Hermes could curse the Fates for quite a lot over the years—the chaos they brought to people's lives, hounding Eurydice from the moment she was born, and working to ensure the old song's tragic ending still rang true. But there was one thing he thanked them for as the story reset yet again, with Calliope and Orpheus mere feet from his doorstep. Soon the muse would leave her son in his care, heading for Hadestown not long after, and with every loop, Hermes found himself continually challenged by the daunting task of raising Orpheus himself.
Every go-around brought new experiences, discoveries, and occasional near-disasters, and that was one more reason why Hermes was grateful for what the Fates had seen fit to give Orpheus—in a rare show of kindness, they'd granted him a friend.
The other boy's name was Jax; whether it was short for Ajax, a nickname for Jack, or some other combination, Hermes was never quite certain. By the time Orpheus invariably dragged him home, his orange hat nearly flying off his head in their eagerness to meet up, Jax was what Orpheus called him, and that was the name that stuck. The two of them had clicked almost immediately upon meeting, and Hermes could remember the irreplaceable ecstasy he'd felt the first time young Orpheus had come home with a story to tell and a friend to meet. And after all this time, all these lives, every time it happened Hermes smiled like their friendship was brand-new—and he knew from experience it would be nurtured for years to come.
The details of how Orpheus and Jax met varied now and then; sometimes they'd meet at what passed for schooling on the railroad line, another time when playing near the train station, and still another by pure happenstance, when the wind blew Orpheus's bandanna into Jax's outstretched hand. Once they'd met while walking home in a storm, heading to the station together and huddling against the cold until Hermes ventured out to bring them both in safe and sound.
But while the details shifted, the basics didn't. Orpheus knew he was different from most others his age, losing himself in his own little worlds, not always grasping social situations, and focusing on things to a degree that even the other children began to notice. He felt deeply and with all his heart, and soon the dreaded label 'weird' began to circulate and filled him with concern and anxiety. While Hermes did his best to assure Orpheus that so-called 'weirdness' was normal, even something to be celebrated—Hermes himself was called weird in his day, and he wore it with honor—the young boy was only partly at ease.
He'd had that funny word grown-ups used for people you knew in passing—acquaintances—but not friends, not the same way the others did.
Everyone around Orpheus seemed to have at least one friend to confide in, from Cassandra and Tiresias to Damon and Pythias; even the troublemakers Pirithous and Theseus had one another. But Orpheus had no one his age to call a friend—until the Fates decreed it was time for Jax to enter his life. Hermes could never be sure when or where Orpheus and Jax would meet, but when the winds blew a certain way, he smiled and hoped for the best. Until then, the messenger god told Orpheus that true friendship was well worth the wait.
And one day, not too long after the newest cycle began, Orpheus came home in a rush of excitement, another boy trailing behind him. "Mr. Hermes," he called, nearly tripping over his feet as he ran, "Jax wanted to be my friend! You were right—it was worth the wait, every second of it!"
With a smile, Hermes invited the boys in and learned how it all began this time around. Orpheus had been busy playing his lyre under a nearby tree, focusing entirely on the melody and ignoring all else around him even through the bitter cold. When he finished, he'd been astonished to hear clapping.
"You play that really well," said a boy with brown hair, a brown flannel shirt, and an orange knit hat that was worn but clearly well loved. "What's your name?"
"I'm Orpheus," Orpheus said proudly, puffing out his chest.
"My name's Jax," said the other boy, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I really like your music!"
"Thanks," Orpheus said with a smile. "Sometimes when I'm feeling down, or kind of cold, I play my lyre and I feel better! That's what I was doing before you showed up."
He strummed a chord to demonstrate, and Jax smiled back. "It's amazing! I can play the lyre a little, but not as well as you! I'm still practicing—my cousin John's teaching me, but I bet you could teach him a thing or two! You wanna be friends?"
"F-friends," Orpheus stammered, eyes shining with delight. "Of course! Oh wow, Mr. Hermes is gonna say 'I told you so' for sure!"
"Mr. Hermes," Jax repeated. "As in the messenger god Hermes?"
Orpheus nodded, and Jax grinned. "That…is…so…cool! Oh man, the other kids are not gonna believe this! My friend Orpheus is the best musician ever and knows an actual god!"
"And he's the one who gave me my lyre," Orpheus grinned.
"Really!? No way," Jax laughed, and Orpheus stuck out his tongue. "Yes way! Come to the station and I'll show you!"
And that was how they entered the station, telling each other stories like they'd known one another all their lives. When Hermes was able to calm the boys down—a difficult task even for a god—he eagerly related the story of inventing his prized lyre, as well as the theft of Apollo's cattle that led up to it. Jax and Orpheus stood wide-eyed and in awe at the tale—at least until Jax remembered it as something he'd heard once before. If the story was that widely told, was Orpheus pulling the wool over his eyes?
With a grin, Jax challenged the messenger god to prove himself. "Maybe you're just a guy named after Hermes, like…like this old guy who's named after Hades that I heard about once!"
Hermes burst out laughing and wisely decided not to inform the very real Hades of the young boy's indiscretion. "If you insist on my authenticity, I aim to please," he said, and quick as a flash, Hermes raced from one end of the room to take the lyre from Orpheus. Just as quickly, he was playing a jaunty tune that had Orpheus and Jax clapping and stomping their feet.
When he finished, Hermes gently informed Jax that Hades was, in fact, the real deal—and the train station to Hadestown was the very one they were staying in.
As Jax recovered from his jaw hitting the floor, Orpheus gave Hermes a hug. "It's a good thing you told him," Orpheus said, glancing at his friend with a worried expression. "If Hades found out Jax thought he was a mortal, he might not have woken up tomorrow!"
"Your friend doesn't have to worry; I doubt Mr. Hades would concern himself with children," Hermes said, knowing it wasn't entirely true. "He's a busy man, that one—and Hadestown is busier still. But I know someone who isn't busy yet—Lady Persephone, his wife. How would you kids like to meet her?"
"Is she coming now," Orpheus said eagerly, and Hermes shook his head. "Not yet—but soon. Every so often, that old train chugs its way up top from underground, and Persephone brings the sunshine, flowers, and warmth with her! We used to call it spring," he said with a slight frown, "but now it's more like summer. But whatever she brings, it's always appreciated."
"We should do something nice for her," Jax said eagerly. "I know I love the sun! It keeps my head and my hat nice and warm!"
"That's a great idea, Jax! We could sing songs and make food for her! It'll be a holiday," Orpheus said, running to take his lyre back from Hermes. In seconds he was busy composing, and the others watched and listened with warm smiles and warmer hearts. Orpheus's music filled the station and bar with light and happiness, and when it was time for Jax to go home, he promised to meet again tomorrow.
And that was how the first winter went, with Orpheus and Jax's newfound friendship making the months fly by. Before long, Persephone arrived in all her glory, and true to their plan, Orpheus, Jax, and Hermes prepared a day of food, merriment, and music to thank her for her bounty. As the years went by, the rest of the railroad town joined in the celebration, and it became an unofficial holiday only equaled by giving the goddess a well-earned sendoff when she went down below.
Orpheus and Jax's friendship deepened over time as well, weathering the good times and bad times together. When Jax's cousin John left for Hadestown with only a note goodbye, Orpheus was there to comfort his friend, and when Orpheus lost his latest masterpiece to the fickle winds of fate, Jax was there to help him cope and make even better music.
And when Eurydice entered Orpheus's life one fateful winter day, Jax was there to welcome her, watching with bated breath as Orpheus, head-over-heels in love, sang a flower out of nothing with his music. When Persephone arrived, Jax invited Eurydice to dance, cheering Orpheus on at the toast, and sharing stories with Hermes as he refilled the wine glasses. When Eurydice and Orpheus went off alone to be intimate in the heavy summer nights, it was Jax Orpheus trusted to keep his lyre safe. Thanks to Orpheus's lessons, he could play it almost as well, and the night air was filled with song and laughter. When Persephone left and winter came on, Jax was quick to remind his friend to eat now and then while he worked on his song; he would have given Orpheus and Eurydice firewood if he had any to spare.
And when Orpheus went down to Hadestown after Eurydice, Jax held down the fort at the train station, serving drinks and giving shelter to the weary in Orpheus and Hermes' absence. He hoped they wouldn't be gone too long, but he'd wait as long as he needed to.
Way down in Hadestown, Hermes was thinking similar thoughts; hopefully this time, Orpheus wouldn't be returning up top alone.
But whether or not it turned out well, he knew Jax would help Orpheus, his friend for life, as best he could. True friendship was worth the wait.