Thorfinn and the Dreadful Dragon

by David MacPhail

  “I’ve returned with some medicine for you, as promised.”

  Hazel gulped down the contents of the cauldron. “Ah, that feelsss better already,” she gasped.

  It didn’t take long, perhaps a few minutes, before her tummy rumbled and tendrils of smoke began to wisp out of her huge nostrils.

  “Duck, my little Thhh-orfinn,” said Hazel gently.

  Seeing the dragon’s mouth opening and a fire kindling in her throat, Thorfinn threw himself to the ground, grabbing Percy. A ferocious blast of fire thundered over their heads. When Thorfinn looked up again, Hazel was a different dragon altogether. The sad look was gone from her eyes, replaced by a fierce, fiery glint.

  “Thhh-orfinn, I feel fffantastic! Just like my old ssself again! However can I repay you?”

  Thorfinn smiled. “Well, dear pal, do you remember that favour I mentioned?”

  CHAPTER 14

  Lerwick’s Great Fire Festival was one of those few occasions when Vikings got together for reasons other than fighting.

  The town itself was made up of a jumble of wooden houses clustered around a bay. The narrow streets and harbourside were crowded with Vikings, all wearing different costumes. There were Scottish Vikings wearing tartan and doing the Highland fling, Russian Vikings wearing bearskins and Cossack-dancing, and English Vikings wearing monocles and shouting ‘I say’ a lot, adding ‘RAAR!’ afterwards to remind everyone they were still Vikings (and jolly fierce ones too).

  Local market traders were selling everything from barbecued meat to souvenir helmets with drinking horns attached. There was a fair too, and a Ferris wheel powered by a Highland cow. Vikings crammed onto it, singing songs in their great booming voices as it turned, while stuffing their faces with barbecued chicken legs.

  Thorfinn’s father, Harald the Skull-Splitter, cast a twitchy eye over the crowd from his spot on the harbour wall, then gazed up at the darkening sky. It would soon be nightfall, when the festival would really start. And there was no sign of Thorfinn and his crew.

  A huge horn sounded, and Harald turned, along with everyone else, to see his rival chief Magnus the Bone-Breaker leading his team of men up a slipway. Wearing their shiny armour, they heaved the boat ashore, bringing it to a halt at a prime spot beside some big rocks, backing onto the sea’s lapping waves. A crowd started to gather around them.

  “Skull-Splitter!” called Magnus. “I hope you brought your silver with you. When they see this ship going up in flames they’re going to make me the Guizer Jarl for sure!”

  Harald’s second in command, Erik the Ear-Masher, came rushing through the crowd, breathless. “We’re ready, boss!”

  “Good,” barked Harald. He had men waiting to spring open the gate of the market’s cattle pen. A nice stampede would hold things up for a while and maybe buy Thorfinn enough time to get there.

  “Where’s that son of yours got to?” barked Erik. Which was exactly what Harald was thinking. If he didn’t appear soon they’d be in trouble.

  A moment later, a tiny figure of a girl with red hair wheeled her way through the bustling crowd, dodging, ducking and swerving. She gave several kneecaps a good thwack with her axe handle when their owners failed to move fast enough.

  “You’re here!” yelled Harald with relief.

  “Wotcha, Chief!” answered Velda.

  “But where’s Thorfinn? And who is this decrepit fool?” He jabbed his thumb at the giant man with a droopy moustache who trailed behind her.

  “This…” Velda leaned forward, put her finger to her lips, then whispered, “is Hel the Dragonslayer.”

  “HEL THE DRAGONSLAYER?” bellowed Harald at the top of his voice.

  Velda slapped her hand against her forehead. “Big secret, Chief!”

  “Sorry!” Harald added, but it was too late. The words ‘HEL’ and ‘DRAGONSLAYER’ were passing quickly through the gathered crowd.

  “Look!” said someone. “Is that Hel?”

  “The Dragonslayer? He’s here?” gasped another.

  “Well,” said Erik the Ear-Masher with a sigh, “it’s not a secret now!”

  Harald silenced him with a stare from his twitchy eye, then turned back to Hel. “You must be joking! This wet fish, the famous dragonslayer?!” But even as he spoke, Hel was transforming. His shoulders straightened, his chest puffed out, and even his moustache perked up.

  “YES,” came Hel’s booming voice. “I am he, the famous dragonslayer!”

  The crowd pressed forward, moving away from Magnus and his men, and instead crowding round Hel to get a good look at the unexpectedly returned hero.

  Magnus eyed Harald angrily, muttering to himself, “What are you up to, Skull-Splitter? Hmm, I’m going to make sure you can’t ruin my big show…”

  Harald turned again to Velda. “But where’s Thorfinn?”

  “He said to meet him here,” said Velda. “He was going to bring the…” She hushed her voice as she began spelling out, “D.R.A.G.O.N.”

  Spelling had never been Harald’s strong point (he liked battles, not books), so it took him a while to work out what she was saying.

  “DRAGON!”

  Velda slapped her forehead again and Erik rolled his eyes. Now the word ‘DRAGON’ started echoing through the excited crowd.

  “Has the Great Dragon returned?” said someone.

  “Is that why Hel’s here?” guessed another.

  The clamour increased until the crowd seemed to swallow Hel up. People were asking for his autograph and chanting his name.

  At that moment, the rest of Thorfinn’s crew appeared, pushing their way through the horde of Vikings.

  Harek and Grut had grown tired of carrying Oswald, so they’d ‘borrowed’ a wheelbarrow from one of the local market traders. They were thoroughly enjoying steering him over the bumpiest bits of path. “Careful, you lumbering cretins!” the old man whined.

  Olaf stepped up next to his father, Erik, and tutted loudly. “Thorfinn will never make it. This crackpot scheme of his was hopeless from the start!”

  Oswald sighed, and pulled out The Book of Dreki from the folds of his cloak. He leaned over and whacked Olaf on the head with it. “It is thanks to Thorfinn that we even have a plan. Even I didn’t think it was possible. Yet Thorfinn tracked the Great Dragon down.”

  “Yeah, while the REAL Vikings like you were hiding aboard the ship,” mocked Velda.

  “So how long are we supposed to wait?” growled Erik. “If Thorfinn doesn’t arrive soon, we’re going to lose the village to Bone-Breaker and his barbequed boat!”

  “Forget Thorfinn, we have another problem,” said Velda.

  “What?” growled Harald.

  Velda nodded at the swarming crowd of Vikings. Hel was nowhere to be seen. “We’ve lost the dragonslayer.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “WHHEEEEEEE!”

  Thorfinn giggled as Hazel swooped through the sky, skimming the white fluffy cloud tops. He was perched on her enormous back, one hand holding on tight, the other clutching his helmet.

  “How do you like flying, Thhh-orfinn?” Hazel called back.

  “I think it’s a delightful way to travel,” replied Thorfinn.

  Hazel sucked in a great lungful of air and sighed. “Fffinally, I fff-eel like my old ssself again!”

  “Do you think we can make it to Lerwick in time, my dear friend?” asked Thorfinn.

  “I’ll try, but we’ll need to put on a bit of ssspeed. Now hhh-old on.”

  She gave her enormous wings a powerful flap, and dived into the clouds.

  ***

  Back in Lerwick, the Indgar Vikings split up into search parties to look for Hel. One group checked the harbourside, another checked the town. Gertrude went off to check the local swamp, although everyone knew she was just looking for an excuse to collect creepy-crawly ingredients.

  Velda, Grimm, Grut and Oswald, who was still in his wheelbarrow, headed straight for the local inn. Inside, they found Hel slumped on the bar, snoozing over a flagon of mead. And w
ho was sitting alongside him, topping up his drink from a big jug?

  “Magnus!” growled Velda. “So that’s your game!”

  Magnus the Bone-Breaker grinned at them as he stood up, his posh armour gleaming in the light from the fire. Hel’s head slumped forward, thumping on the table. He slowly rolled off the stool and crumpled to the floor in a heap.

  “Dear, oh dear, oh dear!” laughed Magnus. “I heard a rumour that Hel the Dragonslayer’s weakness was honeyed mead – it makes him sleepy. Looks like it was true! Well, whatever it is you lot are planning, it won’t involve him.”

  “You’ll never win, you overdressed snake!” snapped Velda.

  “How are you and your crew of cretins going to stop me? I’m off to set my boat ablaze. They’ll definitely make me the Guizer Jarl after seeing this.” He barged out of the inn, laughter bellowing in his chest.

  “All this sneaky business, it’s SOOOO upsetting!” moaned Grimm.

  “What are we going to do now?” asked Velda, staring down at the unconscious dragonslayer.

  “I often find eating helps,” said Grut, eyeing platters of meat being brought out of the kitchen.

  Oswald gave a yawn. “Ooh, I could do with a nice lie-down myself.” He promptly nestled down in his wheelbarrow and dozed off.

  “Fat lot of good you are!” yelled Velda.

  Then, from the corner of her eye, she caught a movement at the inn’s window. Percy fluttered in, landed on Hel’s chest and started pecking him on the breastplate. “Percy!” cried Velda. “That must mean Thorfinn’s not far behind.”

  A tiny parcel dangled around the pigeon’s neck. Velda unwrapped it to find a piece of paper, which she unfolded to reveal a message. “It’s from Thorfinn! He’s written instructions for our big show.”

  “But it’s no good without Hel!” wailed Grimm.

  “Wait! Thorfinn also sent this…” Velda held up a tiny packet of brown leaves. “He says it’s his delightfully strong tea, in case Oswald needs perking up.”

  Grut stared at the old wise man who was now snoring loudly. “Tea may work for some, but a ham sandwich would do it for me.”

  “Forget Oswald! Let’s use it to wake up Hel!” Velda tore open the packet and dropped a few of the tea leaves into a jug of warm water. Percy perched on the table and gazed into the jug, then up at Velda. He seemed to shake his tiny head.

  “You’re right, a bit more won’t hurt…” Velda emptied in the whole packet, giving it a stir.

  Grut held the dragonslayer’s mouth open and Velda poured in the tea. For a moment, all they heard was a great glugging sound as the mixture rushed down the big man’s gullet.

  Exactly two seconds later, Hel’s eyes shot open.

  “RRRRRAAARRRRGGH!”

  Hel leapt in the air. His giant head, topped with his horned helmet, crashed through the roof. He hung there for a moment, legs swinging, until he pulled himself out and landed with a colossal THUMP on his huge feet.

  “VVVVERY REFRESHING!”

  “Oi!” Oswald sat up in his wheelbarrow and waved his fist at Hel. “Keep it down, you oversized numbskull. Can’t you see I’m trying to nap?”

  “OK,” said Velda. “We’ve got Hel back, so what do we do now?”

  “Magnus is moving fast,” droned Grimm, pointing out the window towards the harbour. “Too fast! We’re done for!”

  “Then we’ll just have to move even faster,” said Velda. She grinned and kicked her roll-o-boots like a bull getting ready to charge.

  CHAPTER 16

  Outside, darkness had fallen, and the flaming torches of the Vikings lit up the night sky around the harbour.

  Magnus the Bone-Breaker stepped up onto a big rock next to his longship. His men, dressed in their glimmering armour, formed a circle around the ship. They broke into a loud cheer, drawing the attention of the crowd.

  Meanwhile, a short distance away, Erik the Ear-Masher was manning the gate to the cattle pen, gritting his teeth and clenching his fist. “Come on Harald, give the order!” He gazed over at his chief, waiting for the nod to unleash the cattle. Suddenly something whizzed past his face, blowing off his helmet. “Hey!”

  It was Velda, moving like a flash of lightning, ducking and swerving on her roll-o-boots through the crowd. “Out of my way, cretins!”

  Harald spotted her from his position on the harbour wall, and he spotted Percy too, flying above. What he didn’t spot was Grut and Grimm leading a tall hooded figure behind the crowd that surrounded Magnus’s longship.

  Velda screeched to a halt in front of Harald. “Chief! You’ve got to come with us!”

  “Where to?” barked Harald. “Where’s Hel? Where’s Thorfinn? And where’s this blasted dragon?”

  “I’ll explain.” She turned to Thorfinn’s crew, who were gathered nearby. “You lot! Get changed into your costumes, fast!”

  Velda led Harald and the others around the other side of Magnus’s boat. And in the nick of time too, as at that moment Magnus lifted a huge war horn into the air and blew on it. Very loudly.

  HONNNNKKK!

  A great silence fell upon the crowd.

  “Vikings!” Magnus roared. “Are you ready to witness the greatest Fire Festival spectacle you’ve ever seen?”

  Hundreds of bellowing roars filled the air in response.

  “YAAAAY!”

  “YAAAAH”

  “YIPPEEEE!”

  “Then watch THIS!” He turned to his men. “Ready, lads?” Giving a triumphant laugh, Magnus raised his torch in the air, poised to start the show.

  CHAPTER 17

  At that very moment, the sea behind them seemed to rise up, and a deafening roar rumbled through the air. The Vikings stood open-mouthed and stared, terrified – even Magnus, who had been about to toss his flaming torch into the boat.

  The water slowly cascaded away, revealing shiny red scales and spines, a set of sharp talons and piercing yellow eyes.

  The crowd gasped. “The Great Dragon! HELP! SAVE US!”

  Thorfinn was perched on the back of the dragon’s neck. He spat out some seawater, then leaned over and waved. “Hello! Lovely evening, isn’t it?”

  The Great Dragon flapped her giant wings and took to the night sky, soaring above the crowd and sending them into a panic.

  “We have to make sure everyone stays to see our show!” barked Harald, waving over at Erik the Ear-Masher. Seeing the signal he’d been waiting for, Erik flung open the gate of the cattle pen. The cattle stampeded, sending up clouds of dust (and one or two stinky cowpats). They blocked the exits to the harbour, trapping the crowd inside.

  Thorfinn leaned down and spoke quietly in Hazel’s ear. “Ahem, could you do it now, dear friend?”

  “Ffffor you – anything,” replied Hazel. The dragon took a deep breath. Her tummy rumbled, then her nostrils erupted with flames. A giant stream of fire engulfed Magnus’s longship.

  Magnus and his men scattered, screaming.

  Magnus himself, his bottom on fire, leapt into the harbour. “AAAAARGH!! MY BUM!!”

  As the ship blazed, Hazel swooped to the ground behind it, lowering her head to let Thorfinn climb off.

  Thorfinn doffed his helmet. “Thank you, Hazel. Now, would you mind awfully?”

  “Of course not,” replied Hazel. “What a polite little Thhh-orfinn you are!”

  The dragon angled her head down and nudged a path through the middle of the longship’s burning wreckage. As Hazel beat her wings and took to the air once more, Velda appeared at Thorfinn’s side.

  “Ready?” asked Thorfinn.

  “You betcha!” Velda grinned and flashed her boots. The wheels were alight. “What do you think? I coated everything in that black oil and then set it on fire.”

  “Excellent idea, old pal,” replied Thorfinn.

  “How about me?” whined Oswald. The wheel of his rickety wheelbarrow was aflame. “Pretty cool – as you youths might say – don’t you think?” He sounded a bit like an elderly penguin lying on a sun lounger trying
a fancy cocktail.

  “GO! GO! GO!” yelled Velda, and she skated through the burning timbers.

  One by one, the crew of the Green Dragon emerged from the longship. First Velda and her flaming roller boots, then Oswald in his fiery wheelbarrow, pushed by Grimm, moaning, “So this is how it ends – burned alive! Oh poor me!”

  The rest of Thorfinn’s crew followed in their sparkly suits.

  Gertrude sashayed out like a teapot, with her arm stretched out. “Oooh, I is a star!”

  Then came Grut, grumbling, “Do we get fed at the interval? I’m starving.”

  Next Harek leapt out, beaming with pride and winking at the crowd, which was a little bit scary given that both his eyes pointed in different directions. “At last! I made it onto the big stage!”

  Unfortunately, his big moment was short-lived because Torsten, who was following behind, crashed into him, and the two men tumbled off the burning boat.

  “AAAARGH!”

  SPLASH!

  Even Olaf had agreed to dress up, but only because he’d rolled his costume in cattle dung so nobody could see the glitter. “I’d rather stink than sparkle!” he said grumpily.

  Harald appeared last, his helmet horns blazing, looking every bit the giant, ferocious Viking chief.

  As the dragon wheeled and glided above, breathing fire menacingly, the crowd called to Harald. “HELP! SAVE US!”

  At that moment, Harald stepped to one side and beckoned out another figure from behind the burning ship, a huge Viking with broad, bull-like shoulders. Harald snatched the man’s hand and thrust it into the air as the waiting Vikings realised…