In this narrated excerpt from Chapter 12, "Escape from the Isle of the Scullions," the pirate crew discovers a chest brimming with jewels and a legendary sword called the Stormblade, once wielded by Grimbeard the Ghastly. Stoick claims the sword belongs to the chief of the Hairy Hooligans, prompting jealousy and conflict among the crew. As they attempt to close the chest, they realize it is booby‑trapped with a foul, fish‑like odor that could awaken the dormant Scullions—dangerous, smell‑sensitive beings. The smell intensifies despite their efforts, leading Hiccup to shout a warning to run just as the protective sleep‑sharpening of the Scullions ceases, signaling imminent danger. The passage blends vivid description, character tension, and a looming threat, setting up a high‑stakes escape scenario.
Chapters
Chapter 12: Escape from the Isle of the Scullions. The chest was not full of stones. It was full to the brim with a gorgeous treasure— strings of jewels, golden cups, objects more dazzlingly bright than anything the hooligans have ever seen before.
Is it safe to look? To look? Help!
asked Toothless with his eyes shut. Hiccup opened his eyes. I think so, he said uncertainly. He had drawn his sword as Snotlout opened the chest, and now he peered in. It seems, he said suspiciously, it seems to be just a box full of treasure.
Of course it is!
said Stoick.
What did I tell you? No booby traps! You have too much imagination, my boy. Sometimes you just, you have to leave things to the experience of your elders and betters.
Snotlout had already reached in and drawn out a truly magnificent sword, the scabbard richly decorated with dragons, skulls, and the waves of an angry sea. That sword fit for a pirate king. It made the soft hiss of a serpent as Snotlout gently drew it out of its scabbard, and as the sunlight glinted on the still bright, cruel blade, you could see how bitingly sharp it was, even after all of these years underground. On the handle was a furious portrait of Thor the Thunderer with a tangled seaweedy beard, and across the blade was a zigzag lightning pattern in a lightish silver. The Stormblade! breathed Baggybum the Beerbelly. It was indeed the Stormblade, Grimbeard the Ghastly's famous sword with which he had ruled Over the entire Inner Isles in such a ruthless fashion. As Snotlout waved it gently to and fro, it seemed to give off a fierce, hungry light of its own. Gently, Stoick reached over and took it from his nephew.
I think you'll find, said Stoick calmly, the Stormblade belongs to the chief of the Hairy Hooligans and to him alone.
There was a crafty, greedy look in his eye. As he threw aside his own sword and took hold of the Stormblade. Toothless wrinkled his snout and sniffed.
What's that smell? What's that smell? Smell? Smell? Smell? What smell?
asked Hiccup. That smell, replied Newt's Breath, making a face. Hiccup looked across at Fireworm, the greatest sniffer of them all. The normally flame-red dragon was drooping on Snoplet's shoulder, an extraordinary shade of pale green. Suffering scallops! shouted Hiccup. The scallions!
Shut the box!
And he launched himself at the box lid, trying to shut it.
The boy's crazy!
said Baggybum the Beerbelly, easily preventing Hiccup from shutting it by holding it open with one massive forefinger. Crazy with jealousy! sneered Snotlout.
Shut the box! Shut the box! Shut the box!
yelled Hiccup, struggling in Baggybum's arms. Now, now, my boy, said Stoick, irritated but trying to soothe his son.
You can find some treasure next time, I'm sure. We'll quite— we're quite safe. The skallions can't see us or hear us.
But they can smell us!
shouted Hiccup.
Greenbeard has booby-trapped the box with a smell, and that'll wake the skallions!
What do you mean, smell us? asked Stoick.
He gave an experimental sniff. Now the stench was so strong even the humans were noticing it. Firemen had already flown up in the heather. All the hooligans started sniffing, and there it was— an unmistakable reek of rotting fish and long-dead walrus, with perhaps a hint of moth-old crab meat.
Hmm.
Poo, muttered the hooligans, their attention wandering from the box.
Shut.
The.
Box!
yelled Hiccup, purple in the face from fury at their stupidity. Light dawned on Stoick the Varr's stupid countenance.
Ah, I see what you mean. Shut the box! Quickly, quickly!
At last he realized the urgency of the situation and shut the box, sitting on it for good measure. But it made no difference. The smell was getting stronger by the minute, an unimaginably horrid stench. If the Scullions caught just one whiff of that horrible smell, it wouldn't take long for them to wake up, and the thought was too awful to contemplate. And then Hiccup realized that the awful screech-scratch of the sleep sharpening had stopped.
That meant— Run!
shouted Hiccup. At exactly the same moment, Fireworm shrieked, Dessert! Dessert!
