"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
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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!"
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"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
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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.
[Image: Alvin is swinging from the bottom of the basket by his hook alone.]
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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
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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."
[Image: A hook.]
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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."
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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!"
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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
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[Image: Big-boobied bertha.]
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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
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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
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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
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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......15
POISON: (see above).... 15 SIZE: Teeny Weeny
FEAR AND FIGHT FACTOR:
Do NOT Tread on this animal... 15
[Image: Dragons.]
[Image: Close relative THE SAND RATTLER.]
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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
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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.
[Image: Men.]
"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
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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!
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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
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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 f
or 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 Cami-whatsit here could lead us back to Berk in triumphant procession?" said Stoick. "After all,
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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?
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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.