How to train your dragon (11 page)

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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Stoick coughed again. "You can talk to me," said Stoick. "I've un-banished 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."

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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:

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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.

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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

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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.

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"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 ..."

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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.

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"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 y
ou
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

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"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

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