This is for Pilyarquitect. Thank you.

"Come down here! Dogmatix hates it when I have to uproot the tree!"

"Won't, so there!"

Obelix stood against a mighty oak, hands flat on the trunk. "Asterix, come over here and catch, would you?"

"Just… a… second…" Putting on a burst of speed, Asterix caught a little boy running for all he was worth. The child was fast, but no match for the magic potion. Asterix tucked the kicking, squealing youngster under his arm and jogged up to Obelix. He shaded his eyes as he looked up; although a little dazzled by the sunlight filtering through the trees, he could just make out a small figure at the top. "Hmm, all right. Hold that a minute, would you?" He handed the little boy over to Obelix and stood under the tree, arms spread.

"Ready… steady… go!"

Holding the little boy in one hand, Obelix shook the tree vigorously with the other. From above, a yell of "Noooo!" grew louder and seemed to rise in pitch – Getafix had told them it was called the Dopplus Effect – as the reluctant pupil sailed down from above and landed securely in Asterix's arms. "LET ME GO! REACTIONARY OLD FOGIES!"

"WE DEMAND TO BE FREE OF THE RIGID OLD CANON!" cried the one in Obelix's arms. "GIVE ME LIBERTY OR GIVE ME DEFF!"

"Every year they think up stranger things to say, Asterix," Obelix said, scratching his head.

"Yes they do, Obelix," smiled Asterix. "I think that's the last of them. Shall we?"

They trotted off to the small schoolyard, where Getafix was getting ready to give the children of the little Gaulish village their first lesson of the school year.

Once the little ones were seated, the scolding began. "Really, children! Aren't you ashamed of yourselves? Every year it's the same thing! While I'm grateful to my assistants for their help…" Asterix watched the druid as he glanced over at where he stood. "Oh, well, Obelix seems to have left. You will convey my thanks to him, won't you, Asterix?"

Wide-eyed, Asterix looked at the empty spot near him where Obelix had stood only a moment before. "Um… yes, of course."

"Good, and my thanks to you, too. Now as I was saying…"

Asterix, knowing the speech by heart after so many years, retreated quietly, letting the class go on without his observation. He looked left and right, but no Obelix. Huh. Usually his friend stayed for the annual lecture, where Getafix lectured the children about how he had to round them up every year like wild boar piglets, or when the druid initiated—

—Oh. Classroom challenge.

Classroom challenge, Obelix's nemesis. Asterix couldn't help a wry smile at what had happened last year, and several years running before that. Getafix would ask a simple question, and Obelix would fail to answer it. Then, Obelix would end up sitting among the children, forced by the druid to go back to school. Clearly, Obelix had decided that this time around, discretion was the better part of valour.

Asterix couldn't say he blamed him. He strolled backwards until it was acceptable to start running, then turned and made a beeline for the forest. While he was fonder of his studies than the average Gaul, Asterix had to admit to himself that, while he still loved learning, he was very, very glad to have outgrown the monotony of lessons. Especially on a perfect day like today, sunlit and fragrant with grass and flowers, the wind rustling softly through the trees. How much more fun to play with his best friend in the forest! The feeling of playing truant made the grass all the greener and the air all the sweeter as Asterix jogged through the forest. "Obelix!" he called. "O, Obelix!"

High up from his perch in a thick-leaved tree, Caius Insidius watched the small warrior trotting around and calling. A few moments earlier, he had espied the big fat brute, little dog at his heels, jogging through the forest, looking around as though afraid of being caught. What could make the mastodon so afraid? Certainly no physical threat. Either fear of embarrassment, or of hurting someone, possibly. Insidius thought perhaps the former. There was something about the furtive way he looked around. Fear of public speaking or public humiliation would do it every time: the fat man had probably been afraid of being prevailed upon by someone he liked or respected too much to refuse or strike with his fists. He quickly ruled out the chief: while there were reports that Obelix respected him more than the others, he could only be made this furtive, this desirous of escape, by someone whose good opinion he feared losing, someone whom he would not contradict. That meant Asterix, their druid Getafix, or a woman. Not Panacea, he thought, recalling the drawing of the blonde beauty, for she had married away from the village…

The sound of voices told Insidius that Asterix had found Obelix, out of sight of the tree. Their height difference wasn't so obvious from above as they walked into the clearing, becoming visible to him once again. He knew from the pictures that Asterix was half Obelix's height, and easily a tenth of his size. At the moment, though, all that could be seen at this angle was that Obelix's girth was far larger than his friend's. "The druid doesn't mean anything, Obelix, you know that!" Asterix was saying. There was a smile in his tone.

"All very well for you to say." The fat man's tone was sulky. By Jupiter, he was even more of a child than reports had led him to believe. "You're not the one sitting there having your braids pulled."

Braids pulled? While Insidius tried to work out what that meant, Asterix burst out laughing.

"Oh, Mr Asterix thinks it's funny, does he!" Obelix snapped. He turned, making to stalk off. "Come on, Dogmatix!"

"Sorry, Obelix!" Asterix ran around to stand in front of his friend, holding up a hand. Insidius doubted that his fat friend would be impressed by his apology, given the fact that Asterix was still laughing. "I didn't mean it!"

"Well, I think you did!"

Asterix appeared to stop being apologetic. "Obelix, don't be silly!"

Obelix's voice rose. "Oh, it's silly now, is it?"

Asterix's rose to match. "Stop being so touchy!"

"Touchy. Right. Well, Dogmatix and I will go and be touchy somewhere else!"

"Right, you do that, you pigheaded great idiot!"

"I will, you insensitive twerp!"

Asterix started to get red in the face. "I can manage just fine on my own!"

"Dogmatix and I will be perfectly fine without you!" Obelix bellowed from the other end of the clearing, and stamped off.

Insidius watched as Asterix stood with his hands in his pockets, fuming, while Obelix disappeared beneath the trees, little dog whining behind him. Obelix stumped off through the forest. What a pair of prize idiots, Insidius thought. He didn't even fully understand what they were quarrelling about, but was this the inseparable pair he'd been led to believe could never be parted? From the looks of it, they didn't need him to split them up; they were doing fine all by themselves.

He blinked.

Obelix was hurrying back, bawling like a baby. Asterix was already on the move, meeting him halfway. Blubbering too, he leapt into his friend's arms. "I'm sorry, Obelix!"

"I'm sorry, Asterix!"

"It's my fault!"

"No, Asterix, it's all my fault!"

"I shouldn't have said what I said! Forgive me, Obelix!"

"I shouldn't have called you what I called you! Forgive me, Asterix!"

Still wailing like boars having their throats cut, they squeezed each other for all they were worth. The little dog added to the din by howling.

Their tears were short-lived, though: in a moment they had dried, and the two lunatics were smiling at each other, wiping their eyes. Insidius couldn't help tapping the side of his head as he sat in his perch. He soon focused, though, for the fat brute had the air of unburdening himself, and Insidius needed to listen.

The pair sat side-by-side, almost touching his tree. "I'm sorry, Asterix, it's just that every year it's the same thing. It makes me feel stupid and ignorant."

"Obelix, how can you say such a thing? Just because you can't always remember dates and names…"

"Oh come on, Asterix. If you hadn't helped me at lessons, I'd have been a washout."

"That kind of talk won't wash with me, Obelix! I did no such thing."

"Asterix, don't whitewash the truth. You were always top of the class. I was always the dunce."

Asterix jumped up. "Obelix! You were no such thing. I'll wash my hands of this conversation if you keep saying that."

Obelix curled into himself a little. "It's true. I was the bottom of the class. They made fun of me, I remember, because I was so slow—"

"They had no right to do that!"

Obelix smiled, looking touched. "It was always you who made sure I didn't get left behind."

Asterix looked away. "Well…"

Obelix's big fingers played with the grass. "You defended me. Before, you know, before I fell into the potion."

Insidius could just make out Asterix's face reddening. "It wasn't anything to speak of."

"But they hit you instead of me!"

Asterix shrugged. "Ancient history."

Insidius held his breath. This was providential.

"But…" Obelix seemed reluctant to let it go. "I was the slowest. If you hadn't explained everything to me…"

"So you took a little longer to get it. You got it in the end. It's the end result that counts. It's not about how easy it is, it's about how hard you work. It came easily for me, but you had to work hard. And you worked harder than I did, and you ended up learning all your subjects. You left school the same way we all did, didn't you? You passed all the tests, right?"

Obelix nodded so fast his head was a blur. He looked proud.

"There you are. You're no less than any of us. If anything, it's worth more because you made more of an effort to get there."

Obelix flung his arms round Asterix—by Apollo, Insidius didn't see how the great brute hadn't crushed his midget friend long before now—and hugged him. His friend returned the embrace enthusiastically, Asterix's small arms barely encircling his friend's giant neck. "You're the best friend a Gaul could have, Asterix."

Asterix blushed again. "Are we or are we not going to go on this hunt?"

Arms round each other, the pair headed out of the clearing.

Insidius remained in the tree, mind running a mile a minute. Well. Well, well. Well, well, well, well, well. This intelligence was priceless.

He settled back into the branches, engineering his plan of attack.