Hooligan War Cry – YAAAAH!’
‘Wait!’ whispered Hiccup, frantically
scrambling up behind him. ‘Don’t do anything rash!’
But it was too late.
Hiccup reached the top and Fishlegs threw
himself over the side screaming ‘Y-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-
A-H!’ at the top of his voice. Gobber really would have
been proud of him.
Fishlegs landed on the deck, swinging his
sword around his head in his most menacing and
barbaric fashion, expecting to be faced by two or three
terrified Peaceable fishermen.
Instead of which, three hundred and fifty of
Rome’s finest soldiers, heavily armed with the latest in
modern weaponry, swivelled round to look at him.
‘Oh brother…’ whispered Hiccup to himself,
still swinging from the rope and peering over the rim
of the boat. ‘So much for this being our lucky day…’
45
3. OUT OF THE COOKING POT
AND INTO THE BARBECUE
‘Uh-oh…’ said Fishlegs.
This was most definitely NOT a Peaceable
fishing boat.
It was, in fact, a sizeable Roman ship, seventy
metres long from stern to prow. The sails were pure
white, and high above, when Hiccup craned his neck,
he could see the Roman flag of the Imperial Eagle
flapping cheerily in the wind. The boat was crammed
with what looked like an entire legion of Roman
soldiers, who were now looking at Fishlegs with
astonishment and fury.
There was a gigantic iron cage set near the mast
of the boat.
An enormous number and variety of dragon
species were being held prisoner behind the bars of
this cage. Deadly Nadders, Flying ’Gators, Big
Spotted Gormlesses, Yellow Vampires, Common-or-
Gardens – you name it, they were all there, trapped
together in a furious tangle of talons and wings and
fangs, ready to be sent back to the restaurants and
46
shoemakers in Rome.
‘Oh, for Thor’s sake,’ whispered Hiccup. ‘Roman
Dragonrustlers. I do not believe this…’
‘Ah…’ said Fishlegs with a nervous smile,
backing towards the edge of the boat, ‘I seem to have
made some sort of mistake. This is the wrong boat, you
see…’ He tried to laugh in an airy fashion. ‘So sorry to
disturb… carry on with what you were doing why
don’t you…’
The nearest soldier, who was a six feet five
centurion with legs like tree trunks, drew his sword
with a nasty flourish.
‘And where do you think you’re going?’ he
asked Fishlegs in Latin*. He put out a big hand to
grab Fishlegs and Fishlegs ducked under his arm in
the nick of time.
‘GET HIM!’ yelled the big centurion and six or
seven more soldiers made a leap towards Fishlegs.
Now, if Hiccup had been a traditional Hooligan
Hero, he would have drawn his sword, Endeavour,
and launched himself over the side to the aid of his
* Latin was the language spoken by the Ancient Romans. Most Vikings did not
understand this language, but Hiccup had been secretly taught a little Latin by
his grandfather, Old Wrinkly. ‘Might come in useful,’ Old Wrinkly had said. (As
indeed it did, on occasions too numerous to mention.)
47
friend, shouting the Hooligan War Cry at the top of
his voice.
But then if Hiccup had been a traditional
Hooligan Hero, he would have been dead as a kipper
several books ago. A noble kipper, perhaps, a
gloriously brave kipper; but, nonetheless, a very, very
dead kipper.
48
Instead, Hiccup sneaked over the edge of the boat
as quietly as he could. As soft as a ghost, he hid behind a
couple of jars of olive oil beside a bit of the deck that
was covered by a large tent.
In the meantime, Fishlegs was being chased by the
Roman soldiers. The chase didn’t last long. Fishlegs
ducked and dodged as best he could but finally ran into
the stomach of a gigantic centurion who picked him
clear off the ground.
‘Look who we have here…’ bellowed the
centurion, as Fishlegs kicked his legs like a stranded
beetle. ‘A scary little Viking trying to attack us all
on his own…’
‘Har har har!’ The other three hundred and forty-
nine soldiers thought this was very funny.
‘This is all a big mistake,’ wailed Fishlegs,
scratching himself violently as his eczema started coming
out with the anxiety of the moment. ‘Please let me go…’
‘Let’s take you to the Boss, little barbarian,’
said the centurion. He carried Fishlegs over to the tent
where Hiccup was hiding.
Hiccup peered out from behind his jar. Gently, he
drew back the curtain so he could see what was
happening.
49
Bright red in the face and trembling and itching,
Fishlegs was brought before two richly dressed men
reclining under the tent just a metre away from where
Hiccup was crouching.
One of these men was very, very fat. So fat, that
parts of his stomach were dripping over the edge of his
couch and were being held up by a small slave. The
other man was thin and wearing a fancy helmet with a
gigantic plume and a face guard that covered his eyes.
The Fat Roman was eating nanodragons in honey
from a plate on a low table in front of him.
Nanodragons were a tiny species of dragon as
numerous as insects. They were about the size of
locusts. The poor creatures were still alive and were
wriggling but unable to escape from the honey that
gummed up their wings. Hiccup could hear their
pathetic cries for help as the fat fingers picked them up
and gobbled them down.
The Fat Roman was difficult to understand
because he was talking with his mouth full.
‘By Jupiter, Prefect,’ drawled the Fat Roman
through a big helping of nanodragon. ‘I do believe we
have been attacked by a teeny-weeny little barbarian…’
‘So we have, Consul,’ replied the Thin Prefect. ‘I
recognise this one. He is a member of one of the
local Tribes I was telling you about. I’m worried
that these Tribes might object to OUR
FIENDISHLY CLEVER PLAN.’
‘Oh yes, remind me what is our Fiendishly
Clever Plan again?’ asked the Fat Consul.
‘One, disguise ourselves cunningly as Hooligans
and kidnap the heir to the Brutish Bog-Burglars…’
‘Marvellous,’ spluttered the Fat Consul.
‘Two,’ said the Thin Prefect evilly, ‘disguise
ourselves cunningly as Bog-Burglers and kidnap
the heir to the Hairy Hooligans…’
‘You’re a genius,’ gurgled the Fat Consul.
‘Three, the Bog-Burglars and the Hooligans
are so busy fighting each other, they do not
notice us STEALING EVERY SINGLE DRAGON
IN THE INNER ISLES!’
&nbs
p; ‘Bravo!’ shouted the Fat Consul.
Hiccup would have loved to hang around and
discover more about the plan. But he had important
work to do. He had to get Fishlegs and himself off
this ship alive.
Luckily, although everyday life as a Viking was a
big struggle for Hiccup, he always came into his own
52
The Romans’ Fiendishly
Clever Plan
I The Romans disguise themselves
cunningly as HOOLIGANS and kidnap
the Heir to the BRUTISH BOG-
BURGLARS…
II The Romans disguise themselves
cunningly as BOG-BURGLARS
and kidnap the Heir to the
HAIRY HOOLIGANS…
III The BOG-BURGLARS and the
HOOLIGANS are so busy fighting
EACH OTHER they do not notice the
Romans…Stealing EVERY SINGLE
DRAGON IN THE WHOLE OF
THE INNER ISLES!!!
Her her her her her (evil laughter)
in a crisis. And this sure was a crisis.
Hiccup quickly summed up the problem. On the
other side: three hundred and fifty of Imperial Rome’s
finest soldiers armed with javelins, swords, spears,
arrows, entrenching tools, etc etc etc. On his side: two
scrawny Vikings and two small dragons, one on strike
and one in a coma.
Yup, it was a crisis.
Hiccup’s eye was caught by a tiny
Electricsquirm clinging to the edge of the curtain. He
looked from the Electricsquirm back to the cage of
dragons. All that talk about distracting had given him
an idea.
Perhaps he could use the Electricsquirm to
distract the Romans’ attention so that he could tiptoe
up and open that cage of dragons. The dragons would
rush out and attack everybody, and in the confusion,
Hiccup could rescue Fishlegs…
Hiccup got out his handkerchief, wrapped it
around his hand and picked up the Electricsquirm
very, very carefully by the tail.
As its name suggests, the Electricsquirm gives a
truly terrible electric shock if you touch it in the wrong
place. The tail is fine, because it is made of some sort
54
The ELECTRICSQUIRM
This nanodragon is not aggressive, but it
gives a truly terrible (although not fatal)
electric shock when touched. Like their close
cousins the Glow-worms, these creatures can
be used as a source of light if no flame or
candle is available.
~STATISTICS~
COLOURS: Transparent
FEAR FACTOR:.............. 4
ATTACK:................ 6
SPEED:.................... 2
SIZE:........................ 1
DISOBEDIENCE:........... 3
Horny tail does not conduct electricity
of horny material that does not conduct electricity. But
every other part of its body is likely to electrocute you.
Hiccup dropped to his hands and knees and softly
pushed aside the curtains of the canopy.
The Thin Prefect and the Fat Consul were still
deep in conversation.
The Fat Consul had nearly finished his
nanodragons-in-honey. There was only one nanodragon
left on the plate, struggling to escape. No one was
looking at it; the two men were far too busy talking.
Hiccup crawled forwards, reached up and
removed the nanodragon, putting it in his pocket. At
least he had saved one of the poor creatures. He
replaced the nanodragon with the Electricsquirm, which
was almost exactly the same size.
Hiccup then crept away towards the cage of
dragons.
Still talking, the Fat Consul reached out with one
fat hand to grab another portion of nanodragon. His
porky fingers scrabbled around in the honey for the
final juicy morsel… and closed around the stomach of
the Electricsquirm.
All thirty-eight stone of the Fat Consul soared
quite one metre in the air.
56
His hair stuck up and out like a hedgehog,
sparks flew out of his ears and his great blubbering
mounds of flesh lit up with a strange blue light and
quivered and shivered and wobbled and jiggled
hysterically like a truly gigantic pink jelly that has been
struck by lightning.
A few seconds later he fell to earth again. His
toga turned to ashes around him and the vast flabby
acres of his enormous stomach went on wobbling for
the next ten minutes.
While everybody’s attention was being drawn to
the Fat Consul doing a one-man impression of the
northern lights, Hiccup quietly lifted the wooden bar
of the dragons’ cage.
The next moment there was pandemonium
aboard the deck of the Roman ship as the dragons
poured out in a furious, shrieking, snapping and
flaming river of beaks and wings and talons and tails,
attacking the Romans, setting fire to the sails and
causing no end of damage.
The Thin Prefect climbed on top of his couch in
order to have a better view of what was happening.
‘Hiccup!’ he said to himself under his breath.
‘This is the work of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the
Third or I am a freshwater crayfish – which I’m not of
course. Well, I’ll flush you out of your hiding place, my
fine fellow, you see if I don’t… CENTURION!’
This command was directed at the Roman
soldier who was still holding Fishlegs upside down by
his left ankle.
‘Prepare to execute the prisoner!’
The centurion drew his sword with a flourish and
swung it up over his head.
‘HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICUP!’ screamed Fishlegs,
absolutely terrified.
This was not part of Hiccup’s plan.
‘TOOOOOOOOOTHLESS!’ screamed Hiccup.
59
4. TOOTHLESS TO THE
RESCUE
Toothless had spent the last ten minutes muttering to
himself at the top of the mast. At first he was so full of
self-pity he had no time to worry about what was
happening to his masters. ‘NOBODY loves T-T-
Toothless,’ he said to himself. But then the noises from
the Roman ship got louder, and the boys did not
reappear, and he started to get worried.
When he heard Hiccup’s YELL for help the
little dragon called off his strike.
He zoomed off his perch and flew to the ship,
and even from the height he was flying, his sharp little
eyes immediately spotted that way down below on the
deck there was a large Roman centurion who was
holding Fishlegs by the leg. The centurion was about
to execute Fishlegs with his sword.
Toothless folded his wings back and went into a
dive, just as he might do if he were hunting mackerel
or herring. His target was the centurion’s head, and by
the time he reached it, he was going so fast he was a
little dragon blur. He tore into the helmet, sending
60
feathers from the plume flying in all directions,
and bit
and scratched as hard as he could.
The centurion let out a yell of surprise and rage.
For a moment he was knocked off balance, but he
recovered when he realised his attacker was only a very
small dragon. Fishlegs swung desperately from side to
side, trying to break free; but the centurion was made of
tough stuff. He tightened his grip on Fishlegs’s ankle and
swung his sword around, trying to hit Toothless with it.
So Hiccup grabbed a passing Slitherfang and
shoved it up the centurion’s tunic.
The centurion let out a bellow and dropped Fishlegs.
Wouldn’t you?
A Slitherfang in the knickers is no laughing
matter. The centurion hopped from foot to foot,
clutching his bottom and squealing like a pig as he
tried to catch hold of the nibbling, wriggling,
scratching Slitherfang in his underwear.
‘Let’s get out of here!’ howled Hiccup, hauling
Fishlegs to his feet.
He also picked up a Roman helmet that was
lying on the deck nearby. They were going to have
some explaining to do to Gobber when they got back,
and this might help.
61
All around them there was chaos, with
dragons attacking Romans and Romans attacking
dragons and trying to put out the fires the dragons
were making.
Hearts racing as fast as rabbits, panting and
stumbling, Hiccup and Fishlegs ran as fast as they
could to the spot where they had boarded the ship.
The rope was still in place, The Hopeful Puffin would
be waiting down below on the other side… Fishlegs
got to the edge first, and scrambled over. Hiccup was
only a few steps away from him… when a hand
grabbed the back of his tunic, ripping out his pocket.
Hiccup’s book, How to Speak Dragonese, fell
on to the deck.
Hiccup stopped to reach down and pick it
up…
… and came face to face with the glitteringly
triumphant eyes of the Thin Prefect through the iron
visor of his helmet. Hiccup’s heart turned to ice. The
Prefect was holding on to the other end of the book.