Chapter 9: Something Crazy

Hiccup's scream rang out in an echo. He watched the world rush past him in slow motion, as if time had slowed to a turtle's crawl. Then, it gradually sped up, and his stomach lurched. The air and cliff streaked past him as he fell down, down, down.

He was going to die.

He clawed at the air, desperately trying to grasp onto something, anything, but the air slipped through his fingers like a faithless friend. Nothing, no one, could stop him. He was completely helpless. He was completely at the mercy of gravity and darkness as he fell down, down, down.

But then, just as he had thought all was lost, just as he was beginning to accept this was the end, the most unbelievable stroke of luck appeared like a bolt out of the blue. Out of nowhere, Hiccup painfully scraped past the wooden claws of a tree which tore at his arms and middle. He almost did not stop falling, but luckily his hand snatched a dangling vine just in time and he came to a jerking halt. The vine stretched and shot up, swaying crazily and twanging with the energy of an elastic cord. Despite the slimy, drenching wetness making it difficult, Hiccup grasped tightly onto the vine as it swayed and jerked back and forth and back and forth like a frantic, convulsing pendulum.

But regardless of his efforts, he felt his hands slipping. He could not hold on much longer. He clung tighter, wrapping his legs around, panting erratically, but he kept slipping slowly, slowly. He was reaching the end of the vine.

Though had been doing his best to avoid it, he looked down, and he let out a gasp. It was not one of horror, but of disbelief. For just below him, illuminated by the lightning, its tattered, ghostly sail swishing in the wind, was the remains of a boat that had lodged itself into the sharp rocks on the edge of the island.

His eyes travelled to the beam of the mainsail, then to his dangling feet. He was so near. If he could just get to it. . .

With a light kick against the rocky side of the island, he swung towards the beam, then back again. Not hard enough. He tried again, putting a little more effort into his kick this time. He swung forward. He reached out his right foot and caught onto the beam, stopping himself. He gingerly edged himself over, then he reached a hand forward, then the other. Hiccup almost slipped because of the dampness of the mast and his broken prosthetic, but he managed to steady himself before he could fall.

He slid down the rope snaking down the mainsail, landing onto the damp deck floor ungracefully on his bottom.

Hiccup finally let out a sigh, then he looked around at the ship, still clinging to the rocky crags despite the many torrential storms of late. He was unsure how it had managed to stay or how long it had been here. From the looks of the wood which had only just began to form beds of moss, it had crashed here not too long ago.

His eyes traveled up, up, up towards the cliff from which he had fallen, and he put his hand to his head in distress.

"Oh, I can't believe I split up with Toothless. Why didn't I stay with him? Now I'm down here, and he's up here being chased by a pack of crazy Speed Stingers, and-" He stopped, groaned in frustration, and did a double facepalm. "And I'm talking to no one."

Hiccup wanted to kick himself. This whole thing, this entire fiasco, was of his own making, his own fault. Who was it that volunteered to go on this errand and gather supplies? Him. Who was it that thought it was a good idea to fly in stormy weather? Him. Who was it that decided to camp out in that cave where a pack of Speed Stingers were nesting? Him. Who was it that lost Toothless? Him.

Hiccup's fingers knotted in his hair as his brain pulsed in time with his anxious heart, All my fault, all my fault, all my fault.

All my fault.

Then, another voice inside his head came, one that drowned out that screaming wave of doubt and despair.

It doesn't matter.

Hiccup lifted his sopping head slowly in realization. Maybe he did mess up horrendously. Maybe he did screw up a lot and make some stupid decisions. Maybe Toothless was in danger because of him. But in the end, after everything, why did it matter?

Of course, it mattered that mistakes were made and it was because of him. But really, what did sitting here, dwelling on them do other than make him sink further into self-pity? Was Hiccup really going to give up? Was Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, who survived the Red Death, going to give up because of something like this? Was he really going to let his friend die like this?

No.

He would not. Hiccup would never give up. He never stopped fighting for Toothless, and he was not going to do so now. So he did what all heroes ought to do when knocked down.

Shaking, trembling, quivering, he got back up again.

He nearly slipped and fell because of his broken prosthetic twisting on the wet deck. But he managed to stand, and gave a deep breath.

"Okay." Hiccup passed a hand through his sopping hair. "Think. Toothless is up there, being chased by those Speed Stingers. No tail, so he can't fly. He's outnumbered and alone. And you're down here on this ship with no weapons and resources."

But, as his gaze drifted around he noticed various damp, weathered barrels and crates, some upright, some overturned by the wind with their contents spilling out. He wondered if this vessel once belonged to a merchant of some sort. Then, he spotted a tiny bit of rope slithering out of one of them. His heart pounding in excitement, he limped over and snatched the rope up. He began deftly wrapping the rope around his dislodged prosthetic in order to secure it in place then finished with a tight knot. He tapped his prosthetic lightly against the ground, then put some weight on it. It seemed sturdy enough. He glanced up at the slimy, craggy cliff that extended up, up, up, and past the veil of mists. There was no way in Valhalla he could possibly scale it free, even if all his ribs were intact and he possessed the necessary arm strength or the cliff was dry. But even if he got up, how would he rescue his dragon from that Stinger pack? How would they get off this island with no power of flight?

He stopped himself; one thing at a time. First, he had to find another way up that cliff. Hiccup glanced around at the crates and barrels. If he learned anything from perusing Trader Johann's wares, it was that certain merchants carried quite the motherlode of goods. Perhaps he could find something useful. By the light of the storm, he searched through the crates. Many of them seemed to have held foodstuffs-fish, he suspected- at one point in time, but had been stripped away or lost, perhaps in the wreck. However, he did find some other valuables-a dripping and weathered leather satchel, a vial, an old knife. He tucked both knife and vial into the satchel then slung it over his shoulder. Hopefully, these would come in handy somehow.

He came to the last crate which was partially covered under a mossy fishing net. Pulling it off with a grimace, he proceeded to open the lid. He gasped in surprise in disbelief. He did not believe it! Dried poppies, willow bark, peppermint leaves, bottles of ointments for wounds. All medical supplies, everything Hiccup had set out to get, and more!

He began stuffing some of the supplies into his satchel, leaving the ointment because it smelt spoilt. He wondered what the odds were of this lucky turn. He wondered whether this had been the gods smiling on him. Whatever had brought this about, he was grateful regardless. If he could stumble upon an entire crate of medical supplies and survive falling off a cliff, he could find a way back up.

The storm was beginning to pass away, and the lightning and thunder were drifting, travelling further and further west. He was running out of time.

He began peering down the barrels as well, but he found nothing but strange, tiny teeth and claw marks on the brims and on the inside of the barrel. Strange. Hiccup's ears pricked up when there was a small scuffling noise.

Scritch-scratch. Scratch-scritch.

Hiccup twisted around and faced the head of the boat. Nothing there.

Scritch-scratch. Scritch-scratch, scritch-scratch. There it was again. Hiccup turned around. He listened hard and tried to pinpoint the noise's origin. Scritch-scritch-scritch-scratch. It was coming from an overturned barrel. Cautiously, gingerly, Hiccup crept over to it. The scratching continued. Scritch-Scratch-Scritch-scritch-scritch-scratch. He crouched down, peered in and-

Two bright orange orbs peered at him from inside. Hiccup recoiled with a yelp. Slithering out came a tiny orange Terrible Terror.

Hiccup breathed a sigh, clapping a hand to his head. "Oh, gods. Sorry, I thought you were gonna attack me."

He went to reach out his hand to pet the Terror, but the tiny dragon shrunk back with a wince. Hiccup wondered what was wrong, then noticed the Terror's left wing was limp and bent at an unnatural angle.

"Ohh," said Hiccup, his heart giving a twinge of sympathy. He picked up a stick off the deck, then ripped off a strip of his tattered tunic. He slid the stick underneath the broken wing, then tied the strip of fabric around the ends to make a splint.

"There, that's better," Hiccup smiled, finishing off the last knot.

The small dragon chittered, goggling at the human's handiwork. Gratefully, he licked Hiccup's hand, earning a small laugh from the boy.

"You're welcome, little guy. Guess you're trapped down here, too, huh?" Hiccup petted the dragon behind its horns absentmindedly, glancing up at the cliff, the top of which he had yet to reach. "We've both got family to get to. And I have no clue how to start." Hiccup gave the Terrible Terror a hopeful sideways glance. "I don't suppose you could scale that cliff either?"

The small dragon inhaled and snorted a little.

"Yeah, I guess not-"

The Terrible Terror snorted again, once, twice. Hiccup barely jumped aside as the orange newt gave an enormous sneeze, and an explosion of enormous green, wild flames came spurting forward, leaving a trail of steaming wood on the deck where it touched.

"Whoa! What the Thor?"

The little dragon let out a tiny burp of smoke that reeked so pungently of fish and seafood that Hiccup had to turn away and cough. He wondered what type of fish had this dragon been living on. Clearly, it had been something that had seriously increased the dragon's firepower.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

Experimentally, Hiccup took the damp list of supplies which he had placed in his pocket earlier. He scratched the Terrible Terror under his chin, and he let out a low, sustained green flame. He held it a small distance above the flame and to his surprise he watched as the parchment rose upward.

"Heat rises," Hiccup murmured to himself, and his gaze drifted upward to the sail waving slowly in the wind, then back down to two long, bendy poles, and a pile of rope gathered at the mast.

He had an idea.

Wasting no time, he got to his feet and began lowering the mainsail. Next, he tore it until it was a suitable size, and gathered it up. He took the two poles cut them with the dagger. He tied them together in the center to make a strange flowering shape. Over this, he laid the mainsail and stitched it around the poles and made a dome.

He wove a rope through the hole in each of the corners of the dome. Then he took the other end of the rope and threading them through the two holes in one of the overturned barrels, he tied a secure knot on each side. Struggling and straining, he turned it right side up. Then, using the mast pulled a rope tied around the top of the dome and secured it tightly around a notch in the brim of the barrel. The sail was now suspended above the barrel in a dome-like shape. He had made a balloon.

Hiccup glanced at his work then whistled to the Terrible Terror. "Come on, little guy, time to go."

The orange dragon, who at the moment was gnawing at a stray piece of rope, lifted his head and slinked all over to Hiccup's feet. The boy took the Terrible Terror in his arms and climbed inside the barrel. He glanced up at the cliff which travelled up and past the veil of mist, then at the sail of his balloon.

Hiccup took a measured breath, then stared at the Terrible Terror. "Okay, I need you to do something for me."

For a moment, the Terror was squirming, his head twisting this way and that until he realized Hiccup was addressing him. He focused his beady eyes in an attempt of concentration.

"I need you to keep a steady flame, aim it up at the sky." Hiccup pointed upward to the inside of the dome. "Remember to breathe if you get tired. Can you do that?"

The orange newt gave a ditzy nod and squeaked. Hiccup assumed that was a 'yes.' With a quick prayer and a murmur of 'here goes nothing,' Hiccup placed the Terror on the brim of the barrel and gave

it a light tickle under its chin. The dragon belched a massive green flame upward. The heat emanating forth was so unbearably intense that Hiccup had to back to the opposite side to pass out from it. When Hiccup glanced up, he noticed the folds of the dome expanding out and up.

He reached for the tether rope in the notch. He yanked it, and the balloon was cut free. Gently, slowly, it began to rise up, up, up. Hiccup bent over to find the deck of the ship shrinking, getting gradually further from them and growing out of focus.

Hiccup laughed breathlessly. "Okay. So far, so good. Good job, little guy. Keep going."

For a while, the balloon's ascent continued, sluggishly, calmly, drifting up, up, up, until they passed through the white veil of mist. The Terror kept his flame going, but it forgot to breathe, and the mist made it distracted and jittery. For a moment, he shut his mouth, rasping and quivering. Hiccup felt the balloon suddenly dip to the side.

"Deep breaths, come on. Please, keep going. We can make it."

The orange dragon breathed short puffs of fire, pushing the balloon up in small spurts. It was something, but Hiccup knew it would last. He watched as the green flames gradually diminished little by little. Tension seized his lungs as he glanced at the cliff beside them which seemed to go on forever. They had to be getting close to the top, they had to be nearer there. White-hot terror fritzed his body, his heart hammered out, We're gonna die, We're gonna die, we're gonna die, we're gonna die.

Yet, holding fast to the edge of the barrel, Hiccup breathed over and over "That's it, that's it, just keep going, just keep going" to the little dragon. He poked his head out, glancing up at the rocky wall, hoping to see the end.

It was all a game of chance. Either they ran out of wall, or the Terror ran out of fire.

The little dragon kept going on, wheezing more and more with each weak little puff.

"Just one more," Hiccup breathed pleadingly. "Please, just one more…"

CRA-ASH! With a yelp, Hiccup toppled over as a huge rock dashed against the side of the balloon. His face hit the wooden bottom, and pain fritzed the injured area around his ribs once more.

CRA-ASH! The barrel was hit and tipped over, dumping both Hiccup and the Terrible Terror rolling out onto a squishy, moist bed of grass.

Hesitant, unsure, Hiccup's hand ran over the mushy blades. Despite the pins-and-needle sensation plaguing his side, he sat up to find his balloon toppled over on the edge of the grassy cliff.

The cliff.

They had made it.

Hiccup exhaled sharply, then laughed incredulously. "It worked. It worked!"

Wheezing pathetically, the orange Terror collapsed onto Hiccup's lap with a small puff of smoke.

"You were a trooper," Hiccup smiled, petting the exhausted dragon fondly. "Thank you so much."

The orange newt gave a tiny purr. Then lifting his head, he nuzzled Hiccup's chest lightly and shot off quickly into the forest. Terrors recover their energy easily.

A grin spread out across Hiccup's face. "Guess you're off to find your friends." He rose to his feet. "I should find mine."

Almost instantly, Hiccup heard the tell-tale shriek of several Speed Stingers. Hurriedly, he ventured in the forest. He had to hurry and find Toothless. When a pack of Stingers was shrieking, that was not a good sign.

It meant they were hunting.