How to Speak Dragonese

  "Think you." The Thin Prefect had a terrible accent and he kept on getting the words wrong. "You can hold on to the kidnapper now ."

  The Gronckle didn't move.

  "I said 'Hold on to him!'" shouted the Thin Prefect crossly.

  The Gronckle blinked at him and still didn't move.

  "Oh for Thor's sake, you stupid alligator ..." swore the Thin Prefect in Norse. From his pocket he got out his half of How to Speak Dragonese and started

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  flicking through it, muttering to himself, "Release, release -- what's the word for release?"

  "I think you'll find the word is 'release,' sir?" advised Hiccup politely.

  "Thank you," sneered the Thin Prefect. "Release," he said to the Gronckle, who opened its jaws and the Kidnapper dropped, sprawling onto the floor.

  "As you can see," drawled the Thin Prefect, "I need the other half of your book, Hiccup."

  Hiccup tried not to look as terrified as he felt.

  "How do you know my name?" he asked. "And why are we speaking in Norse, not in Latin?"

  The Thin Prefect smiled. "We have met before, you see, Hiccup, many, many times. Why don't you look a little closer?"

  Hiccup looked up into the Thin Prefect's eyes, and he gasped as he finally realized who it was.

  The man was bald; completely hairless all over. Even his eyelashes had disappeared. But bald as he was and dressed in a toga, this was definitely Hiccup's archenemy -- Alvin the Treacherous, Chief of the Outcast Tribe and the wickedest man in the Inner Isles

  "So, " hissed Alvin, "we meet AGAIN, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third ..."

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  Hiccup and Fish legs gazed at him in utter astonishment. The last time they had seen Alain he had been inside the stomach of the Monstrous Strangulator at the bottom of the underground sea-cavern.* How on earth had he got out of THAT tricky situation? And what was he doing posing as a Roman?

  "I see you are wondering," smiled Alain nastily, "how I got myself out of THAT tricky situation."

  Fish legs and Hiccup nodded.

  "It's an interesting story," spat Alain, his eyes hissing with fury. "I know you'll enjoy it... I cut myself out of the stomach of the dead Monstrous Strangulator with my sword, and then since you had so kindly ABANDONED me without any dragons, I couldn't get out of the cavern by the sea ..."

  "We didn't abandon you!" squeaked Fishlegs. "We didn't know you were alive! How could we know?"

  Alvin ignored him. "... so I had no choice but to go through the Caliban Caves. THREE WHOLE MONTHS it took me, creeping through the darkness, eating little cavern dragons raw, licking the walls for

  * How to Be a Pirate. I would strongly suggest you read this book.

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  water ... and then when I finally emerged into the light on your vile little island and stole a ship back to my own land, what happens? My own people SHUN me -- they refuse to have me as their Chief! Because down there in the darkness, in the vile belly of that Strangulator ... something happened to me ..."

  Alvin's voice became more and more savage.

  "The stomach juices of that infernal creature have made my hair fall out. And whoever has heard of a hairless Viking? I was thrown out of my own Tribe and forced into exile. Luckily, I have some Roman blood on my mother's father's side ... and the Empire has use for a clever person like myself. I told them I had thought of a way they could conquer the Vikings by turning the Tribes against each other."

  "TRAITOR!" yelled Fishlegs.

  "Exactly" smiled Alvin. "And I also have my own plans for a ... DRAGON ARMY" Alvin drew his right arm out of his toga for the first time. An arm that ended not in a hand but in a huge curved HOOK made out of the most brilliant gold.

  "I made this hook," he said casually, "out of a single cup of that Treasure. It was the only thing I

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  could carry through the Caliban Caves. But I want the rest of it -- I need the rest of it...

  [Image: Fort sinister]

  "With a DRAGON ARMY I can get the Treasure," continued Alvin. "The dragons can swim down and bring it up for me. But you know what I need first, Hiccup ..."

  Alvin drew the point of his hook right against Hiccup's chest. "I need the other half of that book of yours, How to Speak Dragonese. I need that book to command the dragons in my Dragon Army. Where is your half of the book, Hiccup? If you tell me I will let

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  you and your fish legged friend live. Otherwise I'm afraid I'm going to have to kill you both RIGHT NOW..."

  "Tell me what you've done with Toothless first," said Hiccup.

  "Oh, Toothless is very safe," grinned Alvin. "He's locked up in one of my dungeons."

  Hiccup gave a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't dead.

  "Give me the book now," commanded Alvin.

  "If I give it to you, will you promise you won't kill us?" asked Hiccup.

  "I promise," smiled Alvin.

  Hiccup felt into his pocket and handed Alvin his damp and tattered half of How to Speak Dragonese. He knew Alvin would find it at some point anyway.

  "Thank you," sneered Alvin. He unscrewed the hook from the end of his arm and replaced it with his famous sword, the Stormblade.

  "Uh-oh," said Hiccup.

  The Fat Consul had finally polished off a large helping of roasted baby Puff Nadders in garlicky Dreamserpent sauce, and he started to take an interest in what was going on.

  [Image: A fish.]

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  ELEVENSES MENU for His Most Noble Fatness the Fat Consul

  HORS D'OEUVERS

  Roasted baby Puff Nadders in garlicky

  Dreamserpent sauce

  Lark's tongue soup with crunchy

  nanodragon heads on the side

  ENTREES

  Whole roast ox marinated in pickled

  Slitherhawk and shark's eyeballs

  Double Reptoburger with extra cheese and Picallilli penguins

  Live Frog-and-Dormouse soufflés in

  Common-or-Garden sauce

  PAUSE FOR A VOMIT

  LES DESSERTS

  Monstrous Nightmare Crème Brulee with

  Smoked haddock and chocolate mousse

  Sticky toffee Nadder and whelk pudding

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  "Who have you got over there, Prefect?" he drawled, wiping the cream from the third of his chins. Hiccup noticed that he wasn't looking too well. He was covered from head to toe in nasty red bites, and every now and then he reached out a fat arm to scratch his gigantic blubbery behind.

  "This," said Alvin grimly, "is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans."

  "The extraordinarily powerful warrior you were telling me about?" asked the Fat Consul. He looked at Hiccup in astonishment. "But he's so very, very small!"

  "Size isn't everything," replied Alvin the Treacherous.

  "What are you going to do with him then, Prefect?" asked the Fat Consul.

  "I'm going to kill him," said Alvin, giving the Storm blade a nasty swish.

  "You promised you wouldn't!" protested Hiccup.

  "Tsk, tsk," tutted Alvin, "haven't you learned by now that a Treacherous never keeps his promise?"

  "Hang on a second, my dear Prefect," drawled the Fat Consul. "It seems a waste to kill him now.

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  Let him live until Saturn's day Saturday -- I would like to see this extraordinary warrior in action in the gladiatorial arena ..."

  "That's not a good idea, Consul," said Alvin. "This boy may not look much, but I assure you I have seen him in action and he could ruin all our plans. We must kill him NOW while we have the chance."

  "Who gives the orders round here?" asked the Fat Consul.

  "I d --" Alvin recollected himself just in time. "I mean, you do, of course, Consul." Alvin bowed fawningly at him. "But --"

  "No arguing, please, Prefect," ordered the Consul.

  "At least let me kill the one who looks like a haddock," pleaded Alvin the Treacherous.

  "Fishlegs is a BERSERK*, y
ou know, Consul," said Hiccup hurriedly. "I'm sure he'd put on a very exciting fighting display as a gladiator."

  "Really?" exclaimed the Fat Consul. "This is proving a very interesting morning. I've never met

  *You know the expression "going berserk"? Well, Berserks were Vikings who vent crazy on the battlefield. Good men to have on your side. Not so good when hey were on the other side, though...

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  a Berserk before. He should be most amusing at the Games. The one with the face like a fish lives too, I'm afraid, Prefect."

  "But sir --"

  The Fat Consul waved away Alvin's objections with one fat hand.

  "Put the prisoners in the dungeon with the Bog-Burglar Heir!"

  Alvin fought to control his temper. He smiled at the Consul through very gritted teeth. "Of course you know best, sir," he said. "But don't blame me if it all goes wrong ..."

  Alvin turned to the Gronckle. "Sit on me!" he ordered in his extremely poor Dragonese. "And put me in the toilet with the other Heirs!"

  The Gronckle promptly sat on Alvin. The First Kidnapper had to prod the dragon very hard with the handle of his sword to get the Gronckle off before he squashed Alvin entirely. When he finally emerged from underneath the creature's bottom, Alvin was hopping mad.

  "No, no, no!" he shrieked, and then tried to put together the two halves of How to Speak Dragonese, muttering swearwords under his breath as he looked

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  for the right page. "Ah, here it is!" he said with satisfaction. "Pick my nose and put me in the toilet with the Bog-Burglar Heir!"

  The Second Kidnapper had to lash out furiously with his sword-handle to prevent the Gronckle from picking Alvin's nose with its gigantic talons. And then the creature picked Alvin up and started trying to stuff him in the Fat Consul's gigantic toilet.

  "Carry on!" shrieked Alvin.

  [Image: Alvin in the toilet.]

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  "Can I help?" asked Hiccup. He talked to the Gronckle directly. "I think what the Prefect is TRYING to say is, pick US up and put US in the Tower with the Bog-Burglar Heir..."

  The Gronckle picked up Hiccup and Fishlegs by the scruffs of their necks as if they were two kittens.

  "At least," pleaded Hiccup to Alvin as he swung from the Gronckle's jaws, "won't you do a good thing for once in your life and set Toothless free? You don't need him and he's never done anything to you ..."

  Alvin tried to look dignified as he climbed out of the toilet.

  Which was tricky.

  "That isn't true," he said. "That dragon once did a poo in my helmet. A Treacherous Never Forgives. He can stay in that dungeon and rot for all I care ... Actually, I've just had a better idea -- he can join you in the arena on Saturn's day Saturday and you can all die a horrible death together ..." Alvin gave a gruesome smirk and waved his hand at the Gronckle.

  "Take them away," he ordered, for once getting the Dragonese right, and the Gronckle trotted off to the Tower with the boys in his mouth, followed by the First Kidnapper. The huge animal clattered up the

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  wooden steps and stopped outside a large door. This was the door to the prison where Alvin was keeping the other Heir. The First Kidnapper opened it with a large key that was hanging from his belt.

  "Welcomes to your home for three weeks, please," he smirked unpleasantly. "Do much sword-fighting's ... Roman gladiators are very, very good, me thinking ..."

  "At least we'll meet the heir to the Bog-Burglars," said Hiccup to Fishlegs. "Maybe this whole mess is a chance to meet her and make some sort of peace between the Hooligans and the Bog-Burglars ..."

  [Image: An eagle.]

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  11. THE BOG-BURGLAR HEIR

  The Gronckle trotted into the room. It was a large, bare space with a table and a few chairs and some straw in the corner that served for beds. The windows were barred. The boys were clearly not going to have the same luxuries the Romans gave themselves. The Gronckle dropped Fishlegs and Hiccup on the floor and backed out of the room.

  "Making yourselves at home," sneered the First Kidnapper, and the door clanged shut.

  Standing in the middle of the room was a small girl with wild blond hair and a ferocious expression.

  The girl drew her sword with a flourish.

  "Who are you? What are your names?" she demanded fiercely. "Who sent you? Where do you come from?"

  "My name is Hiccup," stammered Hiccup. "And this is Fishlegs -- we're Hooligans ..."

  "I don't believe you!" yelled the little girl. "You're Roman spies! Draw your swords and FIGHT like men, you Latin lowlifes!"

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  [Image: Camicazi.]

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  The boys looked at the furious little girl in amazement. Fishlegs began to laugh. He wasn't laughing two seconds later when the little girl cut the cord of his trousers and they fell down around his ankles.

  "Hey!" objected Fishlegs, indignantly hauling them up again. "Watch what you're doing with that sword!" In reply the little girl hoisted the sword over her head and ran toward Hiccup shouting the Bog-Burglar War Cry, which sounds like a very rude word shouted at the top of the lungs. Hiccup drew his sword just in time to parry her lunge, and they began to fight.

  [Image: Hiccup.]

  Last year, Hiccup had found out that he was left-handed. Since then, he had discovered he had a gift for sword-fighting. It was the only thing on the Pirate Training Program he was truly good at. He could beat even Oikish and Dogsbreath quite easily, and was

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  having extra lessons with Gormless the Grim, the best sword-fighter in the Hooligan Tribe.

  But this little girl was just as good at sword-fighting as Hiccup. Her arm moved so quickly you could hardly see it. She turned cartwheels between moves. And she TALKED constantly throughout, which made it difficult to concentrate.

  "FIGHT, you nano-eating, locust-baking, toga-wearing Jupiter-worshipper! Ooooh, you're actually quite good at this -- for a boy -- I've been getting SO bored, you have no idea ..."

  "Can't we just have a quiet talk about this?" asked Hiccup breathlessly. "There really is no need for us to be fighting ..."

  [Image: Camicazi.]

  But the little girl took absolutely no notice of him and carried on talking.

  "I see you mow the Grimbeard's

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  Grapple, and the Flash cut Lunge, and the Deathwatch Parry, and the --"

  "Will you STOP!" panted Hiccup, frantically parrying all of these moves, and getting his sleeve cut off in the process. "My name really is Hiccup ... I really am a Hooligan ..."

  "I don't believe you," said the little girl. "You're a Roman SPY! Admit it, or I will UNZIP you from your BREADBASKET to your OYSTERGOBBLER! Oooooooh, your defense is a bit WEAK, you know, you should really work on that... otherwise, a person could just nip through -- and ..."

  She made a perfectly executed lunge which Hiccup parried at the last minute but which cut off his second sleeve.

  [Image: Camicazi.]

  "Whoops!" crowed the little girl joyfully. "There goes the other one!"

  "I --AM --NOT --A --ROMAN ..." gasped Hiccup, his back against the wall.

  "Well, a Hooligan isn't much better," said the little girl, pausing for a second and then carrying on. "My mother says the only good Hooligan is a dead Hooligan."

  "That's funny," panted Hiccup, "because my

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  father says that the only good Bog-Burglar is a dead Bog-Burglar -- and the really amusing thing is, unless we join together, in about two weeks' time, we are both ping to be VERY GOOD, and VERY DEAD."

  "Oh BOTHER," sighed the girl, stopping at last.

  [Image: A man.]

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  Now that she wasn't moving around so much, Hiccup could see that she really was quite a small girl, at least a head shorter than he was. "I was really looking forward to spilling some blood."

  She grinned at Hiccup. "You're not a bad sword-fighter, actually, for a boy, of course ..."
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  "Thanks," said Hiccup, still trying to catch his breath.

  The little girl stuck out her hand for a handshake. "My name's CAMICAZI, the Heir to the Bog-Burglars. Nice to meet you. What are you doing here, anyway?"

  "We got kidnapped just like you," replied Hiccup. "And we're also looking for a dragon that I've lost. He's about so high, green eyes, a Common-or-Garden ..."

  "Oh, yes," said Camicazi. "The soldier who brings the food told me about HIM. He bit the Prefect on the nose when they brought him in!"

  "Good old Toothless," said Hiccup.

  "The Prefect really doesn't like HIM," said Camicazi.

  "Yes, I know," said Hiccup. "Toothless once did a poo in his helmet, and a Treacherous never forgives."

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  "They've put him in Level Seven, Top Security."

  "Oh poor, poor Toothless," said Hiccup. "I can't bear to think of him being trapped. He hates small spaces -- he can't even go down rabbit holes, despite rabbit being his favorite food; he stays at the entrance shrieking his head off --"

  But at that very moment the door to the prison cell opened again. It was a stout soldier carrying a small green ball in one hand.

  "I've got a present for Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third from the Prefect," leered the soldier.

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  He threw the ball roughly at Hiccup and it struck him heavily in the stomach, winding him severely. The little ball unrolled itself with a furious "D-d-d-do you m-m-mind ?" and with a sudden burst of happiness Hiccup realized who it was.

  "Toothless!" he exclaimed joyfully, once he had got his breath back. "TOOTHLESS!"

  He bent down to pick up his dragon. The poor little animal had lost so much weight he was all skin and bones. Hiccup could feel his ribs sticking out, and his tail had gone all floppy and lost its pointy fork, which is what happens if a dragon is imprisoned or deeply unhappy.