This dare was suggested by EmmerzK. Excellent suggestion, my friend!
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The following morning marked the start of the annual Thorfest games. The metallic net over the Berk Dragon Academy was lifted, scoreboards were prepared, and the entire academy was basically transformed into a huge arena in which the Vikings could show off their skills in the various events that made up the games.
Unfortunately, the gang would have to wait their turn to perform – the teens and children would be competing in a few days' time, when all the adult Vikings were finished. Right now, though, they had more time to prepare and train for the games, as well as the entertainment of watching their parents perform almost superhuman feats of strength and daring.
As the gang took their seats in the benches ringing the edge of the arena, they began eagerly talking to themselves about the events they most wanted to see, and the events that they were most looking forward to participating in.
"I can't wait to see the ship-tugging contest," said Tuffnut with a grin as he plopped down next to his sister. "Remember last year, when Gobber tugged two canoes at once across the entire island?"
"Or when Spitelout threw his canoe fifty feet away from shore when he lost?" added Ruffnut enthusiastically, bumping helmets with her brother.
"My mom will win the axe-throwing competition," Astrid said confidently, folding her arms across her chest. "She does it every year. A few years ago she beat everyone else by a landslide!"
"Half a landslide," corrected Hiccup. "My dad came pretty darn close in that contest." He winced when Astrid half-irritably, half-playfully slugged him in the arm.
Snotlout puffed up proudly, making his innumerable Thorfest medals that hung from his neck a little more noticeable. "I just want the grown-ups to finish their events so I can show everyone how awesome I am! Again!" he bragged, the medals jingling.
"You just had to bring those, didn't you?" Batwings muttered.
"And I can still smell dragon nip on you," Heather pointed out, her voice taking on a slightly dreamy tone as the irresistible scent found its way into her nose.
The arrogant Jorgenson just scowled at her and gave his armpit a quick sniff. He could have sworn that the smell had faded away last night, when he had taken an hour-long bath in potato juice. That was the cure for smelling like dragon nip, wasn't it?
He was still sore from yesterday, when he had made repeated, desperate attempts to shake the entire island-full of dragons that had converged on him, but he was still proud of himself. At dinner last night, everyone had agreed that Snotlout had officially survived that particular dare. So he was still in the dare war – for now.
Meanwhile, Snaketail was looking around at how the entire arena was set up for the special event. "This is very different from what my tribe did every year for Thorfest," she noted with interest.
"Why? What did they do?" Arachne asked curiously, swinging her feet back and forth eagerly. She was impatient from waiting for the games to start.
"Well, they start off with a goat sacrifice," Snaketail replied seriously. "They always pick the biggest goat in the herd so that its entrails will be long enough to" –
"Oooookay, that's quite enough of that," Hiccup interrupted, steering the conversation away from such a gruesome topic.
Fishlegs was watching the adults filing into the arena with great interest. "Oh, there's my dad!" he said, jumping up and down in his seat and pointing to a short, stocky Viking with a beard not unlike Mulch's.
"And there's Bucket," chuckled Ruff. "You think he'll win the yak race again this year?"
Three of the gang – Hiccup, Fishlegs, and Arachne – winced at the memory of Bucket's yak tripping over a rock at the crest of a hill, ending up tumbling end over end down the slope and beating the other Vikings across the finish line.
"Knowing Bucket, I don't doubt it," muttered Hiccup.
Just as he finished that sentence, Stoick stepped up to the stage that Spitelout and Gobber had erected in front of the warehouse cages. After a short speech, the Chief pronounced the start of the Thorfest games. His announcement was met with a huge swell of cheers from the teenagers, competing adults, and the ones who had decided not to join in the games that year.
The events rapidly got underway. First was the three-legged race, which obviously involved teams of two Vikings with their legs tied together. However, as with all seemingly simple competitions, there was a twist – those Vikings with only one leg to spare had to group themselves into teams of three and have their peg-legs tied together. Of course, this was a pretty challenging event, but one that Gobber's team of three won with ease.
Then, there was the yak race, in which the Vikings had to ride yaks across an obstacle course that spanned the entire island, and then make it back to the arena. This time, Bucket didn't win (Ruffnut scowled as she handed over a garden trowel and a basket of chicken eggs to a smirking Astrid), but he came close in second, right behind Sven and his yak, Ironhorn.
It was during the cock-fighting contest when Snotlout leaned forward to tap Fishlegs on the shoulder. As the adults below battled each other ferociously by swinging the frantically-clucking birds at each other, Fishlegs turned around and whispered, "What is it, Snotlout?"
"I got the inspiration I needed for my next dare," Snotlout muttered back with a sly grin. "It was during the yak race."
Fishlegs sighed. "And let me guess," the Ingerman said grudgingly. "You're going to pick me to go through with said dare."
"Correct," the other boy chuckled. "Anyway, I want you to ride into the arena on Meatlug while wearing a blindfold."
A horrified look flashed across Fishlegs' face. "I can't do that!" he blurted, making Batwings glance over in his direction briefly, before once more turning to watch the feathers fly.
In a quieter voice, Fishlegs repeated, "I can't do that! Stoick would have my head on a platter!"
Snotlout snorted, unconvinced. "Come on, Chicken-legs. You'll have Meatlug to save your fat rear, won't you?"
"My mom says I'm just husky," Fishlegs protested. Then he thought for a second and muttered, "But… I guess you have a point. I'll do it."
"Good man," the Jorgenson boy said with a chuckle. "I'll make a Viking out of you yet. Now get out, and bring back that Gronckle of yours!"
Fishlegs sighed again, more heavily this time. He stood up, momentarily blocking the view of the teens sitting behind him, and walked away until he was out of sight.
"What was that about?" asked Astrid over the din of panicked squawking coming from the arena.
"Please tell me it doesn't have something to do with the dare war…" Heather muttered to herself.
But Snotlout heard, and smirked at her. "You got it, sister. I just gave Fishlegs an awesome dare. I'll be surprised if he doesn't chicken out!"
Speaking of chickens, the battle below was reaching its climax. Stoick gave a mighty swing with his bird – he swung so hard that he accidentally let go of the chicken. It attached itself to Spitelout's face and started clawing and pecking at him in a panic, causing the burly Viking to yell in pain and instinctively hurl his own chicken away.
The barnyard bird's squawk rang out loud and clear across the arena, catching the notice of several of the gang. "Look out, Snotlout!" cried Arachne, ducking her head.
Snotlout, who hadn't noticed the chicken heading right toward him, looked at the girl skeptically. "Look out for what?! There's nothing here but – CHICKEN!"
His scream, twice as loud as the flying chicken's squawking, echoed far and wide just as the bird landed on him. Panicked something fierce, the bird pecked at the Jorgenson boy in a frenzy of confusion and fear. Snotlout got up from his seat and ran away, cursing loudly and exclaiming every time the chicken's beak jabbed him.
"Fishlegs might have been the one to get dared," noted Batwings with a chuckle. "But it looks like Snotlout's suffering instead."
"That has to be the funniest thing I've ever seen," chuckled Ruffnut.
"Chicken one, Snotlout zero," added Tuffnut, giving his twin a high-five.
-.-.-.-.-.
The gang didn't see Fishlegs until the adults started one of their last events later that day. It was the egg toss – which basically involved them splitting into teams of two and tossing an egg between them back and forth. The twist was that regular chicken eggs hadn't been supplied, but explosive Terrible Terror eggs. The pair that made it the longest without having their egg blow up in one of their faces was the winning pair.
So far, half of the Viking teams had had their eggs explode, covering them with red-hot yolk that dripped from their clothes, sizzling every time a drop hit the ground. Stoick, Gobber, Mulch, Spitelout, and (surprisingly) Mildew were still in the competition, amongst several other adults. Up above the arena, the teens and other spectators were cheering for their friends and family.
"You can win it, Dad!" called Hiccup, after Stoick successfully caught the heavy egg that Gobber tossed at him.
"GO MULCH – damnit, Mildew caught it…" spat Snaketail.
And who should come prancing in on a Gronckle just then but Fishlegs himself?
The Ingerman boy all of a sudden rode through the gateway leading into the arena and started parading around and around, riding on a galloping Meatlug. The dragon looked like she was enjoying herself greatly, with her eyes bright and her tongue lolling out of her mouth.
Fishlegs, however, looked like he wanted to drop dead from humiliation. Even though he couldn't see through the huge blindfold he wore around his head, he knew that the entire island was staring at him and Meatlug. His face was beet red with embarrassment, which everyone could clearly see even though he did his best to hide it.
The gang, initially shocked speechless, started howling with laughter. Even Hiccup managed a weak chuckle as Meatlug ran circles around the arena, having the time of her life.
The competing adults were so surprised by the sudden appearance of Fishlegs and his Gronckle that they weren't prepared to catch the eggs their comrades threw at them. Thus, all the Terrible Terror eggs shattered one by one, exploding violently and throwing up huge bursts of glowing yolk and black smoke into the air.
"I take it back!" wheezed Ruff as she tried her best to stop cackling, with the screams of the adults and the explosions caused by the eggs ringing out into the air. "This is the funniest thing I've ever seen!"
"Where's Snotlout?" gasped Astrid, laughing so hard that she had to cling to Hiccup for support. "He issued the dare, and now he's missing all the action!"
Down in the arena, Fishlegs decided that he had completed the dare, and couldn't take any more of this. He whimpered to himself, "My family's going to kill me," and rode back through the arena gateway on Meatlug, galloping off into the distance.
It was only then that Snotlout arrived, his face covered in bandages. "What did I miss?" he asked his guffawing friends.
The only reply he got was louder and crazier laughter.
-.-.-.-.-.
Sh*t and crackers. I won't be able to incorporate Snoggletog into this story in time for Christmas. But I can assure you, Snoggletog will come!
A reader previously asked for a scoreboard of sorts, detailing how close everyone is to winning/losing the dare war. Here are the total strikes that each person has:
Snotlout: 1
Ruffnut: 2
Everyone else: 3
I cannot foresee this dare war being over any time soon.
Send a review and dare suggestion my way, and see you all for the next chapter!
Next time: Fishlegs dares Batwings