Note: Journey’s End is published elsewhere as two stories: No Second Troy and The Raging Flood. This was written in early 1998, that is, well before HTLJ's episode "Reunion" and before most of the Dahok arc was screened. Inspired by the question, "What might the final episodes be like?"
Gabrielle looked into her husband's sad eyes, seeking a sign - any sign - that would warn her to chose a different tale. The crowd in the tavern was waiting expectantly. Gabrielle's was a familiar face to many of them: she and her family lived but a few miles away and she frequently treated the tavern to her stories. The few men and women in the tavern who didn't know Gabrielle would still recognise her as a bard. She had promised them a new story tonight.
Iolaus met her gaze resolutely. Go ahead, Gabrielle. The story has to be told.
She read the message in his eyes and nodded slightly. Moving slowly, she took her place at the front of the crowd. How many times had she done this? Throughout the years she had travelled with Xena, she had relished her role as bard, enjoyed nothing more than standing up to tell yet another tale of Xena's heroism.
Tonight it was different.
Her tale that night was a song of mourning. Mourning for someone Gabrielle loved, the last casualty of a war between gods and men.
People die in war. Gabrielle had always known it. She had seen it, more times than she ever wanted to, travelling with Xena. But none of those deaths had touched her as this one did. Rumours of war in Argolis were only now beginning to reach Gabrielle's corner of the world. Her tale would be the first these people would hear of that great battle, and her audience knew it and was eager.
The story had to be told. Gabrielle took a deep breath and began to speak.
It had begun, at least for Gabrielle, almost three weeks before. It was seventeen years since she had married Iolaus, relinquishing her Amazon right of caste in favour of a more conventional life. She had never regretted the decision, not even when Xena's regular visits to their farmstead made her sick with wanderlust for the old days.
Gabrielle had three children to show for her marriage. The eldest, her daughter, Leipephile was a petite sixteen year old, with a mass of blonde curls and flashing blue eyes. She could be beautiful when she scrubbed up and made an effort, but she rarely did. Leipephile was a born Amazon, and had spent just enough of her childhood among warrior women to absorb their ways very young. Her greatest ambition was to be a warrior like her father, or her "aunt" Xena.
Gabrielle's two sons were less trouble. Particularly since neither of them was at home. The elder of the two boys was away at school in the east, a school where both Iolaus and Hercules had spent part of their boyhood. The younger had been much more interested in making weapons than in learning to use them; young Telemon was living in Athens for a year, beginning to learn the trade which so fascinated him.
Gabrielle was leaning against the doorpost, watching Leipephile practising with her staff, when Iolaus once again made a sound of impatience, glancing up at the westering sun.
"Relax, Iolaus. He'll be here," Gabrielle told him, moving to her husband's side. "What happened to that old hunters' trick of patience?"
He smiled up at her. "I can't help it. It's been such a long..."
"You know," Gabrielle said, deliberately casual, "those roof-tiles still need fixing..."
Iolaus turned to his wife with a pained expression. "Aren't you afraid I'll fall?"
"Iolaus, you're driving me nuts with your fidgeting! At least you can see the road from the roof." She took both his hands and dragged him to his feet. "Now, go!"
"Henpecked, that's what I am," he complained. He was smiling, though, his hands still within hers. He stepped closer and kissed her, then turned away to get the ladder out of the barn.
Hercules reached the farm about an hour later. Iolaus was the first to see him as he appeared on the road: the roof, as Gabrielle had pointed out, offered a good view. But he was still only halfway down the ladder when Gabrielle, having heard Iolaus' shout of greeting, emerged from the house to welcome their visitor.
"I can't tell you how good it is to see you both again," Hercules told her.
Gabrielle felt her feet leave the ground as the big demi-god lifted her in his powerful arms. She laughed and hugged him back briefly.
He whispered, "Remind me I have a story for you, later," as he set her down and turned to Iolaus. The years had been kind to Hercules. In seventeen years he had hardly aged at all. Seeing him beside Iolaus made her husband seem older than he was. Gabrielle didn't care. From her point of view, advancing age was an achievement. How many times in their younger days had she and Iolaus almost lost their lives? Iolaus had actually died, more than once. Getting old seemed a wonderful thing beside that.
The two old friends greeted each other warmly, both men trying to talk at once. Gabrielle's sharp eyes saw blood on the inside of Hercules' arm as they shook hands.
"Hercules, are you hurt?" Gabrielle interrupted their reunion sharply.
He glanced at the wound as if he'd only just noticed it. "It's nothing," he said dismissively. "Just a family argument."
"Hera again?" Iolaus asked.
"No. Ares." Hercules allowed Gabrielle to take a closer look at his wound. It was a recent injury: a deep cut just below his elbow, still bleeding slightly.
"I'll see what I can do for that," she told him. Gabrielle disappeared into the house for her medical bundle.
"What happened?" Iolaus asked while she was gone.
Hercules shrugged, following Iolaus to the bench outside the front door. "I wish I knew. I was attacked on the road about two miles from here. One of them turned out to be quite talkative, with the right encouragement, so I know their orders were from Ares, but he didn't know why. It's not like Ares to throw away men like that...and I don't remember offending him recently."
"So what do you think is going on?" Iolaus asked. The old excitement was back in his blue eyes at the news of adventure.
"The only thing I can think of," Hercules said, pulling the gauntlet from his wrist, "is that he's trying to slow me down." He held his arm out to Gabrielle as she sat down beside him, bandages and ointment in her hands. He continued, "I wish I could stay longer, Iolaus, but I'm going to have to leave in the morning. I'm afraid my journey can't wait."
"What is it this time?" Iolaus smiled. "Ruthless warlords? Maiden in distress? Fire-breathing monster?"
"That cut is deep," Gabrielle told Hercules before he could answer Iolaus. "Looks like the muscle has torn. I ought to stitch it." She looked uncertain: it wasn't a job she enjoyed doing.
Hercules seemed to read her thoughts. "You worry too much, Gabrielle. Just bind it tight." He smiled. "I heal fast - trust me."
"Being half god is worth something then," she replied lightly, doing as he suggested with some relief. "But you didn't answer the question. Are you going to tell us where you're going?"
Unexpectedly, Hercules' face fell, his relaxed smile replaced by a frown. He was silent for a moment, then, "Iphicles is dead," he announced flatly. "I've spent the past week in Corinth with him. He was ill for a long time..."
"Herc, I'm sorry." Hercules and his mortal brother had never been close, but even so Iolaus knew that his death had to hurt.
Hercules shook his head briefly. "I've done my mourning, Iolaus. The point is, Iphicles made a request of me just before he died. I have to honour that."
"Of course you do."
"His daughter, Ganeda is in Mycenae. There's a nasty war brewing in the area: I have to get her back to Corinth before she's trapped there. And I have to tell her that her father is dead."
"No," Hercules said firmly.
Leipephile's eager smile disappeared. "Why not?" she demanded, tossing her blonde curls in annoyance. She had been looking forward to Hercules' visit for weeks, determined - now that she was old enough - to prove her warrior skills against the son of Zeus. And he was refusing to fight her!
"You might as well, Herc," Iolaus told him. "It will do my feisty daughter good to be beaten." He smiled affectionately at the eager young girl, then turned back to his friend. "Xena taught her, Hercules: she knows what she's doing. Leipe's a match for me, these days. Although..." he rubbed his arm unconsciously, "...I'm not as quick as I used to be."
"That arm still bother you?" Hercules asked him, a touch concerned. He was referring to an old injury. Iolaus had broken his arm so badly he might have lost it, if not for Xena's decisive treatment. Gabrielle had nursed him through that injury, but the wound had taken its toll. To accept that he would never fully recover had been very difficult for Iolaus. Eventually, convinced he would be more a liability than a help to his friend, he had told Hercules that they wouldn't be able to travel together any longer. That was when he had asked Gabrielle to be his wife.
The memory of that time was on both men's minds as Iolaus turned aside Hercules' concern with a joke. "Go ahead and spar with her, Herc," he added, with a nod in Leipephile's direction. "She won't shut up until you do. I can at least trust you not to hurt her."
"Alright." Hercules gave in, accepting a staff from the grinning sixteen year old. He walked a few paces to a clear space and swung the staff a few times to get the feel of its weight and balance. Then he turned to face her.
It was fun, at first. They circled each other slowly, each testing the other's strength and speed. Hercules held himself back deliberately, not yet sure of the girl's skill, and determined not to risk hurting her. Their first few clashes were games. At some point, however, Leipephile stopped playing. Her staff swept low toward his legs; rather than block he leapt over it, countering with a strike toward her head. She ducked, avoiding his blow easily and moved toward him, her staff striking down.
Hercules heard Xena's ululating warcry coming from Leipephile's throat as she somersaulted over his head. He just barely blocked her next blow and spun to meet her attack. She had a lot of strength for her age, and now he could see Xena's training in her style. Hercules met the girl's eyes briefly over their clashing staffs; he saw in them determination and exhilaration, but no battle rage: she was in complete control.
He began to admire her skill.
They fought on. She had stamina as well as strength. Hercules noted she tended to attack on his left, and thought it a weakness...until he realised she was forcing him to favour his wounded arm. Oh, she was Xena's pupil, all right. Had she been an enemy, Hercules could have killed her easily. But knowing he couldn't harm her made it a more even match. Eventually, it was Hercules' superior strength that sent the staff flying from Leipephile's hands, and only his advantage of height that allowed him to catch the staff as it came down.
They faced each other, demi-god and would-be warrior, neither one speaking. Hercules threw the staff back to the girl; she caught it deftly in her left hand. He offered her his hand and she took it, warrior to warrior.
A big smile spread across her face as she realised the respect that gesture signified. "Well, uncle Hercules?" Leipephile said, a challenge in her voice. "Am I good enough?"
"Good enough for what?"
"To travel with you. As my father did."
He should have seen that coming. Hercules stared at her for a moment. "Leipephile...forget it." He turned away from her and walked back to join Iolaus.
She followed. "And why not? I almost beat you didn't I?"
"I wouldn't have given you the chance if I knew you had this in mind."
Leipephile rounded on him, blue eyes flashing. "I'm the daughter of an Amazon and a warrior. The staff's not my only weapon: Xena taught me sword. I can shoot a bow. I can even throw a chakram. I'm good, Hercules."
"You're also sixteen. And I'm not going to be the one who gets you killed." Hercules could see he wasn't getting through. "Leipephile, having the skill to kill isn't the same thing as being able to do it. You should listen to your mother, as well as Xena."
Iolaus watched his daughter's back as she stalked away, her head held proudly high.
"Thanks, Herc."
Hercules smiled at him uncertainly. "Are you sure you mean that?"
"Oh, yeah. Leipe tried that on Xena as well. She wanted to ride with her army. I don't want to see her on the road just yet, but I've got to tell you, one day she'll stop taking no for an answer."
"Iolaus, you can't want her to travel with me."
"Of course I don't! But I'd rather she was with you than on her own or with Xena's army. When Leipe decides she's ready to leave, I doubt I'll be able to stop her."
Hercules laughed suddenly, mentally comparing the fiery Leipephile with his own, lost, daughter. "How did you manage to raise such a handful?" he asked his friend.
Iolaus laughed with him, but then he became serious. "Hercules, I know she's a handful, but I wouldn't have her any other way." His eyes became distant, remembering. "When you raised a family, Herc, all you had to worry about was other people in trouble. No warlord would be dumb enough to attack the town where everyone knew you were living. We don't have that protection, here."
Hercules was instantly worried. "Is there trouble here, Iolaus?"
"Wars and rumours of wars, just like the rest of the world. If there was ever real trouble... Don't look so worried, Herc! I can still fight, and so can Gabrielle, if necessary."
"And you'd be too proud to ask for my help."
Iolaus shook his head firmly. "No I wouldn't. Not for my family's sake. Although Gabrielle would probably send for Xena before I got the chance. I'm just saying I'm glad Leipephile can take care of herself, that's all." He grinned at his friend. "She'll be a match for you, one day."
Hercules groaned. "That's all I need."
Inside, the farmhouse was a warm and welcoming place. The whitewashed walls reflected the light of dozens of candles, and of the big hearth-fire. The scent of beeswax mixed with freshly baked bread, and the flowers around the windows...it reminded Hercules very much of his mother's home.
Gabrielle was a fine cook, too. He really wished he could stay longer. He wished he could visit them more often. It was over a year since his last visit...every time he planned to take the trip to Athens, something always seemed to come up, someone else who needed his help.
After they had eaten - Iolaus and Hercules deep in conversation, Leipephile in stony silence, having been scolded for her display that afternoon - they sat comfortably around the fireplace, Gabrielle happy to leave the inevitable dirty dishes until the next day.
"You said you had a story to tell me," Gabrielle reminded Hercules, her eagerness barely concealed.
Gabrielle had become one of the greatest bards in Athens in recent years. Most of her tales, even now, were about Xena and her great deeds, but she collected stories from anywhere. The more traditional tales of heroes long dead she told with her own unique flair: she wanted her audiences not only to enjoy each tale but also to find meaning in them for themselves. New material was always welcome. The offer of a story from Hercules himself was rare: he was not one to boast about his adventures and in the past she had usually dragged the details from Iolaus instead.
Hercules leaned back in his chair, smiling at her little-girl eagerness. "That's right. It happened a while ago, but I overheard someone telling the story while I was in Corinth, and it seems they've missed some of the more important details."
"Well, every bard has their own way..."
"I'm talking about the truth, Gabrielle. There are enough stories out there about me, without my taking credit for something I didn't do. D'you want my version, or not?"
As if she would refuse! Gabrielle smiled up at him almost flirtatiously, entwining her hand with Iolaus' as she did so. "Go on. I'm listening."
"It started at a temple of healing just outside Sparta. They have a chalice there that's supposed to heal anyone who drinks from it...do you know the story?"
Gabrielle nodded. "It's said to be a gift from Demeter, the earth goddess."
"That's the one. There's a long running hostility between Sparta and Elea...they're not actually at war, but there are raids between the two cities, that sort of thing. During one of those raids, the temple was attacked. Their sacred chalice was stolen and their High Priestess killed. One man from the temple - the Warder, Cletus - pledged to find the chalice and bring it back.
"He succeeded, apparently, and became a real hero, at least to the temple. But after the chalice was returned, it seemed to have lost its healing powers. In fact, people were dying: one or two died instantly when they drank from the chalice, others died later, always within days. That's where I came in. I was in the area, and one of the temple acolytes came to ask for my help." Hercules smiled ironically. "She was under the impression that I know the ways of the gods and could figure out what had happened."
Hercules paused, just long enough for Iolaus to comment. "Seems obvious enough to me. If the cup is lethal, stop using the cup. You'd think they'd be able to figure that out without you."
"You're not far wrong," Hercules told him. "And if that was all there was to it they wouldn't have needed me. But as it happened..."
Hercules explained that those in charge of the temple, the Warder and the new High Priestess, weren't happy that he'd become involved: they had decided - on what evidence they never said - that the chalice would still heal 'the worthy', whatever that meant. And they considered it sacrilege for the chalice to be seen by anyone outside of their healing rituals, and the son of Zeus was no exception. Had they simply chosen to abandon the chalice, Hercules might have left them to it, but it was clear to him that they would continue to use it, even knowing it could kill.
If a healing was the only way to see the chalice, then Hercules would play along. The temple had a reputation of never turning anyone away, and any kind of sickness or wound could be admitted to their healing. So Hercules returned to the temple with a minor injury, to ask for "help".
"But wasn't that dangerous?" Gabrielle asked him, shocked. "I mean, that chalice could have killed you, couldn't it?"
"I suppose it could have done. I wasn't planning to drink from it. I just needed to get close enough to see it. As it happened, I got closer than that. The chalice is passed around during the ritual: those who need to, drink, but everyone holds it. The moment I touched it...I saw this image, just for an instant. Like looking into the sky and seeing Hera. But it wasn't Hera I saw. Just a face that somehow should have been familiar, but wasn't. One thing I was certain of: that somehow the gods were involved in whatever was happening."
Hercules had forced his way in to see the High Priestess after that. Tired of being blocked when he used the polite approach, he had been less than gentle in finding his way to her. He had found a very young woman, new to her power, not yet sure of herself or her leadership, relying too heavily on the advice of others. Eventually, the true story was revealed: the temple's chalice wasn't stolen in the first place, it had been destroyed in the raid. With the Priestess dead, Cletus had acted alone, believing he was serving the best interests of the temple. Telling everyone that he was searching for the "stolen" chalice, he had in fact stolen one himself...Hebe's chalice of eternal youth.
"...Keeping his own temple rich on the offerings of desperate pilgrims," commented Iolaus. "And, I'd guess, himself as well."
"Good guess," Hercules answered. "The priestess hadn't known: she was shocked by his confession. I told her what I thought had happened: Hebe had done what any goddess would do: reversed the power of her stolen chalice so that instead of bestowing youth, anyone who tried to use it aged...and died. Since it was useless to them, the Priestess let me take the chalice to return it to Hebe's shrine."
That wasn't the end of the story. Hercules had returned the chalice to its rightful place, and in doing so had confronted the goddess with the results of her actions. "I was pretty sure she wouldn't care, the gods never do. All those pointless deaths made me angry enough to try and make her see what she'd done. But I wasn't prepared for Hebe's reaction.
"When she heard how many innocent people had died, she was devastated. She had acted to protect her chalice, nothing more. She never intended so many people to die; she just hadn't thought it through. Hebe made me take her to the temple. She found all the people who had died, and restored and healed each one of them. She even left Cletus alone, on condition that he stand trial for the theft. I can't tell you how wonderful it was...she brought so much joy to those people..."
Hercules leaned forward, holding Gabrielle's gaze. "I think people should hear the true story. Hebe deserves her compassion, and her mercy to be known. That's why I'm giving the story to a bard I trust."
"Of course," Gabrielle said, her voice soft. "Can I ask you a few questions...get the details straight?" Her eyes were slightly narrow with speculation... Mercy and compassion: both were qualities guaranteed to capture Hercules' heart.
Gabrielle questioned Hercules for nearly an hour before she was happy that she'd got the full picture. It was a great story...all the elements were there: a mystery to be solved, lots of action, and a happy ending that wasn't too predictable. She was going to enjoy telling this one.
"It sounds like Hebe means a lot to you," Iolaus had commented, at one point. Like Gabrielle, he had noticed the particular warmth with which Hercules spoke of the goddess.
"She does," Hercules agreed. "Hebe's a goddess, but she's younger than I am. Immortality hasn't jaded her yet. She has a great deal of love in her heart. I enjoyed getting to know her...and it's great to have a sister I won't be fighting every time we meet."
The strident crow of a cockerel shattered the silence of the farm. As Helios' burning chariot began its journey across the sky, two figures emerged from the farmhouse. The shorter of the two men was walking slightly ahead of the other. Some distance from the house, they stopped and faced each other.
The smaller man spoke quietly to his companion; the tall man replied with a chuckle. The two men exchanged a warrior's handshake and, after a few more words, they parted.
Iolaus didn't watch his friend go, but walked slowly back to the farmhouse, wishing, as he did every time, that he could go with Hercules. His regret would pass - it always did - but in the moment they said farewell Iolaus would have given anything, his life, his very soul, to be leaving with his best friend. They'd been through a lot together...and the gods knew they'd had fun doing it!
It was with these thoughts still spinning through his head that Iolaus returned to Gabrielle. He sat beside her on their bed and she, understanding him as always (two people who shared the same soul, she called them), reached for him silently, gentle fingers caressing his face, his shoulders, the amulet he wore around his neck. Iolaus returned her touch, taking her into his arms.
Always, when he left Iolaus' farm, Hercules' thoughts turned to his own family. Iolaus and Gabrielle had created a home together, filled with love and warmth...a place Hercules enjoyed visiting. He had watched their kids grow up, and that had been painful as well as wonderful, their happiness a constant reminder that Hera had denied him his own family.
It seemed he was fated to live alone. Any attempt he made to find love - at least that kind of love - always seemed to end in tragedy. By this stage of his life Hercules was beginning to wonder if that wasn't a good thing.
For seventeen years he had watched Iolaus and Gabrielle as they got older...while he seemed to stay eternally young. Half immortal. It was hard, having to realise that he would likely outlive both of them...everyone he loved. He wasn't sure he could have lived with that knowledge beside Deianeira. Losing her had been terrible...to lose her bit by bit with the passing years would have been constant agony.
He had wanted to live forever, once. Now it seemed to him a curse...something his old friend Chiron had warned him about years ago. Hercules had to believe he could die. Because the family he needed so much, and missed so much was still waiting for him. On the other side.
It was nearly an hour later that Gabrielle broke into her husband's brooding thoughts, not with jokes or stories, but with chilling news.
"Iolaus, Leipephile is gone."
"Gone? What do you mean, she's gone?"
"I mean, she's not here." Gabrielle's face was white. "I can't find her anywhere, and her weapons are missing. I think she's gone after Hercules."
He leapt to his feet. "She mustn't! Gods, Gabrielle, she's not that crazy, is she?" Hercules is walking straight into a war... Iolaus' heart went cold at the thought of the danger his daughter could be putting herself in.
Gabrielle winced. "She's older than I was when I ran away to join up with Xena. And she's grown up on that story."
"Then I've got to go after them."
"Iolaus..." she began to object.
How could he explain without making her even more afraid? Gabrielle had been through an awful lot when she travelled with Xena. She had seen wars and fought and almost died more than once. But Iolaus knew something Gabrielle did not; the thing that made his heart almost stop with fear for Leipephile. Hercules had confided in him late the previous evening:
"I don't like the sound of this war, Iolaus. If it weren't for Ganeda, if it wasn't my brother's last request, I wouldn't be going near it. This has flared up too quickly, in an area that's been peaceful for decades. It stinks of Ares' work."
Leipephile couldn't have chosen a worse time to try and prove herself a warrior.