Sometime before Fret met Iscur, he and Numnutz had walked warily through the suburbs of Unravelldel, until they came to a large patch of ground, in the middle of which was what looked like a farmhouse on stilts. On the front porch was a sofa with the insides springing out, and all over the lawn lay the rusted and beat up pieces from disembowelled musical instruments, vomited calliopes, used clarinet reeds, disccordions, harps with no strings, strings with no harps, and six or seven grand pianos with major dental surgery in their future.

Fret and Numnutz picked their way through the remains, and found themselves at the foot of the house, looking up to the porch, hovering about 10 feet above them.

"Hello?" cried Fret.

A sound like a cat being drawn through a straw was heard.

"Hello?" cried Fret.

"Sorry," said a female voice, "Wrong day, this is not lesson day, go away."

Fret called up: "We are not here for lessons! I am Fret from the Shire, and this is the Dwarf Numnutz, and we are bearing the lost G chord, and we need his advice to take on the forces of Maurawn and his headless A&R men, not to mention the Gurlgrups." He was frightened just listening to himself..

"Oh," said the female voice, "Wait a second. Could you look after the cat?"

A cat that had indeed been shoved through a straw, and come out looking much like you might expect dropped down out of the sky, landed on Fret's head, did a passable impression of Sammy Davis Jr.'s tapdancing, and then lit out for places unknown.

Numnutz said: "You lost her cat. There will be hell to pay."

Fret said," I didn't lose it. I just remained under it."

The next thing that fell out of the heavens was a rake, followed by three garbage bags, and a hoe. After the first of these, Fret and Numnutz ran under a nearby shed.

"Sorry," said the female voice above, "just looking for the ladder. It was all a lot easier when the garden was at porch height, or was it the other way around. When Mick the Magnificent fell off the porch, the garden dropped fifteen feet from the earthquake; or was it the porch that rose? Anyway, it was a long time ago, and shrouded in myth. Big Myth, cause you need a big shroud to cover Mick the Magnificent."

The voice babbled on in this way for awhile, and then finally a rope ladder snaked down in a shower of sheet music.

"Come on, " said the female voice. "He is expecting you."

The two small figures climbed the ladder, where they were confronted by a starkly beautiful woman who was dressed in what appeared to be Druid robes with a scottish Tartan.

"I'm Duck O'the Boots," she said. "You better butter me up."

Fret said, "Oh, wise, beautiful, Duck O'the Boots, your fame is widespread throughout -"

"Enough," she said, "Just seeing if I could get a rise out of you. Cute, though." She went inside.