A storm washes two colossal sea dragons onto the beach. The larger one is mountain-sized and dark green, encrusted with barnacles. Stoick reverses Hiccup's banishment and calls a council of war, but the Vikings question his judgment as the crisis unfolds.
Chapters
Chapter 11, Thor Is Angry. The storm raged through the whole of that night. Hiccup lay unable to sleep as the wind hurled about the walls like 50 dragons trying to get in. Let us in! Let us in! shrieked the wind. We're very, very hungry! Out in the blackness and way out at sea, The storm was so wild and the waves so gigantic that they disturbed the sleep of a couple of very ancient sea dragons. Indeed. The first dragon was averagely enormous, about the size of a largish cliff. The second dragon was gobsmackingly enormous. Vast. He was that monster mentioned earlier in the story, and the great beast who had been sleeping off his Roman picnic for the past 6 centuries or so, the one who had recently been drifting into a lighter sleep. The great storm lifted both dragons gently from the seabeds like a couple of sleeping babies. And washed them on the swell of one indescribably enormous wave onto the long beach outside Hiccup's village. And there they stayed, sleeping peacefully while the wind shrieked horribly all around them like wild Viking ghosts having a loud party in Valhalla. Until the storm blew itself out and the sun came up on a beach full of dragon and very little else. The first dragon was enough to give you nightmares. The second dragon was enough to give you your nightmares' nightmares. Imagine an animal about 20 times as large as a Tyrannosaurus Rex. More like a mountain than a living creature. A great, glistening, evil mountain. He was so encrusted with the barnacles, he looked like he was wearing a kind of jewelled armour. But where the little crustaceans and the coral couldn't get a grip in the joints and crannies of him, you could see his true colour. A glorious dark Green. It was the colour of the ocean itself. He was awake now and had coughed up the last thing he had eaten, the standard of the 8th Legion with its pathetic ribbons still flying bravely. He was using it as a toothpick, and the eagle was proving very useful for teasing out those irritating little pieces of flesh that get stuck between your 20-foot back teeth. The first person to discover the dragons was Bad Breath the Guff, who set out very early to check how his nets had fared in the storm. He took one look at the beach and rushed We, we have a problem! said Bad Breath. What do you mean, a problem? snapped Stoick the Vast. Stoick had not slept at all. He had lain awake worrying. What kind of father did put this precious law before the life of his own child? But then, what kind of a son would fail the precious law that his father had looked up to and believed in all his life? By the morning, Stoick had made the awesome decision that he was going to reverse the solemn pronouncement he had made on the beach and unbanish Hiccup and the other boys. It is weak, Stoick, Of me! Weak! said Stoick to himself gloomily. Squidface the Terrible would have banished his son in a twinkle of an eye. Loudmouth the Gouty would have positively enjoyed it. What's the matter with me? I should have banished myself, and no doubt that is what Mogadong the Meathead is going to suggest. All in all, Stoick was not in a state There are a couple of humongous dragons on the long beach! Tell them to go away! You tell them! Stoick stomped off to the beach. He returned again, looking very thoughtful. Did you tell them? Tell it? The larger dragon has eaten the smaller one, and I didn't like to interrupt it. I think I shall call a council of war. The hooligans and the meatheads woke that morning to the terrible sound of the big drum summoning them to a council of war. Only used in times of dreadful crisis. Hiccup woke with a start. He had hardly slept at all. Toothless, who had crept into bed with Hiccup that night before, was nowhere to be seen, and the bed was stone cold, as he had obviously been gone for some time. Hiccup dragged his clothes on hurriedly. They had dried overnight. And was so stiff with salt it was like putting on a shirt and leggings made out of wood. He wasn't sure what he was meant to do, as this morning was the morning he was supposed to go into exile. He followed everybody else to the Great Hall. The meatheads had spent the night there anyway because it had not been the weather for camping. On the way, he bumped into Fishlegs. He looked as if he had slept as badly as Hiccup. His glasses were on crooked. What's happening? asked Hiccup. Fishlegs shrugged his shoulders. Where's Horikrow? asked Hiccup. Fishlegs shrugged his shoulders again. Where's Horikow? asked Hiccup. Fishlegs shrugged his shoulders again. Hiccup looked around at the crowd pushing its way toward the Great Hall and noticed there was a domestic dragon. Hiccup took— Number 4. Hiccup looked around at the crowd pushing its way toward the Great Hall and noticed that there was not a domestic dragon to be seen. Normally, they were never far from their masters' heels and shoulders, yapping and snarling and stealing at each other. There was something faintly sinister about the disappearance. Nobody else had noticed. There was a tremendous babble of excitement and a crush of enormous Vikings that not everybody could get into the Great Hall, and there was a big jumble of barbarians shouting and shoving outside. Stoick called for silence. I have called you all here today— boom, Stoick— Because we have a problem on our hands. A rather large dragon is sitting on the long beach. The crowd was deeply unimpressed. They were hoping for a more important crisis. Magadons voiced the general disapproval. The big drums are only used in times of ghastly, deadly peril! You have summoned us here at a horribly early hour! Mogadong had not slept well on the stone floor of the Great Hall, with only his helmet for a pillow. Just because of a dragon? I do hope you are not losing your grip, Stoick, he sneered, hoping that he was. This is no ordinary dragon, said Stoick. This dragon is huge, enormous, gobsmackingly vast. I've never seen anything like it. This is more like a mountain than a dragon. Not having seen the Dragon Mountain, the Vikings remained unimpressed. They were used to bossing dragons about. The dragon, said Stoick, must of course be moved. But it is a very big dragon. What should we do, Old Wrinkly? You're the thinker in the tribe. Oh, you flatter me, you're stoic, said Old Wrinkly, who seemed rather amused by the whole thing. It's, uh, C. dragonis giganticus maximus, and a perfectly big one, I'd say. Very cruel, very intelligent, ravenous. Very cruel, very intelligent, ravenous appetite. But my field is early Icelandic poetry, not large reptiles. Professor Jobrish is the Viking expert on the subject of dragons. Perhaps you should consult his book on the subject. Oh, of course, of course. How to Train Your Dragon, wasn't it? I do believe that Gobber burgled that very book from the Meathead Public Library. He gave a naughty look at Mogadon the Meathead.
