by Clive May (clive@cj4386.demon.co.uk)

Rated PG15 - if there is such a rating.

CONTENT WARNING:

This is only marginally a Fifth Doctor story.  There is a lot of sex
going on in this story.  Fortunately, it all takes place off-stage
discretely behind strategically placed bushes.  There is also some
shoujo-ai content.  If you feel you may be offended by any of these
things, PLEASE DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.

If you have decided to read on, then doing so with tongue firmly in
cheek is suggested.  The story is, after all, only a piece of
silliness.


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The copy right of all things pertaining to the concept and characters
of Dr Who is the property of the BBC.  This story is a work of fan
fiction; it has been written simply for the pleasure it gave me in
writing it; and no money has or will change hands with respect to the
story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------


"My feet hurt," Studz whined.

"Tough!" snarled Hagrim.

Where Studz was tall, with golden hair streaming to shoulders rippling
with muscle, and so blue-eyed handsome it made you want to sick up your
breakfast, Hagrim was swart, ugly and so short the appellation "dwarf"
was more than marginally appropriate.

"And it's sooo hot!" complained Studz.  He mopped at his beautiful brow
with a manly hanky - the only thing he was carrying.

"It's your own fault," snarled Hagrim.  In his dark green apprentice's
robes, he really was hot.  He was loaded down under a great bundle
wrapped in leather, and had a sword strapped to his back.  The weapon
was taller than himself; the point dragged in the dust of the road,
leaving a little rut behind them.  The hand guard kept tangling in his
black, curly hair.

"But my boots are getting all dusty...  My lovely chamois riding
boots," whined Studz.  "They were never meant for walking." He dusted
ineffectually at his frilly laced shirt and fashionable leather trews
with a manly, yet elegant hand.

Hagrim sighed and stopped.  He turned his eyes to heaven, muttering
under his breath.  It was something extremely un-repeatable about the
usefulness of wizards who resorted to revenge spells, and fake
beefcake.  Things were desperate enough without having to jolly along
Studz.  What in hell was His Wizardliness, Kevin, thinking of for
Thoth's sake?  Hagrim was beginning to suspect the old fart had tackled
this particular emergency all wrong.

Studz, preoccupied with artfully flicking his blond locks back over his
brawny shoulders, walked right into the smaller man.  Hagrim used an
oath so dire that a hawk, stooping on a rabbit in a nearby glade,
missed his stroke, flying slap bang into a thorn bush - and yet still
considered himself more fortunate than the escaping rabbit, who had not
heard the oath.

Hagrim turned, and regarded slowly every useless inch of the six foot
tall God-like Studz.  "If you'd let me handle those rogues my way, we'd
not be walking, but riding," he pointed out with an air of a man
explaining a difficult concept to a child.

Studz was aghast.  He pouted prettily.  "But there WERE SEVEN of the
ruffians," he complained piteously.

"No," Hagrim said wearily.  "There were ONLY seven of them.  If you'd
let me handle things my way, we'd still have ALL our possessions
instead of just the pack." He set off again along the road winding
under the mighty oak trees of the ancient forest.  "Now, come on.
We've got to get on before things get any worse.  If we don't get to
her Ladyship's Tower in time, we'll have REAL trouble - not your basic
and ordinary 'world ending in cataclysmic catastrophe type trouble'
like we got now, but REAL trouble."

He plodded on under the weight of the pack for several more yards,
before realising that he was alone.  Studz had stopped in the middle of
the track, and was staring back along the path under the trees.

Coming into view around a big oak, was a wagon drawn by four horses.
The driver was a young woman.  Well, a maiden actually.  Hagrim sighed,
let the pack drop, shrugged out of the sword belt, and hurried back to
Studz.  As the wagon drew a-breast of them, Studz lifted an arm in an
elegant salutation.  "Helloooo there," he drawled in his most
aggravatingly affected tone.

Moving quickly, Hagrim got into position.  He deftly caught the girl as
she swooned out of the driving seat.

"Mine, I believe, sir," said Studz, relieving the dwarf of the girl.
He hefted her easily in his manly arms, crushing her to his manly
chest.  He smiled at her with his beautiful blue eyes - which did not
help matters, since the girl promptly swooned again.  With a masterful
stride, Studz headed off into the bushes at the side of the road.

Watching him go, Hagrim shook his head bemusedly.  As enthusiastic
activity began to shake the bushes, he grimaced, and moved forward to
calm the horses.  Well, he thought, the boy has got to practice his
art.  If that fatal charm of his failed when they met the Greenwitch,
then they'd have real trouble - not your basic destruction of the
entire world in a catastrophic calamity type trouble they had to deal
with now, but REAL trouble.  Hagrim stroked the horses neck, watching
the rustling bushes.  At least they could ride for a bit.

The oooing and aaahing from the bushes began to frighten the horses.
The twerp was making a meal of it...  Again!  Hagrim led the horses
a-ways down the road, to be out of earshot, so he wouldn't have to keep
soothing them.

The noon day sunlight was striking warmly in irregular patches through
the green canopy.  Hagrim was thankful of the shade.  He was just
searching the road-side for a comfortable spot when, with a merry
ringing, and a brilliant flash of light, a nettle at the verge
transformed itself into diamond.

Hagrim's heart froze.

This far already?  Surely not?  It couldn't be?  Could it?  He was
almost too afraid to go and check.  When he did, he saw exactly what he
most feared.  One of the nettles had been turned to solid diamond.  It
stood stiffly among its green neighbours.  The sunlight, dappling over
the improbable jewel, caused it to wink cheekily at him.

Hagrim straightened, glancing back down the road.  The bushes were
still in enthusiastic motion.  The 'ooooing' and 'Aaaahhhhing' had
still not reached a crescendo.  He wondered sourly how long the twerp
was going to take over this one.  They were running short of time,
Studz in particular.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Someone's coming," said Tegan, peering down the forest path.  Then she
added, Wowieeeeeeeee!"

"Why Wowieee?" inquired the Doctor absently.  He was crouched at the
edge of the path, hat pushed onto the back of his head, puzzling over
what looked, for all the world, like a diamond cut into the shape of a
common forest plant.

"Goooooossssssshhhh!!!" exclaimed Nyssa.

"Bitch!" shrieked Tegan.  "I saw him first.  He's mine.  MINE!  D'you
hear?"

"Aussie Jezebel!" shrieked Nyssa.

"Traken slut!  Ouch!"

"Tart!  Uuuugggghhhhhh!"

"Harlot!"

By this time, the exchange between the two women had become somewhat
more puzzling than the odd plant.  The Doctor rose, and turned to see
Tegan making a fair hand of strangling Nyssa with the girl's own hair.
Nyssa, meanwhile, was raking cat like claws for Tegan's eyes.

"Now then, now then, stop this," the Doctor cautioned.

"Ladies, Ladies," said a golden-haired God in company with an almost
dwarf.  "There really is no need for two such lovely ladies to fight
over me...  Not while there's plenty of me to go round - why not
share?"

Nyssa, having been brought up in the Traken Union, was quite
comfortable with the concept of intimate sharing.  Eventually, she
talked Tegan round.  With Nyssa on one arm, and a still slightly
dubious Tegan on the other, Studz headed for the bushes, his stride
masterful.

"Ummmmm...  You don't have any horses, do you?" asked the almost dwarf.

The Doctor looked from the dwarf to the bushes, from whence was issuing
a certain amount of giggling and squealing.  "Erm?  No," he admitted.

"That's alright then," said the dwarf.  "It does so frighten the
horses, you know."

"Eh?" inquired the doctor.

The dwarf stuck out a hand, which the Doctor shook bemusedly.
"Hagrim's the name, adventuring's the game."

The Doctor looked him up and down, mostly down, with a skeptical
appraisal.  "Really?"

"Ummm, no.  Wizard's apprentice, third class, actually," he said,
smoothing down the dark green robes; "but these are desperate days."

A yell of "AAaaieee!" issued from the bushes.  The empassioned cry was
followed by a pair of leather trews flying into the air.  They
fluttered down to settle on a bush.  With a squeal of "weeeee" and a
twang of elasticated straps, a bra whizzed away through the air.

"Um," gulped the Doctor.  "Eh, I...  Eh...  Ahem, those girls are well,
sort of, in my charge, you know?  I'm not certain that is quite
proper."

Hagrim glanced across at the bushes.  "Possibly not," he conceded; "but
do you really want to be the one to tell them?  I know I don't.  I've
always had this aversion to being ripped to pieces by young women
maddened with lust."

"Ummm?" was all the Doctor could think of to say.  Then he managed to
ask, "how does he do that?"

Hagrim shrugged.  "Haven't the foggiest.  A megawatt Charm spell like
what the boy's got on him's a Fifth Circle job - way out of my league."

A particularly loud squealing came from the undergrowth, pressaging a
particularly frenzied rustling.  "This looks like it could take some
time," Hagrim observed.  He fished a bottle of wine and two glasses
from the pack.  Propping the bundle against the TARDIS, he sat on it.
He handed a glass to the Doctor, waving at the ground beside him,
indicating that the Doctor should make himself comfortable.  The Doctor
squatted; Hagrim filled his glass with amber liquid, and set the bottle
aside.  The almost dwarf sipped his wine with relish.  He sighed in
contentment, and turned to study the agitated motions of the bushes.
The groans, gasps and sighs were coming to a climax.  Hagrim nodded in
that direction.  "Good, isn't he?"

The doctor glanced at the bushes, then looked quickly away, a slight
flush creeping up his throat.  He gulped and inquired, "Does he do that
often?"

"All the time.  It's what he's for, you see," Hagrim explained.  He
nodded at the diamond nettle sparkling amid its green cousins.  "And
that's why."

The Doctor looked, just in time to see the nettle next to it shimmer
into a crystal.  The rigid gemstone nettle winked cheerfully at him in
a golden sunbeam.  Frowning in puzzlement, he turned back to Hagrim,
who was well into a second glass.

"That's the neatest bit of quantum transmutation I have ever seen," the
Doctor said.

"Certainly is," Hagrim concurred waving his glass to indicate the
bushes.  A faint mist of heat shimmer was rising over them.  "And if
old Studz there doesn't do his stuff...  Then we've got trouble."

"Trouble?"

Hagrim nodded.  "Not real trouble, of course, more your world ending in
a cataclysm type of trouble rather than REAL trouble; but that's going
to be bad enough."

It occurred to the Doctor that this conversation was beginning to get
somewhat surreal; and just how was he going to be able to face those
two after this?  "Would you mind explaining what's going on here?" he
asked, not entirely certain that he wished to know.

"It's a long story," said Hagrim.

"Is there an edited version?"

Hagrim thought about that a moment, then smirked.  "Actually, it's all
a tiny bit sordid really.  You see, Old Kevin up at the Black Tower got
it into his head to go a-courting the Green witch.  Thoth alone knows
what possessed the old fart to go chasing after women at his age.  I
reckon he was reading some of those Romantical Ballads he keeps having
to confiscate from the young acolytes, and got all fired up on them."

"I take it his suit was rejected?" the Doctor asked.

Hagrim's smirk got a little bigger.  "You might say that...  An icy
hearted whore, as I recall, was one of the more repeatable epithets the
old fart used to describe her Ladyship.  He set out with a bunch of
flowers, a box of sweetmeats all done up in a red ribband, and his best
robes on, and when he came back, he was limping, minus the box of
sweetmeats...  And what she'd done with the flowers..." Hagrim winced
at the memory.  "Old Kevin was vowing that if she'd not love him, he'd
make damn certain that she'd never love anyone else ever again.  Never
seen the old fart in such a rare taking."

"This Greenwitch, she'd not be an Elemental Arbiter by any chance?"
asked the Doctor, "responsible for seasons and such like?"

"That's about the length of it," Hagrim admitted.

"And this Kevin, I assume he cast a spell on her?  Something to prevent
her from falling in love?" asked the Doctor.  He had a sinking feeling
in the pit of his stomach.  "You know, that would not be a very
sensible thing to do to someone responsible for ensuring the turn of
the seasons, and the invoking of the new growth each year."

Without actually appearing to move, Hagrim began to edge away from the
Doctor, because in his experience a fellow who expected sense from them
up at the Tower was only a gnat's whisker from frothing at the mouth,
catching up a handy axe and laying about himself.  That...  or
proclaiming himself Emperor of the Universe.

When the Doctor evinced no signs of doing either, Hagrim relaxed a bit
"Myself, I was expecting the great grand daddy of a Thimblewinter...
Instead, we got this, the Crystal Curse.  Old Kevin must have cocked
the incantation up pretty bad."

A rather amusing thought struck Hagrim, who chuckled.  "You know, what
with all this tacky jewellery spontaneously manifesting everywhere, the
hoard of sparklies Old Kevin's got stashed away up at the Tower for his
retirement is going to be practically worthless."

"So what does he propose to do about it?" asked the Doctor.

"Ah now, That's where old Studz comes in.  You see, the plan is that
the megawatt Charm spell like what the boy's got on him will cancel out
the other spell - that's the theory anyway, provided old Kevin didn't
cock this one up as well.  If it all goes to plan, as soon as her
Ladyship lays eyes on him, she'll go arse over apex in love with the
big twerp; and BAM!  the spell's cancelled.  Then everything should be
back to normal...  Well, that's the theory anyway."

"And if that doesn't work?"

Hagrim shrugged.  "Well, that's about it for good and all, unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Well, there is this theory that true love, you know, all consuming
soul mates bonding in a golden haze type of love, a love like that
should have the power to overcome the original spell; but that's about
as likely as Old Kevin getting the Water Into Wine spell right on the
first pass...  Which is to say, none whatsoever."

An immaculately turned out Studz emerged from the bushes, a completely
and utterly blown away woman on each arm.  Hagrim rose, plucked the
goblet from the Doctor's hand and stowed it in the pack with the half
empty bottle.

"Been a real pleasure chatting to you, Doctor.  But time's a-wasting,
Must get on; there's a world needs saving.  I've got to see old Studz
here safely to her Ladyship's front door, so nature can take its
course...  So to speak.  Then we can all relax." He cast a last glance
at the two girls propped against the TARDIS in a daze of afterglow; and
then with Studz at his side, he led off down the forest track.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Far down the forest path, a looming figure garbed in red Barbarian
leathers came into view.  It stood on the middle of the path in the
"classic" barbarian stance.  The legs were slightly parted.  Hands
rested on the pommel of an unrealistically large sword, stuck upright
in the ground.  A long mane of regulation black hair caught up in
braids trailed over well developed shoulders, no doubt framing a grim
expression.

Studz, without actually changing pace, fell behind Hagrim by about five
paces.  However, as they drew closer to the watching figure, it became
apparent that it was a woman, a gorgeously developed barbarian woman.
Even at that distance, there was more than a hint of the romance of the
snow capped mountains, dark forests at their feet, and the lonely moors
blowing with heather swirling about her.

Studz, again without changing pace, drew level with Hagrim.  He
relieved the almost dwarf of the sword with a flourish as he passed.
"A job for me, I think," he said smirking down at Hagrim.  By the time
the pair had got to within twenty yards, Studz had drawn a good five
paces out in front.  He began flicking at his blond locks, and
smoothing imaginary creases out of his fashionable leather trews.  Five
yards from the immobile woman, Studz paused and posed to give her a
moment for proper adoration of his magnificent manliness.  He flexed
his arms, causing his muscles to ripple.

The woman flicked a scornful gaze over him.  Studz flinched, but held
his ground against her spirited opposition.  He turned up the charm a
notch.  Amazingly, the woman looked away from him to centre her
brooding barbarian scrutiny on Hagrim.

"Excuse me," Studz said pointedly.  No woman was going to ignore him
quite so blatantly.  The woman's scornful gaze flashed back to him.
She looked him up and down with such disdain that something in Studz
wilted.

"Yes?" she inquired in a melodious voice that forcibly brought to mind
the sound of wind tinkling heather bells on the northern moors, the
wild and lonely call of the curlew, etc, etc...

"Ehmmmm?  You're blocking the path," Studz said at last.  It sounded
lame, even to his own ears.  The woman frowned at him, as though unable
to work out what exactly his problem was with this state of affairs.

"We would like to pass," Hagrim offered, quite against the advice of
his sense of self-preservation, which was screaming at him that this
was possibly not a good idea.  "So, if it's not too much trouble, would
you mind stepping aside...  Please?"

The woman's attention came back to him.  Hagrim flinched.  She shook
her head slowly.  "That would be silly, now wouldn't it?" she said.

Hagrim knew he should have cut his losses right there, turned around
and looked for another path; but his mouth betrayed his sense of
self-preservation by asking, "why?"

"Isn't that obvious?"

Unfortunately, it was all too obvious.  "This is an ambush, isn't it?"

The woman smiled at him.  Hagrim almost wet himself.  He gulped, and
went on, "you're going to rob and murder us in some grisly barbarian
fashion, aren't you?"

"Correct, Short Arse," she confirmed.  "It's a nice change to meet an
understanding fellow for once.  You can't believe the fuss when the
victim has difficulty in coming to terms with this very simple fact of
life."

"Or death," Hagrim felt compelled to point out.

"Or death," she echoed.  Shaking her head in a show of mock dismay, the
woman went on, "you'd think it was simple enough to grasp, wouldn't
you?  I'm a Barbarian.  They are farmers or merchants, or some such.
So I rob and kill them.  It's quite simple - a perfectly natural law of
nature, and yet you should see the fuss some of them make.  It can be
very vexing."

All through this speech, the woman had been glancing in more and more
agitation at Studz.  At last she turned to him and asked, "Can you use
that sword?"

At last, thought Studz.  He beamed.  "You'll be wanting a
demonstration, I expect?" he said, reaching to unbuckle the belt of his
fashionable leather trews.

The woman rolled her eyes heavenwards.  "Not THAT sword, you twerp,"
she cried in exasperation - "that one!" She pointed a hand at the sword
Studz had thrust upright into the ground.

In the appalled silence that followed, the chink and tinkle of some
more of the nearby vegetation turning into diamond sounded a merry note
of looming disaster.

Studz stepped hastily back.  "A job for you, Hagrim, old fellow," he
said, all but knocking the smaller man off his feet.  "You deal with
her.  It's your job to protect me."

Hagrim had lost the thread of the situation a little, since his
attention had been caught by the sight of horses under the trees.
Among them were his and Studz's mounts.  A little further under the
trees were the seven brigands who had relieved the pair of their horses
earlier that day.  The man hanged by his own intestines, Hagrim
thought, was possibly a little in bad taste, though imaginative, he had
to admit that, damned imaginative.

"Uh?" Hagrim said in response to Studz's panicky remark.

"She's going to rob and kill us in some hideous display of barbarian
cruelty," Studz cried.  "Do something."

"What do you suggest," Hagrim inquired.

"I don't know," Studz cried.  The failure of his fatal Charm had
totally unmanned him, which, since there was so little of the real man
in him, had not been an exactly herculean task.

Hagrim set hands on hips and glared at Studz.  "Thoth's Gonads!  You
make me sick, Studz.  I told His Wizardliness this wouldn't work; but
would he listen..."

The woman sighed.  It was a somewhat vexed sound, recalling Hagrim to
the desperate nature of the matter at hand.  "Look, Short Arse," she
said, "can we get on with this.  I've not got all day, you know.  I'm
on a tight schedule.  Now, hand over the pack."

Engage her in conversation, his sense of self-preservation urged him.
She's only a Barbarian, too many words too quickly will confuse her.
Then when her head's spinning...  RUN LIKE BLOODY HELL!  The only flaw
in this cunning plan was that all he could think of at the moment was,
"what's your name?" He had to admit to himself that as an opener, it
was lacking in complexity, in all probability, fatally so.

The woman hefted the sword in a distressingly efficient manner.  Sheğ
pointed it at his chest and asked, "what do you want to know that for?"

"Ummm...  Well...  Ehrm...  You see, I've always had this thing where I
would like to know the name of the person who is going to kill me."

The woman frowned at him a long moment before announcing, "my name's
Emasculator."

Hagrim looked surprised.  "Hey!  That's got five whole syllables.  I
thought all you Barbarian types had names like Grunt, or Garg, or Snarg
or something - something with a single syllable so it's not too hard to
remember who you are?" At this point, Hagrim's sense of
self-preservation, which had heretofore been beating at the inside of
his skull for attention, shook its head sadly and tried to make peace
with its maker.

"It's Emasculator," the woman repeated slowly, "you got a problem with
that, Short-Arse?"

"Ummm.  No," Hagrim admitted.  "Ehrrrmmm?  What does it mean?  If you
don't mind me asking, that is?"

"What do you mean?  What does it mean?"

"I mean," Hagrim went on, now gripped by a fatalistic bravado, "what
does it mean?  In my experience, Barbarian names always mean something
like, well, Hairy Chest?..." Self-Preservation shuddered and began to
pray harder.  "Ahem...  Bandy Legs?..." Finding that the hole was
getting deeper with every suggestion, Hagrim decided to stop digging,
and trailed off into an uneasy silence.

Emasculator regarded him with her best Barbarian glare.  It was not
half as terrifying as her smile had been.  Even so, the light breeze
which had been toying with her braids, suddenly recalled to mind an
urgent appointment with the leaves of a forest in a far country, and
bustled off to keep that appointment.

"It means," Emasculator said in the sudden stillness, "Fracturer Of
Spheroids....What are you grinning at?"

"Ummmmm?  Me?  Nothing.  Nothing at all...  But i fancy it does rather
lose something in the translation - a couple of "somethings" actually,
I'd say."

Emasculator glowered at him suspiciously.  Hagrim's Sense of
Self-Preservation swooned dead away.  The almost dwarf fell silent,
like a man treading on egg-shells over a pit lined with spikes, who
fancies he's just heard the tiniest crack.

Fortunately for Hagrim, Emasculator was unable to decide whether he was
poking fun at her or not.  To cover her indecision, she turned back to
the matter in hand.

"Right!  All done now?" she asked, all brisk and business-like.  "Are
we all happy with that?...Good.  Now, can we get on." She swung up the
sword.

"Mumeeeeeeee!" squealed Studz.

"Gulp!" said Hagrim.

"Tring!" said a nettle at the roadside as it turned from green to
diamond.

Emasculator paused with her pig sticker held on high.  She shot a look
of irritation at the nettle, which gave her a cheeky wink.

Hagrim suddenly had an idea.  Pointing at the nettle, he declared, "if
that's not stopped, you're going to have a terrible inflation problem."

Emasculator regarded him suspiciously between her muscled arms.
"Inflation?"

"Oh yes.  A terrible inflation.  All your ill-gotten...Ahem, all your
hard earned wealth, will become worthless if that isn't stopped.  Basic
tenet of economics, that is," he added helpfully.  As though to
underscore his words, with a clear belling bing, the nettle next to the
diamond plant joined its companion in crystaline finery.

Emasculator frowned.  "Can you stop it?"

Hagrim nodded sagely.  He leaned in close under the impressive bosom.
It hung over him like the promise of some great soft avalanche, barely
held in check by the skimpy red leather halter.  The threat of such a
delicious doom made Hagrim's knees go all wobbly.

"I have a plan..." he began.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

In a harsh, glittery light that was like sandpaper on their eyes, the
trio of heroes rode under the arched gateway into the enclosed garden
surrounding the Greenwitch's Tower.  Every living thing about them was
now made of diamond.  The hooves of the horses clinked and grated on
the grass as they took a short cut across the lawns.  Even the leaves
of the water lilies in the fish pond were great plates of diamond.

"Not a moment too soon," Hagrim opined as the trio drew up under the
elegant tower set in the middle of all that crystaline tackiness.  He
dismounted and walked up to the door.

"What now?" asked Studz, dismounting with a manly flourish.  "Do we
just knock and ask to see the Witch?  Or something?"

Hagrim knocked.  When nothing stirred after some minutes, the almost
dwarf said, "we haven't got any more time to waste standing on
ceremony." He glanced up at the silent tower.  High up under the eaves,
gauzy curtains of pale green fluttered from an open window.  A bird
flying overhead suddenly went all sparkly, and fell with a ringing
chime to the lawn.  "See what I mean?" he added.  "We've got to get you
inside as quick as possible so you can do your stuff." However, he made
no move to unlatch the door.

"I'll see to the horses, said Emasculator, dismounting and leading them
towards the fish pond.  She was not that concerned for their welfare;
but her wild barbarian instincts for trouble told her it would probably
be a smart move to put a little distance between herself and the tower.

"Shouldn't we go in?" asked Studz as the pause drew out.  Hagrim
sighed.  It was no good putting it off any longer.  He gripped the
handle and lifted the latch.  The door swung into reveal a set of steps
winding up into darkness.  Hagrim stood back and ushered Studz forward.
"After you Studz, old fellow...  Errggh!  Oy!"

There was a brief and furious scuffle in the doorway; and a moment
later, Hagrim found himself being propelled up the winding stair.  He
shook his head in puzzlement.  How did the boy manage to do it?
Somehow Studz always managed to be far back in the rear when trouble
hove into sight, and always just out in front when the goodies were
being handed round.

Hagrim reached the top of the steps, to be confronted by a door of oak
bound with iron.  Studz was behind him, not too close behind him, but
close enough to make a speedy strategic withdrawal impossible for
Hagrim, should the need arise.

Hagrim listened at the panel.  From beyond came the sound of a faintly
metallic scrubbing, accompanied by slight jingles and the occasional
forlorn sigh.

With a curse on Kevin and all them up at the Tower, he knocked gingerly
on the wood.  There was no response.  Oh well, there was nothing for
it...  Hagrim took a deep breath to steady his nerves, lifted the
latch, and stepped inside.

The Witch was at home.  She was seated on a settle in the centre of the
apartment, scrubbing with a frustrated determination at a set of horse
brasses across her knees.  They looked as though they could have maimed
an elephant.  One look was enough for Hagrim.  In that single glance,
he took in her cropped blond hair, the workmen's shirt and trousers,
plus the man-sized mug of ale on a low table before her, and knew that
they were really, really in real trouble now.

He tried to back out, and bounced off Studz.  The Witch looked up at
the commotion.  She glared at them.  "Who let you in here?" she
demanded.

"Ehrmmm?" said Hagrim.  "I did knock; but there was no answer ; and the
door was unlocked; and..."

The Greenwitch sighed heavily and pointed to a settle across the table.
She said, "I suppose you've come to complain about the late Spring.
I'll get round to it when I feel up to the task.  I suppose you'd best
have a seat.  Help yourself to some wine."

The pair seated themselves.  With another world weary sigh, the Witch
resumed polishing the brasses.  Hagrim poured generous goblets of wine;
and the pair sat sipping in a silence which quickly grew awkward.

Hagrim nudged Studz.  "Come on, Studz, do your stuff," he whispered out
of the side of his mouth.

Studz turned on the Charm.

The Witch froze in mid polish.  She looked up slowly.  Her mouth
twisted into a mou of distaste.  "You stop that!" she commanded.

Studz turned up the Charm a notch.

The witch's face grew ugly with anger.  "I told you to stop that!"

Studz turned up the Charm another notch.

With a loud jangle, the horse brasses slipped to the floor as the witch
stood up abruptly.  "I told you to stop that nonsense!  I'll not tell
you again!"

Studz smirked at her, and turned the Charm to full power, blasting away
at one hundred and fifty five and three quarters percent.

"That does it!" cried the Witch.  Her hands came up in the classic
starting position for: "Opening The Seventh Pit Of Hell" spell.

Hagrim gulped.  This was not going too well.  In sudden terror, he
squeezed his eyes shut.  There would be only a fraction of a second
between the Demon from the Seventh Pit fully manifesting, and the
afore-mentioned Demon tearing his head off; but that was quite long
enough for him to be driven stark staring mad, if he caught sight of
the afore-mentioned Demon.  It was, as Hagrim would have been the first
to admit, an academic point under the circumstances; but he didn't
fancy being a gibbering idiot, even for a fraction of a second.  It was
the principle of the thing.

Somewhere a door creaked open.

This is it, Hagrim thought, steadying himself for the blast of firy
sulphur fumes and the sizzle of flesh as the Demon's talons ripped into
his flesh.

A pleasant voice inquired, "Ahem?  May I come in?"

That's an uncommonly polite Demon, Hagrim thought.  Despite the risk of
insanity, this he just had to see.  He sneaked an eye open.

The first thing that met his fearful gaze was the Greenwitch.  Her
hands were still held up in the starting position.  There was a look on
her face of gob-smacked rapture.

Incidentally, the expression recalled to mind the look on the elephants
face after the unfortunate mix-up with the love philter for the Prince
and the white elephant spell, just before the conjoured animal had
begun to throttle Kevin with its trunk in an excess of amorous
affection.  Not to mention the look on old Kevin's fizog a few seconds
afterwards for that matter; but that was a story for another day.

The Witch's shining eyes were rivetted to a spot somewhere behind
Hagrim's shoulder.  He turned to see what it was that had so
fortunately deflected her ire.  Emasculator stood framed by the
doorway, looking ravishing in a wind-blown, romantic sort of way.
"Excuse me, but can I come in?" she politely inquired again.

"Yuuuuummmmmmmmmmmm!  Yuuuummmmmmmmmmmmm!" husked the Greenwitch
dreamily, mouth agape at the sight of Emasculator resplendent in her
red Barbarian leathers.  A little trickle of drool ran out of the
corner of the Witch's mouth, and down her chin.

The tower room was suddenly full of little blue birds dipping and
wheeling in a pink haze.  Their sweet tweeting filled the air.  The
enthralled Greenwitch drifted across to Emasculator, and walked slowly
all around the Barbarian woman.  She paused behind the girl to stroke
the unkempt hair, and trail fingers over the leather clad shoulders.

The enraptured Greenwitch resumed her circumnavigation, drinking in
every line of the superb female form.  Coming at last to the girls
bosom, displayed rather than concealed by the inadequate halter, the
Greenwitch fixed the swell of those two exquisite globes of flesh with
a fascinated stare.

"Yuuuummmmmm, Yuuuummmmm she breathed again.

Studz was not pleased with this turn of events, not pleased at all.  He
glared hotly at the two women.

The witch placed a finger under Emasculator's chin, raising the girl's
face up.  She planted a deep kiss on those exquisite lips.  At that
passionate kiss, Hagrim swallowed in embarrassment.  The light in the
room altered; the harsh, glittery quality softened; and a hint of
sunlight shining through greenery pervaded the room.

Eventually, the Witch came up for air.  She took Emasculator's hand,
and drew her towards the bedroom.  At the doorway, she clasped
Emasculator to her heaving bosom, and planted another deep kiss.  As
they embraced, the Barbarian girl loosed one hand to make a gesture at
the seething Studz.  It was one of those gestures, wherever fingers
were the usual appendages, which carried the universal meaning: "Up
Yours Sunshine!" Still clasped together like limpets on a rock, the
pair vanished through the door.  For long seconds, Studz continued to
glower at the shut door, like a black-smith's furnace after a vigorous
application of the bellows.

"Right!" said Hagrim, "panic over.  "Emasculator'll take care of our
basic destruction of the world problem.  We're in the clear.  I'm for
another glass of that fine vintage."

Studz ignored him.

Hagrim glanced from the door to the seething Studz.  "What's eating
you, Studz, old fellow?" He smirked.  "Danger's over now.  Here, have a
glass of wine.  It's much better than one of Old Kevin's recent
conjurations." He waved a brimming goblet under Studz's nose.  "Just
get a whiff of that bouquet..."

Studz made a sound like a volcano seriously considering an eruption.

"Oh well, suit yourself," Hagrim said with a shrug.  He set down the
goblet and strolled to the window.  He had a fancy to watch the
un-ravelling of the Crystal spell.  The changeover would not be long in
coming - to judge from the noises from the bedroom.  The giggles and
squeals beyond the bedroom door were progressing nicely towards gasps
and groans of pleasure.  This was not exactly the way Kevin had planned
- but what the heck...  If the spell was going to be cancelled?...

Hagrim leaned out of the window to study the unnatural landscape.  The
enthusiastic sounds from the bedroom rose to a climax.

The earth moved.

Hagrim actually felt it sway as Old Kevin's original spell was
cancelled by the power of love.  Unfortunately, there had been a hidden
clause in the Charm spell which was set to go off the moment the
Greenwitch fell in love - whether from the Charm spell itself, or
otherwise.  It had been decided not to inform Studz about that
particular clause...  "He just wouldn't understand." Actually, the real
reason they had decided not to inform Studz was the fear that he would
understand...  All too clearly in fact.

The vista of glittery gemstone grandeur blurred.  From the bedroom came
a cry of alarm as the Greenwitch realised she was in deep trouble.  The
scene before Hagrim wavered.  For a moment it stuttered back into a
ghost of its former glittery glory.  Then the cry from the bedroom
became a wail of despair as the realisation dawned that she was too
late and that she had been undone.

In the twinkling of an eye, all the shining crystaline vista was
swallowed up in a burst of green radiance.  The brightness faded to
reveal a "normal" green countryside stretching away in all directions,
very pleasing to the eye.

"Well, that's that," Hagrim muttered to himself, finishing the wine.
"Another job well done." Leaving the empty goblet on the window ledge,
he strolled to the bedroom door.  There remained only a few loose ends
to tie up.  He opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was almost filled by a grand four poster bed.  He drew aside
the curtains and rummaged among the soiled bed linen.  He soon found
what he was seeking, picked it up and returned to the main apartment.
Studz was standing amid the wilderness of furniture, looking
disconsolate and lost.  Hagrim held out the thing he had found in the
bed for his inspection.  It was a nude figurine of Emasculator, made
from solid diamond.  She was in a kneeling position, cradling a frog to
her ample bosom.

Studz glared at the huge diamond.  He made no move to touch it.  His
over-handsome features grew ugly with childish petulance.  Hagrim
shrugged and set the jewel down on the table.  "That's it.  Quest over.
World saved, we can go home now," he said.  "So why the long face,
Studz?"

"That's all very fine for you," Studz whined; "but what do I do now?  I
haven't got a home now." He waved a manly hand at the room.  "This was
to be my home, and, and, I've no where to go.  And when it mattered I
didn't have what it took."

"Frankly," said Hagrim, struggling manfully to suppress a smirk, "I
don't think a pair of breasts would suit you too well."

"Ha, ha," Studz laughed sourly.

"Look on the bright side," Hagrim said, "actually, you were never going
to live here in idle luxury with her Ladyship anyway.  Right now, you
ought to be a part of that jewel - a tasteful study in diamond of two
lovers at the supreme moment.  The slight change of plan seems to have
screwed things up a bit."

Hagrim paused to wonder "why frogs?" and was it going to make any real
difference in the long run?...  Except, of course, for the dubious
artistic merits of the piece as it now knelt.

He wondered what species of frog it was; and wondered why that thought
stirred vague feelings of unease?  Shrugging off the unease, he stabbed
a blunt finger at the jewel.

He said, "Old Kevin's got a mean streak a mile wide.  He wanted her out
of the way for good and all.  If she ever finds a way to get free of
the spell, I wouldn't want to be within a hundred miles of the Tower.
So you've actually had a lucky escape there Studz, old son - provided
the change of plan hasn't left a loophole for her Ladyship, that is.
'Cos if she ever gets loose...  Quite frankly, an audience with that
Demon from the Seventh Pit of Hell would look very inviting by
comparison."

Hagrim fell silent.  He frowned hard at the jewel; what in Thoth's name
was it about frogs?  There was something, something important about
this particular species he was missing.  If only he could remember what
bloody species it was.  He really ought to have paid more attention to
his Wizardliness's attempts to inculcate some factual knowledge into
his head.  He snatched up the jewel and headed for the door.  "Quit
belly-aching and come on," he growled.

Outside, he rounded up his horse and checked the harness.  Leading the
horse towards the gates, he recalled the lily pond.  Crossing the lawn,
Hagrim paused by the pond.  He considered the little statuette a
moment, then, because he had never really mastered his tendency to
sentimentality, he did a very stupid thing.

He set the jewel in the water.

Seconds later, as the water began to churn and heave, he recalled what
it was about the frog.  It was one of that peculiar species Amphibia
Pegopilia - the ice loving frog.  It was only found at high latitudes
where, on the first snows of the season, it burrowed into the drifts
and took on a crystaline form.  Like this, it waited out the winter
safe and snug until the thaw and the first rains of Spring should fall
upon its crystaline form, whereupon....

Hagrim goggled at the nude barbarian woman kneeling in the pond.  She
was glowering at him with those brooding black eyes, while cradling the
frog against her ample bosom.

Then Hagrim made what was possibly the very worst mistake of his life.
Nervously licking his suddenly dry lips, he said...

"please, oh please, whatever you do...  Don't kiss the frog!"


The end