," replied One Eye, soaring even higher "perhaps you are on Human worth saving..."
Up on the clifftops, the Big Brute of a Hysteric with the Axe was so angry he snapped his ski poles like twigs. His furious voice floated up to them: "YOU'RE WOT SAFE YET! YOU'RE NOT SAFE EVER!"
screamed the Big Brute, completely beside himself. "WHEREVER YOU GO I SHALL FIND YOU!
I SHALL FOLLOW YOU TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH, TO THE BOTTOM OF THE OCEAN, IN THE GOD-LIKE HEIGHTS OF THE SKY! I PROMISE YOU, YOU HOOLIGAN COCKROACH, THAT YOU WILL REGRET THE DAY YOU SHOT AN ARROW IN THE BOTTOM OF NORBERT THE NUT JOB!!" And then the sound became too faint for them to hear any more.
"Remind me" Hiccup said to Toothless as they flew along, "not to come back to Hysteria anytime in the next twenty year..."
"E-e-ever," replied Toothless passionately. "Not come back EVER."
Saber-Toothed Drivers are so bulky and muscular, they can only fly short distances, so One Eye dropped right down and placed Hiccup in the sleigh of a very relieved Gobber the Belch. Gobber took one look at the Hysterics on "the clifftops, shaking their fists and howling the Hysterical Howl, and judged it might not be a good idea to stick around. He loaded Fishlegs and the other boys back onto the sleigh and, cheering and singing, they followed the flying Saber-Tooth all the way back to the little Isle of Berk.
I am the Venomous Vorpent, Deadlier than an a spooked in arsenic,
More toxic than toadstool flavored tarantula. Are you enough-y and cold-y and snotty and sneezy?
Are you mad? Are you sad? Do you feel queasy? is your skin so hot it is starting to smoke? is your throat so stiff it is making you choke?
If you fall down DEAD, perhaps you too Have been stung by the VENOMOUS VORPENT. ]
4. IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG WITH FISHLEGS?
Hiccup did not sleep well that night. Every time he dropped off, Norbert the Nutjob found him in his dreams, screaming, "I will GRIND YOU INTO SAND!
I WILL CHOP YOU WITH MY CHOPPER!" and Hiccup would wake up again, burningly hot and sweaty.
The following day, Toothless woke up in a furious temper because he still wasn't back in Hibernation Sleep. He'd done everything he should have done the night before. He'd gotten lots of exercise, drunk a milky drink at bedtime; all for nothing. On the dot of five o'clock the next morning, his greengage eyes opened up, SNAP, like a scallop opening its shell, and that was it for the day, no more sleeping.
And that was it for Hiccup too.
Toothless crawled up from his place at Hiccup's feet, like a small, enraged hot-water bottle. He stormed up Hiccup's body, digging his sharp little claws into Hiccup's tummy as he went, up to Hiccup's forehead, where he sat and hissed furiously.
"Toothless a-a-awake AGAIN...'Snot fair... 'Snot fair.... WHY Toothless awake? Everyone else asleep..."
It is not much fun being woken up at five o'clock in the morning by a dragon sitting on your head and hissing angry smoke rings straight up your nostrils.
"Well I'M awake now too," grumbled Hiccup, coughing sleepily. "Could you blow those smoke ring somewhere else; I've already got a sore throat..."
"Oh you," fumed Toothless, blowing out great clouds of furious smoke. "You're j-j-just a H-h-human, you don't count... Us d-ddragons s-s-sensitive.... we n-n-need our sleep."
"Thank you, Toothless," said Hiccup through a huge bout of coughing, "but we don't have to get up now, you know, we can just doze for a bit..."
Hiccup turned over onto his other side and snuggled the furs more cozily around his shoulders, so he could snooze for a bit longer.
But once Toothless was awake he was AWAKE. 
The little dragon made a half-hearted pretense of snuggling down next to his Master, and then he bounced up again.
"Toothless get UP now...," he said, flapping around Hiccup's head, tweaking his hair and blowing raspberries in his ears. "Issa l-llovely morning...come on...come on... Toothless h-h-hungry... Hiccup make Toothless b-b-breakfast...."
And when that didn't work, Toothless stood on Hiccup's shoulder, held his earlobe tenderly with one claw, and shrieked right down his ear hole, "MAYDAY MAYDAY! Toothless need to make p-p-pee-pee RIGHT NOW!"
Hiccup sat bolt upright like he'd been shot with an arrow. "Oh jumping jellyfish, not right now, Toothless, not on the bed again... Hang on there, Toothless, just hang on..."
Hiccup jumped out of the bed in one hop, onto the freezing cold stone floor, and threw on four layers of furs, with Toothless flapping around his head squawking, "RIGHT NOW, RIGHT SOW, Toothless need pee-pee RIGHT NOW."
"Just hang on!" begged Hiccup. He had to take his mittens off to undo the big bolts on the front door, Toothless shrieking, "Right now! Right now! Right now!"
Hiccup dragged open the door, and the day outside was still as dark as nighttime and very, very cold, so cold that the air was like an icy bucket of water being thrown in your face.
Toothless flew out, still shrieking, "Right now! Right now!" and squatted down on the snow a meter out of the front door.
"Well done for hanging on, Toothless," said Hiccup, banging his hands together to warm them up. Toothless squatted down, a look of pretend concentration furrowing his horns, but nothing seemed to be happening.
After a while Toothless got up. "Toothless NOT need p-p-pee-pee after all...," he said decidedly.
Hiccup clapped his mittened hand to his forehead in frustration. Sometimes being the owner of a dragon was VERY HARD WORK.
There was no point going back to bed now that he'd gotten up, so Hiccup fixed himself breakfast; and while he did this he had plenty of time to think.
Hiccup was worried about Fishlegs. Why had Fishlegs attacked those Hysterics? It was very out of character. Normally Fishlegs would only have to get a sniff of something like a Hysteric and he would snowplow as quickly as possible in the opposite direction. OK, maybe all that falling over had set off his Berserk tendencies, but still, it was a bit peculiar...
And Fishlegs hadn't been looking too well, lately, either. Lots of sneezing and shivering, and that couldn't be caused by being a Berserk. It was almost like there was something WRONG WITH HIM...
An hour or so later, the door was flung open so wildly it nearly fell off its hinges, and Hiccup's father, Stoick the Vast, stomped into the room looking for his breakfast, like a six-and-a-half-foot earthquake, yawning so wide you could see his tonsils. Stoick the Vast was exactly what you might expect a Viking to be -- loads of beard and not a lot of neck, masses of muscles but not a lot going on in the BRAIN department.
"Made some porridge, have you, son?" he roared. "Excellent, excellent." Stoick didn't bother putting the porridge into a bowl. He simply removed the cauldron from the fire, sat down at the table, and drank the porridge straight from the pot.
"Father?" said Hiccup.
"Mmm?" said Stoick absentmindedly, as he tipped his great head back and drank the last dregs of porridge, a lot of it running down his beard in a sticky, lumpy river.
"I wonder if you can help me.... I've been worrying about Fishlegs...," said Hiccup.
Stoick finished the porridge with a great smacking of the lips and threw the cauldron into the fireplace with cheery violence.
"Is Fisheggs your odd little friend with the face like a depressed haddock?" boomed Stoick, grabbing a mackerel off the table and swallowing it, tail and head and eyes and all, in one gulp like a sword swallower swallowing swords.
"That's right," said Hiccup, "and his name isn't Fisheggs, it's Fishlegs..."
"Well, there's a coinci-thingamajigy" bellowed Stoick.
"Do you mean coincidence?" asked Hiccup politely.
"Whatever" roared Stoick. "I'VE been worrying about Fisheggs too." "You have?" asked Hiccup in surprise. It wasn't like Stoick to worry about anything.
"I have," said Stoick solemnly. "And I need to talk to you about something VERY SERIOUSLY. Come here, Hiccup."
Hiccup went and stood in front of his father. Chief Stoick put his hands on his son's shoulders and looked into his eyes very seriously. Hiccup tried to look serious too, but it is quite hard to take your father totally seriously when he seems to have a beard made entirely out of porridge.
"Son," said Stoick the Vast, "you are the son of a Chief, and the Heir to the Hooligan Tribe. A man is judged by the company he keeps, and I am sorry to have to tell you, but Fisheggs is the weirdest little weirdo I have ever seen. You must give him up, Hiccup, give him up..."
"But, Father," protested Hiccup. "Fishlegs is my friend."
"SILENCE.'" roared Stoick. And then more gently, "I know it is hard, son, but a Chief is a public figure. We Hooligans need to be FEARED by the other Tribes, so they don't start thinking they can sneak along and invade us.... Fisheggs is a... well, let's face it, son, he's a bit ODD. You stand too near Fisheggs, son, and the Meatheads, and the Visithugs, and the Bog-Burglars and the Hysterics will start thinking YOU'RE a bit odd too... a bit soft, a bit WEAK, and then you're putting the whole Tribe in peril."
"Yes, Father," said Hiccup miserably.
"You need to start working on being TERRIFYING, Hiccup." Stoick patted his son on the shoulder, peering sympathetically at his sad face. This was hard, but it was for Hiccup's own good. "And Fisheggs isn't helping. Give him up, son. Your cousin, Snotlout, now, there's a suitable friend for you. Got an air of terrible danger about him. You stand shoulder to shoulder with Snotlout and you'll be feared throughout the Archipelago. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes, Father," said Hiccup very sadly.
Stoick the Vast clapped his son heartily on the back. "Good boy," roared Stoick. "I knew you'd see sense. And now, we'd better get ready for the Freya'sday Fete.... We don't want to be late now, do we? Old Wrinkly has given me a tip for the Young Heroes Smashsticks-on-Ice Competition.... He's done some soothsaying, and he tells me we Hooligans are going to win ten to two so I've put a bit of a bet on. Run and fetch your stick and skates, quick, boy."
Slowly, Hiccup went and fetched his Smashstick. Sadly, he picked up his ice skates.
"Old Wrinkly isn't very good at looking into the future," he warned his father, but Stoick wasn't listening.
Stoick rarely listened.
[Insert: * soothsaying means Looking into the future] TOILET TRAINING
You: Toothless, ta COGLET me wantee ta cack-cack in di greenclaw crapspot...
Toothless, you KNOW I want you to poo in the dragon toilets Dragon" O yessee yessee, me coglet...
Yes, yes, I know
You: (pointing at large poo in the middle of Stoick's bed ) Erg... questa SA?
So what, then, is THIS? PAUSE
Dragon(hopefully): Ummm... un choclush snik-snak?
Er... a chocolate biscuit?
You: Snotta chocklush snik-snak, issa CAK-CAK, issa cack-cack di Toothless NA in di greenclaw crapspot, may oopla bang splosh in di middling di sleepy-slab di pappa.
This isn't a chocolate biscuit, it's a POO, it's on of YOUR poos Toothless, and it ISN'T in the dragon toilets, it's right bang splat in the middle of my father's bed.
CELEBRATE THE COMING OF SPRING AT THE FREYA'SDAY FETE PROGRAM OF EVENTS
10:00 Young Heroes Smashsticks-On-Tce competition on the frozen harbor. No rules. No quarter given.
NO survivors. No limits.
11:00 Mud Wrestling. Can Big-Boobied Bertha be the All-In-Snow- Wrestling Champion for the third year in a row? Will those boobies remain undefeated?
12:00 Have a go at the FROZEN LUCKY DIP We have frozen 500 everyday objects into 500 identical lumps of Ice. Can you guess what they are and take something useful home?
5. SMASHSTICKS-ON-ICE
The Freya'sday Fete took place every year on Freya'sday Eve, which was the Viking holiday celebrating the end of winter and the coming of spring.
This year the Fete was being held out in the middle of the frozen sea in Hooligan Harbor. It was strange to think that only six months before the Harbor had been filled with a grey, surly ocean. Now there were red and white striped tents pitched higgledypiggledy all over the ice. Roaring fires burned high, grilling Semi-Spotted Snowpeckers for the Vikings to munch on as they wandered around stalls selling octopus lollipops, or listened to storytellers telling tall stories, or watched openmouthed as the giants on skates balanced dwarves on their heads.
There was a big area marked out for the Smashsticks-on-Ice Competitions. Smashsticks-on-Ice was a very rough and complicated game played with bats, balls, and ice skates. Nobody was quite sure of the rules, which meant that people tended to make them up as they went along, and then anybody who complained would start a fight.
The Young Heroes were supposed to go first, followed later on by the Adult Warriors. They would be playing against another Tribe, the Bog-Burglars, who had been invited over to join in the Celebrations for the day.
The Bog-Burglars were a Tribe of fearsome female Warriors who lived on an island some way to the west. Their Chief, Big-Boobied Bertha, stood nearby, gulping down mugs of beer and scratching her chin stubble.
Her daughter, Camicazi, a very small girl with a swagger and the tangiest hair in the Inner Isles, was practicing swinging her Smashstick.
Camicazi was a friend of Hiccup's, and he wandered over to ask her if she had seen Fishlegs that morning.
"Nope," said Camicazi cheerily. "But I hope you Hooligan boys are feeling lucky. We Bog-Burglars are going to MURDER you weedy little BOYS in the Smashsticks. I bet you Hooligans are hopeless at it -- apart from you, of course, Hiccup," she added. Camicazi had a great admiration for Hiccup, ever since he had rescued her from being eaten by Sharkworms in Fort Sinister.
[Insert: *This takes plare in "How to speak Dragonese," another of Hiccup's *]
Snotlout happened to be skating past at that Big-Boobied Bertha in holiday mood... moment and he nearly fell over, he laughed so much at this. "Hiccup???" jeered Snotlout. "Hiccup will get as many goals as he shot Semi-Spotted Snow peckers yesterday. I shot more than two hundred. How many did you shoot, again, Hiccup? What was it -- none??"
Hiccup blushed. Camicazi looked very surprised.
"P-P-ARP! The Young Heroes Smashsticks-on-Ice Match is about to begin! Please could both teams make their way to the ice...," shouted Gobber the Belch from the center of the ice. Gobber had changed into his shortest shorts to be the referee. The Bog- Burglars (apart from Camicazi, of course) were big, rough, mean-looking girls with wild hair, broken noses, and thighs like tree trunks.
Fishlegs staggered onto the ice at the last minute. He looked even more terrible than the last time Hiccup saw him. He was sneezing and shivering hard, and he could hardly stand, and was using his Smashstick to hold himself up. He had put his ice skates on the wrong feet.
Hiccup put up his hand to try and get Gobber's attention. "Sir, I think Fishlegs isn't well," he said.
"NONSENSE!" roared Gobber. "Vikings don't get SICK! Flu is for softies! Colds are for babies! Plagues are for girlies! I'VE never had a day's sickness in all my life, not even a sore throat. I don't want to hear ANOTHER WORD."
Hiccup and Fishlegs skated out onto the ice, Hiccup supporting Fishlegs, who could hardly put one skate in front of the other.
"You ought to be at home," worried Hiccup, "You look awful." Fishlegs laughed sarcastically. "Didn't you hear Gobber? Vikings don't get SICK.... I'm not ill, I'm just shivering with EXCITEMENT to be out here on this frost bitingly cold day..."
Gobber blew the whistle, threw the puck into the Smashstick Scrum, and all hell broke loose.
Ten boys and girls fell on top of one another in an untidy hairy mess, clonking each other on the head with their wooden sticks.
Within two minutes Wartihog, Clueless, Lovethug, and Deadly Doris were lying stretched out on the ice, and Camicazi had somehow broken free of the scrum and was skating toward Hiccup and Fishlegs at breakneck speed. Fishlegs moved in to tackle her, and she pulled his helmet over his eyes so he couldn't see anything, before skillfully shooting the puck between the goalposts. And as the Bog-Burglars merrily cried out, "G-O-A-L!!" an extraordinary change came over Fishlegs.
He tore off his helmet and he snorted like a bull about to charge. "Uh-oh," said Hiccup. He had seen that look somewhere before. "Now hang on a second, Fishlegs, don't do anything rash..."
"FOUL!" bellowed Fishlegs.
Fishlegs skated toward the gigantic figure of the referee, Gobber the Belch, like a crab slipping on soap.
"GOBBER, YOU BIG, STUPID, BARBARIAN BABOON, ARE YOU BLIND? SHE FOULED ME!"
Gobber started, as surprised as if a small pink prawn on a plate had suddenly leapt up and bit him.
"WHAT did you say, Fishlegs????" roared Gobber in astonishment. "SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR EARS AS WELL AS YOUR EYES?" screamed Fishlegs. "I'VE MET SHEEP MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU ARE! I'VE
MET JELLYFISH WHO COULD OUTPLAY YOU IN A GAME OF CHESS!"
Gobber swelled up like a balloon about to explode.
"I'LL DEAL WITH THIS, BELCH!" yelled Stoick the Vast, skating ponderously over to this extraordinary scene.
Stoick the Vast looked down at Fishlegs from the giant height of six and half feet. "YOUNG MAN," he roared,
"YOUR CHIEFTAIN IS SPEAKING TO YOU, THIS IS A SPECIAL OCCASION... THERE ARE BOG-BURGLARS
PRESENT," Stoick pointed to the Bog-Burglars, who were killing themselves laughing.
Fishlegs was silent for a second, looking up at his Chieftain. And then...
"FATTY!" shrieked Fishlegs. Stoick the Vast started.
"LARDY-BUM!" shouted Fishlegs. "WHO'S BEEN HAVING TOO MANY SECOND HELPINGS, CHIEF GREEDIGUTS OF THE JELLY-BELLIES??"
Stoick the Vast turned as red as a lobster.
"HOW DARE YOU TALK TO YOUR CHIEF IN THIS RUDE AND IMPERTINENT MANNER?"
Fishlegs opened his mouth to scream some more insults, but Hiccup interrupted.
"He's not well, Father," whispered Hiccup urgently. "I think his Berserk thingy has gone wrong.... Please, Father... I'll take him home, he's not well..."
"Take him home, then," growled Stoick to Hiccup. "But I'm warning you, son, that boy isn't fit to be a Hooligan, let alone a friend to the son of the Chief."
At first Fishlegs didn't want to be dragged away, but while he was struggling, he fell over, and the cold shock of landing in the snow brought him back to his senses again.
Hiccup was really worried now, and he decided to take Fishlegs to Old Wrinkly, to see whether HE knew what was wrong...
* Interestingly. 1,5000 year later, medical science has advanced to such and extent, that we STILL don't knew what to do with a virus.
6. WHAT OLD WRINKLY SAID
Old Wrinkly was Hiccup's grandfather on his mother's side. He lived in a large untidy house on the beach. He was delighted to see them, and he fed them all porridge. Toothless snoozed in front of the blazing fire in his fireplace, while the snowy clothes of Hiccup and Fishlegs dripped dry on chairs.
"What can I do for you, little Hiccup?" wheezed Old Wrinkly, lighting a big fat pipe.
"It's my friend, Fishlegs," explained Hiccup. "He's not very well." Old Wrinkly looked at Fishlegs, who was shaking like a leaf in a high wind.
"Oh come on, Hiccup," said Fishlegs irritably. "I keep telling you, it's just a NASTY COLD..."
Old Wrinkly tut-tutted. 
Old Wrinkly was the wise man and soothsayer of the Hooligan Tribe. If you were ill, you would go to Old Wrinkly and he would examine you, consult the gods, and then give you some perfectly disgusting medicine like rabbits' droppings in limpet goo that might or might not make you better. (Doctoring and looking into the future are complicated businesses -- to tell the truth, Old Wrinkly did not always get them right.)
Old Wrinkly put his ancient old hand on Fishlegs's forehead, and tut-tutted again. "Very hot, very hot," he muttered to himself, "and sweaty." He listened to Fishlegs's heart with a strange trumpet like instrument and tut-tutted some more.
And then he threw some twigs onto the fire, and poked the flames with a long metal stick.
"Oh diaries me!" gasped Old Wrinkly as he stared at the red embers. "That sounds cheerful," shivered Fishlegs.
"The fire seems to be telling me that your friend has VORPENTITIS, caused by the sting of a VENOMOUS VORPENT," said Old Wrinkly sadly. "Have you met any Venomous Vorpent recently?"
There was a nasty cold feeling in the bottom of Hiccup's stomach. "We did meet a Venomous Vorpent...," Hiccup said slowly. "A couple of months ago... a Vorpent fell onto Fishlegs's hand when we were escaping from Fort Sinister..."
"But it didn't sting me!" Fishlegs said eagerly. "I didn't feel anything sting me!"
Old Wrinkly shook his head. "The Vorpent numbs the skin before it stings. It's very clever really. You wouldn't have felt a thing. And then nothing happens, until a couple of months later, when you fall ill with Vorpentitis."
"What are the symptoms of Vorpentitis?" asked Hiccup.
"Fever... runny nose... episodes of madness..." replied Old Wrinkly gloomily.
Hiccup's stomach was now as cold as ice, but he tried to sound cheerful. "And how do we get him better?"
Old Wrinkly sounded gloomier still.
"Weeeell...," he croaked, "that's the tricky part.... The sting of the Venomous Vorpent is pretty much always FATAL."
There was a nasty silence.
"The good news is," continued Old Wrinkly, "we have until ten in the morning tomorrow to find the antidote before your friend dies."
"Oh good," said Hiccup, hugely relieved. "So there IS an antidote..."
[Insert: * an antidote is a CURE] Fishlegs had been listening with an open mouth. "But all I've got is a NASTY COLD!" he protested. "A nasty cold -- and you tell me I've only got one day to live!"
Hiccup ignored him. "What's the antidote?" asked Hiccup. "This is where the tricky part gets trickier..." wheezed Old
Wrinkly. "The antidote to the sting of the Venomous Vorpent is the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name. "
"What, you mean the POTATO?" gasped Hiccup.
"Sssssh," whispered Old Wrinkly, desperately flapping his hands. "You're not supposed to name it! It's bad luck!"
"But the POTATO is an imaginary vegetable!" said Hiccup, who thought all this talk of bad luck was just superstition. "It doesn't really exist!"
"There are those that say the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name can be found in a great country to the west known as America...," Old Wrinkly pointed out.
[Insert: * Potatoes only grew in America at this time, and America hadn't been discovered yet. ]
"But most people say," said Hiccup slowly, "that there's no such place as America. Most people say that it's an imaginary land that only crackpot weirdos believe in. Most people think that the earth is as flat as a pancake, and if you sail too far to the west you will fall off the end of it."
"That is what most people say," admitted Old Wrinkly, shrugging his shoulders and carrying on puffing his pipe.
"And even if there WAS such a thing as this so-called potato in this so-called land called America," argued Hiccup, "we're never going to be able to sail to it and find the antidote in only ONE DAY. In one day you'd hardly be out of the Sullen Sea.... The thing you're suggesting is IMPOSSIBLE."
"There's no such thing as im-POSSIBLE, Hiccup," snorted Old Wrinkly, "only im-PROBABLE, The only thing that limits us are the limits to our imaginations... and I used to think of you as an imaginative boy. Give up, if you want to... but I used to think of you as the sort of boy who would NEVER give up, however bad things looked."
"OK, then," said Hiccup crossly. "Give me one reason not to give up."
"I will give you a reason," said Old Wrinkly. "There is a chance that Norbert the Nutjob Chief of the Hysterics, may have the antidote to Vorpentitis."
Hiccup jumped. "NORBERT THE NUTJOB??" said Hiccup. "Why does HE have a POTATO? Where did he get it from?"
"I will explain by telling you the story of Norbert the Nutjob's father and the Doomfang," said Old Wrinkly.
"You do that," said Hiccup, already feeling anxious at the mere mention of Norbert the Nutjob.
Old Wrinkly relit his pipe. "I have to warn you, Hiccup," wheezed Old Wrinkly between puffs, "that, like a lot of stories, this may or may not be true..."
[Image: The Hooligans thought that the world was FLAT and sailing too far to the West was a REALLY BAD IDEA.]
The Story of Norbert the Nutjob's Father and the Doomfang
"Fifteen years ago," began Old Wrinkly, "the Chief of the Hysterical Tribe was Norbert the Nutjob's father, Bigjob.... The Hysterics have never believed that the world is flat, and that if you sail too far to the west you will fall off the end of it. The Hysterics think this is poppycock. Bigjob believed that the earth was as round as the moon, and he set out to prove it.
"Bigjob built the greatest Viking ship you have ever seen, a ship called The American Dream, and he sailed far, far to the west through storms as black and wild as Woden's nightmares. He sailed past icebergs higher than a ship's great mast and on and on over the Great Green Sea Desert, and however far he sailed he never came to the end of the world, for the world is as round as a circle, and a circle has no end. "
Hiccup could contain himself no longer. "Is this true?" he burst out. "Is the world really a circle that has no end?"
"I have no idea," replied Old Wrinkly calmly. "As I told you, this is a story. Be quiet and I'll tell you the end.
"After a journey so long it seemed like forever, Bigjob at last found the land that he had dreamed about, the land called America. This tuas a glorious country, full of natural Treasures like the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name, and friendly natives that Bigjob called 'Feather People. 'Bigjob spent a happy couple of months there before returning home to the Inner Isles.
"Norbert's father decided to take back with him a FROZEN VEGETABLE- THAT-NO-ONE-DARES-NAME, so that everybody would believe that he really had been to America. On the journey back, Bigjob had an extraordinary feeling the ship was being FOLLOWED. At first he thought it was a great whale or a shark, but eventually he realized it was something far, far worse. It was a tremendous Sea Dragon called a DOOMFANG."
"That is strange," interrupted Hiccup. Hiccup knew a great deal about dragons, and this was very odd behavior for a Doomfang.
Doomfangs are heavily armed, terrifying creatures, but they normally just ignore humans.
"Will you stop interrupting?" said Old Wrinkly.
"This dreadful animal followed them all the way from America like a Curse. It was only when they reached the Wrath of Thor that the animal attacked, and tried to swallow the boat. Bigjob was very brave. Riding his dragon the Thunderer, he shot arrow after arrow at the Doomfang. These specially sharp arrows had been given to Bigjob by the Feather People, who are very expert at making arrows. Bigjob was down to his last arrow when the Doomfang finally killed him. Ever since that day, the Doomfang has never left the Wrath of Thor. For fifteen years, no one has been able to get into Hysteria, and no one can come out. The Chief of the Hysterical Tribe is now Bigjob's son, Norbert the Nutjob, and he has never gotten over the death of his father. It is said that he keeps the frozen Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name in a casket, and it is in as good condition as it was fifteen years ago.
"So there you are," said Old Wrinkly, "That is the story of Norbert the Nutjob's father and the Doomfang. Of course, at this time of year, the Wrath of Thor is frozen over, and the Doomfang is trapped under the ice. And Hysteria is only a three-hour sleigh ride from here."
Hiccup jumped to his feet. "I know," he said. "We were there only yesterday. We haven't got a moment to lose.... I must go to Hysteria and bring back the antidote."
Fishlegs's mouth dropped open. "I can't believe I'm hearing this.... You're thinking of GOING BACK TO HYSTERIA??? The creepiest, grimmest, scariest place I have ever been to in all my life, and you're going to go there in the DARK?"
"The Hysterics won't see me coming in the dark," Hiccup pointed out.
"You shot Norbert the Nutjob in the bottom with an ARROW!" howled Fishlegs. "You think you can just ask him politely to give you his precious American vegetable and he's just going to HAND IT OVER??"
"Burglary may be involved," admitted Hiccup. 'And all because of Old Wrinkly's SOOTHSAYING? Everybody knows that Old Wrinkly is nearly as hopeless at soothsaying as you are at Frightening Foreigners."
"Thank you," murmured Old Wrinkly. Fishlegs hadn't finished yet. "I keep on telling you... I have just got a BAD COLD.... A... a... a... tish-yoo! Actually, I'm not feeling that well.... Would you mind if I lie down for a moment?"
"Be my guest," said Old Wrinkly. "You can have my bed... and I'll make you some hot lemon and honey. Don't forget, Hiccup, you have until ten in the morning tomorrow, before Fishlegs dies... TEN in the morning, mind..."
So Hiccup left Old Wrinkly looking after his great friend Fishlegs, and ran out of the door. He had finally realized he might not have much time left...
And although he didn't know it at the time, those were the first steps he took toward the scariest, the most alarming and ghastly adventure of his life so far. He was indeed setting out on a quest... a quest that would be a race against time and lead him to a terrifying monster and icy peril, which would be sung about by bards ever after as theQuest for the Frozen Potato.
[Insert: Even if the earth was as round as a potato (How ridiculous!)
And if you could reach the land of your dreams On the other side of the ocean
(How silly!)
I would still be there waiting for you. So give up, give up, give up, give up
Because NOBODY can cheat the CURSE of the VENOMOUS VORPENT. And you only have fifteen hours left. ]
7. THE QUEST FOR THE FROZEN POTATO
Hiccup marched out of Old Wrinkly's house back to the Celebrations in the Harbor, followed by a grumbling Toothless. For about six hundred meters he was absolutely certain about what he was going to do.
He would go and explain to his father what had happened, and ask him to set up a Quest for the Frozen Potato. The Hooligans were always going on quests.
But when he eventually found his father, who was trying his luck in the Frozen Lucky Dip, he suddenly didn't feel quite so sure of himself.
Stoick wasn't as pleased to see his only son as he normally was. He had just lost a big bet because the Bog-Burglar Young Heroes had WHIPPED the Hooligan Young Heroes in the Smashsticks-on-Ice Competition, fourteen goals to nil. So Stoick was not in the best of moods.
"Bother that Old Wrinkly and his stupid soothsaying. An EASY WIN for the Hooligans, he said. Put all your money on it, he said. And what happens? The Bog-Burglars win fourteen-NIL. I should have known it," Stoick muttered to himself as he drew a large frozen object from the lucky dip and tried to work out what it was. Fish? A useful axe? A small chair?
"Father," said Hiccup determinedly, "I want to set out on a quest." Stoick looked at his son with surprise. "What sort of quest?"
"You remember my friend Fishlegs?" said Hiccup. Stoick rubbed his nose crossly and grunted.
"Old Wrinkly says the reason he attacked you was because he has been stung by the Venomous Vorpent and he is in the first stage of Vorpentitis, and that causes episodes of madness, you know... and the thing is, Father, unless we can find the antidote in time Old Wrinkly says Fishlegs may DIE..."
Stoick looked as if he wasn't sure whether to be sad or happy...
but then he saw his son's face and hurriedly looked sad.
"Um... yes... oh dear...," said Stoick.
"So I want to set out on a quest for the antidote," announced Hiccup.
"What is the antidote?" asked Stoick the Vast.
"Old Wrinkly says the antidote is the potato," said Hiccup. "SSSSSShhhh!" said Stoick. "You're not supposed to name it! And the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name is an imaginary vegetable -- surely you know that, Hiccup?"
"Old Wrinkly says that the Hysterics went to America and brought back a frozen potato," continued Hiccup stubbornly. "So I want to FIND the potato and save Fishlegs's life."
"I FORBID YOU TO DO ANY SUCH THING,'" roared Stoick.
"If we don't believe in the potato Fishlegs may DIE!" Hiccup yelled right back at his father.
Stoick the Vast lost his temper and waved the Unidentified Frozen Object (U. F. O.) around his head.
He roared at his son so loudly poor Hiccup's ears rang.
"YOUR FRIEND FISHLEGS IS A LITTLE WEIRDO WHO JUST CALLED ME A JELLY-BELLIED LARDY-BOTTOMED GREEDIGUTSI"
Hiccup flinched as if he had been struck, and then Stoick felt ashamed, and controlled himself. He reached out and patted his son on the shoulder, and he tried to speak more reasonably.
"Look, son, I know this is difficult for you, because you are fond of your friend, but let's just say that for once in a blue moon Old Wrinkly is right. Even then, as the Chief I WILL NOT risk the life of my only son for the sake of a little weirdo that Fate has got it in for."
"Isn't it the Chief's job to do that?" said Hiccup steadily.
"Fishlegs has no one else to look after him."
"You WILL NOT do it," said Stoick, very meaningfully indeed. "Because I FORBID it, and that is an order, son. An order from your CHIEF." Stoick put the U. F. O. on his head (he had decided it was a HELMET) and stalked off.
The unfortunate thing about going on a quest to save the life of your sick best friend is that you have no best friend to go with you. Hiccup watched his father stalking off with what looked very like a frozen chair on his head, and wondered miserably what his chances were if he went on the quest for the Frozen Potato alone.
Um... chief... why have you got a CHAIR on your head?
Not im-POSSIBLE, he thought sadly, but, let's face it, im-PROBABLE.
Camicazi stuck her head out from underneath the Lucky Dip table. "Did I hear someone mention the word quest? When do we get started?"
"Oh, Camicazi. You really shouldn't listen in on other people's conversations," said Hiccup.
Camicazi wriggled out from underneath the table and started doing handstands. She still had her ice skates on.
"We Bog-Burglars always listen in on other people's conversations," she said cheerfully. "It's one of the reasons I'm going to be so helpful to you on the quest for the Frozen Potato."
"YOU are not going on the quest for the Frozen Potato," said Hiccup. "It's far too dangerous."
"Dangerous? PAH!" boasted Camicazi. "Why, I've burgled whole flocks of SHEEP off the Visithugs.... I've picked the pockets of the Perilous Pirates.... I've stolen the helmet right off the head of Mad guts the Murderous, and you want me to steal one measly little vegetable?? No problem, Hiccup, watches and teaches, my boy, watch and learns."
Hiccup raised his eyes to the heavens. If Camicazi had a fault, it was that she was very, very pleased with herself. But it had to be admitted, she was an excellent burglar.
"There's this Madman with an Axe...," Hiccup pointed out. "Better and better," said Camicazi. "There's nothing I enjoy more than teasing Madmen with Axes. It's my favorite sport.
If you don't let me join in I'll tell your big fat cross father where you're going."
"But that's blackmail!" protested Hiccup.
"You see," grinned Camicazi, "we Bog-Burglars have no morals at all. It's very useful to us."
Hiccup gave up, and said she could come if she wanted to. Camicazi rushed off to get her burglary equipment, and Hiccup prepared a small sleigh to take them to Hysteria.
He also pulled down his boat, The Hopeful Puffin, to drag on runners behind the sleigh.
"What are you doing?" asked Camicazi, returning with her arms laden with ropes and oddly shaped, pointy metal objects.
"It's getting so near to springtime, the ice may start cracking when we're out there. And if it does we're going to need some way of getting back across the Sullen Sea," replied Hiccup, trying not to think about what would happen if the ice REALLY DID melt. That might mean they had to face the Doomfang, on top of all their other problems.
Hiccup went off to look for One Eye, and explained his problem, and the big Driver laughed sneerily.
"Look, revolting little Human by, I don't know why you think I might want to help you.
I am not your mommy. I HATE humans. One thing I will absolutely SWEAR to you.
I will NEVER, repeat NEVER, waste a tear crying over the death of one of you Human NO-Brainers."
"Ah," said Hiccup cunningly, "but the antidote isn't just going to save the life of my friend Fishlegs, is it?
The Vorpent stings dragons as well as humans. Thousands of DRAGONS die of Vorpentitis every year. When I bring back the frozen potato, I shall plant potatoes all over Berk, and no dragon shall die of Vorpentitis ever again."
Well, that got One Eye, of course, because his hatred of humans was only matched by his love for his fellow dragons, and five minutes later Hiccup was hitching the big Saber-Toothed Dragon up to his sleigh.
Hiccup told Stoick on the way that he was going to spend the night at Snotlout's house, and Stoick was delighted.
"Excellent, my boy," roared Stoick, "so you've decided to take my advice, and find yourself a better friend. Well done, Hiccup."
"So now," said Hiccup, sitting down in the sleigh next to Camicazi, "we can nip to Hysteria, steal the potato, and get it to Fishlegs without my father even knowing we've gone."
Only Snotlout noticed the small Sleigh-Dragging-a-Boat sneaking out of Hooligan Harbor, on its way to Hysteria on the quest for the Frozen Potato.
Snotlout hoped that wherever Hiccup was going, it was somewhere dangerous, and that he would NEVER COME BACK.
8. THE WRATH OF THOR
One Eye pulled the sleigh across the ice at a crazy speed. Once or twice Hiccup tugged on the reins to try and get him to slow down, but the big Driver ignored him, and so in the end, Hiccup gave up trying. "The quicker we get to Hysteria, the better, anyway," he reminded himself. The burningly cold wind slammed into his face, tearing at his eyelids as they careened across the ice.
The Hopeful Puffin bounced crazily behind them like an ugly duckling desperately trying to keep up with its demented mother. Luckily, although she was not an attractive-looking boat, she was sturdy and used to the odd knock or two. Hiccup had brought along snacks for everybody that were supposed to last the whole journey, but Toothless finished all of them in the first three minutes, littering the sleigh with crumbs, chicken bones, and nut shells.
"Toothless c-c-cold...," he wailed. "Toothless H-h-hungry.... Toothless BORED. Ow ow ow ow... Camicazi s-s-sitting on my ta-aail.... Are we nearly there yet?"
"We only left five minutes ago!" exclaimed Hiccup. "Toothless play I-Spy, " said Toothless firmly.
At first Camicazi was horribly cheerful, chatting constantly, and singing loudly, her bright blue eyes prickling with excitement.
But as the long hours wore on, and as they played their fifty-second game of I-Spy with Hiccup translating for Toothless, and as the sky turned pink and grey with the coming of the evening, and as they passed the Mazy Multitudes to their left and began to hear the first moans of the Doomfang under the ice, even Camicazi fell silent.
Hiccup made One Eye wait for the evening to grow darker before they turned the corner into the Wrath of Thor, so the Hysteric lookouts wouldn't spot them coming.
For a tense, stomach-churning half hour they waited, until Hiccup judged it was safe, and gave a pull on One Eye's reins to get him going again.
The gigantic sea cliffs of Villainy and Hysteria loomed above them scarily in the darkness. One Eye bounded into the Wrath of Thor, and the cliffs leapt up on either side of the little sleigh as it raced along, like dizzyingly high prison walls.
The eyes of dragons shine in the dark, and so One Eye's great eye acted as a searchlight, showing them the way. The ice in the narrow gorge was so clear that it was almost transparent, and in the beam of One Eye's eye, you could see right through it, as if it were a two-meter-thick pane of frosted glass, down into the sea below. How interesting, thought Hiccup as he looked over the edge of the sleigh; I can even make out a shoal of mackerel down there...
The mass of tiny fish went on forever, swimming slowly in their millions way down below them, until suddenly they fled, shooting away like tiny sparks in an explosion, as a great dark shape, infinitely large, suddenly appeared under the ice. It was the gargantuan shadow of a dragon the size of an underwater mountain, and it easily kept up with the speedy little sleigh, its long tail lazily powering it along, its wings nearly brushing the edges of the Wrath of Thor as it beat them slowly to swim underneath.
"Issa D-d-doomfang!"
whispered Toothless into Hiccup's ear. "Let's go h-h-home..."
Hiccup gazed downward in fascinated horror as the great dragon turned its head to one side and Hiccup
VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
The DOOMFANG
The Doomfang is a gigantic predator of the Open Ocean, very rarely seen by humans. It is armed not only with fearsome fangs and claws, but also a strange blue fire that "freezes' its victims to death.
STATISTICS
COLORS: Always as black as your darkest nightmare.
ARMED WITH: Terrible jaws and fangs. Also have unusual frozen fire breath, with blue flames that kill by FREEZING you... RADAR: Yes POISON: None HUNTING ABILITY: Unbeatable skills SPEED: Very, very fast FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Terrifying 
found himself staring into an enormous, bloodshot, green dragon eye, as long as the sleigh itself.
It was as if all the green in the world, of peas, of grass, of spinach, of leaves, of beans and frogs, had been concentrated in that one eye and given it the intensity of a pure green acid. It was like looking straight into the sun at midday, through a great green microscope, and Hiccup was so dazzled he nearly fell off the sleigh, until he was brought back to his senses by a terrible THUD! and the ice below them jumped up like an earthquake. The sleigh jumped too, and One Eye soared briefly into the air with a complaining yowl.
THUD! went the ice again as the Doomfang butted his head against the thick transparent wall. With terrified relief, Hiccup realized the ice was so deep that it was holding strong, although it was now shot through with tiny little white cracks.
The sleigh raced toward the entrance to Hysteria Harbor like a mouse streaking toward a mouse hole. The dragon followed, the ice thudding underneath as they went, with terrible blows from its battering-ram head. When One Eye turned into the harbor, he was going so fast the momentum from the boat behind almost turned them around in a great screeching circle. The sleigh balanced wildly on one runner, before slamming back down and carrying on.
Hiccup looked over his shoulder. The Doomfang was too large to fit through the narrow harbor entrance. It pushed its great head through and Hiccup could see, though not hear, its huge mouth opening in a roar of rage, its paw with the terrible talons tearing at the water. It blew out a great gush of underwater blue flame that shot out underneath the speeding sleigh and streaked forward in a straight line right up to the shoreline, almost as if it were a bright blue road telling them where to go.
"He's not pleased," joked Camicazi as the sleigh raced along the bright blue road. "That is one Doomfang in a VERY BAD MOOD." "Let's hope the ice holds long enough for us to steal the potato and get out of here," shivered Hiccup. "That creature would kill us with one snap of its jaws!"
When One Eye finally came to a plunging halt at the ice's edge and Hiccup clambered out of the sleigh, his legs wobbling like jellyfish, the evening had become night. The bright blue road had turned palest turquoise and was gradually fading entirely.
The harbor, thank Thor, was entirely deserted. Pulled up onto the rocks, half-buried in snow, were hundreds of Hysterical boats. Even in their snow-covered state, you could tell these were ghost ships, that hadn't rocked on salt water for fifteen years. Rags of sails hung from drooping masts, oars and rudders jutting from the snow were rotting or snapped in half.
Hiccup sent Toothless off to have a look at the Hysterical Village, and the little dragon reluctantly flapped off into the darkness.
"Why does T-t-toothless always have to do this?" complained Toothless.
"Because you're tie one with wings, Toothless," Hiccup explained for the umpteenth time, unhitching One Eye. Camicazi unpacked her burglary equipment, humming happily, shoving interesting-looking pointy instruments into her pockets, putting on her special shoes with spikes on the soles, winding length after length of stout rope around her middle.
Hiccup's usual companion on adventures was Fishlegs, who was always terrified and asking what on earth they were doing in YET ANOTHER life-threatening disaster? So it was quite a change to have Camicazi treating the whole thing as if it were an enjoyable outing.
They put on their skis and waited for Toothless to return from his trip to find out the whereabouts of the Hysterical Village. He gave them a shock when he flapped out from nowhere and landed on Hiccup's shoulder.
"Iss s-s-scary out there," panted Toothless, his eyes glowing luminously in the darkness.
"Them Hysterics is having a b-b-banquet for Freya'sday Eve... looksa SCRUMMY."
Hiccup explained what Toothless had said to Camicazi, and she got up. "Excellent," she said. "Hopefully they'll be so distracted they won't notice us. Let's get going." The little party set off up the cliff path, One Eye pulling them, his one eye burning bright in the darkness.
9. BACK ON BERK
Back on Berk, Fishlegs was hot as fire, weak as a fly caught in a spider's web, and talking nonsense. Old Wrinkly quietly bathed his head with cool water, and tried to feed him some watery tea.
"Stop it... you withered old... dried-up crab claw," fretted Fishlegs feebly, trying to twist away from the old man's hand, but hardly strong enough to move.
"They must get here before ten in the morning," muttered Old Wrinkly to himself. "He's dying fast."
"Don't worry," whispered Fishlegs, looking straight into Old Wrinkly's concerned old eyes. "Hiccup will make it.
Hiccup always makes it.... Thor only knows how," and then he drifted off into nonsense again.
Out in the middle of the Sullen Sea, strange noises could be heard, like the creaking of an old man's knee, or the rapping of a gigantic knuckle on a door.
The ice was beginning to crack. Fishlegs was dying fast...
10. FREYA'SDAY EYE ON HYSTERIA
When they reached the top of the cliff, the ground kept on rising up to Mount Hysteria, on which was perched the shadowy outline of the Hysterical Village, all in darkness.
One Eye dragged them right up to the bottom of the village walls, where Camicazi got out her ropes.
She threw up the rope with the metal hook attached, and on the first attempt it caught hold of the top of the wooden wall. She squirmed up it like a little blond monkey and disappeared over the top. One Eye spread wide his wings and flew after her.
Hiccup took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the rope, and climbed up, trying to ignore the skulls grinning at him from the top of the battlements.
They were the only visitors to the Hysterical Village in fifteen years.
The village seemed at first to be deserted.
There was no one in the streets, no light in the windows. But the Great Hall was blazing with light. Smoke billowed out of several chimneys, music and chatter and laughing poured out of the windows.
Weirdly, beside the Great Hall, lying on great tree trunks, there stood the largest Viking ship Hiccup had ever seen. It did seem a trifle strange to keep a ship so far from the sea, but Hiccup supposed the Hysterics hadn't been doing any sailing at all for the last fifteen years, so perhaps the center of town was as good a place to keep a boat as any.
And what a ship it was...
It was more the depth and length of a Roman galleon, and it was the only Viking longboat Hiccup had ever seen with not one but three masts. On its prow the figurehead dragon was a snarling Monstrous Nightmare, and Hiccup's heart beat a little faster with excitement as he read the name painted on its side in big flowing letters: The American Dream. Perhaps the story Old Wrinkly told him really WAS true...
In stark contrast to the ships Hiccup had seen in the harbor, this boat was in tip-top condition. The rest of the village was two meters deep in snow, but The American Dream was spotless, her decks entirely snow-free. She was freshly painted, the Hysterical flag flew cheerily from her central mast and her oars were all out, just as if she were about to set sail for distant shores at a moment's notice.
"We'll climb up onto the roof of the Great Hall and see if we can overhear what's going on," whispered Camicazi. Camicazi didn't even bother to use a rope this time. She just shimmied up the sheer wall, appearing to cling to it with invisible suction like a frog. Once she reached the roof, she let down a rope for Hiccup, and One Eye hauled him up with it.
The roof was thigh deep in snow, and Hiccup had to crawl through it, following the path made by Camicazi. She wriggled through to the central chimney, which had no smoke coming out of it, and she and Hiccup peered down into the room below.
A blast of heat so strong Hiccup had to close his eyes poured out of the chimney. Hiccup's hands burned as they began to warm up. Eventually his watering eyes adjusted to the heat and the light.
Down below, the Hysterics were enjoying a truly magnificent banquet. The long central table was loaded high with fish, flesh, and fowl cooked in every possible manner, whole stags, entire pigs, and brimming cups of beer and wine. A big drunken guy was dancing a jig on the table at one end, and the Hysterics were laughing and throwing bits of food and napkins at him.
Fires blazed in six huge fireplaces. Enormous white rugs made out of the skin of polar bears were strewn about the floor. Hanging on the walls were the heads of dragons of every possible size, color, and description. And also the heads of a couple of animals Hiccup had never seen before, one that looked like an enormous, depressed deer, and another that resembled a gigantic bull with black, curly hair.
A map of the Barbaric World drawn on deerskin was hanging in a great curtain against the north wall. On the west of the map, someone had scribbled out the great tumbling waterfall which on most Viking maps was marked "End of the World," and replaced it with a crude charcoal drawing of an island it called AMERICA.
With a sinking of the heart, Hiccup recognized a big blond bearded guy sitting on a throne as the Chief, Norbert the Nutjob. It was definitely the Big Brute who Hiccup had shot with an arrow in the bottom the day before. His throne had a couple of plump cushions on it, but he was shifting from buttock to buttock as if in some pain.
In one hand he held a very unusual, enormous, double-headed axe. The axe was different in that one blade was a bright and shiny copper gold, but the other blade was rusted and blackened, and deeply scarred.
There was no sign of the potato.
Suddenly Hiccup felt a bit foolish. He had somehow expected it to be displayed somewhere obvious, preferably with a big sign underneath it labeling it clearly as THE POTATO.
Because, of course, he did not have any idea what a potato looked like, whether it was orange, or green, or large, or small. Hiccup had somehow imagined it as RED with little black spots, and kind of oblong, or triangular, just because it sounded so exotic. Purple, perhaps? Really, he hadn't a clue. "OK," whispered Camicazi, "I'm going to have to go down there to try and find out WHERE they keep the potato.... It could be absolutely anywhere."
She unwound one of the ropes from around her waist, and Hiccup suggested that they should tie it around One Eye's leg. "That way, if you get into any trouble, you can yank on it three times, and One Eye can haul you up quickly."
One Eye objected strongly to having anything tied around his leg, and only agreed when Hiccup reminded him what a HERO he was going to be in the Dragon World when they returned to Berk with the antidote to Vorpentitis.
The little girl then lowered herself down through the hole in the roof.
It was completely dark and very quiet on top of the Great Hall.
Waiting by the hole, Hiccup felt rather like he had as a small boy going ice fishing with his father, when Stoick cut a hole in the ice, and let down the line, and then all there was to do was wait... and wait... and wait.
Toothless scratched behind his ears. One Eye picked at his teeth. And Hiccup shivered with anxiety.
"Hurry up, Camicazi..."
At any moment Hiccup expected a great crack to appear in that huge flat expanse of frozen sea, and then they would never get home... and Fishlegs would be lost.
Or perhaps Camicazi had gotten into trouble down there?
Hiccup peered down through the hole. Camicazi was clinging to her rope like a spider, two meters below them. Hiccup leaned down a little farther to try and see what was happening...... And then, to his absolute horror, the edge of the chimney, already buckling under the weight of the snow, gave way beneath him, and with a shriek, Hiccup FELL into the Hall.
11. IN THE SOUP
Camicazi watched with round, scared eyes as Hiccup fell past her, arms flailing wildly.
In ordinary circumstances, that would have been the end of Hiccup, for the Great Hall was fully twenty meters high, and he SHOULD have broken his neck falling all the way from the very top.
But, in a series of tremendous strokes of luck, the traditional Freya'sday Eve dish was Onion Soup, and on Hysteria it was served in a truly gigantic cauldron, two meters wide and a meter deep. This pot was sitting on the table directly below the falling Hiccup, and he plunged straight into it, bottom first.
If the soup had been any hotter, Hiccup would have been burned to death, but it had been on the table for some time, and had cooled to a pleasant swimming temperature.
If the Hysterics had been any fonder of Onion Soup, it would not have been deep enough to break Hiccup's fall, but the Hysterics only served Onion Soup because it was the traditional thing to do, and had hardly touched it.
So Hiccup merely bumped his bottom gently on the bottom of the cauldron, and rose to the surface, coughing and spluttering, his hair full of onions. There was a shocked silence. Nothing puts a quicker stop to a jolly meal than a stranger and a great deal of snow suddenly falling onto the banqueting table. The Hysterics sat, amazed, spitting snow out of their beards, staring at the unexpected visitor gasping in their soup.
Norbert the Nutjob was the first to recover, shaking the snow off and leaping to his feet. "ASSASSINS'" he screamed. "SEIZE HIM!"
Twenty Warriors sprang onto the table. Hiccup tried to swim out of trouble, but his backstroke couldn't make up for the fact that he was entirely surrounded. Two large Hysterics dragged him out of the soup and dropped him, dripping and gloopy, in front of Norbert the Nutjob.
"Are there more of you?" barked Norbert the Nutjob, brandishing the blackened blade of his axe in front of Hiccup's face.
Hiccup shook his head, spraying soup in all directions. Norbert the Nutjob and his Warriors peered upward. Camicazi was hanging way up in the darkness of the ceiling, and her black clothes came in handy, for they could not see her.
"SEARCH THE ROOF AND THE VILLAGE!" screamed Norbert the Nutjob.
He turned to face Hiccup again. Norbert the Nutjob had a tic in his left eye, and it was jerking around frantically like a fly doing a jig.
"I'm sure I recognize you...," he said, using the edge of a nearby Warrior's cloak to wipe the soup off Hiccup's face. "Great Thumbnails of Thor! It's the revolting Hooligan worm who shot an arrow in my Royal Bottom yesterday!"
This wasn't a very good start.
"How do you do?" gulped Hiccup politely. "I DO NOT VERY WELL!"
screamed Norbert the Nutjob. "MY BUTTOCKS ARE BURNING!"
The Warriors came panting back into the Hall ' and said they had searched both the roof and the village, and there were no more Assassins to be found. One Eye and Toothless must have flapped off to hide in the darkness.
Norbert the Nutjob looked rather cross. "You're a very SMALL Assassin," he said huffily, removing Hiccup's sword and stuffing it in his own sword belt. "And so, come to think of it, was the one who attacked us with you yesterday, the one who skied like a grandmother with knee trouble. I know I've been out of the loop for the last fifteen years, but do the Hooligans really think they can assassinate me with CHILDREN?"
"I'm not an Assassin," pleaded Hiccup quaveringly.
"LIAR!" screeched Norbert the Nutjob, and he lurched forward as if to kill Hiccup with the axe right there and then. And then he calmed himself, and smiled again, and settled himself back on his throne with a wince.
[Insert: Is THIS a potato?] 
"So if you're not an Assassin," smiled Norbert, "what are you doing here on Hysteria, shooting me with arrows, and poisoning my soup?"
"I'm looking," said Hiccup, "for THE POTATO." There was an astonished silence.
"Ssssssh!" said Norbert the Nutjob, looking over his shoulder as if walls had ears, "You're not supposed to NAME the Vegetable-That-No- One-Dares-Name..."
"Of course," said Hiccup craftily, "now that I'm here I realize that it was all just fairy stories. There's no such thing as a potato, is there? Because there's no such place as America.... The earth is as flat as a pancake, and if you sail to the west eventually you just fall off the end of it..."
"RUBBISH!" shrieked Norbert the Nutjob. "KILL HIM!" he screamed, his eyes bulging, his mouth foaming, before, with an enormous effort, he gained control of himself again. "No, educate him, and then kill him!" said Norbert the Nutjob, twiddling his fancy mustaches to soothe himself.
"The earth is as round as a circle, and a circle has no end," explained Norbert carefully. "There is such a thing as America, I know because I've been there... and as for the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name... I don't know what you're talking about..." "That's because there's no such thing," repeated Hiccup.
"There IS such a thing," insisted Norbert, trying to keep his temper.
"Isn't," said Hiccup. "Is!" "Isn't." "IS!" "Isn't."
"IS, IS, IS, IS, IS!!!!!" yelled Norbert the Nutjob, twiddling his fancy mustaches so hard they got all tangled in a knot.
"Prove there is," challenged Hiccup.
"I know there's such a thing as a Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares- Name... because the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name... is right here in this room!" cried Norbert the Nutjob. He ran over to the wall where the map of America was hanging.
With two grand sweeps of his axe he threw aside the curtain.
[Insert: Are potatoes spiky on the outside out juicy in the middle ]
"VERY SMALL ASSASSIN," announced Norbert the Nutjob proudly, "SAY HELLO TO PAPA..."
"Oh whoops!" breathed Hiccup.
Norbert the Nutjob was clearly madder than a Mad March Hare having a nervous breakdown.
For there, on a stand, larger than life, stood what looked horribly like the frozen body of Norbert the Nutjob's Papa.
He was standing proud and upright, every whisker frozen solid, mouth open in a soundless YELL, a scary monumental sight. One hand was on his hip, and in the other he held a casket with glass sides, filled with ice.
On top of the ice sat the round, rather disappointing shape of a lumpy brownish vegetable.
Surely THAT can't be the magical, wondrous POTATO, thought Hiccup. Sticking out of the vegetable was a single arrow.
Norbert's Papa was surrounded by a carpet of unusual dragoncreatures, called SQUEALERS.
These weird animals are often used as primitive burglar-alarm systems. They have no legs to chase after their prey, so they lie on their backs waving their extra-long nails gently in the air. Any animal that comes into contact with those nails causes the whole pack of Squealers to scream unbearably loudly. The sound is so piercingly noisy that it actually kills smaller dragons (who have much better hearing than humans) stone dead on the spot. The Squealers then devour their victim, and rather like piranha fish, they can strip an animal to the bone in sixty seconds flat. "But, Norbert," gasped Hiccup. "I thought your father was supposed to be DEAD?"
"Oh, he's dead all right," smiled Norbert. "He's as dead as a doornail... but as I was keeping the potato frozen anyway, I thought I'd freeze Papa too."
"You could give your father a proper Viking funeral," shuddered Hiccup. "He looks untidy standing there... and a bit spooky..."
"MY FATHER HAS HIS FUNERAL OK THE DAY THE DOOMFANG DIES!"
shouted Norbert the Nutjob. "That's why I froze him. Just before my father breathed his last, he stuck into the potato the only arrow he had left given to him by the Feather People, and made me promise to use this to get rid of the Doomfang."
"That's impossible," objected Hiccup. "You can't kill a whopping great creature like a Doomfang with one tiddly little arrow!"
"Not im-POSSIBLE, weird little red-haired boy," corrected Norbert the Nutjob. "Just im-PROBABLE. And made more improbable by the fact that we can't get the arrow OUT of the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares- Name.... Take a look at the inscription on the casket."
Hiccup looked at the casket Bigjob was holding. In it, frozen by the ice, was the disappointingly boring vegetable called the potato. And stuck in this potato was the gaudy little arrow, decorated with brilliant feathers taken from birds Hiccup would not have recognized. American birds that once flew about in undiscovered American skies. On the front of the casket was written in flowing script the following inscription:
[Insert: Whomsoever removes the Arrow from this Vegetable Shall Rid Us of the Doomfang and Prove Himself
Eight True Hero and Ruler of all the Viking Tribes. ]
"We can't get the arrow OUT of the Precious Vegetable..." said Norbert the Nutjob sadly. "We practice all year round with constant arm wrestling, and every year our strongest Champions try and pull it out. Even I do not seem to be able to do it, although the verse is obviously referring to ME. The arrow is stuck in the vegetable, and we are stuck on Hysteria, until the death of my father is avenged."
Hiccup looked at the potato.
"You can't get the arrow out of the potato because it is frozen solid. If you DEFROSTED the potato, a child could pull it out," Hiccup suggested.
The tic was back in Norbert the Nutjob's eye.
"My dying father gave me this arrow for a reason," snapped Norbert the Nutjob. "It's supposed to be a test to find out who is strong enough to defeat the Doomfang. What would be the point of the test if just ANYBODY could do it? Who are you, anyway, you small boy, and how dare you ask ME all these questions?"
"Now, I'm very glad you brought that up, Norbert," said Hiccup soothingly. "I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, only son of Stoick the Vast, and my friend Fishlegs, whom you also met yesterday, has had the Bad Luck to have been bitten by a Venomous Vorpent -- "
"That IS Bad Luck," said Norbert the Nutjob with satisfaction. "Certain death, I'd say. I can't say I'm surprised, you know, he seemed like just the sort of little weirdo that Fate would have it in for." "Fishlegs is not a little weirdo!" interrupted Hiccup. "The point is, Norbert, I have been told that this potato of yours is the only antidote to Vorpent venom, and I wonder if you could possibly spare it to save my friend's life. It would be the kindest thing you've ever done."
Norbert the Nutjob was flabbergasted.
"And what," whispered Norbert the Nutjob, "would you do with my Papa's Precious Vegetable after I gave it to you?"
"Well," said Hiccup, "I guess my friend would eat it." For a second Norbert the Nutjob stared into space.
Then he was livid with rage, whirling his double-headed axe around his head. "EAT IT????" roared Norbert the Nutjob. "YOU SHOOT ME IN THE BOTTOM AND THEN YOU WANT TO DIVIDE UP AND EAT MY DEAR DEAD PAPAS PRECIOUS AMERICAN VEGETABLE????? KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM!!!!"
After a short struggle, he calmed down again, and turned to Hiccup with great dignity, holding up his arms. "I could," said Norbert the Nutjob, "kill you right now, you Evil Vegetable Murderer...
but we Hysterics are not like that. We Hysterics are CIVILIZED. We never execute before we have given lousy potato-savaging criminals an absolutely fair trial. And on Hysteria" -- Norbert the Nutjob gave a nasty mad leer -- "the Trial you face is Trial by Axe." Oh, crumbs thought Hiccup.
Norbert the Nutjob strode over to the middle of the room where there was a large tree trunk, lopped off at the base.
"Fate herself shall decide your Fate," said Norbert the Nutjob. "I shall throw my axe high into the air... and if it lands with the golden side burying itself into the wood, I shall allow you to live. But if it lands on the dark side" -- Norbert the Nutjob stroked the dark side lovingly -- "if it lands on the dark side, I shall kill you with this very axe, on the spot. I hope you're feeling lucky..."
Norbert stepped back dramatically. He gazed up at the heavens... "COME, GREAT POWERS OF FATE AND DESTINY" Yelled Norbert the Nutjob. "I SWEAR TO DO AS YOU TELL ME. LIFE OR DEATH?"
The axe soared toward the ceiling, spinning slowly through the air. It began to fall, first the bright side down, then the dark.
Hiccup was not as tough as the other boys, but his eyesight was very good. He could see the axe was going to land dark side down, and he leaped in between the dark and bright blades, and caught the axe with its wooden handle just before the dark side landed in the wood.
The Hysterics gasped.
High up on a beam in the ceiling, Camicazi gasped too.
Hiccup heaved the axe above his head and drove the bright blade deep into the tree trunk.
"BRIGHT SIDE WINS, NORBERT THE NUTJOB," shouted Hiccup Horrendous
Haddock the Third, his hands on his hips.
Nobody knew quite what to do.
Norbert the Nutjob's mouth opened and shut like a fish out of water.
"You CHEATED!" screamed Norbert the Nutjob.
"Fate must have let me cheat," Hiccup pointed out. "Now set me free like you promised." Norbert looked as if he was about to explode. He was used to terrified adults who cowered down before him and his terrible Axe of Fate.
He WASN'T used to bossy small boys who told him to defrost his Precious Potato and bury his Papa, and who caught his Axe before it landed.
But what if Hiccup was right, and Fate had really meant to LET Hiccup cheat?
Norbert did not dare annoy FATE herself.
"SEIZE HIM!" screamed Norbert. "He can live, but he can live out his days in prison! That will teach him to shoot arrows at NORBERT THE NUTJOB!"
Four or five burly Hysterics grabbed Hiccup and dragged him to a small cage suspended by a single chain from a beam in the rafters above. They pushed him in and locked the cage, returning the key to Norbert, who put it in his pocket.
And then the Hysterics forgot about Hiccup, and partied long, long into the night, laughing and singing and eating and drinking too much.
Hiccup sat silently in the small cage, trying to think of a Cunning Plan to get out of this situation.
It didn't look too good.
Even if he could escape from the locked cage, steal the potato and get away without a single Hysteric noticing, he could hear some ominous creaking noises coming from the ice outside.... Loud cracking and knockings like the striking of an enormous sword upon a stone.
The ice was beginning to melt, and once the Doomfang was free again there would be no way out of Hysteria...
As the long night wore on, one by one the Hysterics fell asleep in their chairs or on the floor, or, in the case of one fat Warrior, on top of the table hugging the remains of the roasted boar. Norbert the Nutjob slumbered on his throne, his thumb in his mouth, cradling his double-headed axe. High up in the ceiling of the Great Hall Camicazi was sleeping, clinging to her beam like a little black cat. Time ticked on, and Hiccup struggled to keep awake, but eventually the gentle rocking of the cage, and the cloudy heat and fumes of alcohol in the room overpowered him, and he too nodded off.
VIKING DRAGONS AND THEIR EGGS
SQUEALERS
Squealers are strange Blobby, slug like creatures who are so lazy they have developed an interesting method of stunning their prey with a single shriek. A pack of Squealers can strip their victim to the bone quicker than a shoal of piranha fish.
-- STATISTICS -- 
COLORS: Slug black.
ARMED WITH: Scream so loud it can knock a smaller dragon unconscious. Piranha-like jaws and fangs... 
POISON: None 
HUNTING ABILITY:... 
SPEED: Hardly move at all 
FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR: Scary if you are wounded or are on the small side 
12. WILL TOOTHLESS SAVE THE DAY?
Meanwhile, up on the roof, Toothless and One Eye had flapped off and hidden in The American Dream when they heard the noise of Hiccup falling into the Onion Soup, and the Hysteric Warriors charging outside to look for other Assassins.
When things grew quiet again, they flew back to the chimney. Both dragons were cold, hungry, and tired. One Eye's eye gleamed goldenyellow in the darkness.
"Shall we leave them?" One Eye mused to himself. "It look like they haven't found the cure for Vorpentitis after all... and I'm not hanging around here just to save the skin of a couple of stinking Humans..."
"S-s-selfish Humans! grumbled Toothless. They n-n-never think of poor, cold H-H-H-HUNGRY Toothless!"
One Eye snorted. "Well, I don't blame them for that. You're just a lap-dragon, an overgrown rat. And YOU shouldn't be hungry anyway. Who ate all the snacks in the sleigh on the way here, I'd like to know?"
"... I'll give them till morning," One Eye decided, letting the rope attached to his leg flop down the chimney and into the Great Hall again, and settling himself in the snow to sleep on the roof. "My aunt Snaggletooth died of Vorpentitis, and it's a nasty way to go."
"Toothless not s-s-sieeping here!" moaned Toothless, outraged. "Iss too cold! Toothless D-D-DELICATE, sensitive..." He checked whether the big dragon was really asleep. One Eye gave a deep rumbling snore and Toothless carried on, "... not like YOU, you big, white, gormless mountain gorilla..." One Eye's one eye snapped open, and his big Saber-Toothed jaws lashed out toward Toothless... but they shut on thin air, for Toothless had the reflexes of a bluebottle, and he had already tumbled down through the hole in the roof. Toothless soared into the Great Hall, over the heads of the sleeping, mumbling Hysterics, and landed on top of Hiccup's cage. The cage swung violently to the right, and Hiccup's head banged sharply on one of the bars, waking him up.
"Ow!" protested Hiccup, looking straight into the upside-down greengage eyes of his pet dragon. "Toothless!" he whispered joyfull.
"Thank Thor you're here; you see how right I was to bring you -- you can save the day!" "HA!" grunted Toothless crossly. "Just flap over to that big frozen Viking over there, will you and steal the potato, and then we'll be off..." whispered Hiccup.
Toothless looked where Hiccup was pointing, to Norbert's Papa, Bigjob, and the casket, and gave a shriek of terror.
"S-s-squealers!" he gasped, and jumped into the cage, burying his face in Hiccup's leg.
"Oh, goodness, yes, I'd forgotten. Squealers can kill a dragon as small as you, can't they?" remembered Hiccup, soothing the little dragon by stroking him on the back. "OK, don't steal the potato, but the key to this cage is in Norbert the Nutjob's pocket, and if you could just flap off and get it..."
But Toothless had smelled the Onion Soup on Hiccup's leg, and he gave it a lick. "Onion S-s-soup!" said Toothless accusingly. "You bin eating Onion S-s-soup!"
"Yes, Yes," said Hiccup hurriedly, "I fell in the soup, but about the key -- " But this was the last straw as far as Toothless was concerned. He was FURIOUS, and he swelled up to nearly twice his size with anger, and flew out of the cage like an infuriated little balloon.
"SNOT fair! SNOT fair!" snorted Toothless.
"You been stuffing yourself with Onion S-s-soup and poor T-ttoothless STARVING and now you want Toothless to f-f-face a whole load of Squealers with no food in his t-t-tummy? TYPICAL! Well, you can just WAIT, that's all... Toothless'll have his supper and THEN maybe he'll help you out..."
"TOOTHLESS!" whispered Hiccup, as loud as he dared, "THIS IS IMPORTANT! GET THAT REY RIGHT NOW OR I'LL... I'LL... I'LL..."
"You'll what?" jeered Toothless cheekily, flapping out of Hiccup's way as he desperately tried to grab Toothless's tail through the bars of the cage.
Sticking out his little pink forked tongue, Toothless hopped down onto the banqueting tables and tucked into the roast buffalo pie, ignoring Hiccup's furious, frustrated whispers from the cage swinging a couple of meters above.
"Toothless can't hear!" sang Toothless through a mouthful of pumpkin. "Got s-s something in his ear!
Oooooh, that rhymes... Toothless ca-a-an't he-ar, got something in his e-ar! Toothless ca-a-an't he ar, got something in his ear!"
And for the next five minutes, Toothless pretended to be quite deaf, and took his time hopping from plate to plate, gorging himself on deep-fried mackerel, turkey wings, and sweetcorn fritters.
Eventually, he swallowed the last remains of the pie, took a big swig of the Homemade Nettle Champagne, burped, and rubbed his stomach contentedly.
"That's b-b-better. Toothless can hear now. Wossat you saying?" "WILL YOU GET THAT KEY FROM NORBERT THE NUTJOB'S POCKET BEFORE HE MURDERS US?" hissed Hiccup at the top of his whisper.
"S-s-say pretty please pretty please...," sang Toothless.
"Pretty please," whispered Hiccup through gritted teeth.
"OK, OK, keep your hair on," said Toothless, and he took off (rather wobbly, because he had eaten so much), and crash-landed on Norbert the Nutjob's chest. Luckily, Norbert was so dead to the world he merely grunted, and hugged his axe a little closer.
Giggling, Toothless snipped off both of Norbert the Nutjob's fancy mustaches with two bites of his sharp little gums, and then he staggered into Norbert's pocket and pulled out the key.
Toothless marched across the banqueting table with the key in his mouth, spitting it out every now and then to make pointed remarks to Hiccup.
"Is TYPICAL," snorted Toothless. "T-t-typical. Poor old starving Tt-toothless, woken up from his H-h-hibernation Nap just to save the day YET AGAIN."
Toothless put the key back in his mouth, and this time, his large, overfull belly prevented him from seeing exactly where he was putting his feet, and he tripped over a knife lying in the middle of the table.
Toothless lurched forward, knocking a candle off the table and onto the floor, where it promptly set fire to a polar bear rug. He did a couple of somersaults, spinning over and over until he landed bottom first in the wild boar stew, and... swallowed the key.
[Insert: gulp Gulp.] 13. THE GREAT POTATO BURGLARY
"AAAARGH! raged Hiccup, shaking the bars of his cage. "Typical!
Five minutes ago I was just locked in a cage in a room full of Hysteric Warriors. NOW you've swallowed the key and set fire to the room! Flap up and wake up Camicazi and then PUT OUT THAT FIRE!"
"S-s-say pretty please...," choked Toothless defiantly. "PRETTY PLEASE!" howled Hiccup in the loudest whisper he could whisper.
Toothless flew unsteadily up to the beam where Camicazi was sleeping, and woke her up by shrieking softly, "No key! No key!" in her ear, before flying back to deal with the fire.
Camicazi took charge of the situation from the moment she opened her eyes. She got up, calmly balancing on the beam, for all the world as if she was safely down on the ground rather than almost twenty meters up in the air.
She unwound another rope from around her waist, and threw the metal end of it so that it wrapped around the beam from which Hiccup's cage was suspended. She pulled to check it was secure, and then swung out, clinging to the rope, and landed on the top of Hiccup's cage.
Camicazi wriggled down the outside of the cage, and looked hard at the lock on the door. She felt in her pocket and brought out a long pin like instrument, and stuck it in the lock, wiggling it expertly from side to side.
"That was so brave of you!" she whispered. "For a boy, of course.... Leaping down into the soup like that! We'd NEVER have found out where they kept the potato if you hadn't done that..."
Hiccup considered telling her it had all been a total accident, and then thought better of it. "Oh, you know...," he whispered modestly back. "It was nothing. I do that kind of... leaping all the time. What are you doing?"
"Picking the lock," replied Camicazi airily. "Locks are nothing to us Bog-Burglars... no prisons can hold us. We're as wriggly as eels. We're as jumpy as crickets."
The lock suddenly clicked loudly, and the door of Hiccup's cage swung open.
"Your exit, my lord," grinned Camicazi.
Hiccup scrambled out of the cage, and dropped down onto the banqueting table below, unable to believe his luck.
'And now," frowned Camicazi, "for the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares- Name. We haven't got a lot of time."
Indeed they hadn't.
Toothless had tried to snuff out the fire on the polar bear rug by smothering it with his wings, and when that didn't work, he threw Homemade Nettle Champagne on it.
The flames sprang up a meter high and the fire spread to a nearby chair.
"Oh d-d-dear!" wailed Toothless
"Toothless m-m-messed up... all Toothless's fault... ohdearohdear..." "Toothless," Hiccup ordered, "stop making that fire WORSE and come over here. We're going to need YOUR help to steal the potato."
Toothless flapped over, his guilt making him unexpectedly obedient. "I want you to melt the ice in the casket," said Hiccup.
"B-b-but tie Squealers?" whimpered Toothless.
Hiccup wound his scarf around the little dragon's ears, to act as earplugs.
"Wait until Toothless has finished melting the ice, just in case you DO set off the Squealers," he explained to Camicazi. "The sound could STUN a dragon as titchy as Toothless if he's too close."
"T-t-titchy?" huffed Toothless. "Toothless not like tie word TITCHY."
"You're looking at the burglary EXPERT," said Camicazi. "There's no way I'm going to set off those Squealers."
By some miracle, all the Hysterics were so dead to the world that not even all this noise and commotion, and a large fire blazing in the middle of their Great Hall, had woken them up. They snored on, oblivious.
Trembling with terror (and flying rather erratically because he was weighed down by his fur coat, his large meal, and the scarf around his head that was slipping over his eyes), Toothless flew over the waving nails of the Squealers. This was very brave of him, for if he looked down he could see their horrible black bodies with the piranha teeth, and to a dragon as small as Toothless, it was like wandering casually in front of a pack of lions with open jaws.
Hovering above the casket, he was so scared that for a moment his fire holes seized up, and he couldn't breathe out a single flame, only clouds and clouds of blue-grey smoke.
"Relax...," whispered Hiccup from the table. "Breathe deeply... no ppressure... you've got all the time in the world..." Hiccup was trying to sound as calm as he could even though half the room was on fire.
"All the time in the world....," sang Hiccup nervously. "Just relax... go to your happy place..."
The nails of the Squealers began to twitch as they sensed the smoke.
"HA!" puffed Toothless furiously, practically disappearing he was making so much steam.
"Toothless's h-h-happy place! Happy place N-N-NOT here!" And to Hiccup's intense relief, Toothless's final indignant snort ended in a big breath of fire that engulfed the entire casket.
"Don't set fire to tie potato!" Hiccup reminded him.
"S-s-set fire to this! DON'T set fire to that!" complained Toothless. "Mister Hiccup just stop being such a B-BOSSY-BOOTS and give a dragon a chance!"
But he made his flame smaller, and directed it steadily at the ice around the potato, and slowly, surely, the ice began to melt.
Meanwhile, Camicazi climbed back up to the ceiling again, and wriggled along the beams until she was directly above Norbert's Papa.
She let herself down on another rope, so that she was hanging, like a little spider, about a meter above the casket, and then she wound the rope around her ankle and flipped upside down.
She waited until Toothless had finished melting the ice, and had flapped off back to the safe distance of Hiccup's shoulder.
Right in front of Norbert's Papa's frozen staring eyes, Camicazi reached into the casket and carefully, delicately, removed the potato with the arrow stuck in it from the bed of ice.
Hiccup held his breath. If the casket was booby-trapped, this would be the moment that something might happen...
But there did not seem to be any booby traps.
Camicazi swung there, potato in one hand. Norbert's Papa wobbled for a second on his stand, but he was still grinning ferociously, his eyes staring straight ahead at nothing. (He was DEAD, after all.) The snores of the sleeping Hysterics rumbled peacefully through the quiet Hall.
Camicazi put the potato in her pocket.
"She's done it, she's done it, she's done it...," whispered Hiccup to himself.
Camicazi was about to turn herself the right way up again and climb the rope, but then she spotted something else in the casket.
"Uh oh...," whispered Hiccup.
Camicazi couldn't resist. She reached in and picked the something else out of the casket...
For one second it seemed like it still might be all right again. But it turned out that the frozen body of Norbert's Papa was very carefully balanced, and when this second weight was removed from the casket, it began to tip s-1-o-w-l-y backward, and then gathering speed, until the entire body crashed like a great tree trunk into the waving forest of Squealers down below.
screeched the Squealers.
The noise they made was simply earsplitting.
The glass of the frozen casket shattered into pieces, and the ice inside fell to the floor.
All over the room, the Hysterics sat bolt upright as if electrified, blearily opening their eyes and saying "Wossat? Wassgoing on?" to each other. Even with the scarf andHiccup's hands over his ears, poor old Toothless nearly fainted from the loudness of the noise.
"Watch out, Camicazi!" yelled Hiccup. Norbert the Nutjob woke up, and threw his double-headed axe straight at Camicazi, dangling from her rope. Camicazi saw the axe coming, and let herself drop.
The axe missed, and Camicazi landed on the floor, or, more precisely, on the gigantic wobbly stomach of a Hysteric who was so dead to the world he didn't even wake up.
Norbert the Nutjob ran to drag his frozen father out of the mass of shrieking Squealers. Stiff and ice-cold as he was, they still tried to eat him, blunting their teeth on his hard frozen legs, slashing their horrible long nails on his solid-frozen mustaches. Once he had pulled his Papa to safety, the Squealers stopped screaming as abruptly as they had begun. Norbert the Nutjob drew his sword and strode toward Camicazi, with a murderous expression on his face...
"GET OUT OF HERE!" screamed Camicazi. "I'll be all right; don't worry about me!"
Hiccup was standing right in the middle of the table. About twenty large Warriors were already advancing toward him, swords, axes, and daggers drawn. The odds were not on Hiccup's side... and Hiccup was completely and entirely unarmed.
He had no bow and arrow, no dagger. He did not even have his sword, for Norbert the Nutjob had taken it from him earlier, if you remember. (Which was a shame, because Hiccup was good at swordfighting.)
So, in absence of his sword, Hiccup picked up two large, sloppy, creamy pumpkin pies, and crashed them like cymbals on either side of another Warrior's face. The Hysteric fell backward, a sticky, dripping, pumpkin mess, and promptly sat down on the smaller Warrior behind him.
Meanwhile, dodging Hysteric sword-thrusts, Hiccup grabbed the nearest thing to hand, which happened to be a gigantic half-eaten TURKEY carcass, and shoved it over the head of the closest Warrior. The Hysteric's arms were pinned by his sides; muffled shouting noises came from within the turkey; and he staggered off, like a grotesquely large dead chicken with human legs.
Hiccup was getting into the swing of things. He tipped an entire bowl of maple syrup on the floor, sending the Hysterics slipping and sliding all over the place. He winded another Warrior with a watermelon.
He pelted them all with onions. Now that the Squealers had stopped squealing, Toothless flew down from the roof to join in the battle. He found a bowl of chestnuts, sucked up a whole mouthful so that his cheeks were bulging like a hamster, and zoomed over the heads of the Warriors, spitting out fire and red-hot roasted chestnuts like a barrage of flaming bullets.
Chaos reigned in the Great Hall. Vegetables flew in all directions.. Hysterics who had been woken by a fat overripe tomato splattered in their faces assumed that this was all just a merry midnight food fight, and enthusiastically attacked their fellow Hysterics.
"Hurry up, Camicazi!" screamed Hiccup, slapping another opponent around the cheek with a large flat flounder, and running up the other end of the table.
Camicazi had problems of her own. She was defending herself against Norbert the Nutjob, who was livid with rage and lashing out at her with his sword.
Norbert the Nutjob had had a trying couple of days. His bottom was still throbbing from the arrow wound, Hiccup had made a fool out of him in the Ordeal-by-Axe, somebody appeared to have bitten off his beloved mustaches, and the Hooligans were even now stealing his Papa's American Vegetable.
And they hadn't even had the decency to send some proper adult Assassins! This third Assassin was even smaller than the first two. To add insult to injury, he, Norbert the Nutjob, noble Chief of the Hysteric Tribe, and Master Swordsman, was finding it difficult to defeat this tiny little blond Assassin in one-to-one combat. She just wouldn't stay still.
She met every lunge he made, carelessly singing the Bog-Burglar national anthem as she did so. She performed cartwheels between moves. She even picked up a piece of wild boar sandwich off the floor and started to eat it, while still fighting.
She talked CONSTANTLY.
"I hope you don't mind me eating on the job," she said chattily, easily deflecting his Grim beard's Grapple sword-thrust, and throwing in a Piercing Point of her own. "I know it's rather rude to fight with my mouth full, but I'm absolutely STARVING, haven't eaten a thing all evening..."
Norbert the Nutjob gave a grim smile and sprang forward with a particularly violent sword-thrust.
She dodged it, leapt up, swung on his beard while she wiped her sticky fingers on his shirt-front, and sprang back down again.
"I'm going to KILL you..." panted Norbert the Nutjob, his eyes watering with the pain of having his beard pulled. "First with my sword, and then with my axe, and then I'm going to feed you to the Squealers."
"You clever, clever boy!" sang Camicazi, delightedly spotting her rope dangling just behind his head. "But you'll have to CATCH me first, you know..."
And with that, she somersaulted right between his legs, came up the other side, and squirmed up her rope with astonishing speed, pulling the end of it up behind her.
Norbert the Nutjob looked down at his legs for a dazed moment, and then through them, and then he swung around to find that Camicazi had apparently vanished into thin air.
He whirled around again. She wasn't there either. How completely extraordinary...
Camicazi, swinging centimeters above Norbert the Nutjob's head, removed his crown so gently, so softly, with her pickpocketing, burglaring fingers, that he never felt a thing.
She then bashed him on the head as hard as she could with the frozen potato.
Norbert staggered a bit, swayed this way and that, and then fell to the floor, unconscious. As he lay prone, Camicazi dropped back down to the ground again and patted him reassuringly on the shoulders.
"Practice, Norbert, that's what you need," she said condescendingly. "You're never too old to learn."
"CAMICAZI!!!!!" shrieked Hiccup from the banqueting table, knocking out a Hysteric with a leg of roasted buffalo, shoving a carrot up the nose of another, and spraying three more with Homemade Nettle Champagne. "GET OVER HERE!" Camicazi swung across and landed on the table beside him.
Most of the table was now in flames, and the fire had spread to ALL the polar bear rugs.
Most ominous of all, the Squealers were actually MOVING to get out of the Hall. Squealers are so lazy that they only move when they are in mortal danger. They wriggled toward the door like disgusting fat, bloated slugs, their nails waving frantically, leaving a trail of snotty slime.
The rope that snaked up to the chimney in the ceiling, the other end of which was attached to One Eye's great leg, dangled between Camicazi and Hiccup.
They both grabbed hold of it, coughing from the smoke, and tugged three times.
Just the second before One Eye dragged them up and out of danger, Hiccup leaned down and picked up a metal food tray from the table.
And then they were up and away, the Hysteric swords just brushing their heels as they rose swiftly to the ceiling and out through the hole in the roof.
14. THE POTATO-BURGLARS' RUN
They appeared, blinking like moles, into the daylight, for night had turned into morning while they were in the Hysterical Great Hall; the sky was no longer black but the blue-grey of a seagull's back, and the sun was coming up fast from behind the Mazy Multitudes.
Down below they could hear the roar of the Hysterics, the loudest of all being Norbert the Nutjob shouting, "MY VEGETABLE! THEY'VE GOT MY VEGETABLE!"
The Hysterics were already stampeding toward the door, in pursuit. Hiccup knew they hadn't a hope of getting away on foot, and they didn't have time to find their skis again.
In such situations, being tough is not necessarily the way to stay alive, because however tough you are, if there are five hundred Hysterics on skis and only FOUR of you, you are not going to win the battle.
What you need in THIS kind of situation is a Clever Idea, and luckily Hiccup was good at Clever Ideas.
Hiccup put the food tray down on the roof and sat on it. "Come on, Camicazi, you sit behind me," ordered Hiccup. "Oh, goody," said Camicazi, her eyes lighting up.
The roof of the Great Hall hung slightly over the village walls. From there a steep slope ran all the way down to the harbor.
So when the Hysterics poured out of the doors of the Great Hall in a shouting, angry river they had an excellent view of Camicazi and Hiccup tobogganing down the roof and sailing over the walls of the village on board one of their silver food trays.
"AAAAIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!" screamed Hiccup and Camicazi as they soared through the air.
By some miracle they landed the right way up on the slope below. And then the lightning descent began.
Take it from me, there is nothing on earth that moves faster than two children going down a practically vertical slope on a highly polished silver food tray.
Hiccup had sledded before, but never on a hill so steep that it was practically a cliff. And in fact the exact descent that they made has now become an annual competition on Hysteria. It is known as the Potato-Burglars' Run, and it follows the same route that Hiccup and Camicazi took, starting, as they did, on top of the roof of the Great Hall, and ending, less than two minutes later, in Hysteria Harbor.
The Potato-Burglars' Run is the most dangerous toboggan run in the Inner Isles, and for those brave enough to try it, accidents are common.
Hiccup and Camicazi were lucky not to break their necks. They screamed down that hillside, wildly out of control, yelling at the tops of their voices.
One Eye and Toothless couldn't possibly keep up with them, for it was like trying to catch a speeding arrow.
When they hit the ice of the harbor two bottom-bruising, hair-raising, eye-popping minutes later, they were going so fast that they wildly overshot the sleigh they had left there, and The Hopeful Puffin patiently waiting for their return.
They scrambled off the food tray and raced toward the sleigh. One Eye came soaring down, and they hurriedly hitched him up and set him going at a brisk trot toward the Harbor Exit.
"Oh my goodness," panted Camicazi, looking back up at the Hysterical Village, where the Great Hall was now a gigantic bonfire. "Those Hysterics are going to be SO CROSS."
"My congratulations," growled One Eye to Hiccup, as he pulled them rapidly forward. "You are the first Human I have ever met who uses his brain and not just his museles."
"If he really use his b -b-brain," complained Toothless, catching up and collapsing, exhausted, on the seat of the sleigh, "we not h ere in. the first p-p-place."
In that very same instant, over the brow of the hill came the Hysterics.
They had put their helmets on and they were on skis, howling the Hysterical Howl like a pack of speeding wolves. They were already shooting arrows in their direction, trying to hit the sleigh. But they were too late. Once their skis hit the ice they traveled for a while, and then came to a halt. Hiccup and Camicazi were nearly at the Harbor Exit by now, and the arrows shot by the Hysterics fell harmlessly on the ice.
Looking over her shoulder at the furious Hysterics, Camicazi let out a whoop of joy as One Eye galloped out of Hysteria Harbor.
"We made it!" she yelled. "We haven't made it yet" said Hiccup nervously. That sharp noise of cracking, like axes on a tree trunk, was even louder now that they were on the ice. And Hiccup was looking out for the Doomfang.
"Here's the Vegetable," said Camicazi, handing Hiccup the Frozen Potato with the arrow stuck in it. "And this other thing I found in the casket -- I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it as well, but once you start burgling, it's difficult to stop."
Hiccup took the Potato and the Other Thing, and stuffed them in his breast pocket, not really concentrating, for the great shadow of the Doomfang had appeared under the boat, and was following them under the ice.
"If we can just get to the Open Sea before the ice cracks we'll be all right," muttered Hiccup to himself. "The Doomfang won't leave the Wrath of Thor. The Doomfang hasn't left the Wrath of Thor in fifteen years..."
The walls of the cliffs raced past them on either side. The Doomfang, dark and terrible, stretching out forever, swam slowly beneath them. And they reached the edge of the Open Sea without the ice cracking.
"You see!" grinned Camicazi. "We did it!" 15. THEY MIGHT JUST MAKE IT, NOW
It seemed like they had INDEED done it, as they burst into the Open Sea, One Eye pulling into that Great White Wilderness at terrific speed, the Wrath of Thor left behind them, the potato safely in Hiccup's breast pocket, and Berk only a three-hour sleigh ride away.
And then everything went wrong.
"What's th-th-that???" stammered Toothless, pointing with one wing to a shape on the ice behind them, coming closer by the second.
That was an enormous, leaping Driver Dragon, far bigger and faster than One Eye, pulling a gigantic sleigh with one man in it. A very cross man, with an arrow wound in his bottom, a lump on his head, chewed-off mustaches, and a double-headed axe in one hand.
In fact it was Norbert the Nutjob.
Before Hiccup had time to think, Norbert was upon them. His sleigh drew alongside the galloping One Eye. And then he reached over, and with one blow of his axe, he cut the reins and tackle attaching One Eye to the sleigh.
One Eye bounded on, but the sleigh, and The Hopeful Puffin behind it, came to a shuddering halt.
"Oh, suffering scallops" moaned Hiccup.
There they were, as still as a stone, in the middle of a Great White Desert that stretched for miles and miles and miles. In front of them, Norbert the Nutjob was pulling on his Saber-Tooth's reins to wheel his sleigh around for the attack. Below them was the Doomfang. For the first time in fifteen years, the Doomfang had left the Wrath of Thor.
It, too, had stopped when the sleigh stopped. In fact the sleigh had come to rest right in the center of its terrible green eye, as if it were a target.
And a target it was, for Norbert the Nutjob. Norbert leaped into their sleigh, tall and terrible and COMPLETELY CRAZY.
"AHA!" roared Norbert the Nutjob, his tic dancing for pure horrible murderous joy. "I'VE CAUGHT YOU, YOU REVOLTING LITTLE BLOND ASSASSIN! AND NOW I SHALL TEACH YOU NOT TO HIT PEOPLE OH THE HEAD WITH THEIR OWN VEGETABLE!"
Norbert the Nutjob raised his axe over Camicazi, and he was about to bring it down, when Hiccup said loudly, "I wouldn't do that, Norbert."
Hiccup felt in his breast pocket, and drew out the potato with the arrow still stuck in it. It was warmer this morning, and the potato, snuggled down the front of Hiccup's furry waistcoat, was no longer frozen.
Norbert glanced at Hiccup, and then gasped in astonishment, as right in front of Norbert's eyes...... HICCUP PULLED THE ARROW OUT OF THE POTATO.
For as Hiccup had suggested earlier to Norbert, the arrow slid out perfectly easily now that the potato had defrosted.
Hiccup pushed it in and out of the potato several times just to drive the point home. Norbert the Nutjob dropped his axe.
"My father's Prophecy!" screamed Norbert the Nutjob, his head in his hands. "I don't believe it.... It can't be true! You... you revolting little Hooligan Vegetable-Burglar... you... are the Chosen One?... You will lift the Curse and rid us of the Doomfang...?"
Hiccup nodded solemnly, thinking, nutty as a fruitcake.
At that very moment, the sun came over the horizon... Rays of sunlight bounced off the snow and ice all around them, and off the Doomfang's Great Green Eye and dazzled Hiccup, so that he had to fling up an elbow to shield himself from the glare.
A sound like a million whips rang out, or a trillion axe blows, or a thousand of Thor's thunderbolts rolled into one.
The ice cracked from side to side.