The kingdom of Gymryk was small; a lush valley between a rocky plateau to the west and rolling downs to the east. Two rivers, the Lyftord and the Ryktord, flowed down from the north and at their pretty ‘Y' shaped confluence stood Gymryk City, population 6043/4 (Dyk the blacksmith had lost most of a leg during a shark-annoying contest at the coast last summer). Ruling over Gymryk was the generous and thoughtful King Rex and his queen Phoebe. King Rex was known as Rex The Protective because he looked after his subjects very well, although some of the more satirical dwellers of the kingdom had their own nick-names for him. Rex and Phoebe had but one daughter, the beautiful Virgin-dot-dot-dot-ia. Virgin...ia was sixteen and had silky raven hair and the slim but blossoming figure that befits a healthy teenager.
   Night after long night, Virgin...ia yearned for the company of a tall handsome prince. Well, she was that kind of age, wasn't she? Her generous and thoughtful father was anxious to protect her virginity until he could do a deal for her hand (and the rest of her desirable anatomy) in marriage. But rich kings with tall, dark, handsome sons were rare around these parts. So he kept her locked away, especially at night, and especially on Saturday nights when country peasant lads visited the lute-otheque in the city where wild ... well wildish ... folk music charged their hormones to gigavolts. They drank too much parsnip beer and paired off with girls for their weekly kneetremblers behind the crooked windmill, Hymie the stoat-skinners workshop or Mr. Waysafe's general store.
   To the east of the rich alluvial plain were the Eastern Ups. These were rolling downs with grassy pastures. The valley people were nothing if not pragmatic; why call them Downs when down meant down? Hills went up, so they were the Ups. On the Eastern Ups was the odd shepherd tending his flock. On the west side of the valley, the terrain was more dramatic; a high rocky scarp heralded a range of wildly barren hills. Little streams tumbled down high waterfalls and the escarpment was riddled with deep caves. There was only one dwelling atop the scarp. This was well to the north of the valley and was a stone edifice of strange proportions. The occupant was a hermit wizard.
   It was now late summer; almost autumn. The Gymryk merlot grape harvest had been successful and the grain harvest was well nigh finished ... and the apprentice dwarves were about to be debentured. Was about to be debentured; there was only one of age this year. The dwarves lived in the deep caves in the scarp to the west of the valley. They were not indigenous to this small kingdom, but had arrived as refugees seeking political asylum several generations previously when civil war had torn apart their native northern country. King Rex The Protective realised their working potential and had permitted them to stay. The dwarves troglodytic community was known as Knortwych-above-Gymryk.
   Dwarves were hard working and clever at mechanical things. They had even invented a cunningly clever grape harvesting machine which they called The Cunningly Clever Grape Harvesting Machine, and a high-speed horse-drawn grain thresher which they named ... well, the dwarves were rather predictable with their naming of their inventions. The dwarves were accepted into the kingdom, but not into Gymryk City society. They were tolerated so long as they kept to their side of the valley. The dwarves did not mind this one bit; these caves were much better than the ones in their homeland further north -- for one thing, these had running water. And so to the apprentice dwarf.
   It was the custom for a young dwarf to take an apprenticeship in mining, weaponry or engineering. Agricultural appliance maintenance was an up-and-coming industry in this valley, so Elvis Floyd-Brodsky Timkin The Twenty-Fifth of Knortwych-above-Gymryk (dwarves liked impressive names and he was a good singer and his grandfather had invented ball-bearings), chose this for his career. As was the custom, a committee of established apprentices, chaired by the apprentice master, met to discuss the matter of setting his Task. Elvis would have to complete this Task before he could even be considered for an apprenticeship.
   At the meeting in the Dwarves Trades Union Congress cave, the apprentice master addressed the noisy assembly. "Bruvvers! Bruvvers! Order! Order, now! I bring this 'ere meetin' to order to discuss the matter of one Elvis Floyd-Brodsky Timkin the Twenty-Fifth of this community of Knortwych-above-Gymryk who would deign to be debentured as a tyro agricultural appliance maintenance engineer!"
   "Has the one known as  Elvis Floyd-Brodsky Timkin the Twenty-Fifth of Knortwych-above-Gymryk  completed his Task?" chorused the crowd in unison. This procedure was customary.
   "In that matter, I am sure that he has not! What have you to say for yourself, young pretender Elvis Floyd-Brodsky Timkin the Twenty-Fifth of Knortwych-above-Gymryk? The Twenty-Fifth - are you sure? Have you not completed a Task set by this 'ere committee?"
   The young dwarf, who was standing on a small raised dais, replied nervously. "No, Sire, I have not."
   The collected hoard immediately hollered and booed and threw dwarfbread rolls, rotten fruit and bladders of cabbage stout at Elvis. He had to stand firm and accept this; the procedure was customary.
   "Then whoso amongst us shall set this boy-dwarf his Task?" requested the master.
   The apprentices shouted out eagerly. "Me! Me! Over 'ere! Me!"
   "Order! Order! Now, one at a time, please! You, bruvver Barrington Steelsword-Whiskbeater O'Hanlon. What Task would you set?"
   "Me, Sire?" The youngster rubbed his hands with enthusiasm at his chance to set a really difficult and nasty Task. "Right! I would have him run barefoot and in just a chain mail vest, carrying a ploughshare upon his back, to the village down the Lyftord where Silly Lilly is the pay-shag, give 'er one after talking her into a freebie, and run back again ... in three hours ... in the dark ... blindfolded!"
   The crowd made it obvious that they were unimpressed:
   "Chicken piss!"
   "Fairy's task!"
   "Pooftah's work!"
   "Aye. I must agree with the majority," declared the apprentice master. "While that task would be moderately tough, especially in the matter of blagging a freebie out of Silly Lilly (she ain't that silly), it does not demand the necessary combination of physical endurance, mental agility and the fox-like cunning required for survival, that our novices must demonstrate. Anyway, he may even enjoy certain aspects of it. Other suggestions?"
Many were proposed but rejected on one or more grounds. Finally, a dwarf that Elvis did not much like stood up. A wicked grin gurned his face.
   "The chair recognises Liam Gallagher-Nut-Scratcher Trowel-Founder."
   "He must steal something ..."
   "Wait up, Liam; we doesn't condone felonious acts in Tasks. Well, only in so far as if it is relevant to, and in context with, the main requirement of said Task ... and doesn't involve bestiality."
  "No, I mean steal something really difficult; like, not a normal object. Not something you can touch. Not something you can even ... see. I mean something ... what's the word?"
   "In-tangerine-able?" suggested someone with unusual literary knowledge for a dwarf.
   "That's it! In-tangerine-able. That's the word!"
   "In-tangerine-able? That's a good one!" agreed the apprentice master.
   "I've got it! He must steal the virginity of the beautiful and 'orny princess Virgin...ia!"
   "Yeeeeeesssss!!!!" The assent of the gathered apprentices was unanimous. They punched the air and danced wildly. "Yeeeeesssss!!!!" This was surely an impossible Task.
   "Order! Order! So it is decreed: would-be bruvver Elvis Floyd Brodsky-Timkin The Twenty-Fifth of Knortwych-above-Gymryk; you are to go from this place and not return until you have completed the said Task. Only then, when you have indisputable proof of satisfactory completion of said Task, can you return to claim your right to debenture as an agricultural appliance maintenance engineer apprentice!"