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 that
nasty Alvin coming our way.’
Sure enough, Alvin was running towards them
along the top of the battlements.
‘You try and DELAY him, Toothless,’ Hiccup
ordered. ‘FISHLEEEGS! YOU REALLY, REALLY
NEED TO HURRY 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 metres.
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 upwards, 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
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.
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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 realised 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 downwards
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 upwards, and as the screams
of Alvin grew fainter and fainter so too did the shrieks
215
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
sound was the gentle puffs of the Gronckle’s flames,
breaths, their hearts beginning to slow down.
Gradually, they smiled at one another as they realised
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.’
Hiccup staggered to his feet and peered over the
edge of the basket.
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A warm breeze blew his hair back.
‘Look!’ cried Hiccup, pointing downwards 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.’
217
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!’
roared Baggybum the Beerbelly. ‘If you don’t do it, I
218
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
beginning to burn. ‘Stay calm, Stoick,’ he warned
himself. ‘Ohhh, this is going to be hard…’
219
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
Plan B might have turned rapidly back into Plan A
again if the two Chiefs – who were nose to nose,
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yelling at one another – had not heard a noise that
made them look suddenly upwards, 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 towards
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
222
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
223
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~
COLOURS: Bright Yellow.
ARMED WITH: Deadly Venom.
FEAR FACTOR: ......... 9
ATTACK:..................... 9
SPEED:....................... 8
SIZE:........................1
DISOBEDIENCE:.... 9
Close relative THE
SAND RATTLER
across his hand, and then he let out a scream and
flicked his hand so that the Vorpent sailed upwards
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 on to 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 realised 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
225
be recommended –
someone could take
their eye out 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 on to 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.
‘Waistline of Woden!’ exclaimed Fishlegs, staring
down at the shield. ‘You realise what this is, don’t you?
It’s only the shield of Grimbeard the Ghastly!’
It was indeed Grimbeard the Ghastly’s famous
shield, taken in battle by the Bog-Burglars many years
before and held by the Tribe as a trophy ever since.
226
Perfectly round, in the centre 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! SNOT-
LOUT!’ and the Bog-Burglars replied with cries of
‘CAMI-CAZI! CAMI-CAZI! CAMI-CAZI!’
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‘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 and loudly and rudely as only Vikings can –
splitting their sides and bending over double and
228
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 on to the shield of
Grimbeard the Ghastly. And even Snotlout was forced