Whenever one has had a deep, cleansing sleep, it is always quite hard, and undesired, to return to the waking world. Especially when one, for the first time in what seems like ages, is warm and sleeping soundly. Obelix was having such an experience. His mind woke up before his eyes were even considering it, letting the soft crackle of a fireplace fade softly into existence in his ears. He could hear his own breathing, deep and steady; relaxed. Rested. His body was no longer cold and his stomach didn't feel half as empty as it had before. His head felt a little hazy with sleep, and he wasn't exactly sure where he was, but some inner sense told him he was safe.

Obelix tried to recall what had happened to him, something at the back of his mind nagging, as though important. For a moment he just lay there, knowing that if he pushed his brain too hard, he'd surely not remember, but if he let his mind wander, he was sure it would come back to him. And it did. He quite suddenly recalled the frigid water, and the griping fear it had caused him. The crack of ice beneath his feet. The numbing pain. Cold. Fear. But someone had saved him. Just in the nick of time too. He had been fading, and Obelix knew it. The whole recollection tired him out just thinking about it. But it made him appreciate the warmth surrounding him now with a whole new intensity.

When he felt he had been just listening to the world long enough, the large Gaul slowly opened his eyes, blinking dazedly until he found himself looking up at the underbelly of a thatched roof. He stared in interest at the old, dry straw and beams, from which hung all manner of things. Herbs, vegetables, and various other plants, dried and tied, hung from every rafter, spiraling slowly on their strings of hide. The strong smell of herbs, reminding Obelix very much of Getafix's hut, filled the place, though not in an unpleasant way. For several moments, Obelix simply soaked it all in, breathing like a man glad to be alive. It was almost like being home. Almost.

He was just beginning to consider attempting to get up, when the slightest movement, right up against his arm, small and warm, caused him to startle in surprise. Raising his head, a little dizzily, he discovered a young girl, who couldn't have been much older than eleven or twelve years of age. She must have fallen asleep beside the mat, sitting on the floor with her arms and head resting against the bed of straw and blankets. At his sudden movement, she stirred, raising her auburn-haired head and opening emerald eyes to look right into his startled face. Sleep left her at once, her expression becoming bright with a warm smile as she studied him with an air of awe, respect, but most of all, excitement.

"You're awake!" she smiled happily, edging closer rather than further away. She did not seem embarrassed by the fact that she had fallen asleep beside his bed, nor did she offer any explanation as to why she had done so. "I'm so glad. Father said he wasn't sure you would, after all this time. Oh! Father!" Leaping to her feet, the child ran out of the room, from where a series of noises soon sounded. Very soon an older man, not quite as old as Soporifix, appeared, being pulled by one hand by his daughter while he rubbed the sleep from his eye with the other.

"See, Father! I told you he would wake up!"

Obelix tried not to wince at the pitch of her voice, which was high and excited. Now that the Gaul had dared to move, he realized he had quite a formidable headache, another rarity for him.

The older man also seemed pleased by Obelix's increasingly alert state, and moved forward to check on the larger man more carefully. "Indeed he is, Matricaria," he addressed his daughter, somewhat amusedly. "Someday perhaps you shall surpass me at my own craft. Now go," and he laughed, giving the girl a light shove, "and fetch our guest something for breakfast."

"B-Breakfast?"

Obelix decided he didn't like the sound of his own voice. It was rough, and dry, and terribly scratchy, like a tool against unpolished stone. That fact made him blush so hard with embarrassment that all the color he had lost during his travels in the cold returned to his skin in a rush. His host, however, did not seem to mind his croaking tone, but rather saw it as a symptom to be treated and a need to be met.

"And some water!" he called after the girl as she disappeared from view. Turning to his guest, the man gave Obelix a friendly grin that the Gaul, for the first time in days, found he couldn't help but return. "Well now, it certainly is good to see you back among the living." His face darkened just a bit. "For a while there, I wasn't sure you were going to make it."

Curiosity overtaking his embarrassment over the roughness of his voice, Obelix managed to sit up a bit. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Nearly three days."

Obelix felt his mind spin at the prospect. Three days?! Well, that explained why he felt so heavy with sleep still. And hungry. He was very hungry. He vaguely remembered being fed some sort of soup, more than once, and realized his hosts must have fed him, over the course of three days, more than once. That was a source of gratefulness on the Gaul's part, as well as another point of embarrassment. But he soon forgot all about that as the child, stumbling under the weight of a large bowl of stew, reentered the room, still all smiles and excitement.

"I helped make it myself!" she declared, spilling several bits of boar and broth upon the floor of the cottage. To which she seemed completely unaware. Her father took the bowl from her arms, setting it beside Obelix as though it were an offering.

"We found out quite quickly that you require quite a large portion of food to be filled," the fellow chuckled. "If this does not fill you, there is more."

Obelix needed no second prompting, and happily dug into the meal, asking for seconds and thirds before his appetite, which had been deprived for so long, was finally appeased. The entire time he ate, the young girl sat before him on a small, wooden stool, eyes fluttering and watching him with the keenest interest.

As his body received the fuel it had so badly needed, Obelix felt some of his senses returning to him, along with hazy memories of his ordeal out on the ice. He remembered the small hands that had grasped his own as he had struggled, followed by the stronger ones that had joined them. He could only assume that these hands belonged to the man and his daughter.

Obelix felt very much at home here, in the small cottage that made it very apparent that these folks were Gauls like himself. The windows were covered with large, thick blankets of wool, doubles to keep out the wind, strapped into place to secure them. It made the place warm and comfortable, but gave him no clue as to where he truly was. He had been wandering, lost in some frozen wilderness, and now, quite suddenly, he found himself back in civilization. And though he was very glad for it, he couldn't help but be confused.

"I'm sorry for not having introduced myself sooner," the father said, sitting down beside his daughter on his own, larger stool. "But I wanted to give you a chance to gather your thoughts before I presented you with more. I am Medkix, a man of notable practice in the arts of medicine and herbs."

Obelix gave the fellow a careful look. "…Like a druid?"

Medkix laughed. "Yes, and no. I am not nearly as learned as one of their great kind, but I do dabble in the practice of healing. Out here, there are very few druids, and the need for healing could be very pressing, and time to precious to travel and fetch one. And so, for that reason, I began my practice. Which turned out to be quite a saving grace for you, my friend." He frowned, realizing he did not know the large man's name. "By the way, to whom do we have the honor?"

"Obelix."

The two men shook hands, before the girl came between them, extending her own hand. "And I'm Matricaria!" She tilted her head, her loose hair shifting to the side as she stared into his very soul with those emerald eyes. "From where do you come? Oh, please tell us!"

"Matricaria! Let the man be!" Medkix gave Obelix an apologetic smile. "I'm afraid we don't get many visitors out this way, especially at this time of the season." He gave his daughter a disapproving look. "Certainly enough time alone to have forgotten our manners."

"No, no," Obelix insisted, finally attempting to stand to his own two feet. He wobbled a bit, until he found his balance, looking down on the two hosts with gentle gratitude. "It's alright. Really." He gave - a kind smile, deciding he was fine with answering her question. Seeing their home had instilled in him a sense of home sickness, which was very strong and made him think of the village with far more affection than he had when he had left. "I'm from a village in upper Armorica, under Chief Vitalstitistix."

Medkix's eyes widened, mouth dropping in surprise. "The village of the great druid, Getafix?"

Obelix nodded, somehow finding it amusing that their own humble and mild-mannered Getafix should be so well know even as far as…wherever he was now. "Yes. Do you know him?"

"Oh, well, ah, no!" Medkix stuttered, as though such an honor was far too high a wish to ever be granted. "But I know of him! He is known throughout all the regions as a man of great imagination and invention, especially in the field that I study in. He is a genius!"

Obelix chuckled at the man's enthusiasm, knowing that, should Getafix have been standing before them, hearing such praise, the druid would more than likely would have turned red and curled up in embarrassment. A genius? Certainly, in his own right, but Obelix knew him more as a teacher, a friend, and a second father. But -'s interpretation and summary of his friend was indeed very amusing.

Obelix felt a tug at his hand, and looking down found Matricaria looking up at him with large eyes. She had not realized how big he was until he had stood, and the action seemed to have left her in shock.

"Are you very strong?" she asked, her curiosity still running unsatisfied as to their guest. "We hear stories of your village. Of how Caesar cannot defeat you, no matter how hard he tries. Of the Magic Potion this Getafix makes that makes it all possible. Have you ever had it?"

All the light and enthusiasm seemed to go out of Obelix's gaze and stance, like a strong wind blows out a small flame. He gained a faraway look, seeming suddenly sad. He looked down toward the floor, all his memories as to why he had left his home resurfaced. He remembered the incident with Asterix, the talk with Lycurgus, and it still all confused him terribly. Unlike Asterix, who lived life by his thoughts and understandings, Obelix lived by the rising and falling of his emotions. Asterix followed his head, while Obelix tended to follow with his heart. And it had never failed him before. But now, miles and miles from home, lost, in a cottage that reminded him so much of his own, Obelix began to wonder if he had done the right thing. But that doubt was always beat down by that one, horrid fear that Lycurgus had planted so deeply into his soul. That his own strength, the thing that he had counted as a gift all his life, was a danger and a curse to those he cared for.

Obelix's emotions were clear. Fix it, Fix it, his mind seemed to cry. But he had had no way of doing so, until Lycurgus had suggested going to Burdigala. And, again, following his emotions, Obelix had latched onto it with a passion, with a need to go through with it, even if he didn't understand, or realize, or comprehend the reasoning behind it. He only knew what he felt. And what he felt was the need to change. If that was the problem, he'd give it up. He would not harm Asterix, nor anyone else again, and if going to Burdigala to see this strange woman Lycurgus had spoken of, then he would. No matter what.

"I-I'm sorry," Matricaria spoke up, efficiently breaking the Gaul from his thoughts. She had noticed the change that had come over him and instantly regretted her questioning spirit. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm so sorry." And she took his large hand in her small ones.

Obelix nodded, trying to shove away from the uncomfortable topic without depressing the girl further. "Where am I?" It seemed like a perfectly good question, and one that would further his journey. He certainly couldn't get from there to Burdigala without first knowing where he was.

Medkix took over the conversation quite willingly. "You're staying here at our farm, just about a mile South of the ruins of Alesia."

"Alesia!" Obelix blinked. Alesia. Perhaps the most iconic city in all of Gaul since the fight against Caesar had begun. It was there that all of Gaul was nearly defeated. Where the great Vercingetorix had lost in his fight to save them all. Vitalstitistix had fought there, back just before he became Chief, as had Geriatrix, though both always claimed as to not knowing where it was located*, as many people seemed to do these days. To suddenly find himself so close to the alleged city left Obelix feeling a little odd. As though a piece of history was suddenly far more real now that he was closer to it. He almost felt tempted to visit it, ruins or no. But also knew he didn't have the time. "How long a walk is it to Burdigala?"

Medkix gave him a strange look, as though he had just spoken something half way insane. "Burdigala? By Toutatis, man! Is that where you were heading? You are way off track! Burdigala is still a good four hundred miles south-west of here!"

"That would take you weeks to get there walking!" Matricaria cried.

Obelix drooped. Though he knew he could make the distance in a far, far shorter amount of time, he was discouraged by how off he had been. His unusual strength also supplied him with unusual speed. He'd gain Burdigalian territory in a manner of days, if he didn't stop to eat. If he ran in spurts, making sure to eat in between, he imagined he could get there in a matter of two days at the least. But he decided not to say so. Moving toward the door, his mind now set on his task, he apologized. "I have to leave. I have to get to Burdigala as soon as I can. Thank you for everything you've done, and I wish that I could do more for you in return."

"We understand," Medkix nodded, following him to the door. "But wouldn't it be better if we supplied you with some food? And a map? I believe I have one that may be helpful."

Obelix stared at the door a moment, his hand already extended to open it. But it was true, he wouldn't get far without a map or food. Perhaps he could even be shown how to read the directions if Medkix walked him through it. Half reluctantly, the large Gaul let his hand rest back at his side. "That would be good. Thank you."

Itylus was truly amazed. Even among men such as Lycurgus, he had never seen such dogged determination in all his days. He had seen strength, as a man standing in the Arena, ready to fight to the death for others' pleasures. He had seen strength, as the gods in the stories of old Greece had recorded and told. But never had he seen, what he know realized, was the strength of the mind. Asterix was no weakling, as the short Gaul had proven again and again over the past three days. The Greek had seen him stumble and struggle, ever since leaving Venetii, but still Asterix pushed on, forcing his own body forward when it seemed his physical person could barely even continue to do so. It was mind over body, soul and spirit over normal endurance. And that was truly an impressive feat, more so than Itylus's pride could dismiss. He refused to acknowledge it out loud, of course, but a sense of respect had begun to creep into his view of the little man, and no amount of Lycurgus's words from before on strength and brute force could dislodge it.

They had traveled south from Veneti with a meager supplies of meat and bread, which had been far harder to come by in Veneti than Getafix had expected. They had set out at a fast pace, continuing in that manner for the first day, reaching Namnetes in record time. They had done a bit of searching around there, and had finally discovered a merchant who had confessed to have sold Obelix a fake map. Asterix had not been happy, and had made that very clear to the merchant. They had resumed in the same manner of travel the day after. It had been hard going, even Itylus had to admit that. The weather had taken yet another turn, wind whipping the white, blinding snow all around them, frigid against any place where bare skin might show.

Asterix had obviously been growing fatigued over the past hour or so, his arm clutched to his chest and a grimace of pain permanently fixed on his face. He had begun to wander slightly from their path, eyes half shut against the storm so that he stumbled, tripped up by the snowdrifts, but never actually fell. Getafix, moving quickly, stretched out a hand, laying it upon the Gaul's shoulder, steering him back in the direction they were supposed to keep. Due south. Always south. With the sea always somewhere to their right. Though they couldn't always see it.

Getafix sent Itylus a worried look at Asterix's increasingly exhausted behavior, and out of an odd sense of understanding, Itylus found himself squinting through the intense flurries, searching for some sort of shelter. He found some in the form of another cave, far smaller and rougher than the one they had stayed in back along their journey's beginning. Willingly, he assisted the elderly druid in getting Asterix, and the pup, Dogmatix, inside, moving back deep enough into the crevice to secure them from the wind. The druid quickly made a fire, placing Asterix as close to it as he dared. Soon they all were able to enjoyed its gentle warmth. Things had become pretty routine by that point in their journey. They would always walk as far as they could, find shelter, get warm as Getafix tended to Asterix's arm, sleep, and then, when the morning came, they would continue.

Watching the others settle, Itylus found himself to be very restless. His mind felt as though it had some things he needed to work through, analyze. As Getafix worked on tending their smallest traveling member, Itylus carefully slipped away, heading back out into the cold and fresh air outside of the cave. He stared up at the hazed sky, at the flakes falling down on his face, sticking to his lashes. He took a deep breath, watching as the puffs rose into the gathering darkness. He was starting to detect changing ideals within him, and it was beginning to frighten him. If such thoughts were ever uttered out loud, Lycurgus would surely kill him. Or at least banish him from their people, shamed and labeled as weak. Unworthy. An outcast. He didn't want that. He feared it. But, ever since meeting Obelix, and having a glimpse of a normal life, a life with people who actually cared for one another, as Asterix did for Obelix, and vise versa, Itylus was slowly finding himself doubting the words Lycurgus had filled his mind with for so long.

And that was unexceptable.

What was left of his Greek heritage fought back, fiercely. He would not let these needling sentiments win. They were unordered. Chaotic. And that was not the way of the Greeks. And certainly not the way of a descendant of Sparta.

And so, he decided to go for a quick hunt, giving him something to dwell on other than his confused and troubled thoughts, at least to a degree. Though certainly not completely. Otherwise, he would have left Asterix and the druid alone, and headed back to the village, as Lycurgus had commanded him to. But still, his curiosity would not permit him to do so. He was filled with an interest in whether or not they would make it. He would not call it concern. He would not. He wouldn't even think it. But stay he was going to, and, for once, he was not so concerned with the consequences it might produce.

The hunt did him good, and he returned to the cave with a small hare for their supper, feeling rather refreshed. The hare would not be nearly as filling as a wild boar, but certainly better than the rations they had bought in Venetii. He entered the cave's entrance determinedly, following along the stone tunnel as it led into the rock, but then he froze as soft voices filled his ears. It was Asterix and Getafix, talking. That alone shouldn't have been enough to cause him to pause, but it was the sound and nature of their whispered conversation that prompted him to hesitate. Hiding in the shadows, Itylus moved forward carefully, until he could hear the two more clearly. A sense of cold seriousness had seemed to have materialized in the cave since he had gone and returned, and it made him uneasy.

"This isn't going very well, is it, Getafix?" Asterix's voice echoed around the cave eerily, filled with a despair that was very rare for him. It sounded so unlike the Gaul's usual continence, that it felt...wrong. Even to Itylus. As though all the hope in the world had suddenly been pulled out from under him.

There was a long, hesitant pause, before the druid's sigh followed the question. "Asterix, I will not lie to you. Obelix had a very large head start, right from the beginning...For all we know, he might already be in Burdigala."

Itylus sensed rather than saw or heard Asterix droop in defeat. The silence was almost painful. "This is all my fault."

"Now, Asteri-"

"No. Getafix, you don't understand. It goes much further back than just what happened these last few days."

Getafix's voice was stern, as though determined to make something very clear, even though there was also a hint of lost confusion to his tone. "If it has anything to do with Mastix, then-"

"No. no, not that either." Another long pause. "Getafix...have you ever been ashamed of something you did? Something that truly was your fault, but you kept it hidden for years and years, because you just couldn't bring yourself to admit it?"

"Yes." The word was strong and certain. Strangely understanding. "Yes, I think I have." There was the sound of someone shifting, and Itylus could only assume that the druid had sat down beside the young warrior. "Asterix? Have you ever felt that way?"

Asterix gave a sigh, filled with regret. "For a very long time. It sort of faded...Long ago it faded, but this has all...all sort of brought it back."

"Asterix, what is it you did?"

"You remember the day Obelix fell into the Magic Potion?" Asterix asked shakily, obviously determined to release whatever it was that plagued him. "When you and the other adults had gone out to fight the Romans? I...Obelix had been having trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

Itylus could almost imagine Asterix shrugging. "Bullying, mostly. The others used to pick on his because of his size. I...I convinced Obelix that, well, if he was strong, then maybe they would leave him alone." There was a long, uncomfortable pause. Itylus couldn't take it any more, and so, carefully, staying in the shadows, he leaned so that he could actually see the two. Asterix and Getafix were sitting side by side by the fire, the smaller staring blankly into the flames while the druid fixed his own gaze on Asterix's face. The village warrior seemed to be struggling, a painful hessetence in his expression. Swallowing, he finally managed to speak again. "Getafix...Getafix, I'm the one who convinced Obelix to go into your hut that day. I'm the one who convinced him to drink the potion." Asterix slammed his eyes shut immediately, shame in his very posture, like some great stain on his person. Getafix, however, remained perfectly still, unblinking, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips.

"I know."

Asterix's eyes snapped too his friend and teacher. "You...You know?"

"I do." The smile had grown, becoming fond and endearing. There was no anger, or surprise in Getafix's reaction at all. Asterix, on the other hand, seemed stunned, and confused. He stared at the druid openly, completely shocked by his friend's words.

"Then, I...I...Getafix, how come you never said anything?!" he finally ended up exclaiming.

"Asterix," Getafix hushed gently, laying a hand on the Gaul's uninjured shoulder. "There are many things that you are, and there are many things that you are not. And a lair, you are not. I knew that someday you would tell me, and I decided to wait for you to do so unprompted."

Asterix's eyes shifted back and forth minutely, seeming to search Getafix's gaze for the truth. He sighed, letting his sight fall back to his own hands. "Then it is my fault."

"Asterix, it is not up to us to determine whether something is meant to be or not." Getafix frowned. "How do you know that Obelix was not meant to fall into that cauldron? That he was meant to have strength? We cannot make our lives what we think they will be, they will simply be as they were meant to. Obelix was destined to fall into the Magic Potion, just as you were meant to be our Village Warrior." He paused, and all the anger, if it had even really been there, fell away. "Sometimes our mistakes must be made, so that something more important can happen later. If Obelix had never gained his strength, I doubt that the village would still be standing. A lot of things might have been different. A lot have things might have been lost. Including you."

A shiver ran down Asterix's spine. "But can't one say that as an excuse for any mistake? Isn't it just words to ease one's conscience?"

"Good question." Getafix leaned back slightly, taking Dogmatix into his lap and petting his fur thoughtfully. "What do you think?"

Asterix blinked. "I...I don't know what to think..."

Getafix nodded, giving his friend a pointed look and a sad smile. "Neither do I. I don't know everything, Asterix, but I know that this isn't your fault. It's not anyone's fault. If something is meant to happen, then it will happen, no matter who is chosen to start it. Why, it could have just as easily have been you that fell in the Magic Potion all those years ago. Would you have blamed Obelix?"

For a moment, Asterix didn't answer. "No..."

"Than don't take blame where none is needed," the druid insisted. "You and Obelix are closer than I've ever seen anyone. Sometimes, it feels as though you were both one and the same, despite how very different you are." He gave Asterix's back a comforting pat. "We'll find him. No matter what happens, we'll find him. But we can't give up. Right?"

Asterix's answer was the strongest Itylus had hear yet.

"Right."

The Greek stood in the shadows for several long moments, losing track of time as it slipped by. His mind buzzed with what he had just heard, and it brought back all the confusion he had just managed to banish from his already overwhelmed mind. Never had he heard of anyone caring so deeply for someone, that they were willing to take the blame for ruining, what sounded like, another's life. How could something so drastic, as this appeared to be, and yet the friendship the two Gauls shared had not grown weaker, but stronger? Sentiment and care was supposed to be a cripple, not an aid, Lycurgus had said so. It didn't make any sense.

Itylus stayed out of sight, until the call of the fire's warmth drew him into the small, rough cavern. By then, Asterix and Getafix had fallen asleep. Setting the rabbit in the corner, for when they awoke, Itylus lay down on his blanket he had brought, staring up at the rock ceiling as he continued to work through his thoughts.

Whoohoo! Here we go! I had to do a lot of research for a lot of this stuff.

The Battle of Alesia – An enormous battle that took place in the city of Alesia, the Gallic Tribes united under Vercingetorix vs. the army of the Roman Republic commanded by Julius Caesar. It was in this battle that Caesar (in real history, not the Asterix world) finally subdued the Gauls, and took over Gaul. Vercingetorix threw down his shield at Caesar's feet, surrendering, only to be taken prisoner and later killed. This is the same Vercingetorix whose shield is the shield Vitalstitistix is carried around on.

Vitalstitistix in the Battle of Alesia – According to every comic archive and wiki I could find on Asterix, it is said that Vitalstitistix participated in this historic battle. Like many things in the Asterix universe, the timelines (sometimes within the series itself) do not line up. In order for Vitalstitistix to have fought in this battle (which took place in 52 BC), it would have to be before he became chief of his village. But this doesn't work. In two different comics, we are given two different dates for Asterix's birth (35 BC and 85 BC). We assume that Vitalstitistix was around five or six years old when Asterix was born. This means, if Asterix was born in 35 BC, Vitalstitistix was six years or much, much younger (in fact, before he was born) in order to have been in the battle. But if Asterix was born in 85 BC, Vitalstitistix would have been somewhere around thirty-nine or forty years old, which is too old to work. So, as a whole, I'm just going to do what Goscinny and Uderzo did, and just ditch accurate history all together. The Asterix universe is really messed up as far as that goes, so, I'll just take their word for it: Vitalstitistix, before he became Chief, was in the Battle of Alesia.

PREVIEW TO A POSSIBLE FUTURE STORY from Zeragii: I have an idea that's been knocking around in my head for nearly a year now, about writing a story about Vitalstitistix, and his history within the Battle of Alesia. It would be a little more than that (very dramatic, and focus on his relationship with his people and his village), but I don't want to give it away. Would anyone be interested if I did write it later on?

Running gag: It is a running gag in the Asterix comic "Asterix and the Chieftain's Shield" that no one knows where Alesia is. It's funny, because it seems to allude to the fact that the Gauls in the Asterix universe refuse to acknowledge the city in any way after Caesar's victory and Vercingetorix's defeat there. Where is it? They don't want to know, and they don't care! – It's also kind of funny, because it is true today that the location of the actual city of Alesia is uncertain.