12-第四章：更大的麻烦(18)
Stoick punched the air in imitation of his son’s glorious defiance. And then he shook his shaggy head in admiration. ‘What a son he was! What a very great boy… Yes, I am proud to die with his Dragonmark on my forehead, and I am proud to have been his father, although the gods only let him be with us for that very little while…’ The two middle-aged Heroes leaned in towards one another, creaking a little, for they had put on weight in recent years, and constant swordfighting can be wearing on the knees. They pressed their foreheads together, Dragonmark to Dragonmark, like two old trees leaning inward
to support one another against the raging of the gale. And maybe they were thinking: at least Hiccup did not have to open his eyes on to a Doomsday such as this. The Vikings had promised to submit themselves to the will of the gods, but it was difficult to know what the gods could be thinking of as the humans prepared for the last great battle, up here in the ruins of Grimbeard’s Castle. Sadly, Bertha, Chief of the Bog-Burglars, sharpened her axe, looking back on happier times when she was striding waist-deep in the delightful bogs of home, her faithful Goreblaster swimming by her side. Mournfully, Barbara the Barbarian stroked the proud back of Fearless, while her six bodyguards tested their arrows and dreamed of riding through the snowy wastes of Barbaria on the back of their snow-dragons, wind streaming through their moustaches, cats miaowing happily on their shoulders, flying back, back in time to a village that no longer existed. Even the Alvinsmen were out-of-sorts, and unhappy with themselves. Madguts stroked his mighty invisible Stealth Dragon, trying not to think of life without him. Yes, these humans HATED Alvin. But
to support one another against the raging of the gale. And maybe they were thinking: at least Hiccup did not have to open his eyes on to a Doomsday such as this. The Vikings had promised to submit themselves to the will of the gods, but it was difficult to know what the gods could be thinking of as the humans prepared for the last great battle, up here in the ruins of Grimbeard’s Castle. Sadly, Bertha, Chief of the Bog-Burglars, sharpened her axe, looking back on happier times when she was striding waist-deep in the delightful bogs of home, her faithful Goreblaster swimming by her side. Mournfully, Barbara the Barbarian stroked the proud back of Fearless, while her six bodyguards tested their arrows and dreamed of riding through the snowy wastes of Barbaria on the back of their snow-dragons, wind streaming through their moustaches, cats miaowing happily on their shoulders, flying back, back in time to a village that no longer existed. Even the Alvinsmen were out-of-sorts, and unhappy with themselves. Madguts stroked his mighty invisible Stealth Dragon, trying not to think of life without him. Yes, these humans HATED Alvin. But
因为粗暴的玩法变更紧的娜琏
