Lois Letchford reads Chapter 12, where Hiccup faces the Green Death alone on a beach. The dragon, half-asleep and singing about predators, discusses filleting creatures and the nature of being eaten. Hiccup stalls it with riddles and philosophy, discovering the beast is terrifying but oddly reflective.
Chapters
Chapter 12, The Green Death. It is one thing to approach a primeval nightmare when you are part of a crowd of 400. It is quite another to do so on your own. Hiccup had to force himself to put one foot In front of the other. Stoick offered to send a guard of his finest soldiers, but Hiccup preferred to go alone. Less chance of anybody doing anything heroic and stupid, said Hiccup. Although this part of the story that bards tend to focus on as the bit where Hiccup was particularly heroic, I do not agree. It's a lot easier to be brave when you know you have no alternatives. Hiccup knew in his heart of hearts that the monster intended to kill them all anyway, so he didn't have a lot to lose. Nonetheless, he was sweating as he peered over the edge of the cliff. There below him was the impossibly large dragon. Filling up the beach. It appeared to be asleep, but an eerie singing was coming from the direction of its belly. The song went something like this. Watch me, great destroyer, as I settle down to lunch. Killer whales are nasty because they've got a lot of crunch. Great White sharks are scrumptious, but here's a little tip. Their teeny-weeny pointed teeth can give a nasty nip. How odd, thought Hiccup. He can sing with his mouth shut. Hiccup nearly jumped clear out of his leggings when the dragon opened both his crocodile eyes and spoke directly. Why so odd? Said the dragon, who appeared to be amused. A dragon with his eyes shut is not necessarily asleep, so it follows that a dragon with his mouth shut is not necessarily singing. All is not what it seems. The noise that you hear is not me at all. That, my hero, is the sound of a singing supper. A singing supper? echoed Hiccup, quietly remembering that you should never, ever look into the eyes of a large, benevolent dragon like this one. He fixed his gaze firmly on one of the dragon's talons instead. This was a mistake, as Hip Hop suddenly realised that the dragon was holding a herd of particularly bleating sheep captive under one massive claw. He pretended to allow one of them to escape, let the poor animal practically reach the safety of the rocks, then picked it up by its wool with a delicate pinch of movement and tossed it way, way up into the air. This was a trick Hiccup had often done himself, but with blackberries. Now the dragon threw back his great head and a woolly speck fell down into the terrible jaws, which closed behind it with a mighty crash. There was a horrible sound of crunching as he chewed and swallowed the unfortunate sheep. The dragon saw Hiccup watching him in fascinated horror, and he brought his ridiculously enormous head down closer to the boy. Hiccup nearly passed out as his offensive dragon breath poured out of its— in a disgusting yellow-green vapour. It was the stench of death. A deep, head-spinning stench of decaying matter, of rotting haddock's heads and sweating whale, of long-dead shark and despairing souls. The revolting steam curled its way around the boy in repellent coils and wormed its way up into his nose until he coughed and spluttered. Some people say you should debone a sheep before you eat it, sneered the dragon confidently, but I think it adds just a nice crunch to what would otherwise be a bit of a soggy meal. The dragon burped. A belch came out as the perfect loop of fire that soared through the air like a smoke ring and landed on the heather surrounding Hiccup, setting it alight so that for a moment he was standing right in the middle of a circle of bright green flames. The heather was damp, however, and the blaze flared for only a few minutes. Hiccup! Then extinguished itself. Oops! giggled the dragon evilly. Pardon me, a little party trick. He then placed one gigantic claw against the edge of the cliff that Hiccup was standing on. Humans, however, continued the dragon thoughtfully, Humans really should be filleted. The spine in particular can be very tricky as it goes down the throat. As the dragon spoke, he extended his claws, the talons slowly emerging from the thick stumps of his fingers and rising up until they resembled nothing more than gigantic razors, 6 feet wide, 20 feet long, with points on the end like a surgeon's scalpel. Removing the backbone is a delicate job, hissed the dragon nastily, but one that I am particularly good at. A small incision at the back of the neck— he gestured at Hiccup's neck— and a swift stroke Downwards. And flicked out. It's practically painless. For me. The dragon's eyes lit up with the purest pleasure. Hiccup was thinking very fast indeed. There was nothing like staring death in the face for speeding up your thoughts. What did he know about dragons? that would work against an invincible monster like this one. He could see the dragon motivation page he had written in his mind's eye. Gratitude. Dragons are never grateful. Fear. Clearly hopeless. Greed. Not a good idea to approve to this particular point in time. Vanity and revenge. could be useful, but he couldn't quite think how. That left jokes and riddle-talk. This dragon looked a bit exalted for jokes, but from his manner of talking, he clearly fancied himself as a bit of a philosopher. Maybe Hiccup could buy himself some time if he engaged him in a riddling conversation. I heard of singing for your supper, said Hiccup. But what is a singing supper? Ah, good question! said the dragon in surprise. An excellent question, in fact. He drew back his claws and Hiccup sighed with relief. It's a long time since the supper has shown any intelligence. They're generally too bound up with their little lives to bother about the really big questions. Now let me think, said the dragon, as he thought he forked a protesting sheep on the end of a talon, then chewed on it reflectively. Hiccup was sorry for the sheep, but deeply grateful that it wasn't him. Disappearing down the ravenous reptilian gullet. How shall I put it to a brain so much smaller and less cleverer than mine? The thing is, we are all, in a sense, supper. Walking, talking, breathing suppers. That's what we are. Take you, for instance. You are about to be eaten by me, so that makes you supper. That's obvious, but even a murderous carnivore like myself will be a supper for worms one day. We're all snatching precious moments from the peaceful jaws of time, said the dragon.
