6 The Tale of Alvin

6. THE TALE OF ALVIN THE POOR-BUT-HONEST-FARMER The whole of the Tribe of Hairy Hooligans sat round-eyed, in silence, as Alvin settled himself into Stoick's throne and told his Tale. 'I was put in the coffin,' began Alvin, 'by some very rude people who not only disbelieved the Tale I am about to tell you but also suspected me of being a common thief. They dumped me over the side of the Harbour on their island with a lot of rude laughter…' 'Meatheads,' said Stoick knowledgeably. 'Were they led by a tall chap, one eye, bad breath, answers to the name of Mogadon?' 'That does ring a bell,' admitted Alvin. 'But how had you come across the coffin in the first place?' asked Stoick. 'I am a poor but honest farmer,' said Alvin, 'and a long time ago in the Peaceable Country, far far away, I was digging up some ground for… er… planting potatoes when I came across this coffin which… er… just fell open in my hands.' 'And when you opened this coffin which says

该页暂无翻译

quite clearly "DO NOT OPEN" on the front,' asked Old Wrinkly thoughtfully, 'was there not some sort of surprise?' 'You could say that,' admitted Alvin with a good-natured smile that perhaps did not quite reach his eyes. 'I opened the coffin, reached forward quite innocently to grasp something inside… and the coffin lid snapped shut with the force of a shark's jaws and in one stroke cut off my hand.' Alvin held up his right arm. There, where his hand should have been emerging from his sleeve, was an iron claw. The Hooligans gasped in horror. 'Dearie me,' tutted Stoick. 'BOOBY-TRAPPED. I do apologise for my great-grandfather. He did have a nasty sense of humour.' 'Yeeesss,' said Alvin, smiling happily once more, 'but luckily us Poor-But-Honest-Farmers can take a joke… And this,' he gestured to the claw, 'is very handy for opening up oysters… Now, back to my Tale. I was careful the next time I opened the coffin to dismantle the booby trap first, but there was no sign of any Treasure inside, nor indeed the body of Grimbeard the Ghastly… What there was…'

The entire Tribe of Hairy Hooligans leaned forward eagerly, mouths open, eyes wide… '…was this map*, and this riddle.' Alvin reached into his breast pocket and held up the map and the riddle for everybody to see. 'Oh,' said Stoick, very disappointed. 'No Grimbeard? No treasure? No Stormblade? Just two little pieces of paper?' 'Ah, but Stoick,' said Alvin craftily, 'these two little pieces of paper will LEAD us to Grimbeard's treasure.' 'US?' said Old Wrinkly. 'Something is puzzling me. You have the riddle, you have the map, why didn't you just go and find the treasure yourself? Why did you come here to us?' 'But that would be dishonest!' said Alvin virtuously. 'We all know the Saga of 'The Lost Treasure of Grimbeard the Ghastly'… This treasure belongs to you, his descendants. Besides, there's the little matter of the riddle. The riddle makes it clear that this treasure cannot be found by just anybody.' Alvin cleared his throat.*

Dare you brave the watery grave? The Deal's Head prick of fire and sleep? If you dare you are my Feir For my Heir's Beast shall sniff it there And he shall tell me underground Am I lost or am I found? 'So you see,' said Alvin, 'it seems only the Heir to Grimbeard the Ghastly can find the treasure… And only his beast can sniff it out. I assume by 'Beast' he means dragon.' Dragons were excellent sniffers and finders of Treasure. A good dragon could sniff out gold and precious metals even when they were buried some way below ground. 'And I couldn't possibly find this treasure myself,' said Alvin, 'because I don't have a way with dragons. They just DON'T LIKE ME, I don't know what it is. Anyway, I wonder if any of you have any idea of where the riddle is talking about? You, for instance, Stoick, with your quick and lively brain?'

Stoick struggled to look intelligent. 'Hmmmm, it's a hard one…' Hiccup looked at the map. 'Don't you think the Death's Head might be talking about the Isle of the Skullions, Father?' suggested Hiccup. 'A Death's Head is a skull, after all…' 'Of course!' boomed Stoick. 'The Isle of the Skullions! That'll be where it is!' The Isle of the Skullions was a small island off the west coast of Berk that formed the shape of a skull-and-crossbones. It was this shape that Grimbeard had adopted for his flag and, most famously, his helmet. 'So this island here is the Isle of the Skullions, is it?' purred Alvin gleefully, pointing at the map. 'And that's where we'll find our treasure?' To Alvin's surprise the Hooligans started laughing. 'Oh, there's no question of finding the treasure if it's on the Isle of the Skullions,' said Stoick cheerfully. 'Nobody has ever returned from the Isle of the Skullions ALIVE. Hiccup, you're the expert on dragons, you explain to Alvin about Skullions…'