14 The Luck Turns Alvin’s Way

14. THE LUCK TURNS ALVIN'S WAY Horribly early the next morning, even earlier than normal, the prison guards woke everybody up by banging their swords on their shields and yelling: 'EVERYBODY UP AND IN THE COURTYARD! The witch Excellinor has called a crisis meeting!' Blearily and half-asleep, Hiccup staggered up the dungeon stairs to the courtyard with all the other slaves. And then suddenly, he felt very awake indeed, nerve-tinglingly, eye-openingly, brilliantly awake, as he tried to peer between the enormous guy in front of him to see the witch and Alvin the Treacherous sitting at the table. The witch was tapping her iron fingernails… …and in front of the witch was yet another someone who Hiccup knew from the past. They say that the past has a way of catching up with you, and the distant and not-so-distant past was certainly catching up with Hiccup big-time, in the two days in which he had been trapped in the great Prison Darkheart. The Hairy Scary Librarian was holding, in his

hands, Hiccup's helmet. The one that Windwalker had accidentally left in the bay because he was so upset. Aaargh. It was too late for Hiccup to get away now. He was so wedged in by the crowd he couldn't even move. Alvin the Treacherous stood up, his warts swelling with revolting gloating triumph like he'd just won the Barbaric Games. 'MISERABLE SLAVES OF THE AMBER SLAVELANDS!' called out Alvin. 'WE HAVE A TRAITOR IN OUR MIDST!' Murmurs of astonishment among the slaves. 'This morning,' continued Alvin, 'one of our "trusty" slaves, Hairy here, was out in the bay of the Dragons' Graveyard cleaning up after the Dragon Rebellion attack, when he discovered this helmet. 'My Warriors tell me that this was the very helmet that was worn by that traitor Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third when they last found him undoing our dragon-traps.' Oh for Thor's sake, thought Hiccup bitterly. I knew I never liked that helmet. 'And we have also recently discovered a secret door that opens on to a drainage tunnel that leads

directly into the prison from outside…' Hang on, thought Hiccup. That wasn't me, it was the Bog-Burglar Escape Artists! They must have left the door open… 'Which means,' said the witch silkily, 'that somehow that tricksy little Traitor of the Wilderwest has sneaked into this prison– the impostor– and he will be somewhere here among you slaves.' Sensation in the courtyard, with everyone looking at one another, and wondering who the Traitor was. 'Of course,' purred the witch, 'we could get everyone to try on the helmet, and see who it fits…' In which case I'll be fine, thought Hiccup, slightly hysterically, because quite apart from being horribly itchy, that helmet never fitted. 'But I,' smiled Alvin, 'have thought of a far neater plan. You see,' said Alvin, 'the reason that this Traitor-boy Hiccup can never be a King like me, is that to be a King you have to be strong and make tough decisions. Hiccup is weak,' sneered Alvin. 'He is too soft to be a King. 'HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE THIRD!' cried Alvin the Treacherous. 'GIVE YOURSELF UP, OR I SHALL KILL… THIS BOY.'

Alvin the Treacherous reached out with one arm and grabbed the nearest member of the Hooligan Tribe that he could see, and held his wicked hook to that boy's throat. Now, the boy he grabbed happened to be Snotlout. Alvin, you see, had forgotten that Hiccup and Snotlout were sworn enemies. He just knew that Hiccup was a member of the Hooligan Tribe and therefore would be sentimental about Hooligans and therefore grabbed the closest Hooligan he could find. 'Here I say,' objected Snotlout in astonishment, 'I'm not a slave, I'm a Warrior! And I'm your loyal subject, King Alvin. I was the one who told your mother about Hiccup having the Slavemark…' Snotlout had already had a very difficult twenty-four hours. His ego had taken quite a bashing out there on the sands yesterday. But you see, Alvin the Treacherous did not have a grateful nature. Alvin ignored this, and if anything, held the hook

a little closer, so that blood dropped down from Snotlout's throat. 'YOU BETTER BE QUICK!' screamed Alvin. 'THIS HOOK IS HUNGRY!' Now, this is what you might call a 'moral dilemma'. Snotlout had been mean to Hiccup all his life. He was a bully and a thoroughly bad lot. He was indeed the one who had thrown the stone that revealed Hiccup as having the Slavemark, when Hiccup had been about to be crowned Champion of Champions and King of the Wilderwest in the Flashburn School of Swordfighting. But how could Hiccup, in cold blood, let Alvin the Treacherous kill Snotlout? Snotlout was his cousin and a fellow human being. And maybe, just maybe, very, very deep down indeed, there was some good in Snotlout after all. And possibly there was some way out of this completely packed courtyard, so he could escape even after he'd given himself up? Hiccup sighed. Maybe Alvin is right, maybe I am too weak to be a king… I can't believe I'm doing this for Snotlout of all people…

And then he put up his hand and shouted: 'OK, I give myself up. I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third. I am the Outcast.' After six months on the run, it felt pretty scary to be finally revealing himself. 'Aha!' said Alvin in satisfaction, and he dropped a highly relieved Snotlout and looked out eagerly at the crowd of slaves. 'I knew it!' crowed Alvin. Three rows back into the crowd, Stoick the Vast gasped in amazement, and tried to peer round to see where his son might be. 'Whiffy McSmelly! Surely… surely you cannot be Hiccup!' 'Yes,' Hiccup shouted up through the large people who were boxing him in. 'It is me!' 'But this is wonderful!' cried Stoick joyfully, jumping up and down, trying to look over people's heads. 'Hiccup! You're alive! I can't tell you how relieved I am, my boy… I… I… I'm so sorry I didn't recognise you… I can't believe I didn't recognise you…' 'Well, I was wearing my disguise,' Hiccup shouted back, to make him feel better. He took off his Really-Not-Very-Cunning-Disguise of the eye patch, and wiped off the remains of the dirt with the end of his sleeve. He couldn't remove the smell of course.