First off, sorry for not updating for the past week and a half. This is the second half of the day before last of Karma's lesson. By all means enjoy! Review with input and constructive criticism, it helps a lot!

italics = thought

Disclaimer: I honestly can say that I don't own the movie, but if I did I would have made more cool dragons than just the Night Fury (it's sad that there is only one cool dragon out of the whole thing).

I was right, Glint was waiting as patiently as a dragon could at the appointed spot. I crunched along the beach to get to him, looking around him for any dragons he may have scouted; so far, I didn't even see one.

"Oi Glint, where are the recruits!" I asked, loud and angry. He looked down slightly, moaning in reply. C'mon! I know that there was at least a Nadder here! I was very short on patience after my latest run in with the Romans. Glint gave a weird whistling coo and out of the bushes came a small hoard of Terrible Terrors, I wasn't impressed much. "Well this'd be good if we were torching a rowboat! Come on, this is a friggin roman transport tub, we need more than just that!" the Terrors didn't seem to like my tone of voice, hissing and hunching defensively. Glint gave me the "I sorry" look, his ears flopping down, his eyes the size of dinner plates and shiny as the sea. I glared strait into them but my eyes wouldn't stay in that expression for much longer than a second. Darn those big eyes, is it just some sort of defense mechanism! Well I've got news for you, your not going to get out of this like that . . . Ooooh fine, but I'm only letting you off this time!

"Did you really look hard?" I said, breathing slowly to calm myself, he nodded "Did they catch the other dragons?" he paused and then nodded, I sighed and sat. How would we win this with only one Night Fury, a dozen or so Terrors, and me versus a huge Roman ship and the Romans therein? The ship had been proofed against fire, that was proven because it hadn't roared into flame when Glint and I had tried last night in our escape, but that didn't stop the explosion it caused. That gave me a pretty good idea of what we needed to do; we couldn't burn the ship down, but we could blow it up! . . . How? Terrors can burn but not blast, Glint can blast but not enough. Where could we get more dragons? It was really a stupid question I realized, I hailed from a place bountiful in dragons, we could get the added force from Berk! I already had the next step planned in my head as I looked intensely into Glint's eyes again, figuring that that would help him understand.

"Glint, I need you to go to Berk," I started, trying to think of a way to explain how to get there "y'see those clouds?" I asked pointing at the dark halo of cummulou nimbus, he stared at them for a moment before nodding "I want you to follow them until you find an island, it'll be Berk. Get as many dragons as you can to come here." I commanded, Glint confirmed his understanding by turning around and lifting a wing to let me on his back. I had never been on Glint's back, I had always just let him carry me below him, the gesture was touching as much as I hated to turn it down.

"No Glint, I'm not coming, I have to make sure that that barge stays here while your gone." he didn't look like he liked that idea, narrowing his eyes and growling lightly as if to say "your going"; I shook my head. I ripped off a bit of my already tattered shirt and began to write a quick message in runic with a piece of charred wood I had saved. Glint beckoned me to get on again, a little more forcefully this time, trying to pull me over with his outstretched wing. I shook my head again and held out my message to him, he sniffed at it and looked at me questioningly.

"If any viking tries to stop you, show them this." I held out the cloth to his mouth, he gave me the "you've gotta be kidding me" glare "Look! The faster you get them, the faster this will be over!" I yelled trying to push him away, he didn't budge. I stared at him, my one eye pleading with his two. He blinked in a resigned manner and took the bit of scrawled on cloth in his jaws, teeth retracted, and took off into the sky; he was flying pretty fast. Please get back soon! I begged fate before looked in the direction of the Roman ship, not really seeing it. They had probably cleaned the island out completely, the vessel would probably be re-embarking onto the sea soon. If they are allowed to roam free, then they might try for Berk. If they caught Glint again, I don't know what I'd do. This ends today!

The Terrors all looked at me like they expected me to do something, I self-consciously shoved my hands in my pockets and was surprised feel a slight pain in my right hand. The scale! I withdrew it from my pocket, remembering that I had put it there the night before after having escaped. I looked toward the other half of the island again, feeling out where the Roman carrier would have anchored, a plan formulating in my head again. The wind was a key player in all ships, without the wind a ship would have a very hard time moving. Even with those oars they wouldn't get far without the wind, I smiled at the realization. This can work. This can work. This will work. This! WILL! WORK! I internally chanted to build my confidence.

The Terrors saw me getting into a ready stance, leaning forward and bending my knees slightly, and positioned themselves to pounce too. We took off into the trees like arrows from a bow, me running and them flying close behind, aiming for the enemy. Zipping through the trees with effortless ease, we charged. It came into sight, the hulking hull of our target; thick lines of rope trailed to stakes hammered into the ground to keep it from floating off. The aim was not to destroy, but to sabotage.

I came to one of the anchoring lines and started to scale the rope toward the railing. I slung myself over the side and onto the ship's main deck, flinging my head haphazardly from left to right as I scanned for anyone on board. Content that there was no one in sight I signaled to the Terror flock, pointing at them and then at the rigging that held the ship's sail up. They understood, flying swiftly to the pulleys and ropes of the rigging to do their unspoken job. They started to gnaw at the lines, the the sail quivering on its mast in protest. This was just what I wanted! I gripped the scale and started to chop at the lower half of the rigging on deck, the scale acting as a two edged sword as it cut the line as well as my unprotected fingers. Four more lines and I heard an extremely loud bang behind me as the main sail came crashing down down to the deck, snapping at three different points. That was when the Romans started to appear, screaming something that I guessed was to the effect of "um, I think they broke the sail".

"Time to go me boys!" I called up to the Terrors, they were still gnawing at ropes that had already snapped. They got my message and took to the air like arrows from bows, not even waiting for me; not that I expected them to anyway. I shoved the scale back into my pocket with my bloody hand and flung myself over the railing, Romans bellowing behind me. I had missed the rope, I found that out as I slammed hard into the rocky sand of the beach. Dazed, I pulled myself to my feet and started to speed-hobble towards the safety of the trees. My progress was impeded as I walked between two trees only to find the ground above me again, the sky to my feet, some sort of string holding me up in the air. Everything was spinning, I couldn't tell what had happened at all! Why was I upside down! I bounced twice on the cord, rewarded with a tightening edge of pressure on my ankle. What is this!

I tried bending up to get a better look at the cord, but found that everything was harder when suspended in midair. It's like those Troll catching traps that my Gobber showed me how to make, I realized, the rope that was cinched around my right ankle did look a lot like them. The trap was a simple loop that is made with a weight on the other end of the rope, and when someone steps inside of it they get strung up like a fish. That's simple, just cut the rope! I figured as I tried to bend up again, sticking my hand into my pocket in search of my sharp scale. Pulling up with my arm on my ankle I tried to slice at the thin cord with the scale, it was hard to cut at the same spot with all the bungee bouncing my movement caused. I was almost halfway through at one spot when my hand was smacked with something icy and hard; the flat of a sword. The scale slipped from my blood slick fingers as I turned my head to look at my assailant. WHAM! The flat edge slammed on my temple, causing my vision to pulse with those hated black spots! Being knocked out this often is definitely not good for people like me! I wanted to bellow as the darkness began to close in once more . . .

(K.O. Time Hath Passed)

My arms ached! I couldn't see anything because of a black blindfold shrouding my eyes, but I could tell that it hurt. My legs were tied together at the heels and thighs, held strait by some unseen force, I wasn't standing on my own. There was something like a board pressed tightly against my back, I was tied to it at the waist, the ropes cutting into my flesh as they held me there. I could only guess that my legs were tied to this board too, what else could hold them up? My arms were what really hurt, held straight parallel with my legs and tied at the wrists to my prop, they burned with a searingly sore aching that could only be defined by the unnatural pose they were held in. Oh gods this burns! I internally complained, breathing out sharply. There was a slight tug at my blindfold, like someone was trying to pick it apart, and finally it came off. Before me stood a whole host of Romans standing on the deck, glaring critically; Mr. Scrawny standing in the front holding a torch. Ow . . . what time is it? What happened . . . what's happening?

The sky had already receded into a darker hue, portraying the hour perfectly, only a sliver of light on the horizon remained. I looked back at Mr. Scrawny, then his torch, trying to piece together what was going on. The torch didn't seem to bode well in my mind. He was awfully quiet for the loudmouth dog I had took him to be, but even a dog can shut up. I craned my neck to look down, neck-joints creaking with misuse, what I saw hit my like a stack of bricks. Bundles of straw, placed in a teepee at my feet, coupled with great logs of dry wood sticking in at regular intervals! They planned to burn me! I struggled and yanked at the bonds that stapled me to the pole, rewarded with rope burns and enraged bruises. Mr. Scrawny smiled his wide toothy sneer, swaggering forward with unprecedented smugness as I continued my attempted escape. He lifted the torch to my face, just close enough to singe my eyebrow, I hissed at the pain it caused. He laughed his barking cackle before letting go, the torch plummeting in slow motion towards the campfire in waiting.

Noooo! I tried to scream, but my throat felt too cracked and dry to even give a screech. The Romans had prepared well, the flame of the torch took almost instantly to the hay and so on. These guys know how to build a fire! I commended despite my predicament. The heat was already mounting, yet only half the wood was burning, causing my feet and legs to become unpleasantly warm. The searing began to climb up my thighs and to my midsection, flames coaxing their way into the fabric of my pants. I breathed in sharply, preserving any air that wasn't clouded up by smoke. The heat was rising once more, lances and swords of fiery pain raking across my skin like I was some great roast that they were carving up for dinner! My boots were beginning to fail, the flames eating away anything directly flammable, their soles and leather piecing detaching from each other only to be steadily consumed too. The whole of the fire's fuel was now alight, bathing me in a flare of bright orange, red, and yellow. The pain had dulled, even stopped, my senses had begun to slow. There was nothing now, nothing beyond my sphere of flame, just me and the blaze; no sound, no pain, not even the faintest sting to betray that I was still alive. Pseh, so this is what the afterlife looks like . . . not very heroic . . . my thoughts echoed bitterly as I eyed the flowing ribbons of flame encircling me.

A silhouette fluttered in the blaze, its ominous shadow portraying two flapping wings. I had a dream like this once . . . I remembered the nightmare from before. The muted glory of my fiery sphere was interrupted by a tiny sound, one that kept getting louder each time it echoed. The wingbeats, deep in pitch and subtle in sound, reverberated through my ears. The fluttering fire began to regain its crackle; the world had redeemed its noise, sputtering back into motion. Glint? I asked to the shadow in the flame, it seemed to be flapping its wings with less vigor than before. A skull rattling roar shattered through my body, its wings were now in a gliding position. The black backdrop behind the flames was lifted, I could see Romans scattering left and right as they ran from an unseen foe; all seemed to be fleeing to the starboard side; I looked port-side to see what they were so scared of. A flash of green and black streaked by, but the true spectacle was the trail of destruction that followed. The thick timbers of the deck had been completely torn through in a straight line across, the railing at the side had been ripped off like tissue paper, large splinters uprooted from the huge rift in the ship. I watched in awe, the pain still numb. I searched the sky for another trace of the dragon, I presumed, that had just destroyed the deck. Nothing.

I looked about me once more to take in my surroundings, the burning agony was nowhere to be found. We were somewhat off coast of "the Rock" a.k.a. the island I had been stuck on. Romans were skittering about, their armor clanking, some getting out weapons, others just trying to keep the ship from splitting in two. I was tied to a pole on one side of the deck with a bonfire raging around me. That concluded my survey of the scene. Feeling was beginning to return in my body, though I wished it didn't, the dry and tender sting of the burns were appearing in droves; not to mention the heat that was still etching its way in. I struggled to get free, the ropes weren't budging; they must have been proofed against flame too! I shrieked as the the pain intensified, my moment of nonfeelingness had passed completely, anything that could move was; thrashing about as the lances of searing agony arched up my body. Make it stop! It burns! Just make it stop . . .

Then I heard it: a screeching whistle. From my vantage point in the center of the fire I had no clue what it was, but I did know that it was getting louder and higher in pitch. There was a strange reverberation in the scream, like when you have two people making the exact same noise with the exact same pitch at the exact same time. Two people . . . I wondered through the pain. Two people . . . the shriek ended abruptly, but was soon replaced with an extremely loud crack like lightning just before thunder. The aftershock came, as if it were real thunder, a deep and resounding BOOM! The flame leaned away, the shock-wave of wind blowing it to my back, and I got to see what the hubbub was about. Two giant holes, spanning ten feet in diameter, one on either side of the fissure, had found their way into the ship's hull; a thin stream of smoke curling up from their bowels. The Romans were terrified, staring at the twin craters in a mixture of surprise, horror, and awe.

The bonfire began to stand straight again, I could tell from the pain, but it was short lived. Without a warning scream another ball of hot flame erupted onto the scene, delving deeper into one of the recent blast sites; this one was not so much blue, but a radiant orange. One by one more bolts of fire fell upon the ship's surface, bathing the mast and deck in sweet destruction. Up in the sky I beheld a group of dragons circling up above like birds of prey. I counted a Nadder, two Gronkles, and a Changewing, also betting that a Night Fury was up among the stars; this was great! A snapping sound brought my attention back; I looked to the rift's edge, was just it me or was it getting wider? Another blast, the crack got bigger before my eyes. Definitely not just me! Two more booms later and the rip was five feet across, what's more was that an ominous sloshing sound echoed up from the deep. I tried to call out to my rescuers, wanting to tell them to stop, but my smoke stung tongue could mold no words, nor could my desert dry throat pass out the air. Another great churning bellow erupted from the bilges, the ship swayed slightly; noticeably the sound gained intensity.

Slosh . . . burble burble. Whoooosh! sloshedy slosh slosh! The Roman carrier shuddered with the strain of keeping afloat. The foreboding racket from below could only mean one thing: we were sinking! Even with my gravity centered on the pole, to which I was bound, I could feel a sudden tilt backward. The water had no trouble expressing its desire to swamp this tub; the pitch of the gurgles were getting higher, signaling that the first level had been totally flooded. There was a noticeable drop as the ship no longer had anything to hold itself above water, sinking beneath the waves a foot a second. Water started to sputter forth from the great rip in the deck, running directly to my end. The good news was that the fire was gone, the bad news was that the ship was sinking and I was still tied to it! Ooooh nonononononononooooo!

The water had come up to my ankles, gaining quickly to my shins. Not good! I cringed at what I knew would come once my head went under. I looked up to the sky, begging the gods that my voice would return just long enough to call for help. It didn't . . . big surprise. It gained on my calves, the cold sensation running across my burnt legs was heavenly! But it wouldn't last . . .

Thud! I felt it to my right, and struggled with the bindings to see. A wonderfully familiar face met me, Glint's bluish eyes radiating reassurance as well as pride. "Did I do well?" those glowing orbs seemed to ask. You did good my friend . . . I answered with my own eye, almost crying with joy. Glint looked me over, his eyes resting upon my bonds. Deliberately, he began to nip at them, trying to pry them far enough away to truly gnaw. To his apparent frustration they didn't come very far, it was expected when the ropes were tied as tight as mine were. His eyes brightened with another idea before he recoiled around the pole, out of my vision. I felt an unpleasant heat emanating to my left, he was trying to burn through. Yup, fireproofed, I concluded when I heard Glint's agitated growl. Hope was no longer an option, the end was nigh. The sea's wet hands pulled up to my chest in a sudden burst and Glint desperately pried at the taut line, still to no avail. He let out a whimper as I sunk down to my neck.

"It's alright Glint, y'did good." I tried to console him with the soft and dry-roughed voice I managed to conjure, he looked ashamed as if to say that this was his fault, "Do you think this sort of thing will kill me? Pah! I am the immortal viking!" I lied trying to silence his sadness, hopefully he didn't know my reputation for being a bad liar. He perked up, I smiled, and licked my face as many times as he could before the sea brought his lucid and transparent hand up and dragged me below the surface . . .

I'm sorry Glint . . . so . . . sorry . . .

Dun . . . dun . . . sob . . .

This is the semifinal chapter to Hard Taught. I am truly sorry to those that would rather I finished this chapter sooner, I hope to finish the final installment in a much quicker manner.

Karma: wait a second, I die!

Me: . . . probably . . .

Karma: to those that read this, I propose a vote!

Me: and what better way than to review!