Gothi's white liquor isn't as good as they hoped when they stole it. It tastes like medicine and takes everyone from sober to soused so fast they miss all the good parts. The twins snore in a heap, fingers up each others' noses; Fishlegs sits on Hiccup because friends don't let friends fly drunk. "This," Astrid announces, "was stupid."
Snotlout bristles; it was his idea. "Are you calling me stupid?"
"No," says Astrid, cracking her knuckles. "I'm calling you a goat-headed, sow-bellied, sheep-kissing son of a half-troll."
Stupid and no fun: Snotlout doesn't even get a scar out of it.
Author's Note: "The troll-descended Grímhildr of strong drink" is probably the most obscure of these kennings, as well as the least positive. From the Ynglingatal, it refers to a woman who sent a nightmare to kill Vanlandi, king of the Ynglings. (Snorri Sturluson's version of the story has it that Vanlandi earned this fate by abandoning his Finnish wife.) Magic not being a heavy influence in the How To Train Your Dragonfilm-verse, I decided to focus on the "strong drink" aspect of this kenning.
The actual title of this drabble is "The Troll-Descended Grímhildr of Strong Drink," but FFnet won't allow a chapter title that long. Boo, hiss.