Chapter 25
The Iron Gronckle Part 1
When you're part of a team, there's always a role for you to play, even if that role may not seem like the most obvious or the most useful. Of course, that means you may need a reminder of how important you really are.
Sea Around Berk
A beautiful sunny day on Berk saw the Berk Monster Riders out on a patrol of the sea around their island. Unfortunately, it didn't seem to be going so well – because when they finally decided to stop and take a break on a cluster of sea stacks, no one was smiling.
"We missed it!" Astrid growled, slamming a hand down on Blackhawk's saddle.
"What did we miss?" asked Tuffnut, clueless as usual.
"It was headed this way," mused Hiccup. "It must have outrun us. But where could it be now?"
Inside his head, he was half-hoping for the mysterious voice to suddenly chime in with a helpful statement. That voice had already assisted him twice, so why not a third time? But no matter how hard he listened, he couldn't hear anything whispering to him in his own mind.
"Seriously, what're we looking for?" questioned Ruffnut, slumped between Queen's horns. "I'm more confused than a Jaggi at a Velociprey convention."
Irritably, Snaketail quipped, "Oh, I don't know, how about the boat full of Outcasts that we've been searching high and low for the past hour?"
Both twins brightened. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Ruff said. "I was too busy with my head in the clouds."
"Literally!" her brother chimed in. "Remember when you tried flying up to look for the Outcasts and got a faceful of that cloud?"
Paying no attention to the Thorston siblings' annoying banter (which happened often), Arachne shifted her weight on Rilebolt's saddle and cautiously raised her hand. "Um, how does an Outcast ship outrun our monsters? I mean… your monsters and my dragon?"
Hiccup opened his mouth to answer the ten-year-old's question, then stopped when he heard something. Sightless heard it too, raising his head alertly and turning back toward the source of the sound. It was like a pair of heavy wings chopping clumsily at the air, straining to lift their owner into the air. Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't trying to be stealthy.
Then, Fishlegs and Heatray appeared and landed on the sea stack nearest to Hiccup. Well… more like 'belly-flopped'.
"That's how," drawled Snotlout. His words were thick with sarcasm.
"Woo!" Fishlegs cheered, patting his Gravios on the head. "We were really moving there, Heatray! So, what'd I miss?" he added.
"It's not what you missed, it's what we all missed!" Snotlout yelled.
Sighing, Hiccup muttered, "Snotlout…"
"What?" Lout shot back. "I'm just calling it like I see it."
"I agree," grumbled the grumpy Grundenson girl beside him. "If we didn't have 'slow'" – she glared at Fishlegs – "and 'really, really slow'" – she glared at Heatray – "holding us back, then maybe we'd have a chance to, oh I don't know, actually do what we're supposed to be doing!"
She finished her sentence in a volume equivalent to Snotlout's last outburst. When she shouted the last word, Fishlegs visibly winced.
Hiccup saw the pudgy boy grimacing and decided that a reprimand was in order. "That's enough out of you, Lout," he scolded his cousin, snappishly. "You too, Tail."
"Wow," Astrid remarked, "that was harsh."
When she caught Hiccup's exasperated look, she quickly clarified, "Oh no, not you. I was talking about them."
"Guys," Fishlegs broke in, effectively silencing the argument that was sure to follow, "I hate to admit it, but he does have a point."
"Legs, please…" Hiccup began.
But he wouldn't hear it. "No, it's no big deal, Hiccup," he assured. "You guys keep looking, and Heatray and I will circle back and patrol the cliffs. You know, shore up the rear."
Uncomfortable with this turn of events, Hiccup shared a very long look with Astrid.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked at last.
"Positive!" Legs all but chirped.
Well, if he was sure, then Hiccup couldn't exactly say no to his request. Admittedly, having someone 'shoring up the rear' would actually be quite helpful. And besides, at the steady pace that Heatray flew, then maybe they had a good chance of spotting the Outcast ship.
"Okay then," he said, nodding approval. He crouched in his seat and clicked the stirrup, signaling to Sightless that he was ready to move on. But as the Gore Magala spread his wings, Hiccup suddenly remembered something. "Ah, use your monster call if you spot anything. And you have your Carapace Mace on you?"
Fishlegs grabbed his Sword and Shield and waved both the weapon and the accompanying shield above his head. "Yes. Meet you back at the village!"
And before the Chief-to-be could change his mind, the Ingerman boy had already told Heatray to take off. The Gravios jumped off the stone spire and fell maybe ten feet before her wings generated enough lift to counteract her heavy armor. Awkwardly, the two of them flew in the opposite direction as their faster-flying Monster Rider fellows.
"Wow…" remarked Fishlegs, at last allowing a frown to manifest on his face. "I thought they'd put up more of a fight than that…"
Berk Woods
It wasn't until they reached a big clearing in the middle of the forest did Fishlegs and Heatray land. When they did, they landed like all Gravioses landed – by falling on their wings and belly, causing the earth to shake slightly.
The clearing was empty for as far as the eye could see. There was no grass, just lots of rocks and sandy soil. Some bushes grew here and there, a few of them with plump berries hanging from their branches. It was the perfect place for Fishlegs to spend some relaxing time alone with his treasured monster companion.
"You thinking what I'm thinking, girl?" he asked, casually tossing her a small rock. Eagerly, she caught it in her jaws and crunched it up, growling in contentment.
"Yeah, you're right," Fishlegs agreed, as if she had given him an answer in Norse. "There's plenty of stuff that we do better than the others. Like hovering… well, maybe not… and, well, as a Gravios, you've got some advantages that the other monsters don't…"
He frowned. Not even thinking of Heatray's good points was cheering him up. Ugh, he hated it when Snotlout was right.
"Oh, what does it matter?" he groused, half-heartedly stuffing a handful of berries into his mouth. "We're still the slowest of the group, and all that thick armor of yours only slows us down further. You're the best-flying Gravios I know, but a Gravios can't chase down an Outcast ship."
Heatray heard his despairing tone and made a comforting rumbling sound. She curled her mace-like tail around her human friend and draped a wing around him, hunkering down on the stony ground so she could sit next to him. Then for a final touch, she bent her head close to him and gave him a long lick across the face.
"Aww, you always know how to make me feel better!" Fishlegs giggled. Already, he was cheering up, and it was all thanks to the strong bond he shared with his monster. He palmed a medium-sized rock and added, "And I know how to make you feel better, too. Here's some sandstone, girl."
He tossed the rock, and she deftly caught it. Fishlegs laughed again and reached for another handful of berries. They continued like that for a couple of minutes – Legs would toss Heatray a rock, she would catch it, and then he would take another few berries before repeating the cycle. At the back of his mind, he realized that he was getting kind of full, but he was having too much fun with Heatray to notice.
That was when a low buzzing sound thrummed through the air. It got closer and closer by the minute, until it was loud enough to draw Fishlegs' attention. He looked up to try and find the source of the noise, and almost immediately found it. A rotund, brown dragon with a head as big as its body and wings that vibrated like a hummingbird's was descending on them from the air. A happy-looking grin stretched across its muzzle.
"Hmm?" wondered Fishlegs. "What's a Gronckle doing all the way out here?"
The Gronckle landed awkwardly and immediately started shoveling rocks into its mouth, growling happily as it fed itself. After a minute or so, it turned to face Fishlegs and Heatray. The Ingerman boy was surprised to see how warm and cheerful its eyes were, not showing even a trace of fear of the much bigger and more dangerous Gravios curled around her rider. In fact, it was steadily coming closer, much to Fishlegs' displeasure.
"U-Um, okay," he stammered nervously, taking a pace back. "You're… coming closer. U-Um, what would Hiccup do? O-Okay… here goes nothing…"
In an effort to coax the wild Gronkle away from him, he tossed a large rock. To his surprise, the Gronckle immediately galloped over to the stone and gulped it down. Then, it turned around and ran right at him, tongue lolling out like an overgrown puppy's.
"N-No!" squeaked Fishlegs, stumbling and falling on his rear. Leaves brushed his back when he tried to scoot away – he was stuck between the berry bushes and a potentially dangerous wild animal.
"Heatray!" the Ingerman boy cried, desperately. "Here girl! C-Come help Daddy!"
But his pleas fell on deaf ears. The sleeping mountain of a wyvern answered him with an earthshaking snore.
That was when he felt something thick, hot, and wet slide over the side of his face. Incredibly, the Gronckle wasn't dangerous at all! It was licking him in the most friendly, affectionate way possible. Perhaps it was thanking him for the delicious rock he had thrown to it.
"Huh, aren't you friendly?" Fishlegs mused, sitting up straighter and patting the dragon on the side of its chin.
The Gronckle growled in a cheerful way and wagged its stubby tail, nudging its head into the ground and causing several rocks to clatter towards Fishlegs.
"Oh, I get it!" he realized, and picked up a rock. Immediately, the Gronckle backed away and opened its mouth, ready to catch it.
Chuckling, Legs tossed the rock, and the Gronckle deftly swallowed it in one gulp. He did it again, idly reaching toward the berry bush and stuffing some of the fruits into his own mouth.
He continued feeding the friendly Gronckle, while gulping down another handful of berries… and another… and another… and another…
Gobber's Forge
Fishlegs was in a much more miserable state when he got back to the village than when he left. Every step he took was labored and slow, and accompanied by an uncomfortable lurch from his stomach. Had those berries been poisonous? Surely not.
The Gronckle was still at his side, and she (he had determined that it was a female) was staggering around much like he was. She had lost all of her previous cheer, and was now dragging herself around like she was about to be sick. Now that Fishlegs thought about it, she had been eating a little too much…
Another painful cramp twisted his insides, and Fishlegs let out a low groan as he continued on the path toward Gobber's workshop. There had to have been something wrong with those berries. He was always very careful when he ate. He couldn't have overeaten like the Gronckle had – he had just been eating handful after handful, and all of a sudden, his stomach was cramping.
Hmm… the more Fishlegs thought about it, the more he began to realize that maybe he had been overeating.
"Ugghh… Gobber…?" he called weakly, once he was near the smithy. "We need your help! This Gronckle's not feeling well…"
There was a loud clatter from inside the building, and then Gobber poked his head out of the window. "What seems ta be the problem?"
Finally reaching the building, Fishlegs put a hand on the wall to support himself and started to explain. "Heatray and I were playing with this Gronckle, and she ate too much, and now she can't seem to spit any lava. You're an expert on caring for dragons, so can you help her?"
"Aha, yeh came ta the right place!" the blacksmith crowed proudly. "Come righ' in and make yerselves at home. I'll take a look at yer dragon."
While Fishlegs settled himself on a stool to wait and observe, Gobber kneeled down on the floor and took a close look at the Gronckle. After peering at her for a couple of seconds, he reached forward and pulled her mouth open, then began to examine the inside.
"Hmm…" he hummed, the sound echoing in the Gronckle's cavernous mouth. Then she suddenly exhaled, and the rush of warm air was enough to make Gobber recoil. "Yecch! Odin's dirty diaper!"
Fishlegs flinched. "Wh-What's wrong?"
"Dragon breath…" he muttered with disgust, waving his hand in front of his nose. "I'd say she overdid it. You too, Legs. Celebratin', were ya?"
He thought back to the mood he had been in when he and Heatray had landed in that clearing in the first place. "Uh, not exactly…" he answered.
"Don't worry," Gobber assured him, walking to the back of his shop and beginning to rummage around on one of the shelves. "Ol' Gobber can fix 'er right up! Now let's see here…"
He pulled out a Longsword. "Nope…"
Then out came a serious-looking Lance. "Nope…"
His hand came out for a third time, holding something much smaller than a weapon. "Aha! Here we go!"
The burly Viking held up the item he had procured from the shelf, and Fishlegs stared at it with surprise and skepticism – it was an ordinary chicken feather. That fact didn't stop Gobber, however, who knelt back down and approached the Gronckle once again.
"Oh, come on," the pudgy boy said, shaking his head. "A feather isn't going to –"
Gobber wiggled the feather around so that the tip brushed the dragon's underside, and her front end immediately exploded, spewing lava out of her mouth like an erupting volcano.
In mere seconds, it was over. Fishlegs and Gobber awkwardly crouched on the same stool, their legs pulled up so that they wouldn't accidentally step in the lava. Now that the Gronckle was feeling better, there was enough lava covering the floor for a person to bathe in – not that anyone would ever try it, of course.
"Whoa!" Fishlegs exclaimed, eyes bugging. "… Um, sorry about your shop. I've never seen a Gronckle make so much lava before, or any lava of this color. It's weird…"
Indeed, the molten rock that slowly oozed over the ground, burning and melting anything it touched, was of a strange hue and consistency. Fishlegs had seen many Gronckles spit lava, but this kind was much more reddish-orange than usual.
Deciding that he would worry about it later, he held the feather out to Gobber invitingly. "Okay, tickle at will!"
With a disgusted grunt, Gobber pushed his hand away. "Keep yer tunic on, boy," he scoffed. "I only do dragons."
Village Plaza
Later that afternoon, the villagers milling about the plaza looked up expectantly when they heard the wingbeats of a Gore Magala coming toward the village. They weren't disappointed when they saw Hiccup and Sightless appear over the roof of a building, followed by all of the other monsters. The Monster Riders and their leader circled the plaza once each, then landed and hopped off of their monsters.
Hiccup spared the smithy a glance. There was Heatray just outside the main entrance, taking a nap in the noonday sun. That definitely meant that the Ingerman that he was hoping to find was nearby.
Right before he could call out for his friend, Fishlegs himself walked out of the forge with a smile on his face.
"Oh, look who's back!" he greeted, clapping Hiccup on the back. "I heard you guys coming from inside Gobber's place. So, did you find your Outcast ship?"
"Do you see an Outcast ship?" Snotlout shot back, rudely.
"Lout, remember what Hiccup said," warned Astrid. She tapped her foot and sent him a glare that effectively shushed him.
"What Snotlout means," Snaketail said to Fishlegs, "is that no, we didn't find it."
Arachne walked over, her Smothering Smokebreath named Cuddles perched in his usual spot on her shoulder. The tiny dragon suddenly opened his mouth and let out a belch, which took the form of a large cloud of grey fog.
"I'm sure we will next time, though!" the ten-year-old added optimistically. Without losing her bright smile, she fanned Cuddles' smoke away from her face.
Hiccup was about to reply when he caught a bright, gleaming flash of silver from out of the corner of his eye. He immediately turned around to check out the fascinating phenomenon. He had never, ever seen something so bright. There in front of his shop was Gobber, and he was waving an odd-looking dagger around. It was the dagger's blade that had reflected the light so intensely.
"Hey Gobber!" the Haddock boy called, waving his mentor over. "What's up?"
A smirk on his face, Gobber met up with the riders, holding the blade out for all to see. Smugly, he asked, "Do yeh know what this is?"
Instantly, Tuffnut's hand went up. "Oh, oh, don't tell me! Don't tell me!"
"A sword?" guessed Ruff.
"I said don't tell me!" Tuff yelled, shoving his sister.
"I wasn't telling you!" she yelled back, slugging him in the gut.
Everyone automatically tuned out the sounds of the Thorston twins getting into another of their brawls. Privately, Hiccup was surprised that they didn't try fighting each other while on patrol. He could see it now, the twins yelling and cursing as they flew atop their Lunastra and Teostra, poking at each other with their Lances.
There was a nudge on his shoulder. It was Sightless, apparently sensing that his human companion had spaced out. Idly, Hiccup patted the Gore Magala's smooth head and paid attention to what Gobber was saying.
"This ain't just any dagger," the blacksmith claimed, tossing it from hand to hand. He then threw it to Astrid, who expertly caught the weapon's handle. "Feel it! I made it out of that strange lava the Gronckle left in me smithy."
"You made this out of Gronckle lava?" the Hofferson girl inquired curiously. She brought the blade up to eye level, then, apparently satisfied, she gave it to Arachne so the younger girl could have a look.
"I prefer to call it Gronckle iron," corrected Gobber, folding his arms. "I got tired of waitin' for it to cool. You know wha' I always say – pound it while it's hot! Next thing yeh know, bing bang boom, an' I've created this li'l beauty."
"Wow, how amazing is that?!" squealed Fishlegs.
Another hand was raised, this one belonging to Snaketail. "Question," said the Grundenson girl. "What was a Gronckle doing in your forge?"
When Gobber raised his eyebrow and gave Fishlegs a significant look, the boy giggled nervously and hid his hands behind his back.
"Legs, what did you do?" Tail asked, suspicious.
Like he was attempting to change the subject, Fishlegs rapidly asked, "S-So, how about that sword, huh? What do you think, cool right?"
Arachne hummed uncertainly. "It's pretty, but… too light," she told him. "It'd never hold up in battle. Right, Astrid?"
She brushed her blonde hair out of her eyes and beamed proudly at the little Philston girl, pleased to see that their combat practice had taught her something.
"Exactly what I thought!" Gobber chuckled at Arachne, taking the blade back from her. "Tha' is, until I did this…!"
Without any warning whatsoever, he turned around and swung the sword with blinding speed right at Snotlout. Reflexively, he removed his Steel Uragaan jaw Hammer and held it up in front of him like a shield. The Gronckle iron-made dagger shone so brightly in the sunlight that it left a trail of light behind as it cut straight through the Hammer's handle and consequently sliced it in two.
"Whoa," said Arachne. That summed it up.
"Nice swing," Hiccup complimented.
Bitterly, Snotlout picked up the two halves of his Hammer and muttered something obscene under his breath.
"Is there any left?" Astrid asked, suddenly enthusiastic. "I've been thinking about a new pair of Dual Blades."
"New helmets!" the twins cheered.
They promptly shared a head-bash, their helmets colliding with a dull *thunk*. Ruff and Tuff then backed away from each other, woozily wobbling around as the impact started to affect their heads.
"Ours are pretty banged up from… banging them…" slurred Tuffnut, giving the others a dazed grin.
A sly look in her eyes as she regarded him, Snaketail opened her mouth to give Tuff a comment, but Hiccup predicted that they probably didn't want to hear what came out of her mouth, and thusly stopped her with a shake of his head.
Meanwhile, Gobber was pleased that the teens were so excited by his new discovery. "Sure thing!" he told Astrid and the Thorstons. "An' Hiccup, it'd go well with tha' fancy new Bug Staff or what have you."
"Insect Glaive, actually," corrected Hiccup, then nodded. "And actually, that was exactly what I was thinking. That 'Gronckle iron' of yours could make it stronger and lighter."
Hearing the enthusiasm in his rider's voice, Sightless let out a short scream and cheerfully bumped his rider's arm, flapping his cape excitedly.
Miffed, Snotlout held up his broken weapon with an unamused expression and spoke up, "Excuse me. Why don't you start by making me a new Hammer?"
"Why don't yeh start by gettin' in line?" Gobber sniped at him.
At first, Hiccup chuckled at the blacksmith's way of shooting Lout down. Then the full impact of what he had said hit him all of a sudden, and he narrowed his eyes.
"Wait… what do you mean by 'line'?" he wondered.
Gobber's Forge
"Oh," the Haddock boy said. "That line."
Indeed, there was a long line of Vikings that stretched across the plaza, starting directly outside Gobber's forge. All of the men and women were clamoring animatedly as they waited not-so-patiently for their orders to be delivered.
Hiccup walked passed the line and entered the forge, only to see Gobber, Fishlegs, and a brown Gronckle all hard at work. Upon being asked, Hiccup decided that he wasn't busy at the moment and could definitely lend a helping hand. With his help, the Gronckle iron-made weapons and accessories could get to their customers' waiting hands a lot quicker.
"The whole village has heard about that Gronckle of yers, Fishlegs!" remarked Gobber, banging away at the anvil. "They all want a piece of the action."
Putting down the tools with which he was working, Hiccup held up his new Insect Glaive up to the light. The blade was now fiery red-and-orange, while the staff was covered in silver and gold scales, courtesy of Silversol and his Gold Rathian mate. Obviously, the scales had been shed, not taken off by force. Either way, Hiccup's glaive looked absolutely fantastic. And that was just the outside – underneath the scales was a thin layer of Gronckle iron to add to its sturdiness.
"This Gronckle iron is going to do wonders for my Insect Glaive," the Chief-to-be said to himself, shivering with delight and anticipation.
"I know, right?!" cried Fishlegs, beside himself with enthusiasm. "How great is this stuff?!"
"So, what kind of rocks did you feed her?" asked Hiccup curiously.
Fishlegs blanched. "Well, uh, actually, I can't tell you."
From his position at the anvil, Gobber joined the conversation with a raised eyebrow. "Really?" he skeptically replied. "An' how's that?"
"Um, trade secret," Legs answered. "Heh, you know. If I told you, I'd have to mace you!" He took a nearby mace and pretended to hit something with it, giggling nervously.
The Gronckle, currently taking a short nap on the floor, let out a laughter-like growl as well. However, whether or not she actually knew what they were talking about was questionable.
About to say something, Hiccup's voice abruptly died in his throat when he heard someone calling to him from across the plaza. He slipped out the door and immediately spotted Astrid running at full tilt toward him. When she reached him, she took a couple of seconds to catch her breath before spilling what she had to say.
"Hiccup!" she half-gasped. "The sentries say they saw another Outcast boat! We have to go after it!"
Without any hesitation, the Haddock boy nodded understandingly. "On it! You coming, Legs?"
"I'd love to, Hiccup," he replied, then pointed to the long lineup of Vikings waiting for their Gronckle iron. "But, as you can see, I'm pretty busy here."
Understandingly, Hiccup was quite disappointed. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have chalked his friend's reluctance to come along up to Snotlout's heckling earlier that day. But this wasn't an ordinary circumstances. Gobber legitimately needed Fishlegs' help with his work.
"Okay then…" he finally said. "Thanks anyway, Legs. Sightless, let's go!" he added in a shout, and the Gore Magala leapt out of nowhere to scoop his rider onto his back and gallop away to meet with the other riders.
Astrid whistled for Blackhawk, and the purple bird wyvern appeared just as quickly as Sightless had to take her human companion toward the academy.
Fishlegs watched them go. Privately, part of him wanted to hop aboard Heatray and join them, but he knew he couldn't do that. Right now, there was someone who needed him more than Hiccup did.
Time flew as the customers came and went. With each new order, Fishlegs would tickle the Gronckle's belly with the feather to get her to cough up more lava, which Gobber would collect and rapidly shape into a weapon or helmet. More and more Vikings walked away from the smithy happily toting their new possessions, and the line grew smaller but never went away entirely.
Several projects later, Gobber stood up from where he was working at the forge, wiping his sweaty brow. "We're gettin' low on Gronckle iron, Fishlegs," he told the Ingerman boy. "Whyn't yeh make some more magic fer the customers?"
Nodding happily, Fishlegs knelt down with his feather in hand. He approached the Gronckle for the umpteenth time that day and began to tickle, hearing that familiar rumbling inside the dragon's gut that meant something was about to come out – but this time, instead of a huge puddle of hot lava, out came a couple of metallic spheres that could have easily sat together in the palm of Fishlegs' hand.
… Heck, they could have sat together in Arachne's hand.
Needless to say, Gobber was not impressed. "An' what am I supposed to do with that, Gronckle? Make someone a fetchin' pair o' indestructible earrings?"
"Ooh, ooh!"
"Not gonna happen, Gunnar!" the blacksmith snapped, sending a sharp glare out the window.
The Gronckle looked down with heavy-lidded eyes and growled apologetically. She didn't know what she had done to make them so disappointed – but what could she do? They wanted lava, right? Well, she was all out of it at the moment.
Fishlegs patted the dragon on the head, assuring her that it wasn't her fault. After all, they were bound to run out of material eventually.
He turned around and found Gobber staring down at him. Timidly, he quailed.
"Alright, boy, I think it's time yeh let me in on yer 'trade secret'," said Gobber. There would be no room for argument.
Secret Cave
As it turned out, the Outcast boat that had been frustrating the Monster Riders all day was practically right under their noses. On the other side of the island, where the forest made way for the ocean cliffs, Savage and a small group of Outcasts climbed down from their ship and entered the cave.
The cave was actually more of an entrance to a huge network of tunnels that had been dug underneath Berk. When a rogue Najarala had visited the island, its burrowing had produced all these subterranean passageways. As part of his plan to destroy Berk, Alvin had told his pet Whispering Death, Nightshade, to help the snake wyvern dig.
Savage raised his torch once he had walked deep enough into the tunnel. The light from the flame illuminated the cave ceiling, where a flock of bat-winged serpents could be seen flitting about. Then, when he lowered the torch again, he saw huge – but not yet full-grown – snake wyverns slithering across the cave floor.
"Alvin's plan is working!" he exclaimed with sadistic glee. "When these Najaralas and Whispering Deaths are fully grown, Berk will be destroyed!"
"Savage, look!"
The cry came from farther down the tunnel. Savage and his posse rushed toward the voice and quickly came across another Outcast standing in front of a humongous wall. Upon closer inspection, though, it was revealed that the wall wasn't stone. Rather, it was covered with scales.
When Savage stepped back, the light from his torch revealed the entire thing. It was a gigantic monster's muzzle, long and rather flat like a snake's. On the side was a crusty orange eye that didn't move, not even when an Outcast poked it. On top, there were numerous black scales that looked uncomfortably like sharp blades. But the most shocking thing about it was its size – as big as a Barroth.
"Their tunnelin' must have dug this thing out!" the Outcast went on, pointing toward the top of the monster's head. "It looks almost ten feet above my head! What do you think it is?"
"I've never seen anything quite like that before…" Savage murmured, carefully scrutinizing the unmoving beast. "…or anything quite that size…"
He looked again at the monster's dull eye, and quickly turned away, shivering. It seemed like it was staring right at him.
"Is it still alive?" another Outcast asked.
"I'm not sticking around to find out," replied Savage, booking it out of the tunnel and trying to get the images out of his head.
But if that thing is still alive, and decides to wake up, he couldn't help but think, then Berk will surely not last long.
Funny thing, readers. When Tuffnut made the comment about banging up his helmet, I almost had Snaketail say something, but the remark in mind was probably way too inappropriate for a T-rated story.
So yes, Meatlug finally appears in this chapter. It didn't take me long to write it, mostly because I want to get this episode out of the way so I can write more exciting ones.
Also, I just found out that they released new "Race to the Edge" episodes! I'm going to have to watch them and figure out how to put the Monster Hunter twist on them!
Coming up soon – the next chapter! Please review!
