14 The Lost Throne of the Wilderwest

14. THE LOST THRONE OF THE WILDERWEST 'For many years, the Barbaric Archipelago was run by the Kings of the Wilderwest,' began the voice of the witch in the darkness. 'The King was the fiercest, the boldest, the most ferocious of the Chiefs of the Barbaric Archipelago, and for many years, the position was held by the Chief of the Hooligan Tribe. 'Grimbeard the Ghastly was the last of these Kings, the toughest and most ruthless pirate the Archipelago had ever seen, and his kingdom stretched as far as the eye could see. He even fought and defeated the King of the Mainland, and forced him into exile, so that Grimbeard the Ghastly's lands included not only these islands, but the vast Mainland territories inland. 'Grimbeard the Ghastly enslaved every human who wasn't a Viking, and he was such a successful pirate that he became disgustingly rich. The little island of Berk was no longer big enough for him. With the help of thousands of slaves, and dragons in chains, he built a great city on the island of Tomorrow. 'All was going well for Grimbeard. He had a son, Thugheart, the spitting image of himself. And another

son, Chucklehead, who was the spitting image of Thugheart. 'He was a happy, violent man, who cheerfully robbed his neighbours, ate heartily, drank heartily, fought like a cornered bear, and loved nobody but himself. 'His third son was born, on the 29th of February, a Leap Year… 'He was a bonny baby who slipped out of his mother without a sound, bright blue eyes wide open with an expression of eager surprise in them, and a shock of bright blond hair. Even as a newborn, he seemed to be looking about him with a sense of joyous adventure, a sense of the excitement of everything about him. 'He did not realise that he was not destined to enjoy the world for very long. For he was too small, you see. He was a runt.' Hiccup had forgotten already that he didn't want to hear this story. He interrupted indignantly at this point. 'What do you mean he was a runt?' 'I mean he was a RUNT,' said the voice hatefully. 'They took him to the Naming Dame and they were hoping she would call him Fatlegs or Dragonheart, or something Viking-y, but she could see

instantly what the poor besotted parents couldn't see and she named him HICCUP.' 'Why did she name him HICCUP?' asked Hiccup, trying to sound casual and just mildly interested. He already had a horrible feeling that the witch had guessed who he was, Thor only knows how. Or why was she telling him this story about his own Tribe, his own ancestors? 'Because that's what they call the RUNTS in the Hooligan Tribe,' said the witch impatiently. 'Hiccup means "accident", you see. Well, of course the moment the Naming Dame named him a runt, everybody knew he had to be got rid of. For if a RUNT survives till adulthood in the Hooligan Tribe, he brings with him an unlucky Fate, the Fate of changing the course of history. 'Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the First had caused his father to lose his entire kingdom in the rich farmlands of the east, so that the Hooligan Tribe had to settle in the barren island wastes of the Archipelago. 'This boy would have to be named Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Second, and there was a good chance that he would bring the same bad luck on his family as the first Hiccup.' Hiccup's heart beat fast in the darkness. Hiccup

had only recently found out that he had a Secret Ancestor, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Second, who had been a Dragonwhisperer like himself.* *Hiccup found this out in A Hero's Guide to Deadly Dragons. Now he was sitting here, hearing his story. Goosebumps prickled all over Hiccup's head. 'Grimbeard was nothing if not a stern man,' continued the witch. 'He had no intention of letting his son live to bring bad luck on his family in the same way as the first Hiccup. It was a shame and whatnot, but he already had Thugheart and Chucklehead, after all. So he allowed the boy to be named HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK THE SECOND in a very elaborate naming ceremony, while secretly making plans for the baby's murder. He knew that his son needed to be exposed on the mountainside, in accordance with Hooligan tradition. He also knew that his wife Chinhilda, a spirited woman who was handy with an axe, would not necessarily agree with this course of action. 'Women could be so unreasonable. 'So with his own hands Grimbeard stole the sleeping baby from his sleeping wife's breast… He climbed on board his Riding-Dragon, and he flew to a neighbouring island, where he left his sleeping son, his own flesh and blood, on a mountainside to perish.

He left him there under a little bush of heather that dripped down like tears on the baby's crib. And then he climbed back on his Riding-Dragon and soared off without so much as a backward glance, for Grimbeard had never particularly liked babies, and when it cried, as babies will, this one resembled nothing so much as a screaming tomato. A rather SMELLY screaming tomato. To tell the truth, he had felt sadder when he had to put down one of his favourite Rottdragons, who had been injured in a fight. As he flew back over the salty waves towards his beautiful city on the island of Tomorrow, he wondered what would be for supper tonight. Pig's trotters, he hoped. That was his favourite. 'Chinhilda did not accept Grimbeard's perfectly reasonable explanation. She was so angry when she awoke that she picked up her sword and attacked him then and there. Grimbeard the Ghastly won the swordfight, but refused to kill her. She then broke down in tears, and begged him to tell her where he had left the baby. Which was very annoying of her, because it made Grimbeard feel uncomfortable, and he hated to feel uncomfortable. He refused to tell her of course, and got his guards to drag her out of his presence so that he could enjoy his pig's trotters in peace and quiet. As they dragged her away, she

cursed him– a terrible curse, for it was the curse of a sorceress– and left in her boat to look for her lost son. For many many years, her white boat could be seen, looking and looking for the lost baby. Until finally it was seen no more. It is said that her ghost still haunts the Bay of the Broken Heart…' 'Oh, for Thor's sake…' said Hiccup. 'I thought that was just a story…' 'Stories come from somewhere,' said the witch. 'The past haunts the present in more ways than we realise. 'Grimbeard was rather relieved to have been let off so lightly. 'He could now get on with his fighting, and his eating, and his drinking without her nagging him, or crying at him. 'But to his surprise, Grimbeard found that he wasn't enjoying the burglary, and the fighting, and the drinking, and the eating quite as much as he used to. 'Even the beer didn't taste the same. 'He couldn't understand it. 'He got rid of his cook, and hired a new one, but it didn't make any difference. 'The beer was less beery, and the pig's trotters less piggy, and none of those idiot Warriors could put