6 What Old Wrinkly Said

6. WHAT OLD WRINKLY SAID Old Wrinkly was Hiccup's grandfather on his mother's side. He lived in a large untidy house on the beach. He was delighted to see them, and he fed them all porridge. Toothless snoozed in front of the blazing fire in his fireplace, while the snowy clothes of Hiccup and Fishlegs dripped dry on chairs. 'What can I do for you, little Hiccup?' wheezed Old Wrinkly, lighting a big fat pipe. 'It's my friend, Fishlegs,' explained Hiccup. 'He's not very well.' Old Wrinkly looked at Fishlegs, who was shaking like a leaf in a high wind. 'Oh come on, Hiccup,' said Fishlegs irritably. 'I keep telling you, it's just a NASTY COLD…' Old Wrinkly tut-tutted. Old Wrinkly was the wise man and soothsayer of the Hooligan Tribe. If you were ill, you would go to Old Wrinkly and he would examine you, consult the gods, and then give you some perfectly disgusting medicine like rabbits' droppings in limpet goo that might or might not make you better. (Doctoring and looking into the future are complicated businesses– to tell the truth, Old Wrinkly did not always get them right.)

Old Wrinkly put his ancient old hand on Fishlegs's forehead, and tut-tutted again. 'Very hot, very hot,' he muttered to himself, 'and sweaty.' He listened to Fishlegs's heart with a strange trumpet-like instrument and tut-tutted some more. And then he threw some twigs on to the fire, and poked the flames with a long metal stick. 'Oh dearie me!' gasped Old Wrinkly as he stared at the red embers. 'That sounds cheerful,' shivered Fishlegs. 'The fire seems to be telling me that your friend has VORPENTITIS, caused by the sting of a VENOMOUS VORPENT,' said Old Wrinkly sadly. 'Have you met any Venomous Vorpents recently?' There was a nasty cold feeling in the bottom of Hiccup's stomach. 'We did meet a Venomous Vorpent…' Hiccup said slowly. 'A couple of months ago… a Vorpent fell on to Fishlegs's hand when we were escaping from Fort Sinister…' 'But it didn't sting me!' Fishlegs said eagerly. 'I didn't feel anything sting me!' Old Wrinkly shook his head. 'The Vorpent numbs the skin before it stings. It's very clever really. You wouldn't have felt a thing. And then nothing happens,

until a couple of months later, when you fall ill with Vorpentitis.' 'What are the symptoms of Vorpentitis?' asked Hiccup. 'Fever… runny nose… episodes of madness…' replied Old Wrinkly gloomily. Hiccup's stomach was now as cold as ice, but he tried to sound cheerful. 'And how do we get him better?' Old Wrinkly sounded gloomier still. 'Weeeell…' he croaked, 'that's the tricky part… The sting of the Venomous Vorpent is pretty much always FATAL.' There was a nasty silence. 'The good news is,' continued Old Wrinkly, 'we have until ten in the morning tomorrow to find the antidote* before your friend dies.' 'Oh good,' said Hiccup, hugely relieved. 'So there IS an antidote…' Fishlegs had been listening with an open mouth. 'But all I've got is a NASTY COLD!' he protested. 'A nasty cold– and you tell me I've only got one day to live!' Hiccup ignored him. 'What's the antidote?' asked Hiccup. 'This is where the tricky part gets trickier…' wheezed Old Wrinkly. 'The antidote to the sting of the

Venomous Vorpent is the Vegetable-that-No-one-Dares- Name.' 'What, you mean the POTATO?' gasped Hiccup. 'Sssssh,' whispered Old Wrinkly, desperately flapping his hands. 'You're not supposed to name it! It's bad luck!' 'But the POTATO is an imaginary vegetable!' said Hiccup, who thought all this talk of bad luck was just superstition. 'It doesn't really exist!' 'There are those that say the Vegetable-that-No- one-Dares-Name can be found in a great country to the west known as America…' Old Wrinkly pointed out. 'But most people say,' said Hiccup slowly, 'that there's no such place as America. Most people say that it's an imaginary land that only crackpot weirdos believe in. Most people think that the earth is as flat as a pancake, and if you sail too far to the west you will fall off the end of it.' 'That is what most people say,' admitted Old Wrinkly, shrugging his shoulders and carrying on puffing his pipe. 'And even if there WAS such a thing as this so-called potato in this so-called land called America,' argued Hiccup, 'we're never going to be able to sail to it and find the antidote in only ONE DAY. In one day

you'd hardly be out of the Sullen Sea… the thing you're suggesting is IMPOSSIBLE.' 'There's no such thing as im-POSSIBLE, Hiccup,' snorted Old Wrinkly, 'only im-PROBABLE. The only thing that limits us are the limits to our imaginations… and I used to think of you as an imaginative boy. Give up, if you want to… but I used to think of you as the sort of boy who would NEVER give up, however bad things looked.' 'OK, then,' said Hiccup crossly. 'Give me one reason not to give up.' 'I will give you a reason,' said Old Wrinkly. 'There is a chance that Norbert the Nutjob, Chief of the Hysterics, may have the antidote to Vorpentitis.' Hiccup jumped. 'NORBERT THE NUTJOB??' said Hiccup. 'Why does HE have a POTATO? Where did he get it from?' 'I will explain by telling you the story of Norbert the Nutjob's father and the Doomfang,' said Old Wrinkly. 'You do that,' said Hiccup, already feeling anxious at the mere mention of Norbert the Nutjob. Old Wrinkly relit his pipe. 'I have to warn you, Hiccup,' wheezed Old Wrinkly between puffs, 'that, like a lot of stories, this may or may not be true…'

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