Текст книги "How to Be a Pirate"

Автор книги: Cressida Cowell

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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

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[Image: A man.]

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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....

c r-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-a-k...

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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....

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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.

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"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.

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[Image: Gohher the Belch jumped quite three feet in the air with the shock of if.]

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"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.

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"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."

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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.

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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

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[Image: Alvin the Poor-But-Hosest-Farm.]

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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 ..."

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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.

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"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,

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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...."

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~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 ......9

RADAR: Yes, also strong sense of smell .... 7

POISON: None.....................0

HUNTING ABILITY:

You don't want to be the prey.............9

SPEED: Very, very fast..........9

FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:

Nasty – unprecedented savagery*......8 or 9.

[Image: dinosaur.]

[Insert: (but you do have a chance cause they can't see or hear)]

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"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. ..."

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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.

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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

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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."

[Image: A sword.]

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"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

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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.

[Image: A dragon.]

Toothless, who had been hunting rats through

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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."

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"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.

[Image: A dragon.]

And he knew that he, Hiccup, as the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans, was supposed to be the one

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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."

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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

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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:

Pishyou na munch-munch di miaow-miaow

Please do not eat the cat

Hoody chuch-it-up un di jum-jams di pappa?

Who has been sick in my father's pajamas?

PARKA DI BOTTY, forsakes di Woden, or me do di girly boo-hoo.

SIT, for Woden's sake, before I burst into tears

(To big dragons): Mi wobblediguts bigtime .

I am very poisonous

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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-w-weak...," he moaned pathetically.

"RIGHT," said Hiccup, "you can have the

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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

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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.

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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...."

[Image: A man.]

"Do you really think," tittered Snotlout, once

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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-D-d-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.

[Image: A dragon.]

"And that's only an afternoon's work," said Snotlout.

Fireworm purred with pleasure. She shrugged her beautiful, shining, blood-red shoulders.

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"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

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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....

[Image: A dragon.]

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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

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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.

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[Table: Timetable.]

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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. ..."