Legends Never Die
Legend numbers the days when Olympus falls silent. So few are the days when all the Gods are united in grief, grief so deep that they no longer dwell on themselves. On this day, even Haephestus rested his weary arms and turned scarred flesh toward the mountains, the heat of his forge unable to dry his tears. Even fewer, though, are the days when Gods mourn mortal loss, when Olympus lowers itself to Greece and feels its pain. So few days that, in truth, perhaps there will be only one.
In a quiet room, lit gently by a glowing fire and several small, scented candles, four heroes watched in silence as Gabrielle mopped Iolaus's brow, tears falling from her face to his.
"I love this house," he coughed, weakly. The pain was almost too much for him and despite her cooling caresses, his mind filled with a warm, heavy distance. He lay in crisp white sheets that reminded him of when he had been King for a day. Only royalty had clean sheets– royalty and Iolaus. For months now, each day, his wife had washed, dried and stone pressed his bedding. She did it to make him feel comfortable but it also made him feel loved.
As the warm scent of jasmine caressed his mind back to the people in the room, he remembered Gabrielle and looked into her teary eyes. He smiled. Even weak like this, his smile made her heart fill to bursting.
Slowly, as if he did not wish to strain, he reached for her aging face and gently brushed a stream of warm tears from her cheek.
"Don't cry Gabs," he breathed, "it makes you so ugly." He emphasised the word knowing in jest. He knew Gabrielle understood he could never see her that way. She laughed weakly and then wrinkled her face in grief, closing her eyes, forcing more tears to escape. In an instant, her calm vanished and she fell across Iolaus, hugging him, willing him to live.
"My jokes aren't that bad," he managed.
Xena reached forward and gently pulled Gabrielle from Iolaus. The Warrior Princess had stood stone-faced for some time now: her only protection from her own emotions. She was relieved to have someone to help, as this prevented her from dwelling on her own thoughts. Her friends were in such pain but she could not help them, this was no place for a warrior. Still, she held her little Gabrielle tight and gently brushed her hair with her cheek. In her bard's face she had seen the grief of a thousand souls whose husbands she had murdered and knew, for the first time, that she was condemned. No saved lives or righted wrongs could turn one tear back. Her head shook with tiny tremors as she tried to focus through her grief and sorrow. In an instant, she realised how many Gabrielles she had destroyed and began to weep.
"Ssshhhh Gabrielle, we're all here," she offered in a shaking voice, looking toward Hercules.
The huge man almost filled one side of the comfortable room. He bent down to speak with his life long friend but before he could find words, Iolaus spoke.
"Uh, you're not gonna fall on me like Gabs did are you? I don't think I could survive it Herc."
"Don't worry," Hercules recovered, "I'll manage to restrain myself."
Iolaus laughed slowly and brokenly.
"You know Herc, you always were bad at showing emotions. I mean always so closed up, never able to say what you were thinking." Iolaus sounded like he would continue for a long time but his friend laid a large hand on one of his exposed shoulders.
"I love you Iolaus. I always will. You are my hero, my friend and my guardian." Hercules leant forward and gently kissed Iolaus on his wrinkled cheek. With great effort, the smaller man kissed back.
"I'm leaving my soul here buddy, half for you and half for Gabs. Herc, look after her."
Hercules glanced at Gabrielle who was now looking at the two men with a tender smile on her face. He had watched her grow from a naïve little girl into a wise old woman and yet her eyes still sparkled with her innocence that his friend loved so much.
He turned back to Iolaus.
"You have my word," he said. Hercules rose to allow Gabrielle forward again but he saw Iolaus trying to move and instinctively reached an arm forward to help. Iolaus grasped it in the traditional forearm lock of departing friends. With tremendous will, he shook Hercules' arm one last time.
"Miss you big guy," he breathed.
Hercules gently lowered Iolaus' arm back beside him as he struggled for breath. Gabrielle rushed forward followed by Xena and all three gathered around Iolaus. On Olympus, even Ares watched quietly.
"Tell me one more story, I always loved your stories," Iolaus whispered, his eyes closing. Gabrielle, her eyes full, her heart bursting through her throat, fought for control for a moment and then began.
"Once, in a land of turmoil, when the Gods forsook mankind, came four heroes. In a time of legends, they fought for right, giving up ordinary lives for the greater good, protecting the innocent and the weak. This was the legend of Iolaus the Hunter, Hercules the Demi-God, Xena the Warrior Princess and Gabrielle the Bard. It was a story of love and loss, a story of bravery and friendship, of sacrifice and struggle. Yet, wherever this story is told, whenever it is told, it inspires good people to be all that they can be, to live the legend, to be a hero and go another step for others. It helps us all to remember, it is always a time for legends."
Iolaus watched as a gentle warm light filled the bedroom and bathed him in soft, fluid comfort. It was time.
Gabrielle looked out of a small window as the sun began to rise. Xena placed an arm around her waist and Hercules moved around to place his hands on their shoulders. A small blond boy ran passed the quiet house, a wooden sword in hand, chasing chickens. His face was full of life and joy as he rushed back and forth, playing at being his hero: Iolaus.
"I think," said the tired bard, "we did everything for that moment."
"What's he called?" asked Hercules.
"His mother, " she fought to steady her voice, "calls him Iolaus. He won't answer to anything else."
The three friends listened to him play at hero.
People grace the world with their light for such a short time, but legends never die.