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    How to Train Your Dragon: How to Cheat a Dragon's Curse


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      You don’t have to read the Hiccup books in order.

      But if you want to, this is the right order:

      ABOUT HICCUP

      Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third was

      an awesome swordfighter, a dragon-whisperer,

      and the greatest Viking Hero that ever lived.

      But Hiccup’s memoirs look back to when

      he was a very ordinary boy, and finding

      it hard to be a Hero.

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the

      author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons,

      living or dead, is coincidental.

      Text and illustrations copyright © 2006 by Cressida Cowell

      Cover design by Kristina Iulo

      Cover © 2010 Hachette Book Group, Inc.

      All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading,

      and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful

      piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the

      book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the

      publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

      Little, Brown and Company

      Hachette Book Group

      237 Park Avenue, New York, NY 10017

      lb-kids.com

      Little, Brown and Company is a division of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

      The Little, Brown name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

      The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.

      First ebook edition: June 2014

      ISBN 978-0-316-33567-6

      E3

      ~ CONTENTS ~

      1. The Hunting-with-Bows-and-Arrows-on-Skis

      Expedition ........................................................15

      2. Sabre-Tooth Driver Dragons...............................29

      3. The Hunters Become the Hunted........................48

      4. Is There Something Wrong with Fishlegs?...........67

      5. Smashsticks-on-Ice............................................79

      6. What Old Wrinkly Said.......................................89

      7. The Quest for the Frozen Potato........................100

      8. The Wrath of Thor..............................................110

      9. Back on Berk.....................................................118

      10. Freya’sday Eve on Hysteria.............................120

      11. In the Soup......................................................131

      12. Will Toothless Save the Day? ..........................151

      13. The Great Potato Burglary...............................158

      14. The Potato-Burglars’ Run.................................176

      15. They Might Just Make it, Now..........................182

      16. The Doomfang..................................................186

      17. The Quest is Over.............................................196

      18. Fishlegs...........................................................207

      19. The Final Chapter.............................................214

      Epilogue.................................................................233

      1. THE HUNTING-WITH-

      BOWS-AND-ARROWS-ON-SKIS

      EXPEDITION

      Winters were always cold in the Viking Lands.

      But this winter was the coldest in a hundred

      years. It was so cold that the Sullen Sea had frozen over,

      and all the islands in the Inner Isles were now joined

      together by a great flat desert of solid ice, two

      metres thick in places.

      On this particularly cold

      morning several hours before

      breakfast, it was as if the whole

      15

      world was holding its breath, frozen in time. The air was

      as sharp as broken glass, no sound disturbed the pure

      snowy silence.

      No sound, that is, apart from an appalling, mad

      screaming coming from somewhere out in the middle

      of the ice.

      For a small party of young boys and their

      teacher from the Hooligan Tribe had set out from

      the little Isle of Berk where they lived to the Island of

      Villainy to the south.

      Not in a boat, of course, for you cannot sail

      across a frozen sea.

      16

      They were speeding far too fast across the ice

      in an enormous wooden Viking SLEIGH, pulled by six

      pure white Sabre-Tooth Driver Dragons larger than lions

      and faster than cheetahs.

      The dreadful mad yelling was coming from the

      man driving the sleigh, Gobber the Belch. Gobber was

      the teacher in charge of the Pirate Training Programme

      on Berk, and he was an enormous monster of a man

      wrapped up in furs who could easily have been

      mistaken for a grizzly bear with a dirty red beard and

      an attitude problem.

      ‘GEDDONWITHIT YOU MISERABLE

      WHITE WORMS!’ roared Gobber at the Sabre-Tooth

      Dragons, cracking his whip above their heads. ‘I’VE

      HAD SNAILS THAT HAVE MOVED QUICKER

      THAN YOU LOT! MY GRANNY COULD SKIP

      FASTER THAN THIS AND SHE’S A HUNDRED

      AND FOUR! YEEEEEEHAAH!!’

      One gigantic furry arm lashed out with a whip

      that curled through the air like a great black serpent,

      the other shook the reins in a lunatic frenzy that sent

      the Driver Dragons bounding forwards in terrible

      uncontrolled leaps.

      Behind Gobber on the sleigh sat twelve of

      his pupils.

      17

      Ten of these boys were ugly young thugs yelling

      as loudly in crazy excitement as their teacher.

      ‘YEEEEEEEHAAAAH!’ they whooped, as the

      sleigh hit a snowbank and sailed ten metres through

      the air and then slammed back down on the ice with

      stomach-churning violence.

      ‘YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAH!!’

      The last two boys were smaller than the rest and

      a lot less excited.

      ‘I’m glad,’ gasped Hiccup Horrendous Haddock

      the Third, as the sleigh tipped over wildly on one

      runner with an awful screech and spray of ice, ‘I’m glad

      I didn’t have breakfast because I think it would have

      come up again…’

      Hiccup is, in fact, the Hero of this story, although

      you would never have guessed it to look at him. He

      was small, and red-haired, and very, very ordinary.

      Hiccup’s best friend Fishlegs, a skinny runner-

      bean of a boy with asthma and a squint, wasn’t

      really listening. He was praying to Thor with his eyes

      squeezed tight shut.

      ‘Please, Thor,’ begged Fishlegs, ‘please make it

      stop…’

      Fishlegs’s prayer was about to be answered.

      The sleigh was approaching the great black cliffs

      18

      of the Visithugs Territo
    ries far too impossibly fast for it

      to stop in time…

      ‘Don’t open your eyes, Fishlegs,’ advised Hiccup.

      Gobber the Belch reared up and with a mighty

      roar of ‘WOOOOOOAH!!!’ leant back so far pulling

      on the reins that he was nearly horizontal. The Sabre-

      Tooths came to a plunging halt so sharply that the

      sleigh wheeled round in a mad arc… they were going

      to slam into that cliff at such a speed they would all be

      smashed to splinters…

      ‘AAAAARGH!’ yelled Hiccup, shutting his

      eyes too.

      The sleigh screeched to a quivering halt. Hiccup

      opened his eyes again. Astonishingly, they were still

      alive. But the smooth black wall of the cliff was only

      centimetres away from Hiccup’s cheek. Hiccup held on

      to the rock for a second to help himself stop shaking.

      ‘RIGHT!’ bellowed Gobber, clambering out of

      the sleigh entirely unconcerned. ‘WHAT ARE YOU

      ALL DOING SKULKING IN THERE? GET OUT

      AND STAND TO ATTENTION YOU PATHETIC

      DRIBBLES OF EARWIG DROPPINGS!’

      Yawning and chattering, all twelve boys

      unpacked skis from the back of the sleigh, and

      attached them to the bottom of their furry boots.

      For six months of the year the Vikings lived

      under SNOW… so a Viking Warrior had to be just as

      good at SKIING as he was at SAILING.

      This was a Hunting-with-Bows-and-Arrows-

      on-Skis Expedition. The boys had to ski down Mount

      Villainy, the largest mountain in the Inner Isles,

      shooting with their arrows as many Semi-Spotted

      Snowpeckers as they could.

      ‘I’m going to get at least FIFTY,’ boasted

      Snotface Snotlout, a tall thug of a boy with huge

      nostrils and a moustache like a little furry caterpillar

      squirming on his upper lip.

      20

      ‘SILENCE!’ screamed Gobber, cracking his

      whip.

      There was absolute silence immediately. It’s

      a curious fact, but a heavily armed, mad, six-and-a-

      half-foot teacher holding a whip tends to get his class’s

      attention.

      ‘I will be staying here to guard the sleigh,’ yelled

      Gobber. ‘Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third will

      be in charge of the Hunting Party when you get to the

      mountain.’

      Ten of the boys groaned and turned round to

      look furiously at Hiccup.

      ALL of them reckoned they would make better

      leaders than Hiccup.

      Snotlout had won the Senseless Violence Cup

      three years in a row. Wartihog could smash chairs to

      pieces with his bare fists. Dogsbreath the Duhbrain

      burped so loud he shattered glass.

      Small, skinny and unimportant, only Hiccup

      looked like he had no leadership skills whatsoever. He

      stood on one leg apologetically and this made his skis

      cross and he fell over.

      ‘Why does HICCUP get to be in charge

      AGAIN?’ demanded Snotface Snotlout through

      gritted teeth.

      22

      ‘Because Hiccup is the son of the CHIEF and

      one day he will be in charge PERMANENTLY, Thor

      help us all…’ explained Gobber, helping Hiccup to his

      feet and dusting the snow off him with one hairy hand.

      ‘Any questions?’ boomed Gobber.

      Fishlegs put up his hand. ‘Just a small point, sir,’

      he said. ‘How are we going to climb up the mountain in

      the first place?’

      ‘The Sabre-Tooth Dragons will DRAG you to

      the top ON your skis,’ replied Gobber. ‘It shouldn’t take

      more than half an hour.’

      Fishlegs and Hiccup looked dubiously at the

      great white creatures crouching dangerously on the

      ice, tongues spilling out over teeth as sharp as swords,

      cat-like eyes gazing at their small human Masters with

      the purest hatred.

      23

      ‘So that’s that, then,’ said Gobber. ‘I shall wait

      for you here and see you all in three hours’ time… I

      really need a NAP… way too early for me…’

      Gobber settled himself on the furs of the sleigh

      and gave an enormous yawn. ‘Oh, and one more thing…

      as you know, nobody lives on the island of Villainy, but

      the island of Hysteria is just next door and I should

      warn you that at this time of year there may be Hysterics

      about…’

      24

      ‘HYSTERICS???’ squeaked Fishlegs, somewhat,

      well, hysterically. ‘But the Hysterics are trapped safely in

      Hysteria, aren’t they?’

      HYSTERICS, I should explain, were a

      particularly bloodthirsty and lunatic Tribe of Vikings.

      Even tough Tribes like the Visithugs were scared of the

      Hysterics. Hiccup had never actually met a Hysteric, but

      he knew they were renowned for killing you first, and

      asking questions later.

      Normally they didn’t trouble the other Tribes,

      however, because three-quarters of the island ended in

      dizzyingly high cliffs plunging straight into deep seas,

      and on the north coast was the Wrath of Thor, where

      an impossibly huge and monstrous Sea Dragon called

      the DOOMFANG lived.

      The good news about this was that nobody

      could get into Hysteria, and even more importantly, the

      Hysterics could not get out.

      Except at this time of year…

      ‘Because at this time of year,’ boomed Gobber

      happily, ‘the Wrath of Thor is all frozen over, and the

      Doomfang is trapped under two metres solid of ice. So

      if you do happen to come across a Hysteric – and I’m

      SURE you won’t, it’s far too early in the morning – I

      suggest you ski like fury in the opposite direction.’

      And just like that, Gobber fell asleep.

      26

      Sabre-Tooth Driver Dragons

      Sabre-Tooths are enormous lion-like dragons that

      do not hibernate, and are therefore very useful

      to the Vikings for pulling their sleighs, and

      dragging them up mountains during the winter.

      They have been known to eat their owners.

      ~STATISTICS~

      COLOURS: Always white

      ARMED WITH: Sabre-Teeth and spikes on head.

      FEAR FACTOR:.................6

      ATTACK:...........................7

      SPEED:.............................7

      SIZE:................................7

      DISOBEDIENCE................6

      2. SABRE-TOOTH DRIVER

      DRAGONS

      Gobber’s enormous snores rang out like a walrus calling

      out to another walrus some fifty icebergs away.

      As if they were all a part of the same creature, the

      pack of Sabre-Tooth Driver Dragons settled themselves

      down on the ice and refused to move. By Woden’s Armpit,

      but those Drivers were BIG.

      The boys looked at them.

      ‘Well come on, then, Hiccup,’ grunted Wartihog

      impatiently. ‘Take charge!’

      Hiccup cleared his throat and used his most

      reasonable voice. ‘OK, guys,’ he said in Dragonese.* ‘I

      don’t want any trouble…’

      ‘Oh look, it talkssss…’ hissed a particularly large


      and savage-looking Sabre-Tooth. He was missing an eye,

      and from the specially royal way he held himself, seemed

      to be the Leader of the Pack. ‘The little Human

      Tadpole is speaking the noble Dragon tongue…’

      The other Drivers laughed jeeringly.

      ‘We all know what we’re supposed to be doing

      here...’ Hiccup continued.

      30

      ‘We know what WE’RE going to be doing,’

      sneered the Driver, closing his one eye and settling

      himself comfortably. ‘WE’RE going to have a nice

      long sleep right here while you sweat it up the

      largest mountain in the Inner Isles…’

      ‘Oh for Thor’s sake!’ exploded Snotface Snotlout.

      ‘That girly “speaking Dragonese” stuff isn’t going to

      work with these brutes!’

      Snotlout grabbed the black whip from Gobber’s

      relaxed hand, and cracked it.

      Snnnnnnaaaap!

      The Driver Dragons blinked open their eyes.

      Snotlout cracked the whip again, this time

      letting the end of it lash the face of the Sabre-Tooth

      with the one eye. The Driver sprang to his feet with

      a yowl of pain and the rest of the pack followed him,

      furious but respectful. The boys cheered.

      ‘That’s the way to do it!’ grinned Snotlout,

      whipping another of the dragons for the pure pleasure

      of it. The animal howled and Snotlout laughed. ‘Disobey

      ME, would you, you SNIVELLING CRAWLING

      PIECES OF FORKED-TONGUE RUBBISH! This’ll

      learn you!’

      ‘Don’t do that, Snotlout,’ said Hiccup quietly.

      Hiccup didn’t normally stand up to Snotlout, but he

      31

      couldn’t bear to see an animal as proud and dignified

      as a Sabre-Tooth Driver made to dance about like a

      monkey.

      Snotlout stopped what he was doing to turn on

      Hiccup.

      ‘What’s this?’ sneered Snotlout. ‘Is Hiccup the

      Useless trying to tell Snotlout the HERO what to do?

      Face it, Hiccup, the snow will turn as blue as Gobber

     


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