[A dark, exceedingly smelly hut. The witch, Sir Bastien Gudo and Grig Syllable are standing inside in growing silence, looking at each other uncomfortably. Exuent witch with some odd murmurings of "have to feed my little birds." The remaining two seize the chance to share their thoughts.] Grig. We have privacy without our crone of a quest giver who's love of little beasts still gives me a shiver Well we've placed ourselves in quite a funny spot out from an oily pan but into a witch's pot. Gudo. A path from this difficulty we'll presently find all we truly require is some peace of mind to gather our thoughts. Do you trust this task mistress she of wrinkly warts and client of a spiteful seamstress? Grig. I trust this ogre's muffin as far as I can throw a pickled rhino or shoot a boulder with a violin bow With a mad quest and a crone who'd do me harm I am but suggesting we raise a challenge and alarm And by daring sword and wit, song or backstab End our compelled employment to yon coarseful windbag To the King's Tourney we'll make with comfortable speed Feast on Grimjoy's finest lamb and sweetest honey mead Gudo. Sir, while I don't appreciate a cursehag's creed Or be compelled in the performace of some spurious deed Yet to this moment she has done no evil or ill And though she smirks as one who sucks a sour pill.. Grig. But look around you knight, what do your eyes complain? Blackened thick candles and wreaths of wolfsbane? Jars labelled 'rat tail' and 'tongue of snake' If not a evil dark witch at least a most repulsive flake Gudo. Yet we've asked for aid and freely promised it too Knightly honour and oaths and pledging true Are we not noble warrior and honest minstrel singer Not a lie or stolen pslam between us for a single dinner? Grig. Sigh. Thus are noble men separate from hoodlums base Not to mention she's threatened to erase My descendants and my manhood to replace with an orange vegetable and with cheerful glee Gudo. Yes and I'd wager with odds she'd do it happily and with relish. But here are my thoughts my friend Even if the Cirdanian waters boil forth and send A legion of pincer crabs our toes and skin to rend A score of churlish editors or nasty gnomish liches zombies or warlocks or all her sister witches Unfriendly pregnant mums or restless Grund bears To chase us through graveyards or give us nightmares Grig. Indeed, All the fiends and villans dark! who cares! don't they know that heroed swords come in pairs! We're of the sort of mettle that never rust! the type who'd easily win a tavern maid's trust.. Gudo. Minstrel, Sir, to the task and question at hand Like I was saying before you went slightly off a bend Be it monster of lakes or snowmen of mountains Or forced with decaying chocolate of Van Howtern's Though we've given our pledge to find this flower we'll attempt to do so within reasonable power No razing of villages or burning of wheat crops not for proud kings, babes or riders of mops Grig. Aye, I now observe what you're meaning to say We'll battle trolls and with princess's play But not sacrifice knightly honour or sonnet quality save brutish oafs, we'll treat all with love and equality? Gudo. Indeed and to whatever curse that crone has created We'll keep to a Renhorden code and not be berated either for lack of compassion of inaccurate facts which your good self will record of our questing tracks Grig. I look forward even now to this first quest Not that I commend myself to Wydwhatshername's behest with particular enthusiasm or willing joy But perhaps this turn of events is but a cosmic ploy Of the undying heavens, of Cancer and of Gemini the stars above doth watch over you, and even I and was it not a while ago since we travelled hence without horses or clues or even a single pence? Gudo. Indeed and though I miss my faithful steed Humility and lost weight will be our rewards indeed Re-living our youth with its excesses and blunders Aye, this exercise will do us wonders Grig. You your swordsmanship and me by adding numbers to my modest store of poems and literary works Appraise, even witch cursed labours have their quirks I might even be able to.. Gudo. Hush, Sir. The footsteps of the crone sound Grig [whispered]. Blasted witch, I'd sooner give her a Thumping pound.. Gudo [whispered]. Stand fast, Sir hold your angered fist Grig [whispered]. Aye prudence, I'd probably hurt my strumming wrist [Enter witch with a usual glint in her eye] Witch. Kiss of Scorpion! Soup of pirana fin What's this conspiring racket and low-voiced din? I leave a moment to tend to my devilish crows And you two are at it with verbals rows meant to forerun plans of deceit to be sure I warn thee if so, to wisely reconsider You meanly bard you'd make a tasty starter and in the markets your lyre I could barter for a lovely pearl necklace or legs of roach Don't on my good hospitality think to encroach Grig [whispered]. I'd happily on your face approach five bunched fingers with propelling force and afterward without the slightest remorse treat your piranas to a bitter main course Witch. What was that, you lean and singing prat? Grig. Why nothing, fairest of models and pretty thing I was merely commenting how I've never seen More charming rats or fine furniture unique marvellous charcoal art and burnt antique.. Witch. Enough with such prittle and prattle Get thee hence, the two of you I have things to see and people to do By the way, I've arranged for a travelling chum Not a witch or a knight or a minstrel bum Everyone knows that three make better company This bonded comrade will with you accompany til the job is done and eleven then remain or your bodies are buried or minds insane when vultures feast or worms partake captured by barbarians or fallen down valleys or paid minimum wage on sea pirate galleys picked and chewed and.. [Grig and Gudo shuffle about nervously] Witch. Ha ha! What was that about heroes mettle? More scum that collects under my nightshade kettle Now go hither and get lost and leave And finish my quest for me! And so they leave the hut and enter the dark wood with timber wolves baying in the distance. Behind them the door shuts and the whole structure suddenly disappears behind them, leaving not a trace save a small parchment with odd, untidy scribblings. On closer examination, Grig notes the first line contains a rather vulgar swear regarding the parenthood of both our heroes, the second being a simple and clear "Just shutup and find the flower." Armed with such motivation and hope, our heroes set about to find their way out of the forest. copyright 1997 Gerald Tan & Nigel Poh Click on the dragon to proceed with the tale... ... the dagger to go to the previous page ... and the snoozing gnome to return to the Home Page. Currently playing "A Parting Hymn We Sing".