Everlasting (A Greek Tragedy)

Everlasting Ch I

"We everlasting gods . . . Ah what chilling blows we suffer-thanks to our own conflicting wills -whenever we show these mortal men some kindness."

-Iliad 

It was a day like any other, soft sunlight and soothing warmth. Kids scrambled amongst the dirt, giggling and tossing rocks while their mothers paid a mindful eye. The clouds lingered across the skies, dancing with the quiet whispers of wind and flocking birds. In the center of the town sat an old alan who begged for currency and chuckled at his own jokes. He was the man most of the calm villagers intentionally voided. However, he did have sense- and when mindful, knowledge. He had a story to tell; one that shared the past of two of Greece's finest heros. They were two warriors that had strength and boldness, yet a camaraderie that outshined any stealthy man, immaculate woman or sharpened weapon.

They had each other.

A small girl with pigtails skipped in front of the man, a smile widely stretched across her face to emphasize her joyful demeanor. The alan chuckled and patted his belly. It growled back at him in protest and he figured it was time for yet another snack. Unfourtanely he had depleted his meager funds and having food meant having money.

On cue he heard the sound of a mellow jingling and his blood shot eyes found themselves burning holes through a small worn pouch attached to the belt around the young girl's attire. He grinned, his cheeks flushed pure red from basking under the sun too long.

He wasn't going to steal it of course, even a lazy old fool had some level of moral standards. He had nothing, however, to offer the girl in return.

Nothing but a story.

"Hey, girl." He adjusted his posture and gave her a friendly expression. The girl gave a look of perplexity before smiling back and waving.

'So innocuous,' he thought before chuckling. More to himself than at the girl's giddy attitude.

"Would you like to hear a story? It'll only cost a coin," he offered, practically drooling over the thought of a peice of bread hitting his thistle. It had most likely been a day since he had ate a proper meal. He wasn't famished, but a nice snack would have done him well.

"A story? What kind of story?," She tilted her head.

"Sit and I'll tell you."

She looked around before sitting in the dry soil beneath her feet. Her azure eyes glanced up at him. "I won't give you any money yet. I want to hear the story first."

'Smart', the alan thought as he mentally cursed. "I suppose that's only fair. I guess I should begin?"

She giggled and nodded eagerly, "Yes! Go ahead!"

"Okay, okay." He licked his lips obnoxiously before beginning. "This story is about two young men who's friendship with one another caused both compassion and heart ache. The short, tragic tale of the bold and fierce Patroclus, and his kind friend Achilles."

***

Patroclus grunted softly as wavy locks of his light brown hair fell over his green eyes. He tightly shut them, gritting his teeth as to rid himself of the excruciating pain. The white paste his dear friend was applying to his fresh wound stung his skin like a flame to a plant. It bit at his epidermis, cleansing it of bacteria but causing him extreme discomfort at the same time. He bent his eyebrows, wasn't medicine supposed to aid him and not cause more pain than he already had been in?

"Almost done, Patroclus."

He opened his heavy eyelids; insomnia had began to pay it's toll on him. He had been so anxious the past few days about the Trojan's pending invasion that he couldn't get an adequate night's sleep. He constantly had malicious nightmares; all of them showing his humiliating defeat and a glimpse of his death. His adversaries would chuckle and ridicule him before drawing their swords and proceeded on with the beheading. In the mist of them swinging his blade, Patroclus would yell for Achilles- unaware that he was, in fact, still dreaming- and the younger male would run into his room in disarray.