Together Asgarth and Lachima strode into the clearing, where wild grasses waved in the soft breeze and birds chattered in the surrounding trees. In the midst of a scene of pastoral harmony rose a mighty tree, not unlike an oak, but taller than any Asgarth, in all his wide travels, had ever seen.

"Behold," spoke Lachima, "the dancing tree!"

Asgarth surveyed it critically. "It does not look like a dancing tree to me." He whipped his sword out in a split-second and held it to Lachima's throat. "Why have you brought me here, you evil-doer?"

"Easy, mighty Asgarth," Lachima whimpered. "It does not dance because I have not uttered the Words of Swing."

Asgarth put his weapon away. "I apologise, my friend," he uttered. "I sometimes get emotional at times like these."

Lachima said nothing, but approached the great tree, Asgarth remaining where he was. At its base Lachima appeared tiny. "This is a solemn and sacred ritual for my people," he verbalised. "The dancing tree is the one totem of our ancient religion." With that, he turned back to the tree and ran his hands over its bark for a few seconds, mumbling quietly. The bark seemed to glow red with an inner fire. Asgarth thought he could hear it whispering distant songs in a language as old as time itself, and the wind stirred through the green-bedecked branches high above.

The whole forest seemed to be rustling to life. Asgarth placed a cautious hand on the hilt of his sword and prepared to kill anything that sneaked up on him.

Lachima took a few steps away from the tree, and took out a pipe. He blew a few long, low notes, mournful and melancholy. Asgarth thought it reminded him of times long past, of ancient battles, forgotten heroes and kingdoms now nothing more than dust. "Truly this dancing tree is an old and wonderful thing," he whispered to himself.

Lachima song changed. He started blowing high, flutey notes with no melody whatsoever so badly that it made Asgarth wince and tighten the grip on his sword hilt. Then Lachima started to dance, first a little shuffle, then a knees-up jig, then a full-blown epileptic fit, jumping about in various directions and nearly falling over more than once. The tree started making sounds like Lachima's pipe, high-pitched and completely random. Lachima stopped blowing his pipe, dancing to the tree's song.

"Dance Asgarth!" he roared. "Dance!" He threw the pipe at Asgarth, hitting him on the bonce. "Come on, you miserable shit!" Lachima screamed, tripping over a root and stumbled ten feet before starting his mad dance again. "Dance for joy! Join me in my spirited shuffle!"

Asgarth felt his feet move of their own accord. "No," he growled. "No, I must fight this evil sorcery!" He tried as hard as he could to keep his feet still, but it was no good. They carried him with gay, sprightly leaps to the base of the tree, and started hopping around Lachima. The tree's tempo rose, and the two began dancing faster.

"That's it!" laughed Lachima. "See, isn't it fun?"

"No!" expunged Asgarth. "Cease this magic before I cleave your skull in twain!"

"Wait!" sighed Lachima, and stopped dancing. Asgarth feet also stopped, and he fell in his face on a clump of daisies. He sprung to his feet instantly, sword in hand. He spun around to face Lachima.

"Do that again, and you will not live to see another day!" he cautioned.

"The tree is ready to speak," mentioned Lachima. A deep, rumbling voice seemed to come from the tree, from the trembling ground beneath them, hanging in the very air they breathed.

NAME YOURSELF, STRANGER, it said.

"I am Asgarth, Asgarth the Invincible," Asgarth said, sheathing his sword and trying to look invincible. "I am on a quest to find the Shining Magic Thing, and restore freedom to the realm."

HMM, the tree said. AND?

"Well," spoke Asgarth, "I thought you might give us some guidance. Lachima here has agreed to join me on my worthy quest."

LACHIMA! the tree laughed. HE'S A USELESS PILE OF CRAP IF EVER THERE WAS ONE. HE ONLY WANTS TO GO WITH YOU ‘COS THE REST OF HIS PEOPLE KICKED HIM OUT AFTER HE BURNED DOWN THEIR ENTIRE VILLAGE.

Asgarth looked at Lachima. "Is this true?"

"Well," mumbled Lachima, "in essence, sort of. It was a bit of an accident."

AND THE BUSINESS WITH THE RABBIT AND THE FAWN'S YOUNGEST DAUGHTER, rumbled the dancing tree. WAS THAT A BIT OF AN ACCIDENT TOO?

"Um," mouthed Lachima.

NEVER MIND. IF YOU WANT MY HELP, ASBERT THE INSOLUBLE -

"Asgarth the Invincible," Asgarth worded.

WHATEVER. IF YOU WANT MY HELP, YOU MUST DANCE FOR ME.

"I will not," growled Asgarth.

I AM THE DANCING TREE - YOU MUST DANCE!

"It is right," vociferated Lachima. "You must dance if you want guidance from the dancing tree."

"You dance," grumbled Asgarth.

"I cannot," said Lachima. "You are the hero. It is your duty."

Asgarth swore under his breath. He only liked one kind of dancing, and this was not it. He started doing what he thought was a convincing rhumba.

FASTER! FASTER!

He tried to go faster, feeling more stupid. After a few minutes he stopped, worn out.

THAT WAS GOOD ENOUGH, the tree sighed. THE OBJECT YOU SEEK IS IN THE LAND OF AZORELIA, FAR TO THE WEST.

"I already knew that!" objected Asgarth.

I CAN'T HELP THAT. DO ANOTHER DANCE AND I'LL SEE IF I CAN HELP ANY MORE.

Asgarth reluctantly danced a cha-cha, while Lachima looked on approvingly.

THAT WAS BETTER. THE EVIL LORD, ZARGOG, IS EVEN NOW WATCHING YOUR EVERY MOVE AND HAVING A VERY GOOD LAUGH. IF YOU WANT TO AVOID HIS VICE-LIKE GRASP, YOU MUST NOT STOKE THE FIRE IN THE BELLY OF THE ROUNDED ONE.

"Stoke the fire in the belly of the rounded one?" quizzed Asgarth. "What in the bottomless chasm of Pendornon is that supposed to mean? I tire of this nonsense!"

"No, Asgarth, stay your hand!" warned Lachima. "The dancing tree is as ancient as it is wise. This prophetic warning could serve you well in the future."

EXACTLY.

"Here," Lachima spoke. "The dancing tree can answer one more question. I shall teach you the most holy dance of all - the Rites of the Sacred Hip Hop. Do as I do." Lachima started rolling about on the ground, waving his limbs in all directions.

Asgarth, glancing about in embarrassment, crouched on the damp grass and tried to copy Lachima's wild movements and rolls. He did this for five minutes and his rear end was started to ache, when the tree interrupted with an almighty cry.

ENOUGH! I AM SATED FOR NOW. I CAN GIVE YOU ONE MORE PIECE OF ADVICE, ASWALD THE INSUFFERABLE. NOT FAR FROM HERE LIES THE TOWER OF BADOOZ, WHICH AT THIS MOMENT IS BESIEGED BY THE MIGHTY ARMY OF KING TESSLETHRAX. THE TOWER'S KEEPER, TEESPUNK THE WISE, CAN AID YOU IN YOUR QUEST. NOW GO, ASSITH THE INDETERMINABLE. LEAVE ME IN PEACE FOR ANOTHER THOUSAND YEARS. PREFERABLY MORE.

With that, the glow in the great tree faded to nothing, and its lofty branches settled into stillness. All around there was nothing but the sounds of the forest.

Asgarth picked himself up. "So," he breathed. "The Tower of Badooz. I have heard of it, and have heard many terrible stories of Teespunk the Wise, who is thought to feast on the flesh of infants, a truly despicable habit."

"Yeah, you should know," said Lachima under his breath.

"I've apologised for that," Asgarth verbalised. "Get over it. I have also heard of King Tesslethrax, though only as a horror story told over many a campfire, when men talk of his cloak of human skin, and of his swimming in giant vats filled with the blood of his enemies. Nevertheless, we must go. Teespunk may be our only hope."

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