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How to Train Your Dragon: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury

Page 26

by Cressida Cowell


  The dragons sang their own wild song, putting up

  their heads to the sky and howling joyously.

  ‘I’ve heard that the sky in America,

  Is a blue that you wouldn’t believe,

  But Berk is my lobster after all,

  And now I’ll ne-e-ever leave…’

  ‘What does “Berk is my lobster” mean, exactly?’

  Hiccup asked the Wodensfang. ‘It was the line that

  told me the Jewel was inside the lobster necklace.

  But I’ve always wondered what it meant, it sounds

  like nonsense…’

  Wodensfang sighed romantically.

  ‘Lobsters, you see, are a symbol of love,’ said the

  old dragon, ‘because they mate for life…’

  ‘The lobster necklace must have been the one

  that Grimbeard gave to his wife Chin-hilda when they

  got married then,’ said Hiccup thoughtfully in Norse,

  ‘and she gave it back to him when she left him in a fury.

  Grimbeard probably wore it because he regretted his

  lost love.’

  ‘Lobster necklaces are a symbol of love, are they?’

  said Fishlegs, looking interested.

  ‘Fishlegs, if you start sending Barbara the

  Barbarian lobster necklaces I am going to get very cross

  with you,’ said Hiccup, waving his arms around in an

  agitated way. ‘DON’T SEND HER ANYTHING!

  HER FATHER ISN’T GOING TO LIKE IT! THAT’S

  WHY HE’S GIVEN HER SIX BODYGUARDS!

  REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME!’

  ‘I was on my way to America,

  But I took a left turn at the Pole,

  And I lost my shoe in a rainy bog,

  Where my heart got stuck in the ho-o-o-ole!’

  Fishlegs sang this particularly loudly, because despite

  finding out during the course of his Quest that he was

  part Berserk, part Murderous, part Treacherous, and

  mostly No-name… he was still a Hooligan by adoption,

  if not by birth.

  And then they all sang an old Viking Archipelago

  song called Not The Settling Kind, that says so much

  about the yearning wild spirit of Vikings (and indeed,

  dragons), and sounds particularly good when sung in a

  ruined Castle under a starlit sky.

  It goes like this:

  ‘I have never cared for Castles

  or a Crown that grips too tight,

  Let the night sky be my starry roof

  and the moon my only light,

  My Heart was born a Hero,

  my storm-bound sword won’t rest,

  I left the Harbour long ago

  on a Never-ending Quest,

  I am off to the horizon,

  where the wild wind blows the foam,

  Come get lost with me, love,

  and the sea shall be our home!’

  All of the Viking voices were perfectly in unison, apart

  from Humungously Hotshot the Hero and Tantrum,

  who had never been able to sing. Tantrum

  had forgotten all about the Hogfly for the

  moment, and was happily embracing her

  Hero, singing with him, wildly out of

  tune with everyone else, but happily in

  tune with one another.

  Not the Settling Kind was

  Tantrum and Hotshot’s favourite

  song, and as they reached the big notes together at

  excruciating volume, it was a happy reminder that,

  argue though they may, love was always worth it.

  ‘Do you want your foghorn back, Barbara?’

  King Hiccup the Third asked Barbara the Barbarian

  as she sang at the top of her voice with all of her six

  bodyguards and the cat joining in.

  Barbara broke off a moment, and looked

  thoughtfully at the massed Tribes of the Archipelago,

  singing their hearts out.

  ‘No, you keep it,’ she said at last. ‘I think you’re

  going to need it.’

  Ah yes, how true that was.

  It is one thing to decide you are going to create a

  new and more civilised World, and quite another to put

  that idea into action.

  Things would change, in time, for Hiccup would

  never let them go back to that old World of slavery and

  intimidation.

  But there were some things that would never

  change.

  Young bards would still fall hopelessly in love

  with princesses out of their league. Chiefs would

  quarrel, and dragons would fight, and storms would

  blow, and trouble would follow trouble, just as it had

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  in the Old World.

  But all of this was in the future.

  Right here, right now, the Witch and Alvin were

  dead, and the Dragon Rebellion was over.

  Right here, right now, Hiccup and his Ten

  Companions of the Dragonmark were all together.

  Hiccup, Toothless, Fishlegs, Camicazi, Windwalker,

  Deadly Shadow, Stormfly and Wodensfang, not to

  mention Horrorcow, crowded around the King’s Stone.

  Stoick, Valhallarama, Bertha of the Bog-Burglars,

  Humungously Hotshot and Tantrum the Heroes and

  the Ten Fiancés, the massed Tribes of the Archipelago

  and the Wanderers, Bearcub and his older sister

  Eggingarde, all of the former Slaves and their former

  Masters, they were all there.

  (Even Norbert the Nutjob was there,

  unbeknownst to anybody, complete with a Dragonmark

  and disguised as a Wanderer, but that is another story.)

  None Left Behind….

  The Vikings had changed their tune, perhaps

  realising that they wanted to end this night on a high

  note, and they began to sing one of the most rousing,

  happiest Viking songs of all.

  Because they had remembered who they were

  this day.

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  They were Vikings. A wild wandering people, like

  the dragons, who fought for freedom, and equality in

  the eyes of Thor, and the wild places of the world.

  ‘UP WITH YOUR SWORD AND STRIKE

  AT THE GALE!

  RIDE THE ROUGH SEAS FOR THOSE

  WAVES ARE YOUR HOME!

  WINTERS MAY FREEZE BUT OUR

  HEARTS DO NOT FAIL!

  HEROES… HEARTS… FOREVER!’

  They were all there, singing their hearts out, all

  together, and out in Wrecker’s Bay, Luna and her wild

  dragons joined in the Vikings’ song, shooting great

  joyful fireballs into the air as the fins of Sharkworms

  broke in the Bay like dolphins. And down, ticking in

  the grasses, the nanodragons were singing too, rubbing

  their hind legs together as they sang joyfully, in tiny

  squeaking voices:

  ‘YOU MAY BE SMALL BUT YOUR HEART CAN BE LARGE

  WORK ALL TOGETHER AND MOUNTAINS MAY MOVE

  DON’T JUDGE A GRUB BY THE SIZE OF HIS WINGS

  FOR YOU CAN’T ALWAYS SEE… A HERO!’

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  It is dark, so the humans and the dragons cannot see

  the blackened world about them. But that is fine, for

  they can already see in their minds’ eye, the whole

  world green once again with the shoots of spring.

  The humans are building those castles in their minds

  already: finer houses, newer villages, better harbours.

  The dragons hear the wild north calling them with the

  promise of a free open oce
an and impossibly blue skies,

  where death has no dominion and they can fly forever,

  like the Dragon Guardians shooting and rocketing

  above them in endless black space.

  ‘YOU ARE NEVER ALONE IF THE SEA

  IS YOUR FRIEND…

  RIDING THE WAVES OF IMPOSSIBLE

  QUESTS…

  IF IT DOESN’T END WELL,

  THEN IT ISN’T THE END…

  A HERO… FIGHTS… FOREVER!’

  There they are, all of them together, singing their hearts

  out on the top of that Ruined Castle on Tomorrow. War

  is over; their bellies are full of fish and deer, and they

  are full of hope and joy, and excitement about their

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  future. They sing long, long into the night, bursting

  with happiness, the quiet moon shining down on them,

  under a brilliant canopy of stars.

  ‘THE HERO CARES NOT FOR A WILD

  WINTER’S STORM,

  FOR IT CARRIES HIM SWIFT ON THE

  BACK OF THE WAVE,

  ALL MAY BE LOST AND OUR HEARTS

  MAY BE WORN,

  BUT A HERO… FIGHTS… FOREVER!’

  And if this moment doesn’t last forever… then it really

  ought to.

  So that is where we will leave them, Hiccup and

  his friends: forever young, forever hopeful, singing their

  hearts out on the island of Tomorrow.

  BECAUSE…

  If it doesn’t end well, then it isn’t

  THE END

  EPILOGUE BY HICCUP

  HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE

  THIRD, THE LAST OF THE

  GREAT VIKING HEROES

  So that is the story of how I became the King of the

  Wilderwest and ended the Dragon Rebellion.

  Now I am an old, old man, it feels so strange to

  look back at my younger Hiccup-self, whom we just left

  among the ruins of Grimbeard’s Castle, looking into

  the future, so confident, so hopeful, so sure in what he

  was going to do.

  And now I look back and I wonder, just as the

  Dragon Furious wondered long ago as he lay dying on

  the Reef:

  Was my life a failure, or was it a success?

  I did build my new Kingdom of the Wilderwest. I

  rebuilt Grimbeard’s Castle, and the flags fly from

  twenty towers, even stronger and more solid than they

  were before. There is now a bustling city on Tomorrow,

  a harbour crowded with life and ships. Looking at it

  now, you would never believe that when I was young

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  this was a desolate ghost of a town, where the wind

  howled through the empty streets and the ruins had

  fallen into the bog.

  And more importantly, just as I pledged to

  myself when I came back from discovering America,

  the-Land-which-does-not-Exist, I built a Barbaric

  Archipelago in which might was no longer right, where

  it is not only the strong that belong. I built a world

  where weaker Tribes such as the Peaceables, and the

  Wanderers, the Nowhere Men and the Quiet-Lifes all

  have their vote and a say at the Thing.

  None Left Behind…

  The world of my childhood was a wondrous

  world indeed, full of excitement and adventure, but it

  was also a world in which small children lived in daily

  fear of death by wolves, by dragons roaming wild, by

  starvation and by war.

  That is no longer true.

  We barbarians are proud barbarians still, but

  along the way we have grown up. We have put down

  our swords and picked up our pens instead, and have

  almost become, dare I say it… civilised.

  So, in that, my life has been a success, and I have

  done good work as a King and as a Hero.

  But as I grew older, and older, and realised that

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  I would not live for ever, I began to wonder whether I

  had really changed the world sufficiently that it would

  be safe for dragons in the future when I am gone? And

  I know that human nature has not changed enough,

  yet.

  So, in that, I failed.

  But as the Wodensfang and the Dragon Furious

  said, perhaps it is a noble failure, and history is a

  succession of these noble failures.

  I never spoke to Luna directly about this. But I

  did not need to. She knew it, maybe always knew it,

  and slowly, slowly, almost imperceptibly, over the course

  of my lifetime, the dragons began to hide.

  They did not leave immediately. It did not happen

  like that. It was a very gradual retreat. At first, a few

  of the wilder species retreated to the north, to the

  oceans, to the deep seas. But still more stayed in the

  Archipelago. Our riding-dragons and hunting-dragons

  did not want to leave our side, so they stayed with us,

  out of their own free choice.

  Thank Thor, I myself have still lived a life that has

  been full of dragons.

  All my life I have flown on the back of

  Windwalker, high so high. All my life Toothless has

  been there, sitting on my shoulder, answering me back,

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  stealing the food from my plate when I’m not looking.

  A Seadragon like Toothless, of course, lives for

  many thousands of years; throughout my life, he barely

  grew up at all. While I, of course, grew up, got married,

  became a powerful King and had children of my own,

  Toothless remained the same.

  But we taught our own children to ride horses

  and train hawks as well as dragons – just in case.

  When I was a young man, the world still seemed

  full of dragons, very much awake, very much as fierce

  and as dangerous as they had ever been, out in the

  wilderness of the Open Ocean. One of them, the

  Doomfang, saved my life a dozen times or more out

  there. And many more nearly took my life away from

  me as well…

  But maybe the dragons felt a little uncomfortable

  with the new, civilised world that I was building.

  Dragons have always been wild creatures for wild

  times. Or maybe they sensed what Furious sensed,

  that my struggles to change the world could never be

  successful in one generation alone.

  As I have said, they began to hide.

  They retreated north to be with their fellow

  dragons. They migrated into the deep-sea trenches I

  was telling you about, and put themselves into Sleep

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  Comas. Many of them developed the chameleon

  skills of a Stealth Dragon, and disguised themselves

  so effectively in the grasses and the rocks and the

  seas, that you would not even notice they were there,

  particularly if you did not know you were looking for

  them.

  Sometimes, I used to lie very still on my stomach

  in the bracken, and stare very hard, and if I stayed

  there for a long time, then slowly, slowly, I could

  begin to see again the dim outline of a Tiddly-Nip

  Tick-Botherer, or a Drowsy-Tipped Dragonmouse,

  materialising in front of me for one second as it

  scurried camouflaged through the grasses – and then it

  was gone.

  That was how I knew th
ey were still there.

  It has only been in the last couple of decades of

  my life that the dragons have begun to hide in earnest.

  Gradually, in the last few years, even Toothless

  and Windwalker began to spend time away from me.

  They were restless for the fellowship of the other

  dragons in the pin-sharp cold waters, the innocent cruel

  snows of the north. They began to leave me for short

  stretches of time, and then slightly longer, and longer

  again. They always returned, however. Toothless would

  never leave me forever.

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  And that was when I began to fulfil my promise to

  the Dragon Furious.

  I instructed Fishlegs and his fellow bards to

  create stories suggesting that the dragons were only

  ever fictional creatures. People do not believe that yet,

  of course, for they have seen dragons with their very

  own eyes. But as the dragons disappear into hiding,

  and the people who have seen dragons with their own

  eyes grow old and die, well…

  … the stories will live on.

  Stories always do live on, and the stories that

  Fishlegs tells are that dragons do not, and have never

  existed.

  This belief will keep the dragons safe.

  So, you see, I did save the dragons.

  It was not in the way that I hoped, perhaps, but

  I kept my promise to the Dragon Furious, and I saved

  the dragons nonetheless.

  My Plan, crazy though it was, is working.

  And in fact, it is working so effectively that

  sometimes even I, in my childish old age, cannot

  remember – did they exist or did they not?

  Although it was all my own idea to make a fantasy

  out of their reality, I myself can get confused, so

  completely have they vanished. Could such magnificent

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  creatures really have flown the skies, and swam the seas

  of my childhood?

  I am feeling a little weak now; weak, but also

  excited. I sense an ending coming, or should I call it a

  new beginning?

 

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