Ressick.Net - Modern Mythology - BTVS - XWP - Links - CordyHasFaith

Bardic Shorts I

by Ressick

Hey - get your mind out of the gutter! I know what you were thinking when you saw the title. Hoping for a "Plot? What plot?" story, weren't 'cha? Sorry to disappoint. This is a small collection of vignettes, not a roll-in-the-hay epic.

Disclaimers: Xena, Gabrielle, Argo, Janice, Mel, Ephiny, et al, are property of MCA/Universal/Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement was intended in the production of this fan fiction.

Though no where near explicit, these works contain definite f/f references. If that upsets you, well, it's not my heart getting wasted.

These works contain spoilers for the following episodes: "The Xena Scrolls", "Endgame", and "Ides of March." Yes, I did purposely change the "Endgame" timeline a little. In my 'verse, Eponin isn't dead or missing. And I don't recognize Solari as being dead either, she just lost the use of one of her arms.

These crazy little works are dedicated to my fellow puphawkes, because by their praise of "Falling" they gave me the courage to put this collection up. This is for you and the Go There Bus, guys.

*****************

"Falling"

I'm an archaeologist, damn it, not a poet. Words are Melinda's department, not mine. But as I stood watching the cave explode, I could only think of words. The scrolls were safe from the Nazis, and by all rights Mel and I should have parted company then and there. A prissy southern "lady" has no place on one of my digs, especially not with a war going on. Yet I turned to Mel, to say good-bye I thought, and fell into those soft blue eyes like there was no tomorrow. And I couldn't say good-bye. So perhaps there is a place for Melinda Pappas on a rough-and-tumble archaeological dig. I don't think my heart would allow otherwise.

Dr. Janice Covington, Ph.D.

Macedonia, 1940

"Tomorrow"

She stood there, the hard brass of Xena's armor pressing itself into her tear-streaked cheek. Gabrielle could smell Ephiny's burning corpse, and it seared its way into her memory. Ephiny didn't deserve to die like this, at the hands of a Roman. She deserved to die of old age, in Eponin's arms with Xenon by her side. Gabrielle tore her eyes away from the sight of her friend's burning corpse and buried her face in Xena's chest, inhaling the scent of leather and brass and the indefinable element that was Xena herself. Tears continued in their course down her face, and the only thing keeping her upright were the strong arms holding her.

When day turned into night, the tears finally stopped. Her hair damp from Xena's tears (Xena, crying?), Gabrielle looked back at the pyre, the body turned to ash and the wailings of her sister Amazons still filling the air. Disengaging herself from Xena's embrace, she took one final look at the pyre and headed back to the Queen's quarters, Xena trailing behind.

The guards at her hut nodded respectfully, and she dismissed them, insisting they due the Regent her rightful honors. Alone but for Xena, she entered the hut, seeing Ephiny's sword lying on the table, ready for her to use to avenge her friend's death. She could not even comprehend the sword, so she fell onto the pallet, and immediately fell asleep.

Xena, salty tears dried on her face, looked down on her sleeping friend. She pulled out Gabrielle's rough blanket, and tenderly tucked it in around the exhausted Queen's body. The warrior studied Ephiny's sword for a moment, then pulled her own sleeping gear out, ready to lay down and rest if not ready to sleep. Tomorrow would be a day for vengeance.

"Final Hours"

My head rests in her lap. I cannot move beyond shaking my head. Her arms encircle me, comforting and protecting. I cannot move, no matter how much I need to. I need to gather her up in my arms, to comfort her as much as to soothe me. But I can't. Can't cup her face in my hands as I have done so often, telling her everything will be all right. Can't wipe away the tears that flow unchecked from sea-green eyes that I have lost myself in so many times before.

She takes all her love and conveys it in the chaste kiss she gives my forehead. I want to rise up from her lap, and kiss her with all my being, to lose myself in her. Instead, I must use words, all that I have to comfort her with. Perhaps it will be enough to express my love.

They are driving nails into my beloved. She grits her teeth, holding in the screams. Callisto kneels between us, to offer some final taunts. I hate her, not for bringing us to this point, but for blocking my view of Gabrielle. Now, only the two of us matter- not the Romans crucifying us, not Caesar, not Eli, or Amarice. The world narrows as I gaze into pools of sea-green, drowning pleasantly.

How did I lead us to this point? When did a simple village girl turned queen, bard, lover, friend, become my whole world? When did her eyes fill with wisdom? When did she teach me how to love?

They raise our crosses, and we hang in the chill air, our life forces ebbing away. I am too weak to turn my head to her; my last sight is of the cold, snowy ground beneath me. As I slip away, I can feel her slide with me towards death. She goes to join Ephiny in the Amazon Land of the Dead. I am claimed by Hades. But even he cannot keep us apart. I will find her. I must.

"Amarice's Burden"

My queen is dead- again. Ephiny died protecting me. Gabrielle died helping me to escape from prison. The villages around us laugh- three queens in almost as many years. But they do not carry back to the village the body of their queen and her champion.

I turned back as soon as I realized Gabrielle and Xena were not following us. I shadowed the guards, desperately searching for a way in. I watched, helplessly, as my queen and her champion, surrounded by Romans, were nailed to their crosses. I wept, for they did not cry out. Then I watched as my queen closed her eyes for the last time.

When it was sure that my queen was dead, a great rage consumed me. Sword in hand, I killed the few Romans surrounding their bodies, and gently took down their battered forms. I stole a horse, and began the journey back to Arboria, their bodies side by side on a travois. It took me a week to return. No one bothered us, the stench of death and pain enough to keep even the most hardened mercenary a good league away.

I was spotted hours before I reached the village. Soon, we were surrounded by an honor guard, all their faces wet with tears. When at last I had brought my queen home, a great wailing cry could be heard a league away from Arboria. My sisters' faces were blackened, tears forming streaks down their faces. Our regent-now-queen, Chilapa, greeted me, her eyes grim and damp. A report she demanded of me, but I couldn't speak. Instead, I collapsed from exhaustion and grief, the horse's lead in my hands.

I awoke in the middle of a soft bed, well covered with a warm blanket. It was dark out, but I could hear the beating of drums and the wailing of the dancers. Someone was sitting in the corner of the room I was in. She came forward into the faint lamplight. It was Solari, her arm limp by her side, her eyes hollow from lack of sleep. "Amarice," she said, her voice low and near to breaking, "what happened?" Tears slid down her face, and she roughly wiped them away.

"We were captured," I said, reliving the moments as I spoke, "and Xena came to free us. She fought off the Romans as we ran to the woods. Gabrielle stayed back. By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late, they were in chains." My voice broke, but I kept on, "I shadowed the guards, looking for a way in, listening as they recounted how our queen had killed over a half dozen Roman soldiers in a battle lust they had never seen equaled, all to protect Xena. I watched as they were crucified, never uttering a single cry. Then I bore down on the Romans, and took their bodies away." I let the tears flow freely, then, and Solari sat down on the cot.

"You couldn't have fought off the Romans, they were probably surrounded by a couple dozen guards. It wasn't your fault, Amarice," she said, wiping away the tears gently with her one good hand. "It wasn't your fault," she whispered, as much to herself as to me.

We sat together for what seemed like an eternity, our tears mingling on the bedclothes. Our queens were dead. When morning came, we rose, and I dressed for the funeral of Gabrielle and Xena. Solari was my shadow, bound to me by a common grief and guilt.

The day was a blur of flame and burning corpses. That day, the Queen of the Amazons and her Champion were burnt into ash. Chilapa assumed the throne, appointing Solari and I her seconds-in-command. When I returned to my hut that night, Solari followed me.

"You were not at fault, you know," she said, from her chair across the room.

"Neither were you," I replied, seeing her tense. "You were out cold, Solari, and your arm a bloody mass. There was nothing you could have done to save Ephiny. I, on the other hand, just stood there." I rose, and began to pace, "Gods! I'm the reason two Amazon Queens are dead, and that woman made me second in command. She'll never be half the queen Ephiny or Gabrielle was. Weren't you supposed to be next in line? Why is Chilapa queen?"

"Cripples can't lead the Amazons, Amy," she replied, using my childhood nickname. I remembered the day long ago she had visited my village, when I was just a trainee, she already a young warrior. I remembered wanting to visit the village that would spawn such warriors- for she had come with Ephiny and Eponin to deliver a message from Melosa to my queen. I had literally run into her, and she had picked me up from the ground, my tunic covered with dust, and just smiled, asking my name. Shaking away the memories, I noted the bitterness in her voice.

"Would you have liked to be queen?" I asked, hesitantly.

"No," she said, her voice quiet and regretful, "but I would have liked to try to carry on the legacy of my friends. I would have liked to make the Amazons great again, just so that when I die, I could have looked forward to the proud smiles on their faces." She glanced down at her useless arm. "Now I can only look forward to passing on their stories to the children. I can't help make any more stories." Tears began to course down her cheeks, and she hung her head. Rising, I gathered her up in my arms, and we held each other until morning, when sleep took us back to happier times.

Finis