How to Train Your Dragon

  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

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  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

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  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."

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  "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

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  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

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  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.

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  [Image: A small dragon]]

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  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,

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  "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.

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  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,forThor'ssake. Why didn't you get one of those If

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  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.

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  "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."

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  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

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  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

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  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."

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  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.)

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  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

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  This book is dedicated to mommy, with love from your dearest you.

  Copyright © Professor Yobbish, Dark Ages.

  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.

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  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!!!

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  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.

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  CHAPTER THE FIRST (AND LAST)

  The Golden Rule of Dragon- Training is to...

  YELL AT IT!

  (The louder the better.)

  THE END

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  How would YOU train a dragon?

  Look inside for ALL the answers in Professor Yobbish's hugely entertaining, and informative book. Follow his simple advic
e 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

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  "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."

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  Stoick the VAST

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  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.