The meeting with the Dancing Tree had given Asgarth a renewed outlook. He felt he may be getting somewhere in the quest for the Magical Shining Thing. Now he had a new companion and a destination to reach. As Lachima rode at Asgarth's side proud to be in the company of such a fearless warrior, he wondered about telling Asgarth about the time he lost the Village's prized magical helmet in the stream when he tried to wash it. It wasn't long after this that the burning occurred and the enslavement of the entire village by the Hordes of Galcazara. Lachima had been lucky to escape that incident and had lived amongst the trees ever since. He decided to say nothing and tried to affect the heroic stare his travelling partner had. The forest was beginning to thin out, Lachima had not been this far for a long time.

"Well they said it couldn't be done!"

"What couldn't be done?" Said Lachima, picking himself up off the floor. Asgarth's utterance had shocked him and knocked him off his saddle. It was the first thing Asgarth had said for seven hours.

"Crossing through this Forest. They said it couldn't be done. And I've done it!" Asgarth proclaimed loudly.

"Oh yes, that." Lachima said half-heartedly. "Thought you meant something exciting."

"WHAT!" Roared Asgarth, "This is exciting, no-one has done this before!"

"Yes they have. I've done it. In fact I started the rumours about the forest being haunted. I didn't want anyone coming in here and disturbing me. It's all a load of cock and bull." Lachima explained. Asgarth looked at his feet disappointedly. Lachima picked up on the great ones disappointment. "But it is heroic Cock and Bull." He told Asgarth softly, attempt to soothe the Heroic mass.

"Well that doesn't matter now, does it!" Asgarth snapped. "If it's been done, I can't be the first one to do it can I? What use is that to a hero such as me." Lachima could see Asgarth's eyes growing teary.

"Well we can tell people it's not been done before. If they ask any awkward questions about me being in the forest, we can tell them you met me outside the wooded area!" Lachima suggested, attempting to soothe over the rift that was now growing between them.

"Would you, for me?" Asgarth asked.

"Of course I would, we're friends aren't we?" Lachima ventured, hoping for an affirmative answer.

"You're the best friend a hero could have!" Asgarth assured him. "But wait, what about if people ask about the Dancing Tree, how do we explain that you knew about it already."

"Well, we don't have to tell anyone about that do we? That can our little secret." Lachima smiled at Asgarth.

"Thank you." Asgarth said meekly. Then, adjusting his demeanour to his usual heroic self. "Now we are the first to pass through the forest, we may be able to begin our quest proper!"

Asgarth, now pleased at being able to finally find purpose in his quest, allowed himself a little smile at the sun, which he often did, in fact it was a tradition in his homeland, as was blindness, caused by some unknown reason, and interpretative free-form mime.

Suddenly Asgarth's mighty jaw changed from a smile to a grimace, as there rising before him was a huge column of smoke, thrusting out from a large stone built erection, called a castle in his homeland, he wasn't sure what they were called here.

"Is that castle on fire?" asked Lachima

"Might be" replied Asgarth a distinct sulky note in his husky voice.

"This saddle really chafes my thighs, do you think I could get some cream for it?"

"Pray silence knave, there's a burnin' a-boot, and where there's fire, Asgarth the extinguisher is pledged to, you know, put it out".

"Right, really?, are you now? well that's just super, yippee, fire, marvellous, wonderful, super, super, super, ha-ha-ha, you know the funny thing about fire and my relationship with it, and you will laugh when you hear this. But enough about me, the extinguisher really, do you get a badge or something for that? Is there a ceremony or something?

"A little one, nothing fancy. They did give me an adorable purple sash, but I lost it in the Bondage Valley of Princess Vivaci. It had gold trim and everything. Oh, and they did give me this whistle". Said Asgarth unsheathing a bright, and highly polished oblong instrument.

"Oh right, and what does that whistle do, conjure up the Deranged water beast of the Wetland region?"

"No"

"Give the mating call of the long snouted Fushians, who will come to your rescue?"

"No"

"Well what does it do?"

"It is the magic incontinence whistle"

"You see I would never have thought of that, and that's how you put out the fire?"

"Naturally"

"But wait mighty Asgarth there's a fighting-a-boot as well, and it looks like carnage down there."

"Then lest us not waste time on these hilly mounds talking lady speak, there are some bodies down there who shall taste my steel."

* * * * *

King Tesslethrax viewed the scene before him, a sinister, foul grin spreading across his face like the plague. He laughed in a deep, loathsome rumble and all those near him cowered. "Soon the Tower of Badooz will fall!" he cried to the heavens.

"Yes," said Prince Takentipol. "And Teespunk and all his wonders shall be ours!"

Tesslethrax whacked the prince on the back of the head. "Mine, impetuous boy." His eyes returned to the flaming castle, the skirmish already underway by the main gates, and the mighty army gathered on the plains before the towering walls, ready for the final assault. On his word, the greatest attack in the history of the eastern lands would reduce the castle to rubble. "Eighty thousand men," he guffawed. "Eighty thousand men and the will of a king!" He thrust his sceptre, crowned with the skull of a long-dead enemy prince, into the air with a triumphant thrust.

"But father," whimpered the prince, "what of that hero of whom many tales have been told?"

"Asgarth!" spat Tesslethrax. "He is nothing but a barbarian. Zargog himself had him taken care of far away in Kalliet. Right now, he is probably suffering the foulest sensual torture King Machachata has ever devised!"

"I heard speak," said Takentipol, "that he has slew King Machachata and escaped the castle, and is even now approaching us through the Forest of Zalchamn."

"Nonsense," growled Tesslethrax. "No man has ever managed to journey through the Forest of Zalchamn and live to tell the tale." He hit the prince on the back of the head. "That's for being thick. Nothing can stop us now. Soon the castle will fall, and my army will be the most powerful force in the Middle Kingdoms!"

"Shall I bring the hostage out, father?"

"Why, boy?"

"So you can gloat, father. I know how you like to gloat."

"Good thinking. Bring out Princess Adora!"

Takentipol snapped his fingers, and two crimson-clad guards dragged a struggling, chain-bedecked, fiery redhead before King Tesslethrax.

"Well, Princess," laughed Tesslethrax, "soon my armies shall taste the sweet nectar of victory, and we shall be wed in the burning ruins of the tower of Badooz! Har har har har!"

* * * * *

Asgarth approached the crest of the hill with caution.

Heroes didn't usually crawl, but this situation was different. The goal he seeked was located in the middle tower of the castle which was under siege in the plains below him. The battle had begun in earnest, which hadn't pleased Earnest one little bit. The Skirmishers had moved forward and were attempting to gain a foothold against the base of the walls. The fighting looked bloody, even from Asgarth's position; he began to dribble with anticipation of the bloodbath that was to follow. The defenders of the castle were fighting in vain against the vastly superior numbers of King Tesslethrax. The Defenders looked as though they were being pushed back further and further every minute the battle continued. King Tesslethrax had not even committed his cavalry to the fray. Asgarth and Lachima watched the scene with growing dismay. Well, Lachima did, Asgarth was more interested in seeing the violence and didn't care who was winning.

"If they push the defenders back into the castle, we'll not be able to get in. Your quest will be over Asgarth." Lachima commented. Asgarth didn't answer; Lachima nudged him in the ribs. Asgarth rolled over drawing his sword, his eyes aflame with a lust for violence.

"NO, NO, NO, NO, Not the face, not the face!" Lachima screamed as he covered his face with his hands.

"What did you do that for, Knave!" Asgarth thundered when he realised who it was that had nudged him.

"You didn't answer." Said Lachima, still covering his face.

"Answer what?" Asgarth said. Lachima explained again, "Oh sorry," Asgarth apologised "I was miles away."

"Sometimes I wish you were." Lachima muttered under his breath. Asgarth didn't hear, or pretended not to hear, either way he didn't respond.

"I think we will have to get into the fray as soon as possible, otherwise we will be out of time. Let's go!" Asgarth announced. Lachima looked shocked.

"What now?" He inquired and then without waiting for a reply began to argue. "It looks very dangerous down there, if we go down there I may get hurt or worse."

"Cowardly Knave!" Asgarth bellowed. "I should as soon cut your head off than hear that kind of talk! This is the talk of the lowly crumb-sucker, not the great Hero as I am, you are also on this quest, you are also coming with me!" Asgarth ordered.

"But…But…But…they've got swords, and fire and knives and pointy things, and…" Lachima started.

"Enough. Mount your horse, prove you're a man!" Asgarth was already sat astride his horse.

"I think you can tell I'm not a man by my green skin, unless you're thick." Lachima wished he'd not said this as soon as he had, but Asgarth was out of earshot already and was riding down the hill towards the carnage.

The castle's defenders were lined up, bristling with the boar skin capes, the light of the midday sun reflecting off their breast plates as if to signal a divine presence from the cloudless sky above, but none came, and the defender's were taking heavy losses.

The general was sat erect upon his horse, his muscular torso seemed to be wider than the horse itself, he stroked the stubble on his well defined jaw; the abrasive touch seemed to comfort him in this woeful hour. Looking around the battlefield he saw his men shout, twist and scream as their weapons could do nothing against these demon foes. His Sergeant approached him tentatively, weighed down by the news of more deaths on the flanks, the end was surely soon, the castle would fall.

The general also knew his own fate, by the ancient laws he would have his index fingers chopped off and stuck up both nostrils, he would then be mercilessly taunted by the hurtful and callous rhymes of twelve year old girls, who insisted that he was picking his nose and that they could see him do it. This would continue for hours as he would slowly bleed to death, pleading with his torturers to finish him off, less he be subject to another belting of 'Stinky pants has got his fingers up his nose'.

Thinking now about his end, the General questioned his own decisions and tactics. Had he been right to insist that all his men fight in pink formal evening wear, be armed with nothing more than incredible politeness and razor sharp wit? Yes he thought to himself, he had been.

He could hear now the battle-crys, 'Arrrrrrrrrrr' would shout the enemy, 'Oooh, I do look forward to hearing your next syllable darling' one of his men retorted, before a three pointed sword was thrust into chest.

The general wiped away a tear from his eye, the man had died well.

'Sir, oh Sir, Mr. General sir, cooeee, oh you'll never believe what's happening on the left flank, oh its murder there and no mistake, who'd have thought those lovely velvet cushions wouldn't have stopped those nasty spiky thingys.'

'I know, I know, what is the world coming to when decent folk can't protect themselves with soft furnishings. Listen ducky I've been thinking, I wonder if we've got this war business thingy all right? I mean we don't seem all that good at it do we?'

'Mmmm I know what you mean, but isn't it awful those nasty, horrid enemy people wouldn't let us have the morning off to prepare, some of us only had an hour to change.' The sergeant looked shamefaced towards the floor.

'Now come on Mr. Sunshine, I'm as angry about that as you are, but we can't go around calling people nasty and horrid, this is war, and we do things properly round hear mister.'

'Oh Gen! Don't shout at me'

'I'm sorry, its been a long day for all of us. But remember our battle cry, 'Happy Happy Happy, I am so Happy, win or lose we don't care, we just care about what we wear.'

Asgarth valiantly rode his horse right up to the general, five evil warriors were laid mangled up between his horses legs, Lachima arrived soon after, as white as the snow on the Mountains of Kas, muttering to himself, 'Blood, shouting, screaming, pushing, why?', vomit hung around the corner of his mouth, and his eyes were focused on something far away, not on this world.

'General Tarquin I presume, I am here to help you win this war.'

Tarquin waved both arms above his head, and clapped his hands in front of his smiling face. "Oh, my! It's Asgarth the Invincible! And his lovely green friend!"

"Lachima," mumbled Lachima vaguely, his attention still drifting elsewhere.

"Yea," quoted Asgarth, "it is I, Asgarth the Invincible, hero of Alzon, Keeper of the Third Way, and Lord of the Five Maidens!"

"Ooo, lucky you!" giggled the Sergeant.

"Silence, knave!" exploded Asgarth and severed the sergeant's head from his neck with a deft swish of his mighty sword. "Your countenance pleases me not."

Tarquin clasped his hands to his mouth in horror. "Oh goodness, you've beheaded my most trusted Mr. Sunshine!"

"Sorry," said Asgarth. "I do have a bit of a temper, and it's been a very hard day."

"Tell me about that, why don't you, ducky! That rotten King Tesslethrax has been trying to kill us all day with his great big war engines and nasty pointy spears. We've tried our best, but there's just no talking to him! What is a general to do?" Tarquin flapped his hands about helplessly.

Another soldier came running up to them. "O Mr General Tarquin, sir," he breathed, "Oh, it's so terrible! Simply awful! Duke Xavier Teesdale III has fallen, with a ten-foot pike through his lovely velvet waistcoat, and his frilly white sleeves are being torn to bits as we speak by a pack of Blood Dogs!"

"Oh my," sighed Tarquin, a worry line creasing his delicate forehead. "Oh my, oh my. It seems like our attempts at negotiations have come to nothing."

"What?" spat Asgarth. "You've been trying to negotiate for the last six hours, while your army's been getting cut apart?"

"Well yes, silly," mouthed Tarquin. "There's no sense in losing out heads and running about willy-nilly stabbing each other, is there? Now what would that achieve, hmmm?"

Asgarth unsheathed his mighty weapon. "I will show you how to win a battle!" he roared. "Come, Lachima - slaughter awaits!"

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