How to Train Your Dragon: How to Cheat a Dragon's Curse Read online

  Hiccup shook his fist at the Heavens.

  ‘I don’t WANT to be the Chosen One!’ he

  howled at the blue sky above. ‘I don’t WANT to be the

  Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe! I didn’t WANT to lift

  Norbert’s stupid Curse! I wanted to cheat the Curse on

  Fishlegs! All I want is my FRIEND…’

  The silly blue snow took no notice, and rained

  down steadily from above.

  Hiccup began to cry.

  ‘All I want is my friend…’ he sobbed. ‘Fishlegs

  trusted me. He thought I would make everything all

  right…’ He turned to Norbert in sudden hope.

  ‘Have you got ANOTHER potato?’ asked Hiccup.

  Norbert the Nutjob shook his head. ‘My father

  only brought back ONE of those Vegetables,’ he said

  between gritted teeth. ‘This is what made it so precious…’

  Norbert the Nutjob shifted his axe uncertainly

  from hand to hand. The tic in his eye danced a wild

  fandango.

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  ‘I don’t know what to do!’ shrieked Norbert the

  Nutjob. ‘You have shot me in the bottom, stolen my

  American Vegetable, chewed off my moustaches, fed

  Papa to the Squealers and burned down my Great Hall!’

  His shaking hands reached out, almost of their

  own accord, towards Hiccup’s neck… and then he

  stopped himself just in time.

  ‘But on the other hand, it seems incredible, but

  you HAVE lifted the Curse on Hysteria, and I cannot

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  ignore my father’s Prophecy. So THIS TIME, I shall let

  you go free. But if you ever, EVER cross my path again,

  I warn you I will kill you on the spot.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Hiccup sadly. ‘I’m not that

  keen on seeing YOU again, either. I’m sorry about the

  Hall, and the moustaches, and the bottom, and… I’m

  sorry about EVERYTHING, really… I was just trying to

  save the life of my friend.’

  Norbert the Nutjob pulled Hiccup’s sword out of

  his belt, and threw it down with a curse on the floor of The

  Hopeful Puffin. He then climbed back on board his sleigh,

  and sped back to Hysteria, a land which ships could now

  sail in and out of as freely as they liked for the first time in

  fifteen long years, all on

  account of Hiccup lifting

  the Curse, which wasn’t the

  quest he set out to do in the

  first place, but, there we are, these

  things happen to a Hero-in-Training.

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  And hearts sorrowing and despairing, Hiccup

  and Camicazi set out in The Hopeful Puffin towards the

  distant little Isle of Berk.

  Camicazi took the helm because Hiccup was too

  depressed.

  There was a brisk wind and The Hopeful Puffin

  fairly flew over the waves. They had to dodge the

  floating icebergs, and if Hiccup had been happier, he

  could have enjoyed the warmness of the breeze now

  blowing in their faces, for he had been waiting for this

  moment for six months.

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  For six long months they had been trapped in

  winter, and to Vikings who are used to being surrounded

  by the never-ending rocking of the sea, this frozen white

  stillness had been terribly eerie, as if time itself had

  forgotten to tick and was caught in a Hibernation Coma.

  There was nothing, no smell, no sound, no movement,

  just a painted white world that stretched out for ever

  and a cold that made Hiccup’s helmet burn against his

  forehead as if it were made out of fire.

  Hiccup had longed and longed for it to end,

  and now spring HAD come and broken the spell. The

  sea was alive again and the wind whirling through the

  marshy grasses carried with it the catcalls and whoops of

  Dragonese and the lovely fresh smell and taste of salt.

  And Hiccup had never been so miserable in his life.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Camicazi, after they had

  sailed in silence for half an hour. ‘Why did the Doomfang

  eat the Vegetable-that-No-one-Dares-Name? Why did

  it suddenly leave the Wrath of Thor when it had been

  hanging out there for the past fifteen years? What just

  happened?’

  Hiccup sighed, raising his head from his chest for

  a moment. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I don’t KNOW of course,

  because, how can we know? But my guess is that the

  DOOMFANG ITSELF HAD VORPENTITIS.’

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  Camicazi’s jaw dropped.

  ‘It had all the symptoms,’ continued Hiccup.

  ‘Crazy behaviour. Bloodshot eyes. Foaming mouth.

  A very high temperature. Doomfangs can live to be

  thousands of years old, so fifteen years is only two

  minutes in the life of a Doomfang. It would explain how

  desperate it was, and how ill it looked. And once it had

  eaten the Potato, it was instantly cured, so it didn’t need

  to hang around any more. That was it, end of Curse.’

  ‘Who is to say that your friend’s life is worth

  more than a Dragon’s?’ said One Eye, who was taking

  up most of the deck.

  ‘It’s worth more to me,’ said Hiccup. ‘Because I

  didn’t know the Doomfang personally.’

  The temperature was very pleasant, and for the

  first time in six months Hiccup found he was sweating in

  his furry overcoat. He took it off, and Toothless landed

  on his shoulder, and started trying to tuck his head under

  his wing.

  ‘It’s a bit late to go into Hibernation Sleep

  now, Toothless,’ said Hiccup, scratching the little dragon

  affectionately behind his horns. ‘It’s just about to be

  spring again.’

  Toothless grunted grumpily.

  Hiccup squinted up at the sun. Now that it was

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  out, he could tell the time fairly accurately from the

  sun’s position in the sky. They were at least two hours

  away from ten in the morning, he reckoned. Not that it

  mattered what time they got back now, of course.

  Hiccup’s heart was beating fast in anxiety and

  sadness, and he suddenly realised he could actually

  HEAR it beating.

  Tick tock tick tock tick tock went his heart.

  How very peculiar, thought Hiccup.

  And then he remembered the funny round metal

  thing that Camicazi had found lying in the casket next to

  the potato. He reached into his breast pocket and drew

  it out.

  TICK TOCK TICK TOCK TICK TOCK went

  the metal thingummy.

  It was a beautifully made, strange little object,

  slightly smaller than the potato. The front was

  transparent and hard, like ice, and behind it were all

  these rune numbers set in different circles, and at least

  seven arrows, all different colours. When he stared at

  it for some time he realised that some of them were

  actually moving, very slowly, but all on their own.

  He opened up the back to see if it was a tiny

  nanodragon making the ticking noise, and found inside

  nothing but lots of little delicate metal wheels that all

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p; seemed to be moving. Perhaps they too had been frozen

  by the ice, and now that it was warmer again, they had

  woken up…

  ‘WOW,’ breathed Camicazi, looking over his

  shoulder. ‘What is it, do you think?’

  ‘I have no idea,’ said Hiccup, putting it back

  in his pocket, where the ticking would be muffled. He

  would think about it later. ‘It’s some kind of Hysterical

  invention, I suppose. Those Hysterics are mad as

  mackerel, but they are good inventors.’

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  Please, Thor, please, thought Hiccup to himself,

  please let it be all right somehow after all…

  It began to rain, and the rain melted the blue

  snow, and it dripped like tears off the horns on Hiccup’s

  helmet, down into blue puddles on the deck. The

  American arrow lay, half drowning, on the edge of one

  of these puddles, and Hiccup picked it up and put it

  carefully in his arrow case.

  Within five minutes, all the snow had gone, and

  Camicazi, Hiccup, Toothless and One Eye all looked as

  if they’d had some kind of weird accident with a lot

  of blue paint. Their hair, coats, helmets and horns all

  coated and streaked with the blue of the bluest of blue

  skies.

  Tick tock tick tock tick tock said the metal

  thingummy in Hiccup’s pocket.

  Tick tock tick tock tick tock went Hiccup’s heart,

  hopeful in spite of itself.

  Back on Hysteria, steaming through the pouring

  rain, you could see the bright flame of fire and a

  column of smoke coming from the Hysterical Great

  Hall.

  Norbert’s Papa was finally getting his proper

  Viking funeral.

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  18. FISHLEGS

  Stoick was waiting for them, in pouring rain, on the

  Long Beach.

  Stoick was FURIOUS.

  He had only just found out that Hiccup had not

  spent the night at Snotlout’s house, and Snotlout had

  told him that he had seen Hiccup and Camicazi sneaking

  away in a sleigh from the Freya’sday Eve Celebrations,

  heading out on to the great sea of ice.

  When Stoick demanded why Snotlout had not

  told him this earlier, Snotlout could not answer.

  Snotlout could hardly give the real reason, which

  was that he had been rather hoping that Hiccup was

  doing something STUPID and DANGEROUS, and

  he didn’t want Stoick rushing out to save him at the last

  minute.

  But Stoick the Vast saw the real reason in

  Snotlout’s eyes, and in the delighted way that Snotlout

  looked out at the melted ice in the Harbour. Snotlout

  was PLEASED that Hiccup could have drowned

  somewhere out there in that grey, grim sea.

  For the first time, Stoick realised that Snotlout

  might not be the best choice of friend for his son

  Hiccup.

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  I am afraid that Stoick the Vast gave Snotlout an

  old-fashioned spanking.

  This WAS the Dark Ages.

  Stoick then ran to the Long Beach to see if he

  could see what was going on, and, to his MASSIVE

  relief, the first thing he clapped eyes on, picking through

  the icebergs out to sea, was the tattered, round shape of

  his son’s funny little boat, The Hopeful Puffin.

  ‘WHAT IN THOR’S NAME DO YOU

  THINK YOU HAVE BEEN DOING?’ roared Stoick

  the Vast, storming up to them as the nose of The Hopeful

  Puffin landed on the sand. Hiccup, who appeared to

  have turned an extraordinary blue colour, clambered out

  of the boat and looked his enraged father straight in

  the eyes.

  ‘I have been to Hysteria, to try and bring back a

  Potato to save Fishlegs’s life,’ said Hiccup.

  Stoick exploded.

  ‘I ABSOLUTELY FORBADE YOU TO DO

  ANY SUCH THING!’ bellowed Stoick the Vast.

  ‘HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY, ME, YOUR CHIEF,

  AND RISK YOUR LIVES LOOKING FOR A

  VEGETABLE THAT NEVER EXISTED, ON A

  WILD-GOOSE CHASE FOR NOTHING—’

  Tears poured down Hiccup’s face. ‘The potato

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  DOES exist,’ he interrupted his father, ‘it DOES exist,

  because we stole it, and Norbert the Nutjob nearly

  chopped our heads off, but you are right, it WAS all for

  nothing, because the Doomfang ate it and now Fishlegs

  is going to DIE.’

  Stoick the Vast’s anger could not last in the face

  of the utter hopeless misery in his son’s eyes. His fury

  melted away, like the snow dissolving into rain all around

  them on the beach. He patted his son awkwardly on the

  shoulder.

  ‘Now, now, son,’ he said uncertainly. ‘Of course

  Fisheggs isn’t going to die…’

  Hiccup pushed his father out of the way, and

  stumbled over the sand to Old Wrinkly’s house, followed

  by Stoick the Vast, Camicazi, Toothless and One Eye.

  He flung open the door without knocking.

  Old Wrinkly was standing in the middle of the

  room, poking the fire with a metal stick.

  For a moment, Hiccup couldn’t see Fishlegs, and

  then he realised Fishlegs was on the bed. He was lying

  completely still, his glasses off, white as a corpse.

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  Hiccup’s heart stopped.

  And then to Hiccup’s unspeakable relief, Fishlegs

  sat up and put his glasses on.

  He was still alive, then.

  Stoick the Vast, Camicazi, Toothless and One Eye

  the Sabre-Tooth Driver filed into the room after Hiccup.

  ‘WELL?’ roared Stoick the Vast. ‘IS FISHEGGS

  DYING, OR IS HE NOT?’

  Old Wrinkly looked very embarrassed. He shifted

  guiltily from foot to foot. ‘Ah, yes, Stoick, I’m so glad

  you brought that up… yes, the thing is, I’m not sure that

  Fishlegs is dying after all…’

  ‘WHADDYAMEAN, NOT DYING?’ yelled

  Stoick the Vast.

  ‘I’m afraid my diagnosis wasn’t completely

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  correct.’ Old Wrinkly giggled nervously. ‘Soothsaying

  from the fire is very complicated… I won’t go into the

  details, but take it from me, it’s tricky… and, what with

  one thing or another, it turns out that Fishlegs didn’t

  have Vorpentitis after all. It was just a bad cold that set

  off his Berserk tendencies. I nursed him back to health

  with lots of bed-rest and lemon-in-honey.’

  Fishlegs stood up, slightly wobbily, and gave

  Stoick the Vast a big smile.

  ‘I’m fine!’ said Fishlegs happily, throwing wide

  his arms.

  Hiccup couldn’t believe it.

  It was going to be all right after all.

  ‘HE’S ALIVE!’ cried Hiccup joyously, over

  the moon at this uncomplicated happy ending, and he

  rushed over to hug his friend.

  Toothless gave Fishlegs a lick on the ear, which

  was a big compliment from Toothless. One Eye drawled,

  ‘Well, well, that was all worth it, wasn’t it?’ and

  Camicazi did a couple of celebratory cartwheels.

  But Stoick wasn’t going to take this lying down.
/>   ‘DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME,’ roared

  Stoick the Vast at Old Wrinkly, ‘THAT ALL

  BECAUSE OF YOUR LOUSY SOOTHSAYING

  MY SON HICCUP HAS GONE ALL THE WAY

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  TO HYSTERIA AND NEARLY GOT HIS HEAD

  CHOPPED OFF BY NORBERT THE NUTJOB

  AND FACED THE DOOMFANG ALL FOR

  NOTHING?????’

  ‘Well, not for nothing, Stoick,’ explained Old

  Wrinkly. ‘If you’ll just listen a moment, I’ll explain.

  Soothsaying is a very tricky business and when I looked

  in the fire—’

  ‘Did Fisheggs have Vorpentitis, or did he not?’

  interrupted Stoick.

  ‘No he didn’t,’ admitted Old Wrinkly.

  ‘THEN THE QUEST WAS COMPLETELY

  UNNECESSARY!’ roared Stoick.

  ‘Don’t give Old Wrinkly a hard time, Father,’

  said Hiccup. ‘Why waste time getting angry

  when all’s well that ends well…’

  Hiccup started to laugh, but

  something in the middle of the laugh

  went wrong when Hiccup’s left arm

  suddenly went dead.

  Hiccup looked down at his

  arm in surprise.

  ‘I can’t feel my arm,’ said

  Hiccup.

  And then the other arm went dead.

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  Hiccup had been feeling rather hot all day, but he

  suddenly felt as if he were burning alive. Sweat poured

  down his face, and great clouds of steam rose up off his

  shoulders and chest.

  And Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third’s

  entire body went rigid as a statue, his eyes staring and

  bloodshot, and he fell down lifeless on the very bed

  Fishlegs had been lying on just two minutes before.

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  19. THE FINAL CHAPTER

  Sometimes it is not until the Final Chapter that you

  realise what a quest has REALLY been about all along.

  Stoick’s face turned from red anger to pure

  white terror.

  ‘The Doomfang…’ whispered Stoick the Vast

  in agony, rushing to hold his stiff son in his arms. ‘By

  Woden and Freya and Hairy Knuckled Thor, he did get

  touched by the frozen flames of the Doomfang… and all

  for a stupid useless quest for NOTHING…’