How to Be a Pirate - Cowell Cressida. Страница 4

"CURSED BE HE WHO DISTURBS THE REMAINS OF GRIMBEARD THE GHASTLY THE GREATEST PIRATE WHO EVER STRUCK TERROR INTO THE INNER ISLES."

Hiccup felt a cold clammy shiver run down his back, and he suddenly knew that something really bad was going to happen.

Grimbeard the Ghastly had been Hiccup's own great-great-grandfather.

"The Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly" was a popular Hooligan Saga. It told of how

Grimbeard had won a glorious treasure through his brilliance at piracy and swordfighting, a treasure that included his famous sword, the Stormblade.

[Image: The storm blade.]

[Insert: Owned by Grimbeard the GHASTLY the greatest Viking Sword ever]

But after twenty years of glorious rule, Grimbeard had disappeared on a mysterious quest, and neither he nor the treasure were ever seen again.

And now here, out of the blue, one hundred years later, his coffin had appeared back on the shores of Berk. ... It was spooky.

"OOOOOOOOH," chattered Wartihog in excitement. "Do you think there might be TREASURE in there, sir? Can we open it, sir? Pleasesir, pleasesir, can we open it?"

All the other boys joined in the clamor ... except for Hiccup.

Hiccup knew that Grimbeard had been the ULTIMATE in pirate-ness, the GREEDIEST, GRISLIEST, GORIEST Viking who had ever sailed and slew and farted his way across the Northern Seas.

Treasure or no treasure, if a man like Grimbeard the Ghastly was telling you not to mess with his coffin, it was Hiccup's personal opinion that you ought to listen.

Even if he had been dead for a hundred years.

Particularly if he had been dead for a hundred years.

"Right," said Gobber, just as excited as

everybody else, "we're going to have to forget about the Advanced Rudery lesson. This is an Important Discovery and I think we should take it straight to Stoick the Vast and the Council of Elders. Bearhug, Sharpknife, Wartihog, Clueless, pick it up and carry it back to the Hooligan Village. ..."

The boys hauled the coffin onto their shoulders.

"Don't just hang about shivering, you lazy lug-fish," Gobber bellowed crazily. "This is Pirate Training, not a holiday with your mother on the Mainland. QUICK MARCH, one-two, one-two, one-two...."

He set off at a brisk trot towards the Hooligan Village.

The boys sighed and began to stumble after him.

Snotlout and Dogsbreath the Duhbrain sauntered over to Hiccup, who was sitting, trying to catch his breath on a large rock, shivering violently.

"A shame that Dogsbreath was interrupted," sneered Snotlout, "just when things were getting interesting, don't you think, Dogsbreath?"

"Yeah," grinned Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.

"I reckon," said Snotlout thoughtfully to the remaining boys, "that Hiccup must be the most pathetic swordfighter I have EVER seen, don't you

think, guys? I mean, face it, Hiccup, somebody who fights like a granny with a back problem is NEVER going to be Chief of this Tribe...."

"Oh, and so who is going to be Chief of this Tribe if Hiccup isn't?" asked Fishlegs, still lying spread-eagled on the sand in the exact position where he had fallen off the coffin. "Let me guess ... YOU, I suppose?"

Snotlout flexed his muscles, making the skeleton tattooed on his right biceps grin smugly.

"I AM the obvious choice," he said. "I've got noble blood" (Snotlout was Hiccup's cousin, the son of Baggybum the Beerbelly, the Chief's younger brother), "charisma, good looks" (Snotlout stroked the rather unpleasant little straggly hairs on his upper lip that he was trying to grow into a mustache), "and I'm BRILLIANT at absolutely everything...."

Unfortunately this was true.

Snotlout was a natural at Mindless Violence, superb at Advanced Rudery and practically everything else.

"... particularly swordfighting," said Snotlout, drawing his sword from its scabbard.

The other boys gasped.

"Wow," breathed Speedifist. "The latest Double-Sided Extra-Biting Supa-Sword. Curving inner edges, silverpoint finish ... where did you get THAT from, Snotlout?"

"This is the Flashcut," boasted Snotlout, swishing the beautiful sword around so that everybody could get a good look. "Makes that silly Swiftpoint Scaremaker that Dogsbreath lost for you look pretty weak, doesn't it, Hiccup? Let me show you how swordfighting should be done. This," sneered Snotlout, lunging athletically, "is a Perfect Pointer. ..."

Hiccup dodged.

[Image: The latest double sided extra-bitin supa-sword like Snotlout's flashcut.]

"And this is the Destroyer's Defense. ..." Snotlout gave an animal howl and brought the sword down over his head, stopping just before he cut Hiccup in half.

"And that," jeered Snotlout, slashing the Flashcut expertly from side to side and then leaping forward suddenly, the sword ending up just inches away from

Hiccup's heart, "that is a Grimbeard's Grapple.... But I expect a loser like you, who couldn't even beat a three-year-old in diapers, hasn't even heard of moves like that."

Hiccup said nothing.

"THAT, dear cousin," sneered Snotlout, "is HOW TO SWORDFIGHT." He put his sword back in its scabbard.

"Yup," he said, very pleased with himself, "I'm a genius. I'm going to make the best Chief this Tribe has ever had."

"It's just a shame," said Fishlegs, "that your brain isn't as big as one of your nostrils."

Snotlout looked irritated for a second as all the other boys laughed. He grabbed Hiccup by the scruff of the neck and lifted him clear off the ground.

"Amazing how the wooden case to that sword fell off, wasn't it?" he spat right into Hiccup's face. "You were lucky this time ... but the question is, can you be lucky ALL the time? Think about it, LOSER. Come on, Dogsbreath. Let's leave the girlies to get their beauty sleep."

He dropped Hiccup and as he went he trod heavily and deliberately on one of Fishlegs's hands.

"Whoops," laughed Snotlout.

"Har Har Har Har," snorted Dogsbreath the Duhbrain.

And they jogged off.

"If Snotlout is EVER Chief of this Tribe, I'm emigrating," said Fishlegs, shaking his hand.

"Are you all right, Fishlegs?" asked Hiccup with concern, as he gazed down on Fishlegs still lying flat on his back.

"Perfect," croaked Fishlegs, coughing up a bit more seawater. "I do love an early morning swim. How about you?"

"Oh, couldn't be better really," said Hiccup bleakly, taking off one of his boots and pouring out a flood of seawater and a couple of small fish.

[Image: Hiccup.]

"My first day at Pirate Training and I've already been humiliated by my pathetic swordfighting, beaten to a pulp, shipwrecked, and narrowly escaped Death by drowning. And it's not even ten o'clock yet."

"Maybe it was the SWORD that was the problem," suggested Fishlegs kindly but untruthfully.

Hiccup brightened up.

"You could be right," he said eagerly. "It felt a bit light in my hands. Perhaps I need something a bit chunkier, you know, to get some weight behind my swing." He did a few imaginary lunges in the air. "That must be it, because I still have this feeling that swordfighting is going to be my thing, you know?"

"Um, yeeeessss," said Fishlegs, not wanting to hurt Hiccup's feelings by mentioning that it had been the worst display of swordfighting he had seen, EVER. "And you need a lot more PRACTICE, don't you think?"