Authors: Kate McMullan

97 Ways to Train a Dragon (3 page)

BOOK: 97 Ways to Train a Dragon

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“Amazing!” Angus breathed.

“Adorable,” Wiglaf added.

“Against the rules!” Erica reminded them.

“Not really,” said Wiglaf. “Where does it say dragon eggs can't hatch in the dorm?”

The pipling took two wobbly steps. Then he fell back on his little bum.

“His first steps!” said Wiglaf proudly.

“Listen,” said Erica. “I'm on Dawn Patrol. I'll take him back to his nest.”

“You canât!” said Wiglaf. “No one is there to take care of him.”

“Right!” said Angus. “And he wouldn't have anything to eat.”

Just then the pipling picked up his head and cried: “Wrrrrrm!”

“Worm?” Wiglaf laughed. “Is that your name? Worm?”

Angus grinned. “Hello, Worm.”

“Wrrrrrm!” the pipling replied. “Wrrrrrm! Wrrrrrm! Wrrrrrm!”

Worm opened his mouth and stuck out his forked tongue.

“He's hungry!” Angus said. “I'll get him something from my stash.”

Wiglaf and Erica perked up when they heard this. Angus's stash was famous. His mother sent him tins of goodies each week. But Angus never shared. Until now.

Angus turned to the wall beside his cot. He pressed one end of a loose stone and lifted it out. Wiglaf and Erica gasped. So that's where he hid it! Angus took out a bag of Medieval Marshmallows.

“Don't tell,” said Angus. He handed them each a marshmallow.

Wiglaf watched the little dragon down on the floor.

“Here, little Worm,” Angus called, holding out a marshmallow.

Without opening his eyes, the pipling snatched the treat out of Angus's hand.

“He likes it!” said Angus. He gave him another marshmallow. And another.

“Not too many,” said Erica.

“After all, he was just born,” said Wiglaf.

The pipling hopped toward Angus. He waited for another marshmallow.

“He likes me!” said Angus. He picked up the pipling.

“Dr. Pluck said not to do that!” Erica warned.

Suddenly, the pipling opened his little mouth and bleaaach! Angus's tunic was covered in warm marshmallow spit up.

“Oh, well,” said Angus. He picked up a dirty sock and mopped up the urp. “He's only a baby. I wonder what we should feed him.”

Wiglaf smiled. Worm had fallen fast asleep with his head resting on Angus's tummy. He looked so comfortable, just the way Wiglaf felt when he snuggled against the big unicorn pillow in the library.

“We have to get him out of here,” said Erica. “What if the inspectors were to show up and find him? They'd shut down DSA.”

“We'll hide him,” Angus whispered.

“Are you crazy?” said Erica. “He shall grow up to be a fire-breathing monster!”

“Hey, what's going on here?” Bragwort sat up on his cot.

“Yikes! Bragwort!” Erica clicked off her torch.

Wiglaf quickly tossed his blanket over Angus's lap, hoping to hide the pipling.

“I heard a noise,” said Bragwort. “You're hiding something. I can tell.”

“As Class I Dorm Monitor, I order you back to sleep, Bragwort!” said Erica.

“I shall figure out what you're hiding, Eric,” Bragwort said. “And I shall tell Mordred! Then I'll be Future Dragon Slayer of the Month, not you.”

“Oh, go blow your nose!” said Erica.

“I will,” said Bragwort. “All over your Sir Lancelot carpet!”

Wiglaf waited until he could hear snuffling snores from Bragwort.Then he whispered, “We do have to get Worm out of here.”

Angus said, “But where?”

“Perhaps the henhouse,” Wiglaf answered, “No one goes there. I'll ask Daisy to look after him.” He turned to Erica. “You won't tell anyone about the pipling, will you?”

“What pipling?” said Erica. “I never saw any pipling.” She headed back to her cot.

Wiglaf threw on his tunic. Angus had no need to, for he had slept in his. Then, with the sleeping pipling wrapped in his blanket, Wiglaf and Angus tiptoed out of the dorm.

Chapter 4

“Daisy?” Wiglaf whispered as he crept into the henhouse. “Are you awake, girl?”

“Es-yay,” came Daisy's voice. Wiglaf's pig spoke Pig Latin ever since a wizard cast a spell on her.

“We have a problem, Daisy,” said Wiglaf. “His name is Worm.” And he quickly told her the story.

“Could you look after him, Daisy?” asked Angus.

“E-may?” Daisy looked alarmed.

“We'll bring food for him later,” Wiglaf told her. “Worm'll be safe here. Bragwort is suspicious ... he's sure to tell Mordred on us.”

“O-kay!” said Daisy. She rooted around in her straw and made a place for the pipling.

As the boys left they heard Daisy singing softly, “Inkle-tway, inkle-tway, ittle-lay ar-stay ... ”

“Angus!” Wiglaf stopped suddenly. “I know how we can figure out what Worm likes to eat âthe library!”

“You think he eats books?” said Angus.

“No!” said Wiglaf. “We'll find a book about baby dragons!”

So the boys headed for the south tower. By the time they had run up the hundreds of crumbling steps to the top, Angus was gasping for breath.

The library was the only place in the whole school with great big windows. On a sunny day, light flooded in. Even this early, Wiglaf could see a wide stretch of rosy sky.

Brother Dave, the DSA librarian, had made the library most inviting. He'd put a huge unicorn pillow on the floor for students to lie on while they read. He'd put posters on the walls. One showed a knight wearing a book for armor. He was knocking another knight off his horse. A caption read, You can't beat a book. The trouble was, most DSA students didn't even know their school had a library.

“Brother Dave?” Wiglaf called.

“Cometh in!” the DSA librarian called.

“Ah, âtis thou, Wiglaf,” the monk said with a smile. “A visit to the library. A fine way to begin thy day. Bless me! Here is Angus, too!”

“Brother Dave,” said Angus, “we need a book on raising baby dragons.”

Brother Dave tapped a finger on his chin. “Waitest here.” The monk toddled off toward the shelves in the back of the library. A moment later, he emerged from the stacks. He was covered in cobwebs. “Thou art in luck,” he said, putting a small dusty book into his hands.

Angus blew dust from the book. There were fancy gold letters on the cover.
“97 Ways to Train Your Dragon,”
Angus read, “by Sir Sitstayheel.” He flopped down on the big unicorn pillow, opened the little book and began reading aloud:

Congratulations! You have a new dragon pipling. (If you donât, why in the world are you reading this book?)

A newly hatched pipling can't see. It can't walk, either. But soon it will enter the âbouncing stage.' It will bounce higher and higher, and then one day it will spread its pipling wings and take off.

Angus kept flipping pages. “Feeding!”

Never feed your pipling marshmallows. If you do, he will throw up all over your tunic.

“Too bad we didn't know that before,” said Angus and he read on:

In the wild, a mama dragon chews up eels and feeds them to her piplings. You must also feed your pipling
^*ABC Eel.

(
^*ABC = Already Been Chewed.)

Angus made a face and read on:

Piplings like raw eel. The first few chews are disgusting. But you'll get used to it.

“Ugh!” said Wiglaf. “I can't do that.”

“Me, neither,” said Angus. He looked back down at the book.

All right, if you canât, you can't. Used cooked eel, then. But you MUST chew it up.

“We do that three times a day in the dining hall,” said Angus.

Brother Dave chuckled. “How happy it makest me to see lads who love learning!”

“Thanks for finding this book, Brother Dave,” said Angus.

“Thou art welcome, Angus,” said Brother Dave. “Cometh back soon.”

Yesterday Wiglaf and Angus had been too late for breakfast. But today they made it just in time. They picked up trays and slid them along the railings.

Angus plopped an extra-large helping of Scrambled Eel onto his plate.

Wiglaf helped himself to extra Creamed Eel on Toast. It looked nasty. He wondered if the pipling would like it.

The boys sat down at the Class I table. Angus kept reading as he shoveled in his breakfast.

Piplings can be fussy eaters. But all piplings love moat weed, moat slime, moat sludge, moat scum, moat eels, and knights.

As he listened, Wiglaf slipped some creamed eels into his tunic pocket.

“A book?” Bragwort said, eyeing Angus. “You know how to read?”

“Your own business, Bragwort,” said Angus. “Mind it.”

“Give it here,” said Bragwort. He grabbed for the book.

But before he could get his hands on it, the headmaster strode into the dining hall.

“Atten-
tion
!” he called.

All the boys jumped up.

“Scrub-a-Thon is off to a good start! But I need this school as clean and shiny as a newly minted gold coin!” Mordred's eyes glazed over, as his thoughts turned to riches.

At that moment, a large bear lumbered into the dining hall.

Bragwort screamed. “Sir! Bear attack! Bear attack!”

Mordred quickly picked up his chair and started swinging.

“My lord! Stop!” cried the bear, ducking as the chair whizzed over his head. “âTis I, your scout, Yorick!”

Mordred stopped mid-swing. “Yorick?” He lowered the chair. “What news, Yorick?”

“The inspectors have just left Dragon Stabbers' Prep, my lord,” said Yorick. “That school lost points for its dirty kitchen.”

“Well, they won't find any dirt in the DSA kitchen!” said Mordred.

“Guess where we'll be scrubbing today,” whispered Angus.

“I will give Scrub-a-Thon badges to boys doing a super-duper job!” Mordred finished.

A few of the newer boys clapped weakly. Mordred strode out of the dining hall.

Within the hour, Wiglaf stood next to Angus, working on eel-encrusted skillets and cauldrons coated with boar grease. They had just enough time to dash to the henhouse before lunch.

“How's Worm doing, Daisy?” asked Angus.

“O-say ute-cay!” said Daisy. She wiped eel juice from Worm's chin.

“Wwwwwwwrm!”
purred the pipling.

Wiglaf smiled. He'd never seen Daisy look happier. Or Angus, either.

Over the next few days, Wiglaf and Angus dashed from their Scrub-a-Thon chores to the henhouse whenever they could. Angus took charge of feeding the little dragon. Worm was always hungry. But since Frypot served eel at every meal, bringing eel tidbits for the little dragon was no problem. And the dragon was growing bigger every day.

Daisy loved the little pipling. Her only complaint was the pipling's “inky-stay oop pay.” And the hens didn't seem to mind having a pipling in their house. He stayed in Daisy's stall and out of their way.

One morning when the boys arrived, Daisy held Worm up.

“Ook-lay!” she said.

“Oh! He got his first fang!” said Angus. “I wonder when he'll open his eyes.” He took the pipling from Daisy and put him down on the ground. “Such a good little fellow!”

But the next morning when the boys opened the henhouse door, dozens of hens burst out, cackling and squawking.

“Daisy?” Wiglaf called, running toward her stall. “Daisy!”

“Is Worm all right?” cried Angus.

The pig was hunkered down in a corner. The pipling was bouncing all over the henhouse like a crazy rubber ball.

“Looks like he's hit the bouncing stage,” said Wiglaf. “Worm, come to me.”

The pipling turned blindly and bounced toward Wiglaf's voice.
Baing! Boing!
He bounced right into Wiglaf's arms. Angus held up a small chunk of scrambled eel.

Worm lifted his head. He sniffed. Then
slurp!
The eel was gone.

While Angus fed Worm, Daisy told Wiglaf that when the pipling woke up, he started bouncing and nothing would stop him.

“All gone, Worm,” Angus said at last.

“Wrrrrrrm!”
said Worm. Tiny twin flames spurted out of his nose.

“He's still hungry,” said Angus.

“Can I try to feed him?” Wiglaf asked.

“All right.” Angus folded his arms across his chest. “But only a little, okay? You have Daisy. I want Worm to like me best.”