"It is simple," said Toutatis, the God of Gaulish Villages. "My Gauls are the bravest people in all the world. They would die rather than betray an oath, die rather than betray a friend."

"Ha," snorted Jupiter. "I don't believe a word of it. They are great oafs, not cultured like my Romans. They are bullies, and bullies are all cowards at heart."

"My Gauls are no bullies! The bullies are your Romans, who usurp others' land. My Gauls are simple, happy folk."

"You make my case for me. The strong and stupid are too self-absorbed to have the courage to sacrifice their comfort, never mind their life, no matter whom they care about."

"I can prove it," said Toutatis confidently. "I will select the strongest and stupidest of all the Gauls, and have him submit to some ordeal. He will have to choose it to save some beloved. If he agrees, will you admit the moral superiority, the courage, of my Gauls?"

"Ha!" said Jupiter. "You are trying to fool me. If you mean the big brute Obelix of Armorica, of the Indomitable Gauls, I happen to know that nothing can injure him. Why, one of my Romans hit him over the head hard enough to crush his skull, and he didn't even feel it. I smell a trick. What could possibly constitute an ordeal for him?"

Toutatis merely nodded confidently. "I'm aware that not much gets to Obelix. But he is not invulnerable. You shall see, and judge for yourself."

"Good hunting today, Obelix, wasn't it?" Asterix smiled, carrying two boars with him, one over each shoulder.

"Yes, Asterix." Beside him, Obelix carried one under each arm, smiling too. "Too bad we didn't meet any Romans, though…"

The air was starting to carry that nip that heralded the end of autumn and the onset of winter. Hunting in the cold season was hard, and there were periods where there could be no hunting at all; the storage season was nearly upon them, the village women all making preserves to tide them all through the harsh Armorican winter, only slightly mitigated by being so near the sea. "I'm thinking we ought to get some mushrooms while the getting is good," Asterix went on.

"Mmm, lovely. And we can make mushroom soup."

"I suppose so." Asterix sounded doubtful. "I've always preferred them stewed in their own juice, lightly."

"I have an idea. When we've had these boars, let's go out mushrooming. If we get enough, we can stew them the way we do to start the soup, then you can set aside some the way you like them, and then—"

The forest disappeared around them. Asterix had an impression of swirling colours before he landed with a thud on a barren plain. Beside him, Obelix thudded to the ground, boarless.

Asterix jumped to his feet, hand hovering over his sword-hilt. He had a sneaking suspicion, however, that any entity with the power to lift him and Obelix willy-nilly out of the forest, and transport them somewhere else, would hardly be intimidated by steel.

More to the point, when Asterix looked down, his sword wasn't there. Neither was his belt, where he carried his sword and potion and sundry necessities.

"Dogmatix! Dogmatix!"

Asterix looked over at Obelix, who was calling worriedly around for his dog, and was shocked to see him bareheaded. He raised his hand to his head, and chilled to find no helmet there, either. He felt very naked and exposed. "Show yourselves!" Asterix yelled.

"I'm afraid we can't do that," a loud voice came from above.

"Of course not! You'd get thumped!" Obelix bellowed. "What have you done with Dogmatix?"

"Your dog is safe in the forest," came the voice. "He cannot follow you here."

"Where are we? And who are you?" called Asterix. Something told him that this was serious.

"We are the gods, Toutatis of Gaul, and Jupiter of the Romans. We have a test…"

"I never liked tests," muttered Obelix unhappily.

"…and the two of you have been chosen as subjects."

"What do you think, Asterix?" Obelix whispered. "Is it a trick?"

Asterix looked down at himself, with no belt, no helmet, no potion. "I'll tell you this, Obelix: they're either gods, or humans with powers so far beyond ours that it doesn't make much difference either way." He raised his head. "What is this test?"

"It's simple."

A whirlwind whipped Asterix up from where he stood. "Asterix!" yelled Obelix. He reached for his friend, but his hands went right through him. He stood transfixed as Asterix was spun through the air, brought to rest manacled with his back against a sheer rock face, arms and legs spread-eagled.

Obelix ran to him. He grabbed Asterix's wrist-cuffs, seeking to wrench them open, but his hands passed through them. Numbed with terror, he tried again and again, to no avail. In despair, he reached out to punch the rock into which the manacles were embedded, for if it shattered to smithereens the iron cuffs would fall out, but his fists bounced off it harmlessly: it absorbed his blows as though he were punching a pile of straw. He whirled. "Let him go!"

"Obelix, I am prepared for any test…"

Asterix could swear the voice above him giggled. "It's not you who shall be tested. Although I suppose if your friend fails his, you will be sorely tested…"

"Who are you and what do you want?"

"Yes," Obelix half-snarled, "show yourself if you dare!"

A tall man with bow and arrows, looking like drawings they had seen of Adonis, strode into the plain. From where, they didn't know – there had been plenty of time to see him coming, in this vast wasteland. He seemed to have just appeared.

With a growl, Obelix charged at him, head down. "Wait!" called Asterix, but Obelix paid him no mind. He slammed into the man with such violence that the ground shuddered.

The man wasn't moved an inch. Blankly, he met Obelix's gaze.

"Well, then—" Unfazed, Obelix dealt the man a mighty punch. He felt it connect, but the man stood solid as an oak—more so, since Obelix regularly felled oaks—and the ground merely shook again. At any other time, Obelix would have been delighted to find a sparring partner who wasn't soft. Right now, with Asterix manacled to the cliff-face, he was panicking more with each passing second. "Let him go!" he cried.

"We will, we will." The disembodied voice was soothing. Soothing, and smug. "After we have finished our test."

"What is this test of yours, Roman?"

"Oh, you recognized my voice?"

"No," Asterix retorted. "I recognized your malice."

There was a chortle. "In a way, I almost hope your friend fails his test."

Obelix felt a chill run through him. "What test?"

"It's simple. Our demigod here, following our orders, is commanded to shoot ten arrows into Asterix."

"NO!" Obelix spun wildly, looking about him. "No, you can't! You'll—It'll—" He ran to Asterix. "I won't let you!"

Asterix lifted his chin. "I will submit to the will of the gods, Obelix."

"No you won't, Mr Asterix! I won't let you sacrifice yourself!" Obelix looked back up. "What's this in aid of, anyway?"

"It is a test of courage and altruism."

"Asterix is the bravest AND the most optimistic!"

"Not optimism. Altru…" There was the sound of a godly hand hitting a godly forehead. "Never mind. In sum, Obelix, there is only one way to protect Asterix from the arrows."

"And I know just what it is." Grasping a menhir-sized rock that lay beside him in the sand, Obelix ran towards the Adonis, raising it and slamming it down on his head hard enough to drive him into the ground like a tent-pole.

It shattered.

Unfazed, Obelix drew back and rammed into the man with his shoulder, as though breaking down a door. There was a ringing 'doiiinnnngggg!' sound, but otherwise, no effect.

The Adonis reached over his shoulder, pulled an arrow from his quiver. He readied his bow. "No, no, no, no, no!" Obelix grabbed the bow. His hands passed through it. He grabbed for the arrow, but it, too, dissolved like a shadow. He grabbed for both bow and arrow again and again and again, hands becoming a blur as he tried, hundreds of times in a single minute, to disarm the inexorable executioner.

Jupiter raised a hand to pause the bowman. "I must admit, I am impressed," he commented as he watched the Gaul's superhuman speed. "He is almost a demi-god on the strength of that alone. That potion is powerful stuff." He cut his eyes at Toutatis. "Did you …you know, give the druid some help with that?"

"Does he suit you as a test subject?" Toutatis said impassively.

Jupiter nodded slowly. "Very much. A man of his strength has no reason to sacrifice anything at all."

"Good. Then let's get on with it."

Toutatis snapped his fingers. The bowsman lowered his weapon, and Obelix's hand slipped, the arrow brushing it. "Ouch!" He stared in surprise, holding up his bleeding finger, cut by the weapon that had been so devoid of substance just a moment ago.

"Obelix!" Asterix yelled. "Just get out of the way! You could get hurt!"

"In fact," said one of the disembodied voices, "you have told him the exact opposite of what he must do to pass the test."

"Who cares about your tests?" growled Obelix. "Just let Asterix go, and…"

"I think you will care about our tests. Seeing as they will tell you how to protect Asterix."

Obelix swung at the archer. His fists impacted the demigod, making the rocks on the ground jump and rattle like an earthquake, but never moving the man an inch. "Let him go!" Obelix yelled. He pounded the godly archer again and again.

"Our slave will not be moved," said the voice of whichever god it was. "He will shoot ten arrows at Asterix."

Asterix raised his chin impassively. Obelix showed no such dignity. "NO!"

"You can protect him."

"How?"

"By taking the arrows yourself."

Obelix grabbed for the arrows in the quiver. His hand passed through them. He grabbed for the arrow in the man's bow, with the same effect. "I'm trying, aren't I!"

Jupiter put a palm to his face. "Is he always like this?"

Toutatis smiled. "Obelix," he called. "By taking the arrows, I mean you must stand between him and the arrows as they are fired. You will be his shield."

"And let the arrows hit me?" Obelix tapped the side of his head. "You gods are crazy! They don't have to hit either of us!"

"Ah, but they do. That is your test. A test of your… your courage, and your endurance."

"Not on your life!" This time, the yell came from Asterix. "Obelix, just go. Tell my parents…" He swallowed. "Tell them I love them. And to keep fighting. And to take care of themselves."

"No! Asterix…" Obelix ran to Asterix, kneeling before him. He reached for his bonds once again.

"Stubborn little beggar, isn't he?" Jupiter quirked a half-smile.

"And well he may be," Toutatis nodded, rather proudly. "Nothing has bested him yet."

"I like his spirit." Jupiter watched as the two Gauls argued and fought, the small one telling his big friend to leave, and the big one having none of it and continuing to tear ineffectually at the shackles. "I like him so much that if he does pass the challenge, I'll let him live."

Toutatis looked sharply at him. "You'd do that?"

Jupiter smiled down on the pair, and nodded. "I doubt he'll be able to take it till the end, though. He may mean well, but these big fellows are the first to run at the sight of trouble."

"Obelix!" Asterix yelled frantically. "Get out of the way! He'll start shooting any minute!"

"And leave you to face the music? You must be crazy!"

"Get out of the way!"

"Not until I've got these stupid things off you!"

"You'll get hit by the arrows, idiot!"

Obelix looked frantically behind him. The blank-eyed Adonis had raised his bow again. Obelix mentally tallied up all he'd done: tried for the swords, tried for the man, tried for the shackles. What else? Struck by a sudden inspiration, he reached for a nearby rock, about half the size of a menhir. He pulled it over to stand between the pair of them and the arrows. "There."

Jupiter laughed out loud. "This Gaul of yours just doesn't give up!"

Toutatis turned to Jupiter. "I could show him the consequences first. I don't want to actually hurt Asterix. He's not part of this bet."

Jupiter tilted his head, thinking. "That would be cheating."

"You said yourself that even if he took one shot, he would never stand the whole set."

Jupiter waved a magnanimous hand. "All right."

"If you think him well protected," called Toutatis, "stand aside, mortal."

Obelix shifted the rock so it shielded Asterix completely, then sat beside him, close, secure behind the impenetrable barrier. "There."

"Obelix, it's not going to work," Asterix warned urgently. "The laws of this place don't work like the world we know! It's dangerous! Get away!"

The Adonis pulled back his bow, and let fly an arrow. Asterix and Obelix watched it as it went.

The arrow was swift, but they could see its passage as clearly as a summer bird in flight. It passed cleanly through the rock as though it wasn't there, and buried itself in the stone cliff between them. The breeze from it fluttered Obelix's braid, and it brushed past Asterix's head, just grazing his cheek. Asterix flinched, but made no sound.

Obelix had no such compunctions. "NO!"

The gods watched as the big man pushed away from the cliff face and reached out a tentative hand to Asterix's bleeding cheekbone. The arrowhead was smooth metal, leaf-shaped and razor-sharp, and had opened up a neat cut in the warrior's face, precise as a surgeon's knife. "Asterix," Obelix's voice trembled, "are you all right?"

Asterix flinched, but endured his friend's gentle touch. "I'm all right. Get—get out." He seemed unable to say more.

"The next one will pierce his heart."

Obelix whirled, looking up at the skies. "Don't you dare!"

"Let me handle this," said Toutatis. Gently, he said, "Obelix, did the rock stop the arrow?"

Obelix's eyes were drawn again to Asterix's bleeding cheek. "…no."

"Did you hear what we said before?"

"Uh…"

"Only your body will stop the arrows from hitting Asterix. You must play the part of a shield." Toutatis remembered, "We'll even let you live, if your druid can heal you in time."

Obelix swallowed hard. His friend was shouting denial, but he quite suddenly and clearly understood. "All right."

"Obelix, NO! Don't you dare!"

For answer, Obelix turned to the wall and spread his arms against it, facing Asterix, his broad back to the archer, his gigantic stomach almost squashing his friend. He flattened his palms against the rock face and waited.

"NO! OBELIX, YOU IDIOT! GET OUT OF THE WAY!" screamed Asterix. To say that he was frantic was an understatement. He was beyond frantic; in point of fact, he didn't mind admitting he was hysterical. "DON'T JUST STAND THERE! YOU'LL GET HIT, OBELIX, NO—"

"Fire."

The archer loosed his arrow. With a wet thuck, it buried itself in Obelix's large rear end. Obelix jerked forward, roaring out in agony.

"NO!" Asterix's scream rang out with his friend's. "NO NO NO NO NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE! OBELIX!"

Obelix was still bellowing in pain, one fist pounding the rock, as a cold, impassive voice sounded from above. "One. Nine left."

"ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU'LL KILL HIM! YOU CAN'T—"

Thuck. The second arrow caught Obelix high up in the back, drawing another roar of pain. He jumped up and down, maddened with agony, then howled as the motion caused the arrows in his back to move. Asterix screamed along with him, their voices mingling. Their yells were still ringing out as the archer sent another arrow into Obelix's big, round bottom. As the arrow pierced his flesh, Obelix screamed in earnest, and fell to his knees, beating at the earth with both fists. Pebbles fell from above.

Asterix was screaming and sobbing, his head lashing from side to side. His wrists were reddening as he strained at his bonds, desperate to do something. "Obelix, get out of the way! Get OUT OF THE WAY!"

"Three down, seven to go. If he can endure them, that is," came the cool voice from above.

"SEVEN, WHAT DO YOU MEAN SEVEN? STOP THIS NOW, THIS MINUTE!" Asterix screamed, desperately trying to see Obelix's face, bent to the ground, his braids hanging down on either side of his head. "ARE YOU CRAZY? YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO HIM! GET HIM OUT OF THE WAY, I'LL TAKE IT, I'LL TAKE YOUR STUPID TEST, I'LL—"

Thock. Obelix howled and burst into sobs, falling forward to scream out his agony into the earth. This one had caught him high up in the shoulder, curled up as he was. He was trembling all over, rivulets of blood trickling down from the arrows in his flesh and soaking into his blue-and-white striped breeches, staining them with splotches of red. He kept groaning, then burst into another bellow as the fifth arrow pierced his waist below his belt.

"Not bad," said Jupiter coolly. "I thought he'd have run by now."

Toutatis just nodded, with some pride. "Stand, Obelix."

The huge Gaul was writhing on his knees, maddened with pain, pounding the ground so hard it would have split if it had not been magical. The gods waited. "If you don't stand, we'll be more than happy to shoot Asterix."

Shuddering all over, Obelix dragged himself up, using the rock for support. Asterix was screaming his friend's name. The small man's wrists had started bleeding, savaged by his desperate attempts to get free. "Obelix! OBELIX!" Asterix yelled over and over, ignoring his tattered wrists. "Get out of the way! Get out, get out…" He was sobbing, great gasps punctuating his anguished cries. Obelix wasn't listening to him, too lost in his own pain. When the next arrow buried itself into Obelix, their screams rang out together.

Jupiter looked over at Toutatis. "I'm impressed."

Toutatis smiled. He'd known these Gauls' courage would win over his counterpart. "I'm glad."

"Really. I thought he'd run at the first arrow. But look at him! He's rooted to the spot." Jupiter called down to the mortals. "Obelix of Gaul, if you want to stand aside, there are four arrows more. Your friend can take them."

"Please, Obelix!" Asterix's voice was hoarse from screaming, cheeks furrowed with tears. "Listen to him!"

Obelix was leaning on the rock face with his elbows, head buried in his upper arms, his stomach slightly squashing Asterix. He was shuddering all over, moaning constantly, barely conscious.

He shook his head.

"Fire."

The seventh arrow caught him between his ribs, above his breeches. With a strangled cry, Obelix fell to his knees. The ground shook.

"Obelix!" Asterix screamed again. He turned his face up towards the gods. "Please! He's had enough! Stop it, stop it! Let me take the rest, I'll do anything, just…" he looked down at his friend, near collapse, on his hands and knees, arrows sticking out of his back. "Stop this!"

"Obelix of Gaul," Jupiter said, "if you do not get up to shield your friend, the next arrow will pierce his heart." Then he waited for the man to collapse, for Toutatis to lose his bet.

But the man collected reserves from somewhere, Jupiter knew not where, and reached trembling arms up to pull himself up by the shackles that held Asterix, groaning when the movement stretched the wounds in the muscles of his back still pierced by the arrows. Ignoring Asterix, who was yelling curses and entreaties and weeping and wrenching against his bonds, he hauled himself up to where he was shielding his friend again.

The eighth arrow buried itself deep into Obelix's hip. If it had struck any other man, it would have impaled him fully; as it was, it pierced him so deeply that only the feathers showed, the entire shaft buried within his flesh.

Obelix screamed, Asterix screaming along with him as though the arrow had pierced his own flesh. He roared and bellowed for what seemed like hours, convulsing and jerking like a man struck by lightning. Eventually, Obelix subsided into broken whimpers, shuddering like an oak struck by an axe. But his hands clawed at the shackles, and he kept himself from falling. Asterix screamed on, even after Obelix had stopped, cursing the gods, fate, and everything in the world and beyond. "Admit defeat yet?" said Toutatis.

"Two more," said Jupiter.

"Fair enough," nodded Toutatis, confident in the courage of his Gauls. He motioned to the bowman, who fired again, hitting Obelix in the center of his bare upper back, missing the spine by a fingersbreadth. The big man shrieked and convulsed, his friend screaming with him. Then, as Asterix sobbed and vowed revenge, Obelix of Gaul sank to the ground, exhausted, unable to take any more.

"Too bad," Jupiter smiled. "You lose." He motioned to the bowman to shoot the final arrow.

"Obelix!" cried Toutatis. "He's aiming for the heart!"

Jupiter looked mildly at Toutatis, wondering why he had said that. He looked back at the drama taking place below… in time to see Obelix, still trembling and incapacitated on the ground, half-raise himself on one shaky elbow. He reached upwards, trying to shield Asterix still, although he could no longer stand.

The arrow was already in flight, its aim sure and true. As though time had slowed, the two mortals could see it moving, inexorable and deadly, towards Asterix's heart. Asterix's eyes went to it for a split-second, then fell to where Obelix lay bleeding, as though he wanted his last sight in this world to be of his friend.

In desperation, Obelix reached up, shielding Asterix's body with his arm, even as Asterix screamed, "Obelix! No!"

The arrow struck, burying itself deep into the fat and muscle of Obelix's thick forearm, right over where it would have pierced Asterix to the heart. It split the skin and kept moving, intent on reaching its target, through flesh if necessary—but the point struck bone with an audible crack.

The arrow stilled, stopped by Obelix's bones, while both friends shuddered with the sickening vibration. Asterix screamed, as though the agony was his. Obelix was too shattered to let out more than a small, wounded cry. In terror, Obelix lowered his bleeding arm, staring wild-eyed at Asterix's chest. Asterix was a mess, wrists bloodied, eyes puffy from weeping, the whole world's anguish and helpless rage and misery on his face. But his tunic was intact, and his heart beat on.

Obelix exhaled, and let himself slide to the ground in a heap.

Asterix's shackles snapped. With a cry, he launched himself forward, flinging himself down beside Obelix. Still with the arrows sticking out of him, Obelix crouched on his knees and elbows, unable to rise. His breathing was ragged, punctuated by aching moans. Every sound of pain from Obelix made Asterix's skin feel hot and tight. Obelix wasn't supposed to be in pain. He wasn't supposed to be hurt, not ever.

"Obelix…" Asterix whispered. It was unnatural to be seeing Obelix so still. His normally sunny and energetic friend crouched rigid as a statue, no doubt viscerally knowing that the slightest motion would make the arrows move inside him and tear at his flesh. Asterix tenderly laid one hand on Obelix's head, the other on the shoulder of the arm pierced by the arrow, trying to stop the shudders that crawled through him at the sound of his friend's continual whimpers and moans. He looked up at the pitiless, blazing sky. "HEAL HIM!" Asterix screamed at the gods, not caring how his voice cracked. "You did this, now heal him!"

Jupiter looked down at the frantic Gaul. "He really cares for him," he muttered.

"Their friendship is legend," murmured Toutatis. "They would do anything for one another."

"Do you hear me?!" The gods watched the small warrior screaming, tears rolling unashamed down his cheeks as he kept his hands on the fat man's shuddering, bleeding carcass as though his friend were the most precious thing alive. "He passed your test! If you're truly gods, then heal him!"

Jupiter raised one eyebrow. "They would? The bet was rigged, then?"

Toutatis merely jerked his chin. "I knew as much as you do, for I only knew how they feel, not how they would act."

"Let us not argue in front of mortals…" Jupiter raised a hand.

Asterix felt the desert ripple round them, and suddenly there was grass under his feet, Obelix crouching on the forest floor instead of desert sand. The arrows were still sticking out of his back and hips, and he was sobbing out loud, an unbroken stream of helpless agony pouring out along with his blood as it soaked into the soft earth.

Dogmatix howled, bounding to Obelix and licking his face. Obelix tried to lift a hand to pet him, but he was trembling all over with the effort of keeping still, and merely jerked spastically, whimpering and curling tighter in on himself. Asterix's heart broke, but he dashed away his tears: his vision could not blur, could not. He had to get Obelix to the druid's hut, and he had to do it now!

"Hold on, Obelix," he muttered, reaching for the gourd of potion which was now at his belt once more. "Just hold on." He took a deep swig, feeling the power surge and crackle through him. Then he stepped back, dismissing his feelings and regarding his friend with deep thought. Obelix walking was out of the question. Asterix couldn't rig a travois or anything to drag him; that would jar his injuries and hurt him worse. For a moment he thought of running back to the village and getting some of the bigger men to help him, but dismissed the idea instantly: he couldn't leave Obelix alone and hurt like this, he couldn't let him be gawked at, pierced all over with arrows. There was one thing… "Obelix," he said, stepping closer to his friend and whispering in his ear. "Do you hear me?"

Obelix gave a tight grunt for answer.

"I'm going to take you to our druid. It'll probably hurt, but just put up with it for a few minutes. I'll be as fast as I can. All right?" Another grunt. "Here goes." Asterix squeezed himself as tight under Obelix's crouching form as he could, and braced his hands on his friend's big stomach. He closed his ears to the cry he knew was about to come, then lifted Obelix high above his head, holding him aloft at arm's length like a weightlifter.

He'd known it would hurt, but Obelix's roar as the arrows shifted inside his wounds shook Asterix to his core. His friend shuddered convulsively, then moaned as he slumped down on either side of Asterix's arms like an impossibly heavy straw mattress, almost touching the ground. "Shh, shh. I know," said Asterix, blinking away tears as he adjusted his friend the way the Roman weightlifters did with their dumbbells. "I know. It'll be over soon, I promise." It was awkward and unwieldy, but the potion's strength made Obelix seem almost weightless. Taking a deep breath, Asterix set off running.

Asterix had never been very strong, but he had always been an exceptional runner: right now, driven by terror, he fairly flew through the forest. He had no idea how much time had elapsed when they were in that awful limbo, but was relieved to find it was siesta-time in the village: hardly anyone was about. Like a blur Asterix shot past them, through the village, to stop at Getafix's door, kicking at it awkwardly with one foot, as his hands were occupied.

"All right, all right. What's all this racket in aid of?" Getafix opened the door, yawning. Then he saw them. "By Toutatis!"

"Do me a favour and don't mention that name in my presence," Asterix spat as he strode into the hut, gently lowering Obelix to the mattress. The bed creaked, but held. The big man let out a groan that would have melted a heart of stone. Asterix's heart broke, for it was only flesh and blood. He shuddered and murmured a stream of reassurances, taking his friend's hand in both his own, as Getafix stared. Since he'd opened the door to his hut, to be honest, Getafix couldn't believe his eyes. Obelix struck by not one arrow, but many?

"What happened?" Getafix finally managed to ask. "What—"

"I'll explain later," Asterix looked beseechingly up at him, reaching out to take Obelix's hand again. "Just help him."

Obelix lay face-down on the bed in Getafix's hut, weeping in pain. Asterix, crying too, sat glued to his side. Getafix had tried to get Asterix out of the room while he pulled the leaf-shaped arrowheads and wooden shafts out of the deep wounds in the big man's back. They might be healing at an inhuman rate, but they were still serious and painful: in fact, anyone but Obelix would have been dead already, dead long before they even got to the village. The inches-deep lacerations and punctures from the arrows – dear gods, one of them was almost a foot deep – would have killed any other man. As it was, Obelix was in agony even without being touched. Manipulating the near-fatal wounds and pulling the arrowheads out was excruciating, as he'd known it would be; Getafix would rather have spared Asterix the sight. However, all his best efforts and made-up errands were insufficient to budge Asterix from his friend's side while Getafix pulled each smooth metal point out with a horrible sucking sound. Obelix, never one to hide his feelings, roared out with pain at the extraction of each arrowhead, trembling and sobbing in the aftermath as Getafix applied salve to the bleeding places on his back.

Asterix, fortified with the magic potion, clasped his hands tightly, letting his friend hold onto him through his pain. "Why did you do it?" he choked out, tears rolling down his face. "O Obelix, why did you do it?" He inched closer to his friend, slipping his arm under Obelix's cheek to let his big friend lay his head on Asterix's shoulder, wrapping his forearm around to support the back of Obelix's head, stroking his hair. "Shh, it's all right," he choked, holding tight onto his friend's hand and letting Obelix cry and yell into his tunic.

"Almost done," Getafix said, his voice tense. It couldn't be soon enough for Asterix. Every flinch from Obelix made Asterix flinch along with him; his friend's every cry sliced into Asterix's chest as though he were getting an arrow in the heart. He was so used to Obelix being invincible that he occasionally forgot that invincible didn't mean invulnerable. It was so rare for Obelix to be hurt that Asterix forgot he was human too, needed help sometimes too – and that he could feel pain. And now, holding his friend and comforting him like a child, he remembered what he often forgot: that he would rather a hundred times be hurt than watch Obelix suffering like this. "O Obelix," he breathed. "O my friend, why?"

He hadn't expected a reply. But his friend's deep voice softly rumbled an answer, muffled from where Obelix's face was buried in Asterix's tunic. "My turn…"

"Turn?" asked Asterix.

"Asterix, Obelix," Getafix said worriedly. "This is the last one. It's deep. It might be… a bit more painful. Here, Obelix." The druid placed a thick sliver of granite in Obelix's hand. "If you need something to grip, hold onto this."

Asterix raised his head. "I can hold his hand."

"No, you can't. The shaft's so deep in him it's almost out the other side. If it hurts him badly, and he grips your hand too hard, he'd just break your bones, and I'd have two patients instead of one. Do as I say, Obelix."

Obelix nodded, pale and panting. Asterix swallowed hard, laying both hands on his friend's broad shoulders. He'd never supported him like this before. Never needed to. He smiled, as best he could. "Nearly done, Obelix, old friend."

Obelix blinked rapidly, eyes glazed, as though he wasn't quite there. He wasn't accustomed to suppressing pain. It occurred to Asterix that Obelix wasn't accustomed to pain at all. The things that regular people got used to as children – bumps and bruises, cuts and scrapes – had no effect on Obelix, at least from the moment he had fallen into the potion. Asterix chilled. Pain was bad enough when you were used to it, torture was horrific no matter what, but for Obelix, normally impervious to the twinges of everyday life, it would be ten times worse.

He tightened his grip on Obelix's upper arms. He wanted to say so many things: I'm here, cry out if you need to, it's all right, you're safe, I love you. He ended up saying, "It'll be over soon. Just this one left."

Obelix opened his mouth to say something. Instead, he cried out as the druid pressed his fingers in a V on both sides of the wound, and commenced pulling out the arrowhead. It was buried deep, clinging to the flesh.

Getafix felt terrible as he pulled hard, drawing a shriek. He searched for something, anything, to say. "Be brave, Obelix," he said briskly. "You wouldn't want Asterix to call you a coward, now."

Obelix's eyes widened. Asterix couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What?" he snarled, only his grip on Obelix's arms keeping him from tearing his respected old friend limb from limb. "How—"

The druid moved his arm, doing something Asterix couldn't see behind Obelix's back. Obelix gasped, then visibly clamped his mouth shut. His hands tightened on the slab of granite. As the druid worked on his wound, he clenched his teeth and writhed. "Obelix, old friend," Asterix murmured. "Go ahead and yell if you need to, there's no shame in it…"

The granite shattered as Obelix's fists crushed it to powder. A high-pitched, keening whine escaped through his clenched teeth, and as Getafix applied the final bandage and stepped back, he burst out sobbing. Asterix gathered him in, wrapping strong arms around his neck. "There, there. It's all over," he murmured, stroking his friend's sweat-matted hair and pressing his cheek to Obelix's forehead. "It's all right. Cry if you need to," Asterix whispered, supporting his head as Obelix burrowed his face into Asterix's shoulder like a little Gaul and sobbed his heart out. "You're the bravest Gaul I know," he added, holding him tight and glaring over Obelix's head at Getafix.

"I'm sorry, Obelix, Asterix is quite right," Getafix added. "I used the wrong words to give you courage." He patted Obelix's shoulder. "Here." He gave Obelix potions to drink. Taxed beyond even his superhuman endurance, Obelix sighed, slumped into the pillows, and was asleep between one blink and the next.

Asterix slid his arm out from beneath Obelix's head, and rose to stand nose-to-nose with Getafix. Short as Asterix was, Getafix nevertheless felt as though his smaller friend was towering over him. "Now, Asterix…" he began.

"How dare you?" Asterix hissed. "Do you even know how he got hurt?"

Getafix took a step back. He'd seen Asterix in a lot of different states, but he'd never seen this chilling rage before. "I only…"

Asterix clenched his fists. Getafix stuttered to a stop as he saw his friend almost exploding with anger. Deadly quiet, Asterix said, "I'll tell you."

And Asterix told Getafix a tale so wild that if he hadn't been a druid and heard of similar occurrences, admittedly none within his lifetime, he would have dismissed it as a figment of Asterix's imagination. He looked over at Obelix, less with pity than with a kind of awe. "He was chosen by the gods to submit to a test?"

"Yes, and you needn't sound so pleased about it, either." Asterix stalked back to Obelix's bedside and pulled up a stool, laying a gentle hand on Obelix's injured arm, and reaching out to pet Dogmatix where he lay pressed to his master's side. "As far as I'm concerned they can go hang. And if they hurt a hair of Obelix's head again, they'll have me to deal with."

There was a mighty crack. Before them stood a Gaulish warrior, glowing all gold. He looked a little like Histrionix, the son of Cleverdix. His long hair cascaded and flowed down his shoulders, floating about him unceasingly, as though underwater. He wore a long ceremonial cloak covered with runes and inscriptions, and in his hand was an oblong shield similarly engraved. "You seem to think a lot of yourself, mortal."

Asterix stood, unconsciously putting himself between Obelix and the newcomer. "Not really. I just know I won't let you hurt him again."

"Do you even know who I am?"

Getafix had gone pale. "O Toutatis," he said, inclining his head.

The god raised a magnanimous arm. "Your friend has brought honor to the Gauls. He has made us proud, and exalted the reputation of our people everywhere."

"Asterix said something about a test," Getafix said.

"Yes. The god of the Romans said that the Gauls, being invincible, had no tendency to sacrifice their own selves for another. We called upon one of your number to prove it—or prove the reverse."

"So you just thought you'd take Obelix and stick him full of arrows like a porcupine." Asterix took a step forward, eyes blazing.

Toutatis took a half-step back. "It—it seemed like a good idea at the—"

"WHAT KIND OF GODS ARE YOU?!" Asterix roared. Getafix lunged forward and grabbed him by the back of his tunic just in time to hold him back. "YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HELP US! PROTECT US! NOT TREAT US LIKE TOYS!" Asterix's adamantine gaze fell on his friend, lying on his side, covered in bandages. "WHAT DID HE EVER DO TO YOU?"

Toutatis gathered up his cloak, sticking out his chin. "When a god makes a bet with another god, certain protocol must be obs—"

"PROTOCOL MY FOOT! SO YOU JUST DARE EACH OTHER LIKE CHILDREN ON THE PLAYGROUND?! AND LET US GET HURT?"

"Asterix…" Getafix stage-whispered.

Getafix's faith seemed to bolster the god, and he took a step forward. "I'd advise you to watch your tongue, mortal."

Asterix folded his arms, standing his ground. "I'd advise you," he said coldly, "not to hurt my friends."

"We have power over you!" Toutatis quavered beneath Asterix's blazing glare.

Asterix shrugged. "So you have. Power makes a bully, nothing more. Unless you have compassion. That was what you were trying to prove, wasn't it?"

"That's quite enough, mortal!" shouted the god. "Warrior you may be, but we have the power to crush you, to condemn you to eternal torment! Have you not seen what we did to Prometheus?"

"Well," Asterix retorted, "Prometheus didn't have a best friend."

Toutatis took a step back—and laughed.

Asterix and Getafix exchanged glances as Toutatis roared with merriment, wiping his eyes. "On all that I hold dear," he said, "I do believe that if you had brought down the flame and met Prometheus' fate, that fat friend of yours would have found some way to save you, or die trying."

"He's not fat," Asterix corrected automatically.

This sent Toutatis into renewed gales of laughter. "All right, mortal. All right… Asterix." He said the name slowly, with a half-reverent smile. "I wish to tell you that your friend has done me proud, that is all, and he has earned any reward you wish me to give."

"Heal him," Asterix said flatly.

Toutatis strode to the bed and passed a hand over the sleeping figure. Obelix shuddered all over, then slumped deeper into the pillows. "It is done."

Asterix gently touched the bandage on Obelix's forearm. With great delicacy, he untied the linen, then unwound it slowly, exhaling in relief when the white fabric fell off to reveal smooth, unblemished skin. He smiled, running a hand over the arm that had been pierced by an arrow for his sake. When he looked up at Toutatis, his gaze was almost kindly. "Don't you have anything… er, godlier to do than mess around with us mortals?"

Toutatis shuffled his feet. "Well, I suppose… um, most of the time, yes, but er… You see… Well," he drew his cloak about him, "I really must be going. Cheerio!"

And in a rush of wind, he vanished.

Getafix stared at the spot where he had been. "Asterix…" he said slowly, "did you just give Toutatis a dressing-down?"

Asterix was fussing with Obelix's bandages. "I don't know… did I?" He sounded preoccupied. "Could you help me with these, O Druid? I wouldn't put it past him to have missed something…"

Getafix smiled incredulously, then shuffled over to help Asterix. They removed the bandages carefully, but it turned out they needn't have worried: the deep wounds had simply disappeared, with no indication that they had ever existed.

Asterix slumped in relief. "Thank…" He swallowed hard, thought for a moment, then nodded once. "Thank Toutatis," he said slowly.

"You should get some rest," said Getafix. "And let me look at those hands."

"Hands?" Asterix looked down at Obelix's hands, then at his own. "Oh." In the rush of energy that had come with panic, he hadn't noticed his swollen and bloodied wrists. Now he wasn't terrified his best friend would die, he realized they burned terribly, the skin rubbed raw in places. "I suppose this proves it wasn't a dream," he muttered, slumping down on a stool and holding out his arms.

Getafix knelt next to Asterix and took his right arm, turning it this way and that. His wrists were in a pitiful state, swollen and puffy, encircled with shiny purple-raw bands where his efforts to break the metal shackles had flayed off his own skin. The druid shook his head. "Let me get some salve on these," he murmured sympathetically.

Asterix inhaled sharply as the touch of the cool salve eased the awful burning. "Thanks, O Druid," he sighed, slumping against Obelix in relief.

"Mmph…? Asterix!" Obelix jerked up suddenly with a shout.

"Huh!" Asterix was almost knocked over, and would have been if Getafix hadn't steadied him. "It's all right, Obelix!" he shouted. "I'm here."

"Asterix! Asterix…" Obelix flailed, twisted, and somehow bumbled round to sit on the bed facing the two of them. "I thought you…" He blinked, looking round at the room, then down at his arm. He sighed gustily. "Phew. It must have been a dream. It was terrible!"

Asterix looked up at Obelix, intact and well. He opened his mouth to speak, then thought better of it. Maybe he should tell Obelix it had all been a dream. His friend didn't deserve to live with that horror…

Obelix's eyes had dropped to Asterix's wrists. One was bandaged already, the other still being creamed by Getafix. "Oh, no…" He reached out and gently took the bandaged hand in his. "It… it wasn't a dream, then?"

"I'm afraid not, Obelix," Asterix said. "But, he smiled bracingly, "we came out of it all right."

"Yes…" Obelix ran a hand over his own arm, the arm that had been pierced to the bone.

"How are you feeling, Obelix?" Getafix asked.

"Hungry."

The druid rolled his eyes, tying off Asterix's bandage. "I mean, do you have any pain anywhere?"

Obelix stood and stretched. "No. Was it magic?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Getafix. "Toutatis came in here and healed you."

Obelix showed no surprise or shock; instead, he frowned. "Why didn't he heal Asterix?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, silly. You're the one who nearly died!"

"Your hands are hurt, Mr Asterix! Or do you call that nothing?"

"Oh, excuse me for thinking the fatal injuries were more important than some little scrapes!"

Obelix's voice rose. "There you go again! It's always 'little scrapes' with you!"

Asterix blinked. "What?"

There was a mighty crack, and the God of the Village materialized in the middle of the hut. Getafix looked up and bowed, but not as deeply as last time. "You mortals are getting to be a nuisance," Toutatis intoned. "What's all the shouting about?"

"You forgot to heal him!" Obelix waved a hand at Asterix. "His wrists are in a terrible state!"

"Gods do not forget." Toutatis sounded miffed. "He did not request that his injuries be healed. Only yours."

"Oh, that's Asterix all over," Obelix tapped his head, jerking a disrespectful thumb at his friend, "don't listen to him. He could be stuck through with a spear and still think some silly scratch I had was worth making a fuss about."

"Obelix!"

"What? It's true."

The God of the Village passed a hand over his eyes. Then he extended a hand towards Asterix. "He is healed. You could have asked for something more significant, Master of the Challenge."

Obelix, who'd been unwrapping Asterix's bandages to check, blinked. He looked behind him, then around him, then up at the rafters. Finally, he whispered to Asterix, "Is it me he means?"

"Yes, I mean you, mortal: Obelix, you have the courage of a true Gaul, the courage to self-sacrifice."

Obelix had gotten Asterix's wrist free, and turned it over gently in both hands like a valuable artifact, smiling in relief at seeing it healed. "It doesn't hurt anymore, does it, Asterix?" he said worriedly.

"No, no, not at all," Asterix waved his hand dismissively, "and you could be a bit more polite to Toutatis, you know. He just said you were the bravest of all."

"No, I'm not!" Obelix cringed suddenly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and choked on a sob. "I'm a coward!"

Asterix's jaw dropped in shock. "Obelix!" Starting to cry himself, he fairly leapt into his friend's arms. "How could you say such a thing! After what you did?!"

Obelix clung to him gratefully, crying into his shoulder. "I… Our druid said… I… I couldn't…"

"Don't, don't ever think that! He said the wrong thing, anyone can say the wrong thing, Obelix, you're a hero…"

"No I'm not, I'm just—"

"O mortal," intoned Toutatis. "You have passed a test of courage few mortals could face. Never doubt your courage."

"There, see? Even our god Toutatis thinks you're brave!"

Obelix's eyes, half-lidded, flitted to Getafix. "I…"

Feeling embarrassed all over again, the druid stepped forward. "Obelix, forgive my foolish words. It was just a slip of the tongue." He looked into the big man's eyes. "Courage is not often needed when there's no fear of suffering. But you knew full well what you would suffer, and you did it anyway. That's the bravest thing any Gaul could do."

Obelix started to blush, daring to smile. As the druid continued, he blushed deeper, looking down. But Asterix reached out and took Obelix's face in both hands, keeping him from lowering his head. "There, silly!" he smiled affectionately. "You see? You stood your ground, getting hurt for me, and you never stood aside."

Obelix smiled, lowering his eyes. He was past crimson now, on the way to purple. "Couldn't have stood for letting you get shot, could I? And the silly stones they had over there didn't stop arrows."

Asterix and Toutatis stared at Obelix with identical expressions on their faces. Finally, Toutatis said, "Asterix of Gaul, it appears I have given you quite a gift in having such a friend."

Asterix smiled, wide and genuine. "I think so, too."

Obelix looked from one to the other. "Who are you talking about?"

Toutatis drew himself up, and flung his cloak over his shoulder. "If I have further need of the bravest and most loyal pair among all the Gauls, henceforth I shall know where to find them." He glanced at Getafix. "I already know where to find the greatest druid."

"Thanks, O Toutatis," said Asterix cheerfully. Getafix had blushed bright red and was shuffling his feet. With a rush of wind, Toutatis was gone once more.

Asterix put his arms round Obelix's neck and squeezed him tightly a final time. Then he hopped off the bed and put his fists on his hips. "I've a bone to pick with you, Obelix. What was all that about, and in front of the God of the Tribe, no less? Didn't anyone ever tell you not to air dirty laundry?"

Obelix blinked. "What's laundry got to do with it?"

"I mean, Mr Obelix, you airing your grievances about me not taking care of myself! That's no way to talk about a friend in front of company! Especially gods!"

"It's true!" Obelix waved an arm.

"Since when have I not taken care of myself? I'm always cautious!"

"You, cautious?! You were always beaten up, and I'd have to watch you, walking like an old man instead of a six-year-old because your bruises were hurting you so badly, and I felt terrible! And instead of being careful of yourself, you'd take care of me!"

Asterix stilled, thunderstruck. "Obelix… you're not still thinking of those days, are you?"

"Yes, I AM!" Obelix yelled. "I was never so unhappy in my life! Bionix wasn't like the others, he never knew when to stop hitting you! And every time you'd got between me and him, you'd be lying in a heap on the ground, and all I could think is it should have been me. But I was too scared, and I'd let you get hurt in my place! Time after time after time!"

Asterix stared. "Obelix, it wasn't like that! I—"

"I was THERE, Asterix!" Obelix yelled, tears spilling from his eyes. "You always tried to make me feel better, you always tried to take care of me! Me, although you were the one who was hurt! You'd try to get up, and you'd fall down because you'd been beaten up so badly! Don't tell me you've forgotten that!"

Asterix's brow furrowed. "I can't say I—"

"Every time I'd have to help you up! And you know what you'd do? You'd smile at me! You used to smile, although your lips were so badly split you couldn't even open your mouth properly, and say you liked a good punch-up and not to worry and ask me if I was hurt! I'd put your arm around my shoulder to help you walk and it hurt you, Asterix, I could tell you were in pain, but you tried not to show it." Asterix just stared, shaking his head incredulously. "You had to walk so slowly after a fight. I knew you were in pain, Asterix, I had to half-carry you sometimes…"

Asterix had been shaking his head in disbelief at how well Obelix remembered something that had been just a tiny blip in his childhood, at how deeply it had marked his friend. "Obelix, that's ancient—"

"There was one time," Obelix started to choke on his tears, and fumbled around, finally finding one of Getafix's handkerchiefs and blowing his nose on it with a loud 'PARP', "Bionix tried to hit me and you got in the way, and…" Asterix stared as Obelix swallowed hard, "He hit you so hard you fainted. I thought you'd been… The druid took you home. You couldn't go out for days after that."

Asterix smiled softly. "I remember. You came to see me every day after school. You were the best friend a Gaul could have—"

"Right." Obelix folded his arms across his chest, lowering his head. "Such a good friend I let you almost be killed defending me." He stuck out his chin defiantly. "I never wanted you to get hurt for me again, ever. Not ever. I never want to see you hurt ever again."

Something in Obelix's last line made Asterix's head jerk up. "Is that what you meant," he said slowly, "when you said it was your turn?"

"I don't remember…"

"When I asked you why you did it," said Asterix. "You knew you could die, you must have known… But you wouldn't back down. And when I asked… You said it was your turn."

"Oh, that." Obelix blushed, tracing a pattern with his toe on the floor of Getafix's hut. "Well… yes." Seeming to gain courage, he glanced up at Asterix. "It's my turn to get between you and anyone who wants to hurt you."

Asterix's eyes softened, widening in dismay. "Obelix!" he said. "There's a difference between punch-ups between kids, and…" He made a helpless hand gesure. "…and arrows!" he finished lamely.

"Boys," said Getafix. He'd followed their conversation with a great deal of guilt at having allowed any of the children to bully the others to that extent under his very nose, but what was past was past. "Let me speak. Asterix," he asked, "why did you defend Obelix when you were children?"

Asterix stared. "That's a bit of a silly question, O Druid."

"Nevertheless, answer me?"

Spreading his hands helplessly, Asterix said, "Well… because he was little, and they were stronger than him. And he was my friend."

"So you just wanted to stop him from getting hurt?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Good. Now, Obelix," said Getafix, "why did you stand between Asterix and the arrows?"

"Why?" Obelix tapped his head. "If I hadn't, they'd have hit him!"

"So you just wanted to stop him from getting hurt."

"Of course!"

Getafix nodded. "Obelix, why couldn't you have just let the arrows hit Asterix? I mean, why you rather than him? And Asterix, I also ask you this: Why didn't you just let the other children hit Obelix? I mean, why rather you than him?"

He smiled at the sight of his younger friends' identical bemused expressions. When it became clear that no answer was forthcoming, he spread his hands. "Exactly."

Asterix unconsciously rubbed his wrists. "O Druid Getafix, I don't take your meaning…"

"Asterix. Obelix is always going to put himself between you and danger. So the only way for you to keep him reasonably safe is to take care of yourself." He turned to Obelix. "As for you, you know from experience that if Asterix can save you by taking some punishment himself, he'll do that—"

"But he doesn't—"

"Quiet. Listen to me. It's the same with you as it is with Asterix: the only way to keep him safe is to stay out of danger. Can you do that?"

"But I don't need—"

"Obelix!"

Obelix fell silent. "I… suppose so." He shrugged. "But I don't need it!"

"For Asterix, not for you."

Obelix's head became a blur as he nodded rapidly. "Yes."

Getafix frowned sternly. It was a pain in the neck being the Authority Figure over these two, but someone had to do it. "And you, Asterix?"

Asterix's eyes were still shadowed from the shock of witnessing the godly trial. "Yes," he nodded soberly.

Getafix regarded the two of them. "In that case, I'm going to recommend that Obelix eat something and rest, and you with him. I want to give you a potion for shock. Sit down, and I'll make you some dinner..."

From above a cloud, Toutatis watched. He'd known that strength was essential, and that sacrifice was a moral value. But the love and laughter that bound these mortals… It made him feel wistful. The feeling stayed with him as he fled into the Olympian skies.

Notes: This is quite shamelessly stolen from CrazyBeaver's "Asterix and the Bet of the Gods." I seem to be getting a lot of mileage out of recycling her plots. Also, this is for Zeragii, who encouraged me to post it, and it would be for CrazyBeaver except she's a get-Asterix girl. Peace out.