an interesting twist in the tale. Grimbeard the Ghastly
certainly knows how to test a King! Now the boy has
to go out and face the might of the Dragon Furious in
single combat without a Jewel, and I rather think that
the result of that battle is a foregone conclusion…’
She made a very unpleasant sound, like
frog-bones rattling in a tin, which was the sound she
made when she laughed, which was not something she
did often.
‘See how the web turns and twists,’ she grinned.
‘NOW I understand why Destiny might have wanted
the Hiccup to be King. So that Hiccup could go out
and take Alvin’s place, just as Snotlout took Hiccup’s
place yesterday. Hiccup is going to die instead of Alvin!
Heh heh heh… Isn’t Fate artistic?’
Stoick and Valhallarama were white with horror.
Their hands crept instinctively towards one another.
‘But does this mean… Does this mean that
Hiccup still has to go out there and face the might of
the Dragon Furious in single combat all on his own?’
Stoick stuttered. ‘Without a Jewel to protect him? But
that will mean… that will mean…’
‘Certain death,’ said the Witch with relish.
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15. PREPARING FOR THE
FUNERAL – SORRY, SINGLE
COMBAT
‘No!’ Stoick roared.
‘Never!’ Valhallarama bellowed.
‘Now, now, Stoick and Valhallarama,’ tutted
the Witch. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a little
over-protective? The boy has to grow up some time.
After all, he IS a King now…’
‘And you heard the vow that he just made,’
taunted the Witch. ‘What was it? It was so sweet… “I
promise that I will lay down my life for the sake of my
people.” Surely you would not have him break such
a solemn promise so early in his Kingship? After all, a
promise is a promise, if it is made in blood.’
Ah, Grimbeard the Ghastly, this was to be stern
Test indeed for the newly crowned King.
All the gaiety of the triumphant humans had gone
now. And preparing Hiccup for the single combat took
on more of the aspect of dressing someone for their
own funeral.
How could they prepare a reed of a lad like
Hiccup, who was wounded on top of everything else, to
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fight a dragon the size of a mountain in single combat?
It was quite touching to see the great, muscled,
hairy Warriors fussing around the boy like anxious
walruses, as if they could do something, anything, to
help him with this fight. They offered the boy their
advice, their favourite weapons, their superstitious
objects… as if by all this kerfuffle, they could cover up
the fact that this was completely hopeless, and the boy
was doomed.
‘King Hiccup,’ said Humungously Hotshot the
Hero. ‘Every dragon has its weakness, and I would
advise you to aim at the skin above the Dragon
Furious’s heart, where he has a scar already.’
Gobber the Belch bustled forward. ‘Remember
your spear-throwing lessons, my boy? You just take
this spear of mine, and aim it at that weak spot and…
bingo! One dead dragon-the-size-of-a-mountain!’
Gobber enthusiastically thrust his spear into
Hiccup’s hand, but unfortunately it was so heavy that
Hiccup could barely lift it, let alone throw it.
‘I’ll lend you my cat, if you like?’ suggested
Barbara the Barbarian. ‘It seems the least I can do.’
‘You will need my fire-suit, Hiccup,’ said Stoick,
swallowing hard to contain his emotion. ‘Your own is
far too ragged to give you any protection in case… in
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case…’ He did not finish the sentence, and instead
helped his son into his own fire-suit as if he were a
five-year-old, for Hiccup’s arm was too swollen to dress
himself. The sleeves and legs were far too long, but
Stoick rolled them up.
And then other Warriors pressed forward,
offering helmets and breastplates and visors, until the
new King was so wrapped around with armour that he
could barely move, and he insisted on taking some of it
off again.
‘I have to be able to breathe, guys,’ said Hiccup
gently. ‘I know you want to be helpful, but I can’t carry
ALL of your armour, because Windwalker would fall
out of the sky.’
‘I would give everything in the world to go out
there instead of you, Hiccup,’ said Stoick, choking over
his words.
It is a father’s worst nightmare to watch his son
go out and face the death that he would gladly have
taken instead of him. But Stoick knew his son must go
without him, and he also knew in his heart of hearts
that the end had come. However, at the very least, he
would know his son went out into battle with his love,
and the best armour he could give him.
Valhallarama offered Hiccup her own advice. It
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was stern advice indeed – but Valhallarama was made
of stern stuff.
‘Do you remember the letter I once sent to you,
Hiccup?’
Hiccup frowned, thinking back in time.
Once, when he was a very young boy, he had
got himself in some terrible scrape or another, and he
remembered crying in front of his father, because he
wanted Valhallarama to help him, and yet again she was
not there.
‘She’s an amazing woman, your mother,’ Stoick
had said, and he shook his head solemnly, with great
pride. ‘She’s doing great things out there, Hiccup, you
should be very proud of her.’
‘But why isn’t she here, with us?’ asked the little
Hiccup, only five years old. ‘She’s doing important
Hero-work,’ explained Stoick patiently. ‘Some Heroes
have to work alone. She’s a very great woman, your
mother.’ Stoick beamed with pride and shook his
head. ‘Quite extraordinary she married me – the most
beautiful woman in the Archipelago, married me!’
Then much later, when he was about ten years old
and trapped in the dungeons of the Danger-Brutes, in
desperation, Hiccup had written to the Hero Mother
that he longed for, missed so much, cried for, for so
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many nights. ‘Save me, Mother!’ the letter had said. He
had given the letter to a passing mail dragon. The reply
came one week later, when the mail dragon returned,
burnt and ragged. A starving, despairing Hiccup had
opened it up eagerly.
This is what the letter said:
Stop expecting other people to save you.
YOU are the Hero.
Save yourself.
(If you want another answer, try another woman.)
Your loving mother,
Valhallarama
At the time, Hiccup had not appreciated that letter. He
had been so upset he had torn it up into little pieces
and thrown the pieces out
of the bars of the windows,
and watched them fall down, down into the sea.
But Hiccup had escaped from the dungeons of
the Danger-Brutes without his mother’s help.
And now, perhaps, he understood a little better.
Valhallarama put her hands on her son’s
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shoulders. Her stern, bright blue Warrior eyes looked
straight into Hiccup’s.
‘I cannot change the Warrior-soul in me,’ said
Valhallarama. ‘My armoured arms cannot give you the
soft hugs I see other mothers give their sons. But this
is, nonetheless, good advice, Hiccup, if you care to take
it. YOU are the Hero. Save yourself.’
‘Where is the King’s riding-dragon?’ called the
Druid Guardian.
The Windwalker flew down and knelt before
Hiccup, his raggedy wings trembling.
‘You do not have to come with me, Windwalker,
if you are afraid,’ said Hiccup.
‘Of course I must come with you, Master,’
whispered the Windwalker. ‘You cannot ride into
battle without your riding-dragon.’
‘You’re definitely not coming with me,
Toothless,’ said Hiccup firmly. ‘You stay here, where
it’s safe.’
‘Toothless j-j-jolly well IS coming with you!’
said Toothless indignantly. ‘T-t-try and stop me!’
Hiccup sighed. Toothless had never been the
most obedient of dragons at the best of times and he
could see that there was absolutely nothing he could do
to stop Toothless from following him.
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‘And actually…’ said Toothless carelessly, ‘you
might need another GINORMOUS s-s-seadragon
with you to protect you, just in case things get a
l-l-little dangerous you know…’
He could see himself now, Toothless, the Terror
of the Archipelago, the Horror of the Oceans, storming
through the seas in all his splendid toothless glory, while
smaller more insignificant dragons fled in front of him,
squealing: ‘No, Toothless, no… please, have mercy,
mighty Toothless…’
‘What about us?’ said Camicazi. ‘Fishlegs and
I are allowed to come with you, aren’t we, as the
Companions of the Dragonmark?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said the Druid Guardian.
‘The King can take his hunting-dragon and his
riding-dragon, but the King must go alone, because
otherwise we are breaking the law of single combat.’
‘Remember,’ wheezed Old Wrinkly, ‘little
grandson, remember…’ As he embraced Hiccup,
the old man tapped a bony finger on Hiccup’s heart.
‘What is within is always more important than what is
without.’
Hiccup put a hand on Camicazi and Fishlegs’s
shoulders, and said goodbye to them last.
‘Thank you,’ he said simply. ‘You have both been
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the truest and the best friends that a person could ever
have, and I would never have got here without you.’
Stoick helped his lopsided son climb up on the
back of Windwalker.
Hiccup settled himself steadily, and turned to face
his subjects, on their feet now, all with drawn swords
and solemn faces, for quietly, while the King was being
made ready for the single combat, they too had been
making ready for the Final Battle. They knew that after
Hiccup faced his Doom, they would face their own.
But there was a sort of relief, in a way, for even
though they might lose that battle, there is a joy in
knowing that you are fighting on the right side.
Hiccup swallowed, so petrified he could barely
move or speak.
He was terrified… but he was ready. He was
prepared for this.
He was setting out, on the back of the
Windwalker, just like Snotlout had two days ago.
Snotlout had shown the way a Hero should face
certain death.
Hiccup felt the Black Star to give himself
courage.
Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock went
Grimbeard the Ghastly’s ticking thing at Hiccup’s
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waistband, ticking down the minutes to Hiccup’s
doom.
He was a King now, even if only a King for a
brief moment, and he knew that a King had to make a
speech.
‘Thank you Peoples of the Archipelago,’ said
Hiccup, ‘for the gifts that you have given me. When I
carry them into battle, I will be carrying you with me
too. I am honoured to lay down my life for you all, if
that is what Fate decrees should happen. I promise you
that I will fight this combat with all of my heart, and I
ask you just one thing. Could you sing for me, as I ride
into battle? If you all sing together, I will hear it while
I am out there, facing the Dragon, and it will help to
give me courage…
‘I will feel that you are fighting by my side…
‘I am proud to be a King of this Wilderwest,
but I am prouder still to be a Hero. For
long after Kings are forgotten,
and their names have
fallen into
dust, the good deeds and the actions of the Heroes
live on in glory. As the old song says: a Hero… IS…
FOREVER…’
Hiccup nudged Windwalker with his knees and,
trembling and shaking, the brave black dragon leapt
into the sky. As he leapt, the crowd began to sing.
And although the peoples of the Archipelago
spent a lot of their time fighting, burgling and
ransacking, they were a surprisingly musical lot. It was
a shock to hear the tattoed, muscly, burnt and ragged
characters open their mouths, and the words come
ringing out, every note pure and true, singing the words
of Grimbeard’s Last Song, just as Snotlout had sung it,
two days earlier.
‘I sailed so far to be a King, but the time was never
right…
I lost my way on a stormy past, got wrecked in
starless night…
But let my heart be wrecked by hurricanes and my
ship by stormy weather
I know I am a Hero and A HERO IS FOREVER!’
And the Witch, whispering to herself with glowing eyes:
‘And a promise is a promise, if it is made in blood…’
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16. SINGLE COMBAT
Wrecker’s Bay was the scene of this final battle
between dragon and human.
The combat ring looked like the setting of a play
in a great theatre, where the audience stood on the
edges waiting to applaud, or to boo, and eventually,
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if Fate decreed, to storm the stage, and put their own
lives to the test.
Hiccup and the Windwalker flew on, into the
ring of fire to face the Dragon Furious, with Toothless
and the Wodensfang flying on either side, so close that
their wing-tips touched the Windwalker’s wings as if
they were holding hands.
Tick tock tock tick tock tick tock tick tock went the
ticking thing.
Once (oh, it seemed
a long time ago now), in
the first of Hiccup’s adventures, he had faced another
Seadragon that he thought had been called the Green
Death, but in earlier times had been known as the
Dragon Merciless. Hiccup had walked out to see that
Dragon alone, and the Dragon had lit the grass around
him so that he was standing in the middle of a ring of
fire.
This was another ring of fire entirely.
This time, as if to mark the occasion, the Dragon
Rebellion had, it seemed, set the whole world on fire.
The cliffs of Wrecker’s Bay, all on fire. The islands of
Silence, Villainy, Hysteria, Grimbeard’s Despair, all on
fire. Hiccup was surprised that there was any vegetation
left to burn, but it appeared there was. All on fire.
To the west, the isle of Tomorrow, with the
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humans, lined up like little ants, watching solemnly
from the clifftop. To the east, the victorious dragons
of the Dragon Rebellion, and beyond them the wasted
islands, blackened or in flames. Above, the hovering
Dragon Guardians, watchful, their eyes flicking like
cats from one side to the other, as if trying to decide
which side to go for.
Down below, buzzing in the grasses, the little
unobserved nanodragons making their own judgements
on the play, ticking in their little tiny voices:
‘You do not see us, peoples of the Archipelago, but we see you…’
They were all there; pretty much all the people
and dragons that Hiccup had ever known over twelve
long adventures, and they would all play their part,
big and small, in this coming battle, for a Hero, even a
King-Hero, does not fight alone.
But until the single combat was over, stern Viking
law said that only the Dragon Furious and the human
King could enter the combat ring.
The winner of that single combat would either
decide to end the War entirely, or they could give the
signal for the War to continue.
The stakes were high.
If Hiccup won, he would end the War.
But if the Dragon won, he would declare the
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Final Battle, and the waiting humans and dragons on
How to Train Your Dragon: How to Fight a Dragon's Fury Page 15
