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Subject: {ASSM} New TG from Waldo - Sword - Part 1 of 3
Date: Thu, 3 Feb 2000 06:10:00 -0500
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Sword
By Waldo (mellin6695@aol.com)
This fictional story may be stored and/or redistributed by any site that is a
free site, such as Fictionmania, Nifty, Sapphire, etc. Any site that charges
a fee for access to their site cannot post or redistribute this story. This
story, just as all of my stories, is in the public domain for free
distribution.
While I've freely borrowed the descriptions/names of the main characters from
the Hercules television show just as they borrowed the legend of Hercules
from our fables, this story/plot/words are mine and I retain all rights to
this story without any claim to the television characters. The story is an
adult story and if you're not the legal age, then don't read any further.
I normally break my stories into small chapters because of my ISP limitations
but this story doesn't separate into chapters easily so I'll leave it as one
story which is distributed in three parts.
Sword
By Waldo
"Father, I've done my chores. Tell me a story"
The small cabin's sole illumination is coming from the flickering fireplace.
The fire provides not only the illumination but also heat to warm the inside
of the primitive cabin and to cook the night's simple meal of rabbit stew.
There aren't any luxury items within the cabin because the poor farmer barely
raises enough crops to feed his family much less to sell to fill the coffers
of Julius Caesar's military Governor of Greece with extra gold. The cabin's
main room is sparsely furnished, containing only a bed for the parents, a
table with four chairs, a crib, a rocking chair, a fireplace, and a door
leading to a small room where the children sleep.
The boy's still-somewhat youthful mother is adding some additional carrots to
the rabbit stew that she has been preparing all day. The stew is simmering
in a large blacken pot hanging from a hook within their fireplace. Fire in
the fireplace not only cooks their meals, but it acts a catalyst, drawing
each of them to bathe in the flickering illumination as it warms their often
chilled bones.
While it's normal for women to age quickly because of the harsh rigors of
being a farmer's wife in ancient Greece, the woman's soft face is just
beginning to show the first wrinkles of a woman somewhere in her early
thirties. She is wearing her day-to-day dress which is worn, faded and
patched in many places but the serviceable dress reveals that her body is
just as slender, lithe and shapely as her body was on the wonderful day that
she married her husband almost eleven years earlier. She is pleased that her
body's womanly firm curves are the envy of most of the other village wives
who wonder how she keeps her body looking so great after three children and
the harsh life of being a farmer's wife. She takes great pride in keeping her
healthy body in good shape and in constantly being as attractive as she can
be for her husband. Although she has a youthful body that looks like a young
teenaged woman's body, her husband's special pride is her long golden hair so
she hasn't cut her hair since their marriage. Hair so long that it hangs down
her shoulders almost to the small of her back. Because of her hair's long
length, she wears it in a braided pigtail during the day to keep it out of
the way and lets it cascade in a flowing golden river of curls down her
slender back at night within the privacy of their small cabin or at social
events. Once a week on Sunday when they travel to the village as a family to
trade their excess crops and to socialize with the other villagers, she will
dress in her good dress and spend a little extra time making her golden
tresses curlier so she can show off her flowing hair.
Glancing over at her husband who is pulling his rocking chair close to the
fireplace, she gleefully supports her ten-year-old son's request. So she
brags on his work ethics, which offers a gentle suggestion to her husband to
honor the son's request. "Jason has been a good boy today. While you were
with the other village men tracking that pig-killing wolf back to its lair,
Jason was being the man of this family. He milked the cows, helped little
Alcmene gathered the eggs, fed the animals and put some more straw into the
stall for the calf."
Like his wife, the husband's weathered face is beginning to show signs of
crossing the thirty-year-old barrier but his face also shows the harsh
effects of day-to-day exposure to the outdoor elements as he farms to feed
his family. His clothes have so many patches that patches cover holes in
older patches. His hands are large and callused from the rough farm life.
After patting his patiently waiting son on the head to reward him for helping
with the family chores, the father starts filling his pipe with tobacco as he
sits down in his chair. "I'm proud of you, son. Someday you will have your
own farm and will need the skills that you're learning."
"But I don't want to be a farmer. I want to be a hero, like Hercules when I
grow up. I want to travel from village to village to fight evil."
Recognizing his wife's unspoken displeasure with her son's remarks by the way
that she puts both hands on her hips and stares at her husband with a "he's
too young to talk this way" type of frown creasing her forehead, the father
motions for the son to sit on the floor beside his chair. As soon as the son
is siting on the hard-packed dirt floor, the father tries to change his son's
mind by explaining the difficulties in living the type of dangerous life that
the son is dreaming about. "Hercules is half mortal and half god. He
survives the witches and monsters only because of his fantastic strength that
comes from that mixed parentage. You are a mortal and wouldn't stand much of
a chance against any of the evil that Hercules faces almost every day. Your
mother and I want you to grow up to be a farmer someday, just like me."
The youngster points at the short sword that is hanging above the fireplace
mantle, in the place of honor. "But you weren't always a farmer. That sword
is the sword of a warrior. My friend Decartes told me that you once fought
beside Hercules and Iolaus when they battled an evil witch that used to live
in the mountains. Decartes' father told him that you fought beside Hercules
and saved our village by killing the evil witch. You used Iolaus's sword to
save Hercules from the evil witch's magical spell."
The father rises from his rocker and takes a couple of seconds catching a
broom straw afire. While using the fire on the tip of the broom straw to
light his pipe, the husband and wife exchange glances that only they
understand from their years of marriage. While the husband's glance is a
"what shall I say" type of look, his wife's answering glance is a "maybe it
is the time that we must think that our son is soon going to be a man" type
of motherly advice. As soon as the tobacco in his pipe is burning, the father
answers his son's comments. "Once a farmer, always a farmer; so I am a
farmer, not a warrior. Yes, I did meet Hercules once when he and Iolaus
battled the old Witch of the Mountain. For two days, I ignored everything
that my father had taught me as I followed Hercules to avenge my parent's
death. I had only my pitchfork, my youthful strength and my stupidity to
protect me from her evil and black magic. For two to three hours within her
cave, I fought beside Hercules as we sought the evil Witch and then I used
that sword to take her life. I came away from that cave with the sword that
you see above our fireplace. I keep it not so much to remind myself of that
battle but rather to remind myself that Iolaus gave his life to save me
because of my stupidity that day."
The youngster jumps to his feet with the agility that only children possess.
"I knew it. Decartes told me that Iolaus died that day. If the battle was
so fierce that the great Iolaus was killed and you survived, that means that
you are a better warrior than he was."
The father shakes his head as he tries to think of a way to correct his son's
logic without going into too much detail about that time. Before he can come
up with an answer, his wife touches him on the arm and speaks directly to her
husband. "My dear Artemis, perhaps it is time to discuss that horrible
experience with him. If we don't tell him the truth now then he will grow up
to believe the lies and fables that the villagers still continue to tell
about that horrible battle. He is a good son and smart for his age. I think
that we can tell him about how you fought beside Hercules and that will help
him understand why we want him to grow up to be a farmer, instead of a
wandering adventurer like Hercules…. and Iolaus."
Turning her head and looking toward the corner of the cabin where their
six-year-old daughter, a flaxen-haired smaller version of her mother, is
patiently trying to knit her first sweater, the mother's voice drops to a low
volume that only her husband hears. "We need to tell him and tonight might be
a good night to get it out of the way. Little Alcmene is busy with her
knitting and isn't paying attention to us. Little baby Artemis is sleeping
peacefully in his crib and I can help you make sure that our son knows most
of the facts about his heritage."
The son drops to his knees beside his father and begs silently with his
wide-open eyes while the father thinks about his wife's decision. Although he
is the "boss" of the family, seldom does he make a decision that he hasn't
discussed with her to get her opinion. She moves a chair from their table to
where she usually sits on the other side of the fireplace, silently telling
him to proceed. Sitting down in the chair, she adjusts her floor-length dress
so that the long dress doesn't pinch her in the wrong places. Pulling her
long mid-waist hair, which is styled in a business-like pigtail around to her
front, she begins her nightly routine of un-doing her pigtail. Her fingers
move rapidly through the end of her hair as she separates it while she begins
their discussion. "I suppose that you've heard all the normal stories from
your friends about the great Hercules and his best friend, Iolaus. Well,
they're true. I won't go into those stories at this time because there are so
many of them that we can spend all year discussing a different story each
night. I'll spend the time while we are waiting for our supper to finish
cooking tonight to tell you about the time that your father fought beside
Hercules and the late Iolaus."
The boy scoots across the floor on his butt, moving to be near his mother
because he knows that her soft voice is sometimes difficult to hear. Sitting
beside her, he looks up at her as the end of her long hair begins to separate
from the tightly braided pigtail that she wears to keep her long hair out of
the way while she worked. "It was eleven years ago. In fact, it was exactly
nine months before you were born, that Hercules and Iolaus came to our
village."
"Now Mother, you need to give him some understanding as to why they came
here. It started a month earlier. I had just reached the manly age of
nineteen and was pledged to wed someone else within the fortnight of my
birthday. My father had already given me my choice of his best farmland and
my friends were helping me to build this very cabin. Everything was going
great and I thought that I was the luckiest man in the world. Her name was
Morrigan and I had been pledged to marry her most of my life. Long dark hair,
pretty smile, a good cook, a healthy woman who could easily carry a bag of
floor on her strong back, a devout……"
For a moment, he pauses with the pipe sticking from the corner of his mouth.
There is just a glimmer of moisture in his eyes as he recalls those days.
Recognizing that her husband is having to deal with memories long hidden and
seldom recalled, the wife picks up on his story to distract the surprised son
from staring at his father's face. "Aye, you were a lucky man, Artemis. A
peaceful village, a good farm, a beautiful woman wanting to be your bride and
parents that loved you. Then the evil witch came from nowhere to terrorize
the countryside. Some say that she rode a broom as she flew here from the
Valley of the Dead. Some say that she was imprisoned by a powerful magician
a thousand years ago and somehow broke free of the spell holding her deep
within the bowels of the Earth. None really know her origin because she lied
to those people that she let live. She just appeared here one morning and
caused havoc from the first day. Your father's best friend's mother was the
first to die from her evil magic. The Evil Witch went from farm to farm,
claiming whatever she wanted. Anyone that resisted her died."
Taking his pipe out of his mouth and using the stem as a pointer, the father
chime's in. "The first two weeks that she was here, six people died
mysteriously. We all knew who was doing it but couldn't do anything about it
so we gave the old witch whatever she wanted. A pig. A mule. Some
chickens. I saw her come to my father's farm one day and I got my wooden
pitchfork ready to stab her if she tried to harm my parents. But all she
wanted was a rooster, which my father willingly gave her to make her go away.
I remember standing beside the barn foolishly holding my pitchfork ready to
defend myself if she tried anything against me and she laughed at me. It was
an evil cackle that I'll never forget. Anyhow, she left with our rooster.
The next morning, my mother awakened with a mysterious fever. All day long,
we watched her get sicker and sicker. By sunup, I knew that she didn't have
much longer to live. I ran to the village and found old Man Mazz who knew
something about doctoring. When we returned to my home, my mother was well.
Seems that the evil Witch had come at Sunset and demanded a horse in exchange
for my mother's life. My father gave it to her. The witch cut an inch of
hair from my mother's head and declared that the fever would be gone by
morning. By the time that I returned home with Old Man Mazz, my mother was
sleeping peacefully and my father was sitting patiently beside her bed. I was
angry that Dad gave in to the old witch because everyone knows that witches
can use a person's hair against them. But Dad reminded me that it was his
home and he was the boss. So I waited with him and watched my mother recover
from her mysterious fever."
Artemis' voice breaks and he looks at his wife, giving her a signal to tell
the parts that are too painful for him to discuss. Using the tip of her shoe
gently pressing against Jason's body to attract her son's attention to her,
she suggestively arches her eyebrows the way that she arches them when she
told him bedtime stories. "So your Nana awakened in the morning, feeling
strong and rested. She looked the best that she had looked in several
months. Your grandfather was a happy man that day. But the next morning, a
very scared neighboring farmer came to your grandfather's place. During the
night, something like a giant bear had raided the neighbor's farm and killed
two members of the family. As soon as it was daybreak, the farmer followed
its tracks back to your grandfather's farm. They didn't find the wild beast
that day so that night your grandfather carefully locked all of the doors and
windows from the inside to protect them from the dangerous animal. He
awakened during the night to find Nana missing and the front door of their
cabin opened. He could hear some distant screams so he ran to the other
neighbor's cabin. The giant bear was attacking them. Using torches, they
drove the wild animal away but three people died from its attack. Your
grandfather ran back to his cabin and got to the top of the hill overlooking
his cabin, just in time to see the giant bear enter the cabin. Rushing in
with his torch intending to battle the bear to death, he discovered your
grandmother sleeping peacefully in bed and there wasn't any bear in the
cabin. Nana couldn't be awakened until sunrise and she was acting funny. So
that day, your grandfather sent your father away to supposedly protect a
friend's house, but it was really so that your grandfather wouldn't have to
worry about your father's safety that night. Grandpapa tried to stay awake
that night but fell asleep only to awaken as something huge and furry went
out the front door."
The youth's eyes are wide open as he stares at his mother's face as if he
will miss something if he takes the time to blink his eyes. "Nana was gone
again. Knowing that he couldn't fight the huge beast by himself, your
grandfather locked the door and waited. Just before sunrise, something tried
to get in the door. Something big. Something so strong that it almost broke
the front door down. But it didn't get in because of the strength of the
cabin door. Your grandfather braced himself against the door and listened to
the wild animal growl and tear at the door with its sharp claws. About
sunrise, the noise quit and the animal seemed to go away. When your
grandfather finally opened the door to look outside, he was startled to
discover that your Nana was sleeping peacefully just outside the door. Her
hands were bleeding as if she had been trying to break into the cabin with
her bare hands."
"Ohhh, how did she escape the bear?"
The father leans forward in his chair and his gleaming eyes are a mixture of
anger and tears. Speaking to his son, he picks up telling the story in a
voice that has become slightly choked with emotion. "The bear was your Nana.
The evil witch had used the sample of Nana's gray hair to cast a spell on her
and to turn her into that horrible creature at night. When I came home that
morning to discover all of the damage to our house, I tried to get Dad to
tell me what happened to the outside of our cabin. He told me to watch my
mother while he went to see the priest. Two hours later, the priest came to
the house to tell me that my father needed me in the village. When I got
there, my father and the priest locked me in a root cellar so that I couldn't
escape. They returned to my home and built a huge bow with a six-foot long
arrow that they put in front of the cabin so that the deadly arrow was aimed
straight at the front door. That night after my mother went to sleep, Dad…."
Continued in Part 2 and 3
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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