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"Talking of which," he then continued, "take your last look at your rather plain little island. ..." He gestured at the friendly cliffs of Berk. 'All of you Hooligans are about to enter the slave trade yourselves, in the very important role of SLAVES."
The Hooligans groaned. There was no worse fate for a proud and independent Viking than to be sold into bondage.
[Image: A pirate.]
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"I am sure you will all make excellent slaves," said Alvin kindly, "because you are all very strong, and, frankly, none too bright. And I do hate to threaten, but anybody who objects will thoroughly regret it."
An Outcast with no nose stepped forward and uncurled an ugly black whip from around his waist, with a handle shaped like a serpent.
Alvin clapped his hands and the Outcasts began loading the Hooligans onto the deck of the Hammerhead.
[Image: Pirates.]
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"Yup, you shall all be slaves. All that is ...," smiled Alvin, "... except for you, Stoick."
Curly Horns let Stoick go, and proudly, he stepped forward.
"To Chieftains and their descendants we pay the ultimate sign of respect," said Alvin with just a tiny hint of menace in his voice, "by EATING them."
"But that's CANNIBALISM," said Stoick, shocked.
"I know, I know," sighed Alvin. "It's very old-fashioned of me, but I would lose respect in front of the rest of my Tribe if I dropped ALL the old traditions...."
"But... but... but... but...." blustered Stoick.
"I shall not change my mind, whatever you say," said Alvin gently. "The thing about dinner is, it never wants to be eaten. I mean, you eat PORK, don't you, Stoick?"
"Well, yeees," admitted Stoick.
"There you are then!" said Alvin. "No pig is ever going to VOLUNTEER to be supper, and, thinking of volunteers ..." Something seemed to be amusing Alvin. He giggled delightedly. "I mentioned that it
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would not only be Stoick who would receive this, ah ... honor," said Alvin, "but also his descendants. I know there has been some sort of argument about this recently. The question is," continued Alvin, struggling to keep a straight face, "WHO is the Heir to Stoick the Vast? Could they put up their hand please?"
Strangely enough, Snotlout did not put up his hand at this point.
Instead, he tried to hide behind Dogsbreath the Duhbrain, staring very hard at his bronze-tipped sandals, as if he hadn't quite heard the question.
Hiccup sighed.
He stood right up on the bench so that everyone could see him.
"I," said Hiccup, "I am the Heir to Stoick the Vast."
Stoick smiled a big, proud smile.
For all their manners, the Outcasts whispered a great deal at that. Hiccup didn't have to speak Outcastese to know that they were saying things like: "That skinny prawn is the Heir to the Hairy Hooligans???"
Two gigantic Outcasts lifted Hiccup from the bench and set him down next to Stoick the Vast.
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Alvin held up the Stormblade. The sword was now just an extension of his arm, like the horn of a narwhal is an extension of its nose.
"It looks as if it has always been there, doesn't it?" said Alvin.
The daylight played across the bolt of lightning motif. Alvin drew a finger across the blade ever so lightly, and blood instantly dropped onto the deck.
"Nice and sharp. This won't take a second," promised Alvin, stepping towards Hiccup.
[Image: A pirate.]
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15. THE BATTLE ON BOARD THE LUCKY THIRTEEN
Alvin advanced towards Hiccup, with the Stormblade raised above his head.
Hiccup closed his eyes, waiting for the blow.
But at that moment Toothless finally managed to overturn the barrel he was trapped underneath.
[Image: A dragon in the barrel.]
He had been throwing his entire body weight at one side for the past five minutes. At last he made an extra-strong he-e-e-eave, the barrel tipped over, and rolled at great speed across the deck with Toothless rumbling round and round inside it... and bowled straight into the legs of Alvin the Treacherous ... who lost his footing and fell over....
Alvin gave an ooohh of surprise, the Outcasts
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were distracted for one vital second, and Stoick turned round and felled Curly Horns with a good old-fashioned uppercut right under the chin.
From that moment on, there was chaos aboard the Lucky Thirteen.
The Hooligans took advantage of their captors' surprise as the swords against their throats were lowered for a moment.
"THIS IS MORE LIKE IT! I'LL TEACH YOU TO SAY THE HOOLIGANS HAVE
GONE SOFT!!!!" Stoick let out the Viking War Cry and launched himself on the enemy completely barehanded. He crashed two Outcasts' heads together, jabbed another in the kidney with his foot, and when that one doubled over in pain, leapfrogged over his back to face another couple of the opposition.
All might not have gone well for him, however, unarmed as he was, if Baggybum the Beerbelly had not come to his aid. The two brothers, who had been fighting each other five minutes earlier, now fought the enemy back-to-back for the rest of the battle.
The "Battle on Board the Lucky Thirteen" would be a Saga that the Hooligans would tell their children and grandchildren for many, many years
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to come. The military prowess of the Outcast Tribe was legendary throughout the Viking World. But the Hooligans were desperate and angry. They were battling for their FREEDOM itself, and so fought more wildly, more fiercely, than perhaps they had ever done before or since.
No fewer than twenty Black Stars* were awarded to Warriors after the battle was over. No wonder, for the Pirate Fighting Skills on display on that occasion were a joy to watch. They were also a tribute to the old soldier, Gobber, who had taught most of the Warriors all that they knew. There, on one corner of the deck, was Nobber Nobrains, performing the highly skilled maneuver known as the Dance of the Axes, in which the pirate rapidly juggles two twirling axes from one hand to the other, hypnotizing and confusing the enemy, before the pirate lunges forward for the fatal blow.
Up around the mast were the boys from the Pirate Training Program, valiantly tackling Outcasts nearly twice their size, putting into practice all that
* The "Black Star" was a medal given to Hooligan Warriors for Outstanding Bravery in the Field of Combat.
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they had learnt during those Swordfighting at Sea lessons.
The behavior of Fishlegs was particularly surprising. As soon as the battle began, he completely lost control, throwing himself at the enemy, shrieking furiously and whirling his sword around his head like a madman.
Vikings call this "going Beserk" and Warriors who do this are revered in Viking society.
You could not imagine a more unlikely candidate for being a Beserk than Fishlegs, but there we are, these things are never predictable.
The Outcasts stayed out of his way, for a Beserk is always respected, even if he is only four foot ten with a squint and a limp and no swordfighting skills whatsoever.