You know, I got real tired at people just dismissing Joxer. The cheer at Pages bar when Joxer actually held his own in a battle has encouraged me to write this…
A Warrior’s Spirit
Joxer the mighty…
He was no longer a young man. Running a hand through his thinning hair, he reflected on how few of his life aims he had actually achieved. He stared into the lake and noticed the imperfect reflection of the mountains in the rippling surface. Joxer wondered if that was he, an imperfect reflection of what he truly should be. Xena and Gabrielle had gone on another adventure and left him, once again, pretending he was a hero, waving a sword at a threatening tree or a particularly vicious bush. It was all right for them, after all, they had a natural physical ability, not to mention beauty which seemed to get them through the circumstances where fighting was not an option. Xena was born for this life and she showed little tolerance of Joxer, or anyone else for that matter, who faltered or failed when faced with the enemy. It was her view that anyone without the ability was just asking for trouble, but then how did the people who were not naturals ever expect to learn? Gabrielle on the other hand, well he expected more of her, but if anything she was worse. She had a sort of snobbery because she had learned the hard way. Xena was like someone born into money, they simply didn’t think about it. Gabrielle on the other hand had earned her skills and liked people to know about them. He forgave her though, he had no choice – he loved her.
She was the reason he was here, why he wore these ridiculous clothes and why he still tried, so hard, despite all the evidence, to be a warrior. In his heart, he knew now that he would never be that man, but he also knew he would never stop trying. He had put up with years of jeers and witty comments. He had had more broken noses, bruised ribs, crushed fingers and twisted ankles than he could count. Each time, he had got up, laughed at the cruel comments and run into battle again. Each time, he had tried to convince himself that this time it would be different, that he would get the break, that this time, his sword would hit home first. It had happened once or twice, but not in any consistent pattern of improvement – just blind luck.
Master of geography…
He shook his head and tossed a stone into the lake. It rippled on being hit, momentarily hurt, and then settled to its previous glassy form.
The broken bones and bruises hurt him, but not as much as Gabrielle could. Her words were heated daggers – they left no marks but penetrated so very deep. All he had ever wanted was to see a look of admiration in her eyes. To see ‘my hero’ written across her angelic face-just once. He would have given anything, everything. Once or twice, he almost had. It would never happen though, he knew that now. She was so much better than he was at this and she judged everyone by Xena. No, she had only ever once looked at him like that-the time she had lost all her memories. He had described himself as the great hero he wished she would see him as. It had been fun for a while, no not fun, fulfilling. He was an honest man though, too honest for his own good, and so he came clean and confessed. She had forgiven him. Sometimes he thought that was all he would ever get in life, forgiveness for his failings.
He’s so sexy it’s a sin…
A gentle breeze stilled for a moment, allowing the lake to settle to a perfect mirror. The mountains and sky, reflected perfectly, were indistinguishable from the real ones. For an instant, what appeared to be, really was.
It did not really matter though. People called him ‘Lucky Joxer’ because he hung with Xena and Gabrielle, one of the few people they accepted into their lives without question. Being there meant he was there when things got rough for Gabrielle. He was there when she was outnumbered and he was there when Xena left her. He had rushed into battle with Callisto for her. He had covered her back in a dozen villages. He had helped her rescue Xena and saved her from the Roman army. Once, he had been beaten half to death for something Gabrielle had done but for which he took blame. Once Xena had thanked him, though Gabrielle, he was sure, knew nothing of any of this. Thanks, though, were the not the reason for his deeds. Ultimately, he needed no thanks. Occasionally it was nice, the pat on the back or the hug, but that was all. He only wanted to know she was all right.
When things get grim…
Joxer watched as a young woman walked by the lake with her boyfriend. Neither of them noticed anything about it except that it was a lake to walk by. Neither saw into its depths, nor stopped to think about the life it nourished.
He sighed deeply. Incompetent? Yes. Unworthy? No. He knew, even if she failed to notice that his heart was true. He was unafraid in her presence. He could fight to the death, run into battle blindfold or fight swordsmen barehanded. Always he chose the hard path, the uphill climb. He knew he could not win any of the fights he ran into for her but that made him all the more determined. Surely, this was more of a sacrifice than even Xena made for her? If he were sure of winning, it would be no more a gift to Gabrielle than a ring or a necklace. Instead, he was sure of losing but still gave everything he had. He knew though, when he laid down to sleep one place removed from her, that he had loved her with his heart, soul and body each and every day. She made him brave. She made him a warrior.
He’ll take it on the chin…
Xena slapped him hard on the head.
"Oww!" he said, disturbed from his thoughts and just a little angry. Remembering himself, he clowned a little, whilst pretending his helmet was stuck.
"Hard day Joxer?" asked Gabrielle, throwing her staff down on the ground beside him and plonking herself down on the grass next to the lake.
"Yeah, well you know how it is, one fight after another, it’s a wonder I’m not covered in bruises and cuts, dripping blood from my nose and…"
Xena and Gabrielle sighed and ignored him.
He’s Joxer, Joxer the Mighty…
Jason