本篇节选自《驯龙高手》原著，由译者：学有所长无偿汉化，仅供参考，请酌情引用译文。未经译者授权禁止转载译文。

作者信息

作者：克蕾西达·考威尔（原著）

译者：学有所长

译文：

在恐惧龙游到伯克岛六周之后，小嗝嗝·恐怖黑线鳕三世（Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third）抬着头，看着他的父亲，大块头史图伊克，毛霍里根（Hairy Hooligan）部落的首领。

“我觉得你错了，父亲。”小嗝嗝结巴地说。

伯克岛的大厅里塞满了维京战士们。比起六周前，他们的肚子没那么圆了，大腿也没那么壮了，但是他们仍然像以前那样巨大，脏臭。这群肌肉结实，毛发旺盛的维京人惊恐地倒吸一口气，然后把视线转向小嗝嗝。小嗝嗝一只腿站着，脸红到了耳尖。

小嗝嗝可能不是你认为的典型的霍里根人。

他瘦小但是看起来机制，面孔毫无特色，一般很难脱颖而出。在吃得很少的六个月之后，他只剩皮包骨头了，从衣服里伸出来的胳膊就像棍子一样。

“错了？”大块头史图伊克大喊，“你认为我错了？？？？”

史图伊克则和他完全不同，虽然他已经不是像以前那样的大块头了（因为恐惧龙他不得不节食导致如此），但是他的胸肌还是健壮到能让一只一般大小的公牛流下嫉妒的眼泪。

而他大吼的时候，吼声就像一只恐龙的战吼一样，所以甚至在旁边的岛上都还能清楚听到这句微弱的温柔的话。

小嗝嗝费力地咽了一下。

“是的，父亲。”他大胆地说，“我认为你错了。”

史图伊克此时正在大厅召开紧急会议宣布他的“解决恐惧龙的机智策略”。

史图伊克不是那种在这种事情上最聪明的野蛮人（barbarian）。实际上，他的脑细胞只刚好够控制他抬起一只腿落到另一只腿前面。

所以为了想出这个计划，他几个星期都夜不能寐，白天则忍着痛苦，得要打嗝戈伯（Gobber the Belch）扶着他的右臂，给他敷热毛巾，让他进行耗费精力的思考过程。

因此史图伊克听到他的机智策略被批评的时候并不高兴。

计划是这样的：

史图伊克的机智策略

1.全部落早起以便偷袭这只生物。

2.出海，用斧头敲打盾牌迷惑这只生物。

3.打这只怪物打到它死去或者游走。

4.开鱼筵并设立年度盛宴庆祝这一时刻，并将这一天命名为“恐惧龙之日”

“如果你像这样激怒了恐惧龙的话，它可能会自卫反击的。”小嗝嗝说，“我认为我们应该试着和他聊聊，问问他想要什么……”

“和他聊聊？”史图伊克大吼，“说龙语是被静止的，你也知道。而且传说里恐惧龙是群岛中最可怕最超自然的生物，它的力量是很可怕的……”

“那好吧，”小嗝嗝固执地说，“要是不能和它聊聊的话我认为我们应该再耐心点，等它离开。”

大块头史图伊克气得发紫了，都要气炸了。“耐心？”史图伊克愤怒地咆哮，“我已经吃了六个月的帽贝了！这还不算耐心的话那什么算耐心！”

“没错，但是父亲——”小嗝嗝争辩道。

“安静！”史图伊克喊道，“首领已经决定了！全部男女老幼，包括龙，明天都要参与这个机制策略！恐惧龙必须死！”

“进攻！”维京人们喊道，他们虽然饿着肚子，仍然举起了他们疲惫的手臂，“恐惧龙明天必死！”

小嗝嗝最好的朋友鱼腿（Fishlegs），是整个霍里根部落里各个方面都比小嗝嗝更差的人。鱼腿有哮喘，气疹，还不幸对爬行动物过敏。

此时，他叹了口气，对小嗝嗝说：“你是无法说服他们的，小嗝嗝。你知道他们是怎么样的人。等了一段时间后他们就是得去打些什么东西，无论这么做有多蠢。你就像是想要让一群过于激动的疣猪耐心一样。”

小嗝嗝也叹了口气。“我知道，但是我就是对这个恐惧龙的事情有一种很不祥的感觉。”小嗝嗝咽了一下口水。他想起他在传说中读到的一下关于恐惧龙的事情，肚子恶心地翻腾了一下，“我听说有一艘维京船只不幸遭遇了一只恐惧龙……等他们回到港口的时候——”小嗝嗝的声音变得很小，“——他们每一个都没了头。他们就坐在那里，还握着他们的桨……但是每一个人都没有头。难怪别的龙都这么怕他们。”

鱼腿叹了口气，揉了揉他的脖子。“我以为他们只是能让你发疯。但是他们是能把整个头都弄掉，是吧？你知道，我还是很喜欢我的头的。”鱼腿说，“我和我的头关系可好了。爱说我老顽固就说吧，但是我还是坚决要让我的头留在他该在的地方的。”

房梁上停着打猎龙们，他们就像鳄鱼一样巨大，瘦薄的皮肤下肋骨清晰可见，他们的眼睛关注着下面欢呼的维京人们。这些龙有滑牙龙（Slitherfangs），葛伦科龙（Gronckles），凶魇龙（Monstrous Nightmares）——众多不同的龙。明天谁将获胜？龙群想着。无论是谁获胜，我们都能有吃的了。

你看，龙对他们的人类主人的忠诚是有限的。而且这些龙也非常饥饿了。

原文：

Six weeks after the Dreader first swam to the Isle of Berk, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third looked up at his father, Stoick the Vast, the Chief of the Hairy Hooligan Tribe.

'I think you’re wrong. Father,’ stammered Hiccup.

The Great Hall on Berk was full to bursting with Hooligan Warriors, slightly less large of belly and chunky of thigh than they had been six weeks before, but still an impressively gigantic and unwashed lot.

This mass of muscled, hairy Vikings gave a gasp of horror and turned to gaze at Hiccup, who stood on one leg and turned red to the tips of his ears.

Hiccup was not what you might call a typical Hooligan.

He was thin and clever-looking, with the kind of entirely unmemorable face that does not normally stick out in a crowd. After six weeks of eating very little, he was just skin and bone, and his elbows stuck out of his shirt like sticks.

‘Wrong?’ bellowed Stoick the Vast.'You think I’m WRONG????’

Stoick, on the other hand, although Not-as-Vast-as-He-Normally-Was (owing to the forced diet as a result of the Dreader’s presence), still had muscles on his chest that would have made a decent-sized bull weep tears of jealousy.

And when he bellowed, he BELLOWED like a dinosaur declaring war, so these gentle words could have been heard faintly but clearly on the neighbouring island.

Hiccup swallowed hard.

‘Yes, Father,’ he repeated defiantly. ‘I think you’re wrong.’

Stoick had called an emergency meeting in the Great Hall to present his ‘Clever and Intelligent Plan for Getting Rid of the Dreader’.

Stoick was not the brightest barbarian in the business. In fact, he had just about enough brain-cells to keep one gigantic leg moving in front of the other.

So this Plan had taken him weeks of sleepless nights, and painful days, with Gobber the Belch holding his sword-arm and applying hot towels while he went through the exhausting process of thinking.

And as a result Stoick wasn’t too happy about the Clever and Intelligent Plan being criticised.

The Plan was this:

‘If you provoke the Dreader like this,it might attack out of self-defence,’ said Hiccup, ‘I think we should try and talk to it, and ask it what it wants...'

‘TALK TO IT?’ yelled Stoick. ‘The speaking of Dragonese is forbidden, as well you know. And Legend tells us that the Dreader is one of the most fearsome and supernatural creatures in the Archipelago. Its power is horrific...’

‘Well then,’ said Hiccup stubbornly, ‘if we can’t talk to it I think we should be patient a little longer, and wait for it to go away’

Stoick the Vast swelled and turned purple with temper. ‘BE PATIENT?’ stormed Stoick the Vast furiously. ‘I’ve been eating limpets for the last six weeks! If that’s not patience, I don’t know what is.’

‘Yes, but Father—’ argued Hiccup.

‘SILENCEI’ roared Stoick. ‘The Chief has spoken! Every man, woman, child and dragon will joiu in the Clever and Intelligent Plan tomorrow! The Dreader must die!’

‘ATTACK!' bellowed the Vikings, raising weary arms despite their empty tummies. ‘The Dreader dies tomorrow!’

Fishlegs, Hiccup’s best friend, was the only person in the Hooligan Tribe who was worse at everything Vikingy than Hiccup. Fishlegs had asthma, eczema, and an inconvenient allergy to reptiles.

Now he sighed, and said to Hiccup, ‘You’re not going to persuade them. Hiccup. You know what they’re like. After a while they just have to go and BASH something, however stupid an idea that is. It’s like asking a whole load of over-excited warthogs to be patient.’

Hiccup sighed too. ‘I know, I just have a really bad feeling about this Dreader business.’ Hiccup swallowed. His stomach did a couple of nauseating flip-flops as he thought about some of the things he had found out about the Dreader in the sagas he had read. ‘I heard about one Viking ship that had a nasty encounter with a Dreader... and when they came

back to Harbour -’ Hiccup’s voice dropped to a whisper every one of them had lost their heads. They were all sitting there, still holding their oars... but not a head on any of them. No wonder all the other dragons are frightened of them.’

Fishlegs sighed and rubbed his neck. 'I thought they were just supposed to send you mad. But they remove your whole head, do they? %u see. I’m very fond of my head,’ said Fishlegs. ‘Me and my head go way back. Call me old-fashioned but I’m definitely keen on keeping it right where it is.’

Up in the rafters perched the hunting-dragons, large as crocodiles, their ribs showing through their thin skin, their eyes watching the cheering Vikings down below. There were Slitherfangs, Gronckles, Monstrous Nightmares - a multitude of dragon species. Who will win the day tomorrow? thought the dragons. Whoever it is, we shall get fed at last.

Dragons, you see, are only faithful to their human masters up to a certain point. And the dragons were hungry too.