Excerpt of How To Train Your Dragon by Cressida Cowell

1. FIRST CATCH YOUR DRAGON

Long ago, on the wild and windy isle of Berk, a smallish
Viking with a longish name stood up to his ankles in snow.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Hope and Heir to
the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans, had been feeling slightly
sick ever since he woke up that morning.

Ten boys, including Hiccup, were hoping to become full
members of the Tribe by passing the Dragon Initiation
Programme. They were standing on a bleak little beach at the
bleakest spot on the whole bleak island. A heavy snow was
falling.

‘PAY ATTENTION!’ screamed Gobber the Belch, the soldier in
charge of teaching Initiation.

‘This will be your first military operation, and Hiccup will
be commanding the team.’

‘Oh, not Hic-cup,’ groaned Dogsbreath the Duhbrain and most
of the other boys. ‘You can’t put Hiccup in charge, sir,
he’s USELESS.’ Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, the Hope
and Heir to the Tribe of the Hairy Hooligans, wiped his nose
miserably on his sleeve. He sank a little deeper into the snow.

‘ANYBODY would be better than Hiccup,’ sneered Snotface
Snotlout. ‘Even Fishlegs would be better than Hiccup.’

Fishlegs had a squint that made him as blind as a jellyfish,
and an allergy to reptiles. ‘SILENCE!’ roared Gobber the
Belch. ‘The next boy to speak has limpets for lunch for the
next THREE WEEKS!’

There was absolute silence immediately. Limpets are a bit
like worms and a bit like snot and a lot less tasty than either.

‘Hiccup will be in charge and that is an order!’ screamed
Gobber, who didn’t do noises quieter than screaming. He was
a seven-foot giant with a mad glint in his one working eye
and a beard like exploding fireworks. Despite the freezing
cold he was wearing hairy shorts and a teeny weeny deerskin
vest that showed off his lobster-red skin and bulging
muscles. He was holding a flaming torch in one gigantic fist.

‘Hiccup will be leading you, although he is, admittedly,
completely useless, because Hiccup is the son of the CHIEF,
and that’s the way things go with us Vikings. Where do you
think you are, the REPUBLIC OF ROME? Anyway, that is the
least of your problems today. You are here to prove yourself
as a Viking Hero. And it is an ancient tradition of the
Hooligan Tribe that you should’ – Gobber paused dramatically –

‘FIRST CATCH YOUR DRAGON!’

Ohhhhhh suffering scallops, thought Hiccup.

‘Our dragons are what set us apart!’ bellowed Gobber.
‘Lesser humans train hawks to hunt for them, horses to carry
them. It is only the VIKING HEROES who dare to tame the
wildest, most dangerous creatures on earth.’

Gobber spat solemnly into the snow. ‘There are three parts
to the Dragon Initiation Test. The first and most dangerous
part is a test of your courage and skill at burglary. If you
wish to enter the Hairy Hooligan Tribe, you must first catch
your dragon. And that is WHY,’ continued Gobber, at full
volume, ‘I have brought you to this scenic spot. Take a look
at Wild Dragon Cliff itself.’

The ten boys tipped their heads backwards. The cliff loomed
dizzyingly high above them, black and sinister. In summer
you could barely even see the cliff as dragons of all shapes
and sizes swarmed over it, snapping and biting and sending
up a cacophony of noise that could be heard all over Berk.

But in winter the dragons were hibernating and the cliff
fell silent, except for the ominous, low rumble of their
snores. Hiccup could feel the vibrations through his sandals.

‘Now,’ said Gobber, ‘do you notice those four caves about
halfway up the cliff, grouped roughly in the shape of a skull?’

The boys nodded.

‘Inside the cave that would be the right eye of the skull is
the Dragon Nursery, where there are, AT THIS VERY MOMENT,
three thousand young dragons having their last few weeks of
winter sleep.’

‘OOOOOOOH,’ muttered the boys excitedly.

Hiccup swallowed hard. He happened to know considerably more
about dragons than anybody else there. Ever since he was a
small boy, he’d been fascinated by the creatures. He’d spent
hour after long hour dragon-watching in secret.
(Dragon-spotters were thought to be geeks and nerds, hence
the need for secrecy.) And what Hiccup had learnt about
dragons told him that walking into a cave with three
thousand dragons in it was an act of madness.

No one else seemed too concerned, however.

‘In a few minutes I want you to take one of these baskets
and start climbing the cliff,’ commanded Gobber the Belch.
‘Once you are at the cave entrance, you are on your own. I
am too large to squeeze my way into the tunnels that lead to
the Dragon Nursery. You will enter the cave QUIETLY– and
that means you too, Wartihog, unless you want to become the
first spring meal for three thousand hungry dragons, HA HA
HA HA!’

Gobber laughed heartily at his little joke, then continued.
‘Dragons this size are normally fairly harmless to man, but
in these numbers they will set upon you like piranhas.
There’d be nothing left of even a fatso like you, Wartihog –
just a pile of bones and your helmet. HA HA HA HA! So… you
will walk QUIETLY through the cave and each boy will steal
ONE sleeping dragon. Lift the dragon GENTLY from the rock
and place it in your basket. Any questions so far?’

Nobody had any questions.

‘In the unlikely event that you DO wake the dragons – and
you would have to be IDIOTICALLY STUPID to do so – run like
thunder for the entrance to the cave. Dragons do not like
cold weather and the snow will probably stop them in their
tracks.’

Probably? thought Hiccup. Oh, well, that’s reassuring.

‘I suggest that you spend a little time choosing your
dragon. It is important to get one the correct size. This
will be the dragon that hunts fish for you, and pulls down
deer for you. You will catch the dragon that will carry you
into battle later on, when you are much older and a Warrior
of the Tribe. But, nonetheless, you want an impressive
animal, so a rough guide would be, choose the biggest
creature that will fit into your basket. Don’t linger for
TOO long in there —’ Linger??? thought Hiccup. In a cave
full of three thousand sleeping DRAGONS?

‘I need not tell you,’ Gobber continued cheerfully, ‘that if
you return to this spot without a dragon, it is hardly worth
coming back at all. Anybody who FAILS this task will be put
into immediate exile. The Hairy Hooligan Tribe has no use
for FAILURES. Only the strong can belong.’

Unhappily, Hiccup looked round at the distant horizon.
Nothing but snow and sea as far as the eye could see. Exile
didn’t look too promising, either.

‘RIGHT,’ said Gobber briskly. ‘Each boy take a basket to put
their dragon in and we’ll get going.’ The boys rushed to get
their baskets, chattering happily and excitedly.

‘I’m going to get one of those Monstrous Nightmare ones with
the extra-extendable claws, they’re really scary,’ boasted
Snotlout.

‘Oh shut up, Snotlout, you can’t,’ said Speedifist.

‘Only Hiccup can have a Monstrous Nightmare, you have to be
the son of a chief.’ Hiccup’s father was Stoick the Vast,
the fearsome chief of the Hairy Hooligan tribe.

‘HIC-CUP?!’ sneered Snotlout. ‘If he’s as useless at this as
he is at Bashyball, we’ll be lucky if he even gets one of
the Basic Browns.’

The Basic Brown was the most common type of dragon, a
serviceable beast but without much glamour.

‘SHUDDUP AND GET INTO LINE YOU MISERABLE TADPOLES!’ yelled
Gobber the Belch.

The boys scrambled into their places, baskets on their
backs, and stood to attention. Gobber walked along the line,
lighting the torch that each boy held in front of him from
the great flare in his hand.

‘IN HALF AN HOUR’S TIME YOU WILL BE A VIKING WARRIOR, WITH
YOUR FAITHFUL SERPENT AT YOUR SIDE …

...OR BREAKFASTING WITH WODEN IN VALHALLA WITH DRAGON’S
TEETH IN YOUR BOTTOM!’ screamed Gobber with horrible enthusiasm.

‘DEATH OR GLORY!’ yelled Gobber.

‘DEATH OR GLORY!’ yelled eight boys back at him fanatically.

Death, thought Hiccup and Fishlegs, sadly.

Gobber paused dramatically, with the horn to his lips.

I think this could possibly be the worst moment of my life
SO FAR, thought Hiccup to himself, as he waited for the
blast of the horn. And if they shout much louder we’re going
to wake up those dragons before we even START.

‘PARRRRRRRRRP!’ Gobber blew the horn.