Dressing for Success

"Here is the night that will break our army, or else will preserve it"

For truer words were never spoken. As Night holds the sky, there is a heavy weight descended upon us. It has the similar properties possessed by thick rolling mist or the sudden silence gathering before the storm. But the air is clear, leaving those many whom cannot sleep with a pristine view of the fires not so far beyond the wall. It is because of these burning heaps winking brighter, then dim, which strands us with such heaviness on our hearts. They beat still, and quickly with a pace not unfamiliar to Panic; our hearts. It is evident on the faces I knowingly pass. Fidgeting and the aversion of glances. Their countenance displays uncertainty and doubt. These are people; our men. They breathe and they live. Currently now they breathe and they live in helpless anxiety, for mortality is suddenly so near. There are those who despise the person who can appear one way, yet be something else entirely. These may hate me and remain blameless, as I deceive my way towards the Salamil ships. I am postured and bold. It will not do to shudder under the gazes of those who look up to wisdom, experience and leadership. Inside though, I am stirred by the hopeless sensation of isolation. Because I really am just as alone as these sons, fathers, and brothers far from their homes. Because there suddenly isn't gods who provide suggestions and divine protection. Because I am just a man now, running out of tricks. I'm mortal, and on my own. It would explain why I am heading to find him in particular.

Call it comfort if you will. There is distance and time separating me from familiar havens and those careful arms of Penelope. Yet solace may be sought in many things. I ponder this as I make the slow stretch between these many boats, accompanied still by the tangible despair permeating our midst. I wonder if it is poetic irony, that we who are righteous in our cause against mighty Ilion should finally feel the sufferings we have wrought upon them. They in turn, do not fear the Dawn, but eagerly await it. The ditches dug to keep them from us have pikes now disorderly, like broken teeth. Our greatest defence is not a line of broken teeth and a hastily established wall, but the motives of tonight. To Night, I bid a temporary farewell as I descend down below deck on one of the Salamis black ships.

I have come all this way to find him, aware that heralds surely have preceded me. I find him where he should be, within his quarters low lit by lamps and adorned with honour and armour. Hektor's silver nailed sword among these. But I do not find him as he should be. Even I lower the leg of lamb collected from my shortcut through Aias' galley, to stare unnoticed as Telemon's son shifts a shield testingly over his shoulder. I am not renowned for being slow in thought. I, as well as anyone here, can identify the subtle differences between the armour of Salamis and distant Myrmidon armour. The gold glossed material shines in an unfamiliar way on Aias's large build. He is almost transformed in appearance and had we been currently enmeshed in deaths' dance on the fields, I do not think I would have recognised the man before me in the chaos.

I take another portion of meat and drop down on the foundations of the door. My formal attire settles against the framework revealing my presence and Aias turns.

For a few seconds he states nothing and I hold back the expression of one guilty of knowing too much.

"Odysseus," he acknowledges. "Has time passed too quickly for me that you have come. Are we to reach Achilles' fifty ships now to win him to our cause?"

I shake my head and unsettle myself once more from the door. Full balance returned to both my feet. "I am beyond punctual lord Aias. I am here early so we may speak." It holds more meaning than said. One does not simply walk across half the fleet to hold idle conference. I need to say something and it follows in effect with Nestor's revelation. Tonight is the night where events matter. Where words hold extra weight and failure or success mean everything. Though through all my predictions, I did not foresee finding a man in doubt of who he is.

I begin my statement when Aias's silence holds in expectation. "I think it was nine years ago where I complimented great Achilles on the trailing robes he wore. If I recall correctly, we had been on Scyrus and my so called 'madness' allowed me to make such slights towards the strongest of mortals." Aias blinked. "Though I do think that Achilles will be more complimented to bear witness to one such as yourself taking after his likeness."

The flinch is evident as Aias unslings the shield uncommon to him and places it gently by his spears. "I," he starts in defence of his wardrobe, "Am trying to see things from his perspective. He sits pretty on his ships while we kill and are killed." I note how he steals a glance to the gilded bow rescued from battle. There is a pause in his speech. "Diomedes and you, and myself, and the others can defend and attack brilliantly. Yet by nightfall, all that is worth saying by the Leaders of Men concerns lamentation over the loss of his counsel. Why are we so overlooked?"

I take a few strides into the room and motion towards Hektor's gift. "'Overlooked' is poor in your choice of words." And my meaning is clear. "It is contributions like our acceptance of Hektor's challenge that keeps these crafts afloat. Now though, we've been summoned again to contribute. And I hope that you either dress for success by at least trying to lose a few inches in height like Achilles in such armour. Or go forth as yourself, the unmatched son of Telamon."

I am not sure which got more attention from Aias. My words of advice, or his feet. An exhale of breathe finally overwhelmed the silence and the man shrugged himself free of the helmet. "I did not think that by looking like him, I'd have some of his strength. It's just hard seeing from his eyes. He does nothing and is honoured. In his entire prowess in battle, he could have easily made glory for himself. Why begrudge us this long and to such an extent that the Trojans line our shores?" And in the ambiguous mumble Aias glances around to meet my own stare. I'm not sure if he is trying to understand this dress code himself. "I don't get the man at all. Send some other with you and Pheonix to supplicate. Diomedes or Menelaos, or Agamemnon himself to personally apologise. Send one who is not as troubled as I over the workings of Achilles."

Diomedes is almost a fitting replacement for the absence of Peleus's son. Though brave and often versed well with words, I do not think it wise to have him plead our case to Achilles. Menelaos is not such a bad option though. His cause in this siege is unarguably the best, yet he is not fit to argue the slights of his brother. Speaking of which, Agamemnon? I bite back a laugh with the food at my disposal, likening myself to be deep in consideration of this request of Aias. I manage through a mouthful, "You have a good shot at playing insanity too if you seriously think that the Lord of Men would hold a better place over you in this task."

There is a frown at this. One apparent in misunderstanding, and this is when I realise that once more, I am unlike others in my intuition. Aias has not grasped the importance the outcome of tonight holds.

"Do you not see the significance of we who go to the Myrmidon ships? Pheonix is there to push our cause as a father. Myself, I'm apparently good with words. I came early to your vessels to see what counsel you would offer to Achilles."

"What counsel of mine is worth giving?" Aias questions. Frustrated too it would seem, by his lack of interpretation. "Take Pheonix, go to Achilles and give him his honour on behalf of lord Agamemnon. There is nothing that my company will offer."

He thinks that Achilles will accept.

"Aias," I sigh and place the Salamisian meat down. "Here me out and try to comprehend. It is by no less than the grace of Athena or a heritage from clever Hermes that I owe a lifetime of wisdom and counsel to. There is a great deal of things I understand and these lead me to believe that Achilles will turn us down tonight. I fear that when Dawn brings us light, we will not be bringing Achilles with us to face down the Trojans."

In the midst of dismantling the Myrmidon armour, Aias stops and looks hard at me. "It's not a secret, these things you say concerning your reputation of devising. But there is no logic in stating that Achilles will refuse Agamemnon's offer."

"He'll refuse the offer. It is why I need Pheonix and someone like yourself to back me in pleading the Achaian cause."

He throws back his head and inspects the timbers above him. "Then did I mishear Agamemnon previously? All the tripods and the return of Briseis. As well as land and his daughter. These Agamemnon will not give? Is there offered in place something less that will fail to justify the slight that Atreides did to the blameless King of Myrmidon?"

"You did not mishear." I confirm, wishing my voice could drown the thoughts I have that tell me of what is to come next from great Aias.

A ghost of a frown shifting suddenly to ironic disbelieving laughter stains his face. He thinks surely that I am insane. Or Achilles. Or perhaps even the world, and this last perception is not so far from the truth.

"Why not?" he exclaims, tossing up his arms for emphasis. "Is there not enough in the gifts to suit the tastes of idle Achilles? Will he not grow tired of watching us fall, of...of Tuekros and, and he sits without care on his boats ready to refuse the vast honour we give him in place for more things?" He is shouting now and it is impossible to smuggle words in to interrupt. "Would it be too much to assume that he's asked his immortal mother even, to bring this destruction amongst us to show that we need him? That he is the greatest of all mortals? Is that what he wants? How do the Achaians properly accommodate someone like that? What more do we give?"

I catch his arm and hold him fast. Though taller and braver than myself, he does not expect my hidden strength. Should there be fair challenge against the son of Telamon, I believe that I would like to compare his prowess against mine. But currently there are other concerns harboured. "It is not that simple." I slowly command.

"Like Tartaros it's not so simple!" Aias snaps and tries to pull his arm away. I hold it unrelentingly. It will not do for me to keep peaceful conversation when Aias is tempesting about his quarters like Agamemnon denied tim.

"There is a lot in this world that is complex and lacking of any sense." I insist with conviction. "Like why we are still here if we originally had support from the gods. You think Zeus is too weak to strike down half of Ilions' walls at anytime he wished to? Granting us success? Or why Hektor and you can be so focused on destroying one another and the next moment parting gifts of friendship? Or why the Trojans just don't tell Alexandros to take his handsome looks and troublesome ways to the very Tartaros you curse, returning Helen to ensure their city's survival? If life were like that, we would have no cares or worries. We could be at home and happy. Nobody would die painfully on foreign plains far from comfort."

He was tense still, my hand around his wrist not numb to the twitch of muscle or the slick sweat. But he was watching me also. Listening. "Aias, I keep a gold Mykenaian coin available in times of convivial which can be won by any clever enough to outwit me with words or a problem. I have yet to surrender the coin and, though it is worth little, it has a reputation. This coin I would give you if you are able to comprehend the ways of Achilles."

My hand falls free and for the second time since my embarking on Aias' ship, he inspects his feet. "How can I gain such an infamous prize if you know that I understand nothing of Achilles' motives?" Inspected feet give the Myrmidon armour a disdainful kick.

The clatter brings a smile to me and I once more produce my request. "Come along as summoned tonight to hear for yourself Achilles' account. Give a nod to Pheonix when you are sure that you will not erupt untimely towards Achilles, at his refusal of the offer, if refuses he does. I will make that my cue to begin my argument. Pheonix will speak next if I cannot sway his choices. Yourself to speak last. And speak whatever way your heart then wills it. Those words will be your most honest."

Nodding his head, Aias is won over. "And should I offend the son of Peleus if I get angered again?"

"Well," I shrug, taking once more the lamb meat in my hand, "After nine years of acting as damage control for Agamemnon, I'm sure I'll be able to sate any trouble you cause."

"Yeah," grins Aias, "I'm a real rouser of grief. But at least I don't proudly carry Agamemnon's likeness in gold everywhere, to barter with riddles."

"You don't want the coin?" I raise a brow with mirth. "It would go nicely with your very un-Salamisian armour."

I duck a badly tossed chair from a soldier no longer unsure of his place, leaving the room to let him don his real attire. I know that it was good of me to reassure Aias of his place with the Achaian army. Any whom feels isolated will only feel grief, I find. It was good for me to see Telamon's son as well. One overlooked by gods and goddesses, he endures. And if the least blessed of the Achaians can do so, surely myself and the leaders of men shall survive also. It means that Ilion will fall.

How soon though, depends on what happens now before Dawn. Below decks, still feeling the nearness of terrible Hektor breathing so near to us, I await as Aias dresses. Tonight can determine everything.

Perhaps it already has.

Authors Notes: The first unlikely fandom of mine. Homer's Iliad. I'm in love with the characters and Homer actually isn't boring in the least. Not to me. This was my mid term paper for Classics 110: Greek Civilization. Our assigment was to write a view from the Iliad without retelling the whole story, but letting our prof. know we understood the concepts. I was basically attempting to compare the Greek view (Odysseus POV) of Achilles actions, compared to today's standards (Aias POV). Or, in fiction I pitted Shame and Guilt cultures against eachother.

Despite this being a school project, I really lurved writing this. And I have a prequel coming up. And it's going to be slash only because that's what the Greeks were. Heh. I don't think any of my other writing has ever come across so, thick. Heavy. Like the Hobbit. No, I'm not saying I'm as good as Tolkien. I just wish I were.

Thanx for reading. If anyone has questions, please ask. I'll answer if you give me a means to communicate.

Thanx goes to Ginzai for being the first real person to like this. I would have posted this sooner but I needed permission from my prof. I believed that if he saw this online I'd get in trouble. Now he knows so I'm not gonna be called on plagerising myself.

-Greysnyper