‘OF COURSE it’s a sign…’
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‘It’s not a sign!’ squealed the Witch. ‘It’s not
a sign of anything apart from the fact that both
Grimbeard and Hiccup must have CHEATED!’
‘And I have MORE concrete evidence,’ said
Fishlegs.
‘Can’t somebody shut this boy up?’ snapped the
Witch.
‘The Map to find the Jewel is drawn on the back
of Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Last Will and Testament.
Hiccup saved that Will and Testament from the
burning of Prison Darkheart,’ said Fishlegs. ‘And I took
the precaution of looking after it for Hiccup. I think
there’s a clue there too…’
‘Grimbeard the Ghastly’s Last Will and
Testament!’ gasped the Druid Guardian. ‘Why didn’t
you mention this before? Read it to me, boy!’
Fishlegs held up the paper so that
all could see it.
‘“I leave to this my True Heir, This my favourite
Sword, Because the Stormblade always lunged a
little to the left, And the Best is not always the Most
Obvious…’ read Fishlegs. ‘And over the top of that,
Grimbeard has written: “Courage: What is within is
more important than what is without (this is not the
end I promise). Here is the map. And the map can lead
you to the Dragon Jewel.”’*
‘Ooh, that’s interesting,’ said everybody, for they
all loved a riddle. ‘The Best is not always the Most
Obvious… that CLEARLY refers to Hiccup because
he is obviously not the Best…’
*The Will first appears in Book 2 as well, but the second message is
written in invisible ink, and only appears with the application of Vorpent
Venom in Book 9: How to Steal a Dragon’s Sword.
‘And look! Alvin has the Stormblade! Which isn’t
Grimbeard’s favourite… which means that Alvin is not
the King…’
‘Look!’ said Barbara the Barbarian. ‘My black cat
has chosen Hiccup! Do you think this could be a sign
too?’
And indeed, Barbara’s black cat had jumped off
Barbara’s head, and was curling around Hiccup’s legs,
purring.
‘The King will not be chosen by a CAT!’ raged
the Witch. ‘Of course it isn’t a sign!’
But she was raging against an unstoppable tide.
This is how legends begin…
Hiccup’s recalling of how he had found the
King’s Things had reminded the Vikings of the past,
and they began to swap tales of when Hiccup had
saved their lives.
‘Hiccup saved my life three times, when I
was captured by the Romans, the Berserks, and the
Witch…’ boasted Camicazi.
‘He saved mine when we were on that cliff-face
at the Flashburn School of Swordfighting!’ called out a
young Hooligan.
And others called out: ‘Me too! Me too! Me too!’
‘And ours when we were about to be fed to the
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Beast of Berserk,’ said the Ten Fiancés.
‘Hiccup saved us when the Green Death was
terrorising the Isle of Berk,’ cried a Meathead.
‘And Hiccup saved US when we were trapped
on the Isle of Hysteria by the Doomfang…’ shouted a
Hysteric.
‘And he saved ALL OF US when that plague of
Exterminators descended on the Archipelago during
the long hot summer when the volcano exploded…’
yelled a Hooligan.
There is a moment in the affairs of humans that
is rather like the turning of the tides, or the changing
of the wind. One minute everything seems to be going
full-flood and full-blast in one direction. And then
something happens, a single voice like Fishlegs speaks
in what sounds like the voice of Destiny, the world
hangs in the balance, there is a moment of pause…
and then more voices speak, and more and more and
more, and suddenly the wind has changed, the tide
has turned, and everything is moving with tumbling,
gathering, unstoppable force, absolutely the other way.
These poor people had been brought through
despair and hunger, to the brink of following the
unspeakable Alvin. But Grimbeard’s letter, the Last
Will and Testament, Hiccup’s survival – suddenly these
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had given them hope once more.
And it has to be said, the Vikings were the kind of
people who felt things very strongly, very passionately
one second… but, like the changeable Archipelago
winds, were perfectly capable of changing their minds
and thinking the exact opposite the next.
‘Quick, Alvin! Think of something good you’ve
done recently!’ hissed the Witch. ‘Something that
might make you popular!’
‘Well… um… last week I stopped whipping the
slaves for a bit,’ suggested Alvin. ‘My whip-hand was
giving me blisters…’
‘Haven’t you ever saved anyone’s life?’ raged the
Witch.
‘I’ve been too busy saving my own life, Mother,’
Alvin pointed out. ‘And in some pretty spectacular
ways, even if I do say so myself…’
All around the ruined castle of Grimbeard the
Ghastly, the Vikings told each other of Hiccup’s good
deeds, and somewhere along the way, the tales were
elaborated on by the storytellers, and Hiccup was given
super-human and super-hero qualities, as is the way of
storytelling and storytellers since the beginning of time.
Very-Vicious the Visithug had been one of Alvin’s
most faithful followers, but even he jumped up on a
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ruined pillar, and bellowed at the crowd, holding up
his panting Hogfly in his cupped hands, like it was a
precious relic:
‘HICCUP WENT TO VALHALLA TO BRING
ME BACK MY HOGFLY!’
Which wasn’t strictly true, but it struck a chord
with the public mood. A boy of Destiny who could go
to Valhalla and bring back a Hogfly? Why, that might
be a boy that could pull off a miracle and finish this
War without ending the dragons!
‘If Hiccup really is a boy of Destiny,’ they said
to each other, ‘if he really is the Heir that Grimbeard
dreamed of, maybe Hiccup can save the dragons for
us… maybe he can bargain with the Dragon Furious…
if he can magically come back from the dead, like he
just did, perhaps he can do anything?’
‘Hiccup was dead…’ said a loyal Alvinsman,
shaking his head, in disbelief, ‘I saw the arrow go right
into his chest myself.’
It wasn’t the truth, but the storytellers only heard
what they wanted to hear, and the story was more
important than the truth, so they went right on telling
what they wanted to believe.
‘Hiccup has been to Valhalla, and come back to
walk among us, and anyone who can do that, well… I
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will follow him to the ends of the earth. HICCUP FOR
KING!’
‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP
FOR KING!
HICCUP FOR KING!’
‘NO!’ shrieked the Witch, beside herself with fury
as she howled and bit and raged at the stampeding,
applauding, clamouring crowd. ‘This isn’t REALISTIC!
YOU do not decide, you rabble! Where do you
think you are, the REPUBLIC OF ROME? This is a
dictatorship! This is Destiny! The scary old man with
the blindfold gets to decide who the King is, not YOU!
Not ANY OF YOU!’
‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!
HICCUP FOR KING!’
‘Silence! For if you offend the scary old man
with the blindfold, he shall call up his dreadful Dragon
Guardians of Tomorrow and they shall take you all
into oblivion and grind your bones to dust!’ swore the
infuriated Witch.
‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!
HICCUP FOR KING!’
‘Well, Druid Guardian,’ cried Valhallarama of the
White Arms. ‘What is the will of the people? I told the
people of the Archipelago when they gathered, once
before, in Prison Darkheart, that they do have a choice
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of Kings, and I ask them the question once again.
Should it be Alvin the Treacherous, who offers slavery
and the destruction of dragons forever? Or should it
be my son, Hiccup, who offers the hope of a new and
better world?’
‘This isn’t ABOUT the will of the people now!’
screeched the Witch. ‘You can’t sway this court of
opinion, Valhallarama, by putting on some silly little
Slavemark and claiming it is the Dragonmark!’
‘Does Hiccup have the Dragonmark?’ asked the
Druid Guardian eagerly. ‘Did you know that Grimbeard
took the Dragonmark at the end of his life as a sign of
his repentance?’
‘Oh stop it with these silly little signs!’ snapped
the Witch, absolutely purple with irritation. ‘You
should know better than to look for black cats and
superstitions! This is Fate! This is the future of the
humans! It’s about the will of the GODS!’
‘HICCUP FOR KING! HICCUP FOR KING!
HICCUP FOR KING!’
The Druid Guardian held up his arms. ‘The
Witch is right,’ he said. ‘This IS about the will of the
gods… SILENCE!’
The peoples of the Archipelago stood silent in
the Castle.
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The Druid Guardian held up the Crown, offering
it up to the gods above as if it were a sacrifice.
Alvin stood on the Druid Guardian’s left and
Hiccup on his right.
‘COME GREAT POWERS OF DESTINY
AND DARKNESS!’ called the Druid Guardian
up to the stormy heavens. ‘COMETH THE MAN,
COMETH THE HOUR. BUT HERE I HAVE
TWO HEROES, AND I CANNOT CROWN
TWO KINGS. TELL ME, SWEET GHOST OF
GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY: WHO IS THE
TRUE KING OF THE WILDERWEST? WHAT IS
THE WILL OF THE GODS? GIVE ME SOME SIGN
OF YOUR INTENTIONS!’
There was a long, long pause, while the
stormclouds above raged and crackled. The humans
in the ruined Castle held their breaths, and out in the
circle of Wrecker’s Bay, it seemed as if the dragons did
too, a great quiet descending on the world as all leaned
in to listen to the Druid Guardian’s verdict. The Druid
Guardian swayed as he stood there in that silence,
swayed and trembled as if he were receiving some
message from the gods and the ghost of Grimbeard
the Ghastly through the crackle and flash of the storm.
The Dragon Guardians were speaking to him. All the
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dragons around Hiccup had buried their heads in their
chests, and had their paws over their ears, suggesting
an extraordinarily high frequency that only the dragons
and the Druid Guardian could hear.
The Druid Guardian muttered to himself, in
reply to the Dragon Guardians: ‘Really? Well, bless my
soul… How interesting… Your eyes are better than
mine… I bow to your superior judgement…’
Alvin stood on the Druid Guardian’s left and
Hiccup on his right.
It seemed an age before the Druid spoke.
But before he did, something happened, and who
knows whether this was the final thing that tipped the
balance? It certainly LOOKED spectacular.
The crowd had their concrete evidence. Now they
just needed a sign from the gods that they were making
the right choice.
And they got one.
There was the Druid Guardian, standing with one
hand on Alvin and one hand on Hiccup, like an ancient
pair of scales. And then Hiccup slowly, slowly rose up,
and levitated in the air, magically, with no visible means
of support, as if he were being picked up by the hand
of a giant invisible god…
A miracle!
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Hiccup flying upwards without wings!
The gods had spoken!
That wasn’t what was really happening, of course.
Thousands and thousands of tiny little
nanodragons had flown out of their secret hiding
places in the bracken and the grasses and the heather
all round about the Castle, and descended upon the
tattered fire-suit of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the
Third.
They clung on to that fire-suit with their
thousands and thousands of tiny little legs, and then
they rose up into the air, carrying Hiccup with them.
‘Ziggerastica…’ whispered Hiccup to himself,
in astonishment, as he looked at his Firesuit, suddenly
alive with minuscule, humming little
nanodragons. Ziggerastica was the
King of the nanodragons, and as
it happens, Hiccup had saved
Ziggerastica’s life once. But
Hiccup had not seen the little
King for a number of years,
so it was a little spooky that
his numberless minions were
appearing out of nowhere
at this critical
moment, apparently to assist him.
‘You pay no attention to us, but
we pay attention to you,’ buzzed
the nanodragon swarm
all together in tiny little
malevolent voices, as if
they were answering
Hiccup’s unspoken
question, and
somehow even when
they were helping
him, they managed
to do it with an
air of menace.
To the watching crowds, who could not see the
humming nanodragons carrying Hiccup upward, it
looked like a miracle, a sign from the gods, and it was
the final evidence they needed.
‘A MIRACLE! A MIRACLE!’
‘I CAN SEE THE HAIRY KNUCKLES
AND FINGERS OF THOR HIMSELF ACTUALLY
HOLDING HIM!’ screamed an imaginative
Bashem-oik, and once he had SAID it, of course,
what was pure fantasy springing from the mind of the
Bashem-Oik become at once absolute truth in the
minds of the others.
The crowd gasped with excitement. ‘
HICCUP!
HICCUP! HICCUP IS THE KING!’ as gently the
little nanodragons dangled Hiccup about a foot or so in
the air, and the Druid Guardian whispered, ‘The Final
Sign…’ with a sigh as the little nanodragons gently put
Hiccup down again.
So Destiny and Fate were decided, at the last,
by the mighty great Dragon Guardians speaking down
ominously from the sky, and the tiny little nanodragons
speaking up sneakily from the grasses.
Which seems appropriate somehow.
At last, the Druid Guardian spoke the fateful
words in a strange ethereal voice, as if receiving
instructions from another world.
‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL
BE THE KING FOREVER…
‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL
LAY DOWN HIS LIFE FOR HIS PEOPLE…
‘HE WHO WEARS THIS CROWN SHALL
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RULE ABSOLUTELY…
‘THE NEW KING OF THE WILDERWEST
SHALL BE…
The Druid Guardian trembled, and then he
turned to face Hiccup.
‘Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third.
‘Because what is within is more important than
what is without… The Best is not always the most
obvious…
‘… and sometimes the Will of Grimbeard the
Ghastly, and the will of the gods, and the will of the
people are the very same thing.
‘We have found ourselves a King,’ said the
Guardian quietly.
Alvin staggered as if somebody had shot him.
The Witch screamed, ‘NOOOOOOOOO!’
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12. THE CROWNING OF THE
KING OF THE WILDERWEST
Rustling by Hiccup’s earhole was the unmistakeable
red-and-black spotted form of Ziggerastica, King of the
nanodragons, looking rather older than when Hiccup
saw him last, but every bit as self-important.
‘The Dragon Furious seemed to think that his great size meant that
he could tell ME what to do, O Boy-With-No-Muscles-at-All!’ snorted
Ziggerastica. ‘I, Ziggerastica, Great High Despot of the Northern Grasses,
Terror of the Bracken, Scourge of the Heather and Kingmaker Extraordinaire!
How DARE he presume to tell ME to revolt!’
‘That was unwise,’ Hiccup whispered back.
How to Train Your Dragon: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury Page 12
