[Image: Big-Boobied Bertha in holiday mood...]
[Insert: *This takes plare in "How to speak Dragonese," another of Hiccup's *]
Snotlout happened to be skating past at that
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Big-Boobied Bertha in holiday mood...moment and he nearly fell over, he laughed so much at this. "Hiccup???" jeered Snotlout. "Hiccup will get as many goals as he shot Semi-Spotted Snow peckers yesterday. I shot more than two hundred. How many did you shoot, again, Hiccup? What was it -- none??"
Hiccup blushed. Camicazi looked very surprised.
"P-P-ARP! The Young Heroes Smashsticks-on-Ice Match is about to begin! Please could both teams make their way to the ice ... ," shouted Gobber the Belch from the center of the ice. Gobber had changed into his shortest shorts to be the referee. The Bog-Burglars (apart from Camicazi,
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of course) were big, rough, mean-looking girls with wild hair, broken noses, and thighs like tree trunks.
[Image: A man.]
Fishlegs staggered onto the ice at the last minute. He looked even more terrible than the last
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time Hiccup saw him. He was sneezing and shivering hard, and he could hardly stand, and was using his Smashstick to hold himself up. He had put his ice skates on the wrong feet.
Hiccup put up his hand to try and get Gobber's attention. "Sir, I think Fishlegs isn't well," he said.
"NONSENSE!" roared Gobber. "Vikings don't get SICK! Flu is for softies! Colds are for babies! Plagues are for girlies! I'VE never had a day's sickness in all my life, not even a sore throat. I don't want to hear ANOTHER WORD."
Hiccup and Fishlegs skated out onto the ice, Hiccup supporting Fishlegs, who could hardly put one skate in front of the other.
"You ought to be at home," worried Hiccup, "You look awful."
Fishlegs laughed sarcastically. "Didn't you hear Gobber? Vikings don't get SICK.... I'm not ill, I'm just shivering with EXCITEMENT to be out here on this frost bitingly cold day..."
Gobber blew the whistle, threw the puck into the Smashstick Scrum, and all hell broke loose.
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Ten boys and girls fell on top of one another in an untidy hairy mess, clonking each other on the head with their wooden sticks. Within two minutes Wartihog, Clueless, Lovethug, and Deadly Doris were lying stretched out on the ice, and Camicazi had somehow broken free of the scrum and
[Image: A girl.]
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was skating toward Hiccup and Fishlegs at breakneck speed. Fishlegs moved in to tackle her, and she pulled his helmet over his eyes so he couldn't see anything, before skillfully shooting the puck between the goalposts. And as the Bog-Burglars merrily cried out,
"G-O-A-L!!" an extraordinary change came over Fishlegs.
He tore off his helmet and he snorted like a bull about to charge.
"Uh-oh," said Hiccup. He had seen that look somewhere before. "Now hang on a second, Fishlegs, don't do anything rash ..."
"FOUL!" bellowed Fishlegs.
Fishlegs skated toward the gigantic figure of the referee, Gobber the Belch, like a crab slipping on soap.
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"GOBBER, YOU BIG, STUPID, BARBARIAN BABOON, ARE YOU BLIND? SHE FOULED ME!"
Gobber started, as surprised as if a small pink prawn on a plate had suddenly leapt up and bit him.
"WHAT did you say, Fishlegs????" roared Gobber in astonishment.
"SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOUR EARS AS WELL AS YOUR EYES?" screamed Fishlegs. "I'VE MET SHEEP MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU ARE! I'VE MET JELLYFISH WHO COULD OUTPLAY YOU IN A GAME OF CHESS!"
Gobber swelled up like a balloon about to explode.
"I'LL DEAL WITH THIS, BELCH!" yelled Stoick the Vast, skating ponderously over to this extraordinary scene.
Stoick the Vast looked down at Fishlegs from the giant height of six and half feet. "YOUNG MAN," he roared,
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"YOUR CHIEFTAIN IS SPEAKING TO YOU, THIS IS A SPECIAL OCCASION...THERE ARE BOG-BURGLARS
PRESENT," Stoick pointed to the Bog-Burglars, who were killing themselves laughing.
Fishlegs was silent for a second, looking up at his Chieftain. And then...
"FATTY!" shrieked Fishlegs.
Stoick the Vast started.
"LARDY-BUM!" shouted Fishlegs. "WHO'S
BEEN HAVING TOO MANY SECOND HELPINGS, CHIEF GREEDIGUTS OF THE JELLY-BELLIES??"
Stoick the Vast turned as red as a lobster.
"HOW DARE YOU TALK TO YOUR CHIEF IN THIS RUDE AND IMPERTINENT MANNER?"
Fishlegs opened his mouth to scream some more insults, but Hiccup interrupted.
"He's not well, Father," whispered Hiccup urgently. "I think his Berserk thingy has gone wrong.... Please, Father ... I'll take him home, he's not well..."
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"Take him home, then," growled Stoick to Hiccup. "But I'm warning you, son, that boy isn't fit to be a Hooligan, let alone a friend to the son of the Chief."
At first Fishlegs didn't want to be dragged away, but while he was struggling, he fell over, and the cold shock of landing in the snow brought him back to his senses again.
Hiccup was really worried now, and he decided to take Fishlegs to Old Wrinkly, to see whether HE knew what was wrong ...
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ILLNESS
Ole wrinkly's Cures for Common Iunesses
COLD
Stuff a small carrot up each nostril to stop a running nose. Remember to breathe through MOUTH.
.UPSET STOMACH
Drink a cupful of live earwigs. The insects will attack the germs in your small intestine and eat them. Probably,
CHICKEN POX
Paint the spots with Old Wrinkly's soothing lotion of Runny Seagull Poo, This will relieve the itching. It will also cause your friends to stay away from you, thus protecting them from infection.
HEADACHE WITH TEMPERATURE
Old Wrinkly's tasty medicine of sheep mucus and dead flies wrapped in cobwebs will soon have the patient bouncing out of bed.
A VIRUS
Pray to Thor. Nobody knows what to do with a virus. *
* Interestingly. 1,5000 year later, medical science has advanced to such and extent, that we STILL don't knew what to do with a virus.
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6. WHAT OLD WRINKLY SAID
Old Wrinkly was Hiccup's grandfather on his mother's side. He lived in a large untidy house on the beach. He was delighted to see them, and he fed them all porridge. Toothless snoozed in front of the blazing fire in his fireplace, while the snowy clothes of Hiccup and Fishlegs dripped dry on chairs.
"What can I do for you, little Hiccup?" wheezed Old Wrinkly, lighting a big fat pipe.
"It's my friend, Fishlegs," explained Hiccup. "He's not very well."
Old Wrinkly looked at Fishlegs, who was shaking like a leaf in a high wind.
"Oh come on, Hiccup," said Fishlegs irritably. "I keep telling you, it's just a NASTY COLD ..."
Old Wrinkly tut-tutted.
[Image: A man.]
Old Wrinkly was the wise man and soothsayer of the Hooligan Tribe. If you were ill, you would go to Old Wrinkly and he would examine you, consult the gods, and then give you some perfectly disgusting medicine like rabbits' droppings in limpet goo that might or might not
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make you better. (Doctoring and looking into the future are complicated businesses -- to tell the truth, Old Wrinkly did not always get them right.)
Old Wrinkly put his ancient old hand on Fishlegs's forehead, and tut-tutted again. "Very hot, very hot," he muttered to himself, "and sweaty." He listened to Fishlegs's heart with a strange trumpet like instrument and tut-tutted some more.
And then he threw some twigs onto the fire, and poked the flames with a long metal stick.
"Oh diaries me!" gasped Old Wrinkly as he stared at the red embers.
"That sounds cheerful," shivered Fishlegs.
"The fire seems to be telling me that your friend has VORPENTITIS, caused by the sting of a VENOMOUS VORPENT," said Old Wrinkly sadly. "Have
you met any Venomous Vorpent recently?"
There was a nasty cold feeling in the bottom of Hiccup's stomach.
"We did meet a Venomous Vorpent...," Hiccup said slowly. "A couple of months ago ... a Vorpent fell onto Fishlegs's hand when we were escaping from Fort Sinister..."
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"But it didn't sting me!" Fishlegs said eagerly. "I didn't feel anything sting me!"
Old Wrinkly shook his head. "The Vorpent numbs the skin before it stings. It's very clever really. You wouldn't have felt a thing. And then nothing happens, until a couple of months later, when you fall ill with Vorpentitis."
"What are the symptoms of Vorpentitis?" asked Hiccup.
"Fever ... runny nose ... episodes of madness ..." replied Old Wrinkly gloomily.
Hiccup's stomach was now as cold as ice, but he tried to sound cheerful. "And how do we get him better?"
Old Wrinkly sounded gloomier still.
"Weeeell...," he croaked, "that's the tricky part.... The sting of the Venomous Vorpent is pretty much always FATAL."
There was a nasty silence.
"The good news is," continued Old Wrinkly, "we have until ten in the morning tomorrow to find the antidote before your friend dies."
"Oh good," said Hiccup, hugely relieved. "So there IS an antidote ..."
[Insert: * an antidote is a CURE]
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Fishlegs had been listening with an open mouth. "But all I've got is a NASTY COLD!" he protested. "A nasty cold -- and you tell me I've only got one day to live!"
Hiccup ignored him. "What's the antidote?" asked Hiccup.
"This is where the tricky part gets trickier ..." wheezed Old Wrinkly. "The antidote to the sting of the Venomous Vorpent is the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name. "
"What, you mean the POTATO?" gasped Hiccup.
"Sssssh," whispered Old Wrinkly, desperately flapping his hands. "You're not supposed to name it! It's bad luck!"
"But the POTATO is an imaginary vegetable!" said Hiccup, who thought all this talk of bad luck was just superstition. "It doesn't really exist!"
"There are those that say the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name can be found in a great country to the west known as America ...," Old Wrinkly pointed out.
[Insert: * Potatoes only grew in America at this time, and America hadn't been discovered yet. ]
"But most people say," said Hiccup slowly, "that
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there's no such place as America. Most people say that it's an imaginary land that only crackpot weirdos believe in. Most people think that the earth is as flat as a pancake, and if you sail too far to the west you will fall off the end of it."
"That is what most people say," admitted Old Wrinkly, shrugging his shoulders and carrying on puffing his pipe.
"And even if there WAS such a thing as this so-called potato in this so-called land called America," argued Hiccup, "we're never going to be able to sail to it and find the antidote in only ONE DAY. In one day you'd hardly be out of the Sullen Sea.... The thing you're suggesting is IMPOSSIBLE."
"There's no such thing as im-POSSIBLE, Hiccup," snorted Old Wrinkly, "only im-PROBABLE, The only thing that limits us are the limits to our imaginations ... and I used to think of you as an imaginative boy. Give up, if you want to ... but I used to think of you as the sort of boy who would NEVER give up, however bad things looked."
"OK, then," said Hiccup crossly. "Give me one reason not to give up."
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"I will give you a reason," said Old Wrinkly. "There is a chance that Norbert the Nutjob Chief of the Hysterics, may have the antidote to Vorpentitis."
Hiccup jumped. "NORBERT THE NUTJOB??" said Hiccup. "Why does HE have a POTATO? Where did he get it from?"
"I will explain by telling you the story of Norbert the Nutjob's father and the Doomfang," said Old Wrinkly.
"You do that," said Hiccup, already feeling anxious at the mere mention of Norbert the Nutjob.
Old Wrinkly relit his pipe. "I have to warn you, Hiccup," wheezed Old Wrinkly between puffs, "that, like a lot of stories, this may or may not be true ..."
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[Image: The Hooligans thought that the world was FLAT and sailing too far to the West was a REALLY BAD IDEA.]
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The Story of Norbert the Nutjob's Father and the Doomfang
"Fifteen years ago," began Old Wrinkly, "the Chief of the Hysterical Tribe was Norbert the Nutjob's father, Bigjob.... The Hysterics have never believed that the world is flat, and that if you sail too far to the west you will fall off the end of it. The Hysterics think this is poppycock. Bigjob believed that the earth was as round as the moon, and he set out to prove it.
"Bigjob built the greatest Viking ship you have ever seen, a ship called The American Dream, and he sailed far, far to the west through storms as black and wild as Woden's nightmares. He sailed past icebergs higher than a ship's great mast and on and on over the Great Green Sea Desert, and however far he sailed he never came to the end of the world, for the world is as round as a circle, and a circle has no end. "
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Hiccup could contain himself no longer. "Is this true?" he burst out. "Is the world really a circle that has no end?"
"I have no idea," replied Old Wrinkly calmly. "As I told you, this is a story. Be quiet and I'll tell you the end.
"After a journey so long it seemed like forever, Bigjob at last found the land that he had dreamed about, the land called America. This tuas a glorious country, full of natural Treasures like the Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name, and friendly natives that Bigjob called 'Feather People. 'Bigjob spent a happy couple of months there before returning home to the Inner Isles.
"Norbert's father decided to take back with him a FROZEN VEGETABLE-THAT-NO-ONE-DARES-NAME, so that everybody would believe that he really had been to America. On the journey back, Bigjob had an extraordinary feeling the ship was being FOLLOWED. At first he thought it was a great whale or a shark, but eventually he realized it was something far, far worse. It was a tremendous Sea Dragon called a DOOMFANG."
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"That is strange,'' interrupted Hiccup. Hiccup knew a great deal about dragons, and this was very odd behavior for a Doomfang. Doomfangs are heavily armed, terrifying creatures, but they normally just ignore humans.
"Will you stop interrupting?" said Old Wrinkly.
"This dreadful animal followed them all the way from America like a Curse. It was only when they reached the Wrath of Thor that the animal attacked, and tried to swallow the boat. Bigjob was very brave. Riding his dragon the Thunderer, he shot arrow after arrow at the Doomfang. These specially sharp arrows had been given to Bigjob by the Feather People, who are very expert at making arrows. Bigjob was down to his last arrow when the Doomfang finally killed him. Ever since that day, the Doomfang has never left the
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Wrath of Thor. For fifteen years, no one has been able to get into Hysteria, and no one can come out. The Chief of the Hysterical Tribe is now Bigjob's son, Norbert the Nutjob, and he has never gotten over the death of his father. It is said that he keeps the frozen Vegetable-That-No-One-Dares-Name in a casket, and it is in as good condition as it was fifteen years ago.
"So there you are," said Old Wrinkly, "That is the story of Norbert the Nutjob's father and the Doomfang. Of course, at this time of year, the Wrath of Thor is frozen over, and the Doomfang is trapped under the ice. And Hysteria is only a three-hour sleigh ride from here."
Hiccup jumped to his feet. "I know," he said. "We were there only yesterday. We haven't got a moment to lose.... I must go to Hysteria and bring back the antidote."
Fishlegs's mouth dropped open. "I can't believe I'm hearing this.... You're thinking of GOING BACK TO HYSTERIA??? The creepiest, grimmest, scariest place I have ever been to in all my life, and you're going to go there in the DARK?"
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"The Hysterics won't see me coming in the dark," Hiccup pointed out.
"You shot Norbert the Nutjob in the bottom with an ARROW!" howled
Fishlegs. "You think you can just ask him politely to give you his precious American vegetable and he's just going to HAND IT OVER??"
"Burglary may be involved," admitted Hiccup. 'And all because of Old Wrinkly's SOOTHSAYING? Everybody knows that Old Wrinkly is nearly as hopeless at soothsaying as you are at Frightening Foreigners."
"Thank you," murmured Old Wrinkly. Fishlegs hadn't finished yet. "I keep on telling
you ... I have just got a BAD COLD.... A... a...a ... tish-yoo! Actually, I'm not feeling that well.... Would you mind if I lie down for a moment?"
"Be my guest," said Old Wrinkly. "You can have my bed ... and I'll make you some hot lemon and honey. Don't forget, Hiccup, you have until ten in the morning tomorrow, before Fishlegs dies ... TEN in the morning, mind..."
So Hiccup left Old Wrinkly looking after his great
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friend Fishlegs, and ran out of the door. He had finally realized he might not have much time left...
And although he didn't know it at the time, those were the first steps he took toward the scariest, the most alarming and ghastly adventure of his life so far. He was indeed setting out on a quest... a quest that would be a race against time and lead him to a terrifying monster and icy peril, which would be sung about by bards ever after as the Quest for the Frozen Potato.
[Image: A dragon.]
How to Cheat a Dragon's Curse (The Heroic Misadventures of Hiccup the Viking) Page 4