AND here it is, finally! Scalesword! I would like to advise that if you have not read the previous works in this trilogy, Dragonheart and Firesoul, that you do. Otherwise it will make no sense. Like, sense just NOT MADE. Enjoy!

Chapter One

Too Many Dragons

"Magnhild! No, we are not having another dragon in the house! Not until you get your own to ride!"

"But mommy!" Magnhild protested miserably, waving the apparently sleeping dragon in front of her. "Look! He's so cute!"

"It's a Smothering Smokebreath," Astrid admonished. "It'll cause havoc around the house- it'll eat everything, your helmet, my buckle, Daddy's leg,"

"Why would it eat Daddy's leg?" the little girl asked in spite of herself, lowering the dragon.

"Because Smokebreaths have a sweet tooth for metal," Astrid grumbled. "Where did you find that thing anyway?"

"It was on the beach. He had a big stick stuck on his leg, but I pulled it off."

Astrid peered at the dragon. Now that she looked, almost black-red blood was dripping in a stream down its front leg, trailing off its four stubby claws. At the same time, the door flew open and Hiccup marched in, a book in hand. He was halfway through unclipping his cloak when he noticed Magnhild and the dragon.

"Huh? Magnhild, where did you find that?"

Astrid almost snorted. Other families worried about their children taking people's helmets or their weapons; the Haddocks had to worry about their kids showing up with wounded dragons. Hiccup trotted over, unclipping the rest of his cloak and draping it on a hook near the door.

"Oh, look, he's hurt," Hiccup murmured, and Astrid sighed. There was no way this dragon was going to be kept out of the house now.

"Hiccup," Astrid said gently. "We already have five dragons in the house. Every injured and abandoned dragon on the island somehow finds its way here."

"Pangora and Littlefang aren't any trouble. I'm sure they'll have no problem with this little guy. And as long as Cloudjumper doesn't eat him, we'll be fine."

At that point, the Smokebreath sleepily opened its eyes, sniffed the air and almost lazily clamped its jaws around the hilt of Inferno on Hiccup's leg, chewing gently.

"See? He's a pussy cat. He'll be fine. What should we call him, Mags?"

Astrid slapped a palm to her forehead in frustration. This one better be able to hunt for itself, she thought crossly.

As if on cue, Pangora and Littlefang came tromping down the stairs. Littlefang's lurid yellow fake wing fluttered happily, and the Terror's turquoise tail lashed happily at the sight of Hiccup. Behind him, Pangora, crooned happily, zipping to Astrid's side, yawning like she had just woken up. Her bright red frills stood up with contentment, and she curled her tail around Astrid's leg, the tip wrapped in painted leather where her stinger had been severed by a trap. Littlefang landed on Hiccup's head and wrapped his tail around the messy plait that kept Hiccup's auburn hair off his face.

"Chomp!" Magnhild answered cheerfully, and the newly christened Chomp let go of Inferno and turned to look at her. Astrid blinked, kneeling beside them. Pangora licked her face as she leaned forward, and Astrid yelped in surprise as the slimy tongue rasped up her face.

"Down, Pangora," she ordered, and the Speed Stinger reluctantly obeyed. Astrid peered at the Smokebreath, Chomp. "He seems really small, you know, compared to the other Smokebreaths we've seen,"

She was right. This thing was absolutely miniscule. Most Smokebreaths were about Pangora's size, but this one was small enough to sit on Magnhild's too-large helmet. It blinked weakly and let out a strangled squawk of protest.

"Oh, right," Astrid muttered. "Pangora, you remember where that box was?"

Astrid had barely finished the question before the Speed Stinger was gone. There was a thump and then she was back, scrawny front legs clamped around a small wooden box. Astrid took the box and pulled out a length of old cloth and a jar of foul-smelling ointment, handing them to Hiccup, who deftly wrapped the wound like he had been doing it for years- which he had. He set the Smokebreath down in front of the fire, and it snuffled quietly and dozed off.

"There we go," Hiccup said, ruffling Magnhild's hair. "All good. He'll be fine."

"Yay! Can he be my dragon? Please?" the little blonde begged.

"Well, you found him, so I suppose so," Astrid sighed. Hiccup looked at her quizzically. When Magnhild stomped happily over to her new dragon, Hiccup voiced his concerns.

"What's wrong?" he asked, placing a hand on her arm. She sighed.

"Nothing… it's just, we may as well put up a sign or something. Home for Wounded Dragons. We have a Speed Stinger with no sting, we have a Terror with one wing, we have this Smokebreath with a great big hole in its leg and we have a Night Fury with half a tail!"

Hiccup looked slightly wounded, and Astrid frantically backtracked.

"Oh, Hel, that's not what I meant. What I'm trying to say is, we have five people and now four indoor dragons in our house. It's getting a little crowded,"

"You don't say?" muttered Hiccup, and at that moment Toothless opened the door and sniffed Chomp suspiciously.

"Um…" Astrid began, feeling stupid, "how did he do that?"

"Do what?" Hiccup twisted to look at Toothless.

"He opened the door. By… by himself."

"Oh, that," he waved a hand dismissively. "He's been doing that for years. He's pretty smart. Aren't you, bud?"

The Night Fury left the sleeping Smokebreath in peace and nuzzled Hiccup's hand, crooning appreciatively. It still surprised Astrid, that such a proud and destructive wild animal was nothing more than an overgrown puppy in Hiccup's hands. It was ridiculously endearing; his big green eyes peering at them, like I'm a good dragon. Give me cuddles and feed me fish.

"Anyway, how did your day go?" Astrid decided to change the subject. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Not too bad, all things considered. Had to christen Eret and Heather's kid- surprise, surprise, he's named Eret, son of Eret, son of Eret. But the twins are a right pain in the a-"

"Hey!" Astrid butted in, pointing to a cooing Magnhild. "Children!"

"Right, sorry," Hiccup apologized. "A pain in the neck. Tuffnut's been experimenting with the Zippleback smoke bomb again- now the thing actually explodes with fire, not just gas. Ruffnut's not helping, and I'm pretty sure even Fishlegs has joined in."

"Bull," Astrid said in disbelief.

"Nope. Some of these traps I've had to rescue villagers from are waaaayyy too well-thought-out for just the twins."

"Marriage does funny things," she muttered, trying to imagine Fishlegs pulling a prank on… anyone, really. The man was so studious! Never in a billion years would he have imagined Fishlegs picking up on Ruffnut's antics. The other way around, maybe.

"You're telling me," Hiccup whistled. There was a thump outside the door, and then Valka strode in, bouncing Stoick on her hip. Hiccup threw his hands in the air. "Do you want to invite Cloudjumper in as well?"

Valka, missing the sarcasm, nodded happily and whistled. Half of a smashed face peered in the door, wide yellow eye blinking lazily, blowing hot, stinky breath through the house. Toothless burbled happily, enjoying the fishy scent.

"That's just… oh, gods, that's rank," Astrid choked, covering her nose.

"Mummy, it's yucky," Magnhild whined.

"Mum!" Hiccup protested. "Have you been brushing Cloudjumper's teeth?"

Valka, ruffling Stoick's hair, looked sheepish. "But you know he hates it! Besides, you don't brush Toothless' teeth,"

"That's only because, funnily enough, he goes toothless whenever I try."

"Well, I lost the broom anyway, so that's that." Valka said with a sense of finality.

Hiccup looked at her.

"We have three brooms, mum. Are you really telling me that you couldn't find a single one?"

"Yep," Valka was still rocking Stoick. Astrid couldn't help feeling that Valka really, really loved being a grandmother. The woman had never said it, but everyone in the village knew that she had never gotten over missing fourteen years of her son's life- especially when her 'reasoning' had been based on a complete lie. Stoick was now chewing on one of Valka's silver-streaked braids, bright green eyes looking interested in the uneven bundle of hair.

"Valka, you do know that's disgusting," Astrid said conversationally. Valka blinked.

"Says you," the woman said defensively. "He's your son. All children eat their parents' hair. And their beards," she added wistfully.

"Righty-o," Hiccup said, turning around. "I'll be going now, so…"

"Nonsense," Valka laughed. "Don't feel awkward. You loved your father's beard."

"I could probably have lived in the thing!" Hiccup protested miserably. "It was huge!"

Astrid didn't understand how they could speak so jovially of Hiccup's childhood. It had been beyond screwed up; his mother absent, supposedly dead, his father never exactly the best parent, and now dead… the topic should have been so taboo that even the vague mention of it made the conversation stilted for at least an hour afterwards.

"Hey, look," Valka said, noticing Chomp. She set down Stoick, who toddled over to Hiccup.

"You're getting heavy," he told the toddler, hoisting him upwards.

"Uh-huh!" Stoick chirruped. Valka peered at Chomp.

"Who's this?" she asked Magnhild.

"Chomp!" the five-year-old said happily. "He's mine!"

"Oooh, yours? That's great!"

"Oh, Hel, I just remembered," Hiccup said suddenly, passing Astrid her son.

"What is this, pass the helmet?" Astrid protested, wrapping her arms around the toddler.

"I found this today, in that old Bork chest," he said, rummaging in his armour and pulling out a decrepit-looking book. Astrid peered over his shoulder as he flicked open to a page marked with a scrap of fabric, with a detailed picture of the dragon anatomy and cramped runes running down the side. "I think I've hit on how Excellinor did it,"

Valka stood and joined them, clustered around the book.

"This, again?" Astrid asked in disbelief. "Hiccup, you've been at it for five years!"

"But I really think I've got it this time," he said crossly. "Look here," he pointed to a spot on the dragon- a Gronckle- somewhere in the abdomen. They squinted at the fading ink.

"Does that thing have three lungs?" Valka said, sounding faintly disgusted.

"No! Read this," his finger moved to the runes. Astrid squinted even more to read the barely legible writing.

In the chest cavity of most dragons, a hard, gemstone-like organ can be found. When cracked open it appears to be hollow. Its use is unknown; however it should be noted that this organ has never been found in infant dragons. It appears to develop sometime in the shortwing stage, eventually reaching the size of a human fist.

In stories, it is said that someone who controls the 'Dragon Jewel' can control any dragon they wish, but this myth is unfounded. The source is located in an old poem written by Tagrin the Terrible on the Bog-Burglar islands.

"The Jewel of Dragons, it is told

Grants the power that it holds

To rule the dragons of all ages

And end the flaming scourge that plagues us"

Whilst this poem is a terrible example of Bog Burglar poetry, it clearly states that the Dragon Jewel bestows the power to control dragons on its holder; however in every known instance this has proved untrue.

"Don't you see? That must be it!" Hiccup said excitedly. Valka sighed.

"Hiccup, it says here that it's never worked, look,"

"Yes, but what if," he went on, "that's how Alphas control their thunder as well? What if the Dragon Jewel only works if it comes from an Alpha species?"

"Doesn't that mean Toothless has a working Dragon Jewel?" Astrid asked.

"No, because while Toothless is the dragons' ruler for this area, he can't physically control them, because he's not one of the Alpha species."

Valka frowned in concentration.

"You might actually have something there," she remarked. Hiccup grimaced.

"Unfortunately, this came with it," he gingerly pulled a crystalline object that glittered like it was made of dragon scales from his armour; most of it was covered in black grit. Astrid reached out to touch it, and her fingers came away covered in black flakes. There was a deep rent in one side, as if cleaved by an axe. He looked disgusted.

"It's covered in dried blood," he said, carefully putting the gem away. "It's just gross,"

"Understatement," Astrid growled in disgust, brushing her hand frantically on her skirt to get the black flakes off.

"So, Excellinor must have had a Dragon Jewel," Valka summarized, leafing through the book. "How did we not know about these things?"

"Because there's only two ways they can come out of their spot," Hiccup said, taking the book back. "One of them is absolutely barbaric, and I'd bet it's the one Excellinor used."

"Say no more," Astrid gulped, glancing in the direction of the damaged jewel, "there are children present." Hiccup nodded.

"The second is hypothetical. Dragons really have four pipes- like a throat or something- in their chest leading into their mouth;"

"Four?" yelped Astrid. "How do they fit that many?"

"Dragons." Hiccup deadpanned. "They're kind of big. Anyway, one's for breathing, one's for eating, one's for breathing fire and the other one," he pointed, "is most likely for disgorging their Dragon Jewel. Look, it leads straight to it. It'd get pushed out of its little hollow and slide up this pipe, and get spit out like fish. I'm guessing that Alphas would only do that with someone they really, really trust- as in they would entrust the fate of every dragon on Midgard to that one person."

"That… that's a lot of responsibility. How do you know all this?"

"Because it's happened before," he said softly, "to a Viking named Hiccup the First."