CHARACTERS:

Gabrielle, Potadiean Bard
Joxer the Mighty
Xena, Warrior Princess
Eve, daughter of Xena

People mentioned in the Journal:
Nysa, the writer
Theia, her best friend
Pemon, her friend
Atreus, son of the magistrate
Hylas, a stranger

Rating: G, I think. Maybe high G.

Gabrielle was in heaven. For one long, glorious day, she had complete freedom to explore the great Athenian Library, with its thousands upon thousands of scrolls. Xena, Joxer, and Eve were out gossiping in taverns, looking for information about an assassin or some-such said to be wandering the Senate, but today Gabrielle could leave it up to them. She had lots and lots of reading to do.

The Library was a huge building, made of huge rooms, containing row after row of huge shelves. The only light came from torches, flickering in their brackets on the stone walls. It was blissfully silent, and the air smelled of parchment and ink.

She took a torch from its bracket and wandered between the rows, occasionally taking out a scroll, looking at it, putting it back. She wasn't looking for anything in particular . . . just browsing to her heart's content.

Some of the manuscripts were beautiful . . . written in brilliantly colored ink with sleek, graceful writing. Others were more like her scrolls, with coarse parchment and broad, clumsy black strokes. There were the words of the gods, recorded by their priests and priestesses, and records of small farming villages written by generations of magistrates. None of them really interested her, so she wandered to the far corners of the library to search.

Here the shelves were covered in dust and cobwebs. They were documents piled haphazardly on shelves, some torn or marred by water. These were more interesting, for here people told their own stories. Mostly, they were Athenians. There were journals of acolytes in the temples, scribes in the halls of the Senate, and numberless other peoples from all walks of life. Then she found something different.

On a high shelf was an oilskin packet, covered in dust. She took it down and brushed it off, then set the torch in a convenient bracket and loosed the cords that held the packet together.

Inside was a stack of papers, faded from years of neglect. They were stiff and yellowed, delicate as dried leaves. She lay them gently on the floor and picked up the first page . . .

I am Nysa of Potadiea.

Gabrielle almost gasped in delight. Nysa of Potadiea? That was almost impossible! Nysa had been her great-grandmother's name. How had Nysa's journal managed to find its way to this remote corner of the Athenian Library?

She knelt on the floor, lay the packet on her lap, and eagerly began to read . . .

I am Nysa of Potadiea. I have taken these parchments because I have no one else to turn to in my confusion, and perhaps seeing my thoughts written will help me to sort them out. I am convinced that no one's life can be as tangled as mine, for it seems that the heartstrings of everyone in the village are resting upon my actions.

First, there is Atreus. The magistrate's son. Any girl in the village would be glad to be his bride . . . except me, and it is me that he wants. Do not misunderstand me: Atreus is a good man and would make anyone a fine husband. But, being the wealthiest young man as far as the eye can see, he is arrogant without truly meaning it. He tries always to be kind, but he seems constantly superior instead.

Then my mother and my father . . . if I married Atreus, they would never have to fear starvation. My father, though I love him dearly, can't understand why I refuse Atreus. To tell the truth, I don't understand it either. I aught to marry him. But somehow the thought makes me afraid.

What do I want? Life is too complicated right now. What was wrong with being a child? Why can't I go run barefoot through the fields with Pemon and Theia and forget about worry and doubt and anger?

Pemon has injured himself again. Silly boy, he went wandering through the woods and slipped at Hades's Mud Slide. Of course it was more treacherous today than usual, taking into account the storm last night, but he paid no heed to it and now has a broken leg.

"Pemon," I said to him as the healer was setting the bone, "Why must you constantly be tripping over everything?"

"It's not my fault!" he whimpered. "These things just happen."

"Oh, and I suppose that wandering to the mud slide just happened, too?" I snapped at him. "How many times have I told you to watch where you put your big feet before you put them there? Sometimes I think that your parents forgot to pray to Athena when you were born."

"Yeah, not to mention Nike, Ares, Discord, Aphrodite, Pax, and Apollo," he said through gritted teeth. "Sometimes I think the only god who favors me is Hades."

"If there was a god of pain, he would favor you too."

"Thank you, I feel much better. Ow!"

I sighed and left him. The fool! The utter, absolute fool! If he didn't have Theia watching his back most of the time, he would have killed himself long ago.

No, I am being unfair. Pemon is a good young man, really, but he is absentminded and clumsy. Poor, sweet, foolish little boy that he is. I should not have spoken so harshly to him.

Theia has come home! She has been gone with the men of the village to sell the excess of the harvest, but is home now and bursting with stories to tell Pemon and me.

They were set upon by thieves, she says. Only five, but the men in their drinking make it out to be far more. But Theia does not exaggerate, and I trust the men when they are drinking only as far as I could throw them.

But in one thing I fear she understates. The men all say that Theia was a great help in driving them off, falling into the fight with her usual wildness. I chastised Theia exceedingly and so did her mother. She insists that she did little, but no one believes her. Theia has never been one to hide her fighting spirit.

Theia always talks of leaving Potadiea to seek adventure, and Pemon wants to go with her. They will talk for hours about it, but they know little of the rest of the world and I insist that they will find themselves dead.

Still, their talk of adventure intrigues me. They are my very best friends, and I cannot imagine the village without them. If they ever left, would I go with them? It might solve my problem with Atreus, and I would escape the protesting cries of the entire community, but sometimes I am afraid. I am not a fighter like Theia, nor brash and falsely courageous like Pemon, and I would really rather stay where I am safe.

But Atreus, and Mother and Father and the magistrate and . . . oh, everyone. What will I ever do?

Mother and I have had another fight about Atreus. She insists that if I don't marry him I will live to regret it, for I will have no family and no one to earn money to feed me. I understand what she means. If I don't marry, I don't know what shall become of me.

But if I married Atreus, I would soon grow to hate him, I am sure. I don't now, of course. I respect him greatly, and would enjoy his company if he were someone else's husband. Just not mine.

The Atreus problem is really mine alone. Even Theia, whom I love like a sister, takes too simple a view of the matter. When I sought her for comfort, she advised me, "Reject him and have done with it. The village will soon get over the matter, you know. They will throw it away as soon as it has lost its flavor."

"What about Mother?" I asked. "She won't forget. She still hounds me about the hole I made in the roof when I was six."

"It is not her who will have to live with that arrogant son of a .. . ."

"Theia!"

No, Theia is no help. She wants to confront everything head-on, and somehow I don't have the courage to do that.

At least Pemon tries to understand. And with his leg still splinted, I can always catch up with him when I need to talk to him. He listens quietly and doesn't try to give advice. Pemon will never be a great man, but he will always have many friends. Theia is just the opposite. She doesn't seem to belong in Potadiea. Next to her, it seems that I am a duck and she is a falcon. She could be great, I think, but her aggressive nature and cold, calculating mind will keep her from having many friends beyond Pemon and me.

Oh, I don't know what to do!

It seems that the problem has come to a head. When I went down to the creek to wash clothes, Atreus followed me. I didn't know he was there until he was right over my shoulder.

"Nysa?"

I confess, I was frightened beyond belief! I leapt up and almost slipped into the stream.

"Atreus!" I cried. "You startled me!"

He didn't answer for a moment. Probably waiting until I had forgotten about his responsibility to apologize, but I cannot hold that against him. It is the way he has been raised.

"I need some explanations from you, Nysa," he said at last. "You have known for a long time where I stand. I want you to be my wife. Now I need a straight answer from you: Will you marry me?"

This was even more startling. How could I tell him the answer when I didn't know the answer myself? He had no right to corner me without warning this way.

"I don't know," I told him. "I really don't know."

"I don't understand you," he declared. "What would hold you back? As my wife you wouldn't have to worry about your family starving. You would always have a good home, and you would be the most respected woman in Potadiea. If you turn me down, what would you do? You can't be guaranteed another offer. You might have to leave the village, go and work for your living like a common slave in a city somewhere. I don't want that for you, Nysa. I know you don't want it for yourself."

Convincing arguments, yes. But words I have heard a thousand times before. I still was no closer to the answers I seek. So I did the only thing I could . . . I turned and ran, leaving the washing at the stream.

I have just returned from another endeavor that Mother disapproves of. I have gone to the temple of Hestia between here and Amphipolis, to see if the goddess would guide me. I confess, I even had thought of joining the temple as a virgin acolyte. Thank Olympus that I have kept myself clean, and have this choice left to me!

But, if I am to follow in the paths of the Hestian priestesses, I cannot do so now. I still hope, deep within me, that I may be able to be happily married and have children of my own. The priestess told me that Hestia does not frown upon this. She is the goddess of families, after all!

So, I am home, with the steady repetition of the Hestian prayers still ringing in my ears, more confused than ever.

If, by next harvest, the matter has not been resolved one way or the other I will return to the temple and join them.

Such strange people have taken lodging at the inn tonight! Theia saw them coming on the road and ran back to Pemon's house as fast as she could go, not once stopping all the way. I was with Pemon, playing Hounds and Jackals, when she burst in. She practically dragged us halfway to the village before we knew what was happening!

Three men. Travelers of some kind, although where they are coming from and where they are going no one knows. Two are older men, with streaks of gray in their black hair, but the third is about Theia's age, with the richest brown eyes that I have ever seen.

Theia, being none other than herself, let go of us as soon as we stumbled through the common room door and introduced herself to them. Her behavior is unbelievable! An unmarried girl speaking so directly to men she doesn't know! It will get her into trouble someday.

I kept Pemon with me and sat at the bar, as far away from the strangers as I could get. Still, I could not help stealing glances at the young man. He seems very different than the Potadiean boys. More colorful, somehow. More alive. I would have liked him immediately if he had not had a sword at his hip and a bow and quiver at his back.

I haven't seen a sword in longer than I can remember. My father's is hidden under the floorboards somewhere, a sad reminder of the wars. A sword always means danger and trouble, and those are things I do not want. I am glad I left the inn without speaking to them.

Can I have the strength to recount what has happened this evening?

The young stranger, the one with those enchanting brown eyes, was standing in the agora when I went to the well. He was the only one there. Instead of leaving, as would have been proper, he approached and spoke to me!

His name was Hylas, a Spartan. I know I shouldn't have, but he was so kind and friendly I couldn't really help but answer him. Soon we were talking almost like old friends. He told me about where he came from, the sorts of people that lived there, and I told him about all the people in Potadiea. His voice had a strange sort of accent that made him seem like he was laughing with every word. And when he laughed . . . which was often . . .. it made the sound seem twice as vibrant.

But then . . . oh, I don't want to live it again. He . . . he tried to kiss me. I didn't know what to do! Somehow I was frozen where I stood, though I wanted to run when I could feel his breath on my face and his hand against my cheek. Oh, I was so afraid!

Pemon saved me. He must be blessed by Fortune, for he was in exactly the right place at exactly the right time. He called my name, I turned towards him, and the spell of confusion over me was broken. I ran from Hylas's touch into Pemon's tight, comforting hug.

"Sir," he said, far more calm than I was, "Please don't even look at my friend again, and get out of the village at first light. We don't welcome strangers mistreating fellow Potadieans."

I didn't see what Hylas did, but when I finally looked up he was gone. I praise the gods for that.

Pemon stayed with me until I was steady enough to go home, and promised not to tell anyone what I'd almost done. It would only bring shame on me and my family.

If all men in the cities are like that, I would rather die than have to go there and labor for my bread. It would be far better to marry Atreus; yes, far better.

Today I was kidnapped!

I woke up this morning in the back of Theia's father's wagon, rattling down the road, tied up. Theia was at the reins with Pemon next to her, talking as though I wasn't there.

They stopped at the swimming hole, where we used to play as children, and took me out of the wagon, laughing the whole time. "Happy Birthday!" they shouted at me as they untied the ropes.

Oh, what will I ever do with the two of them? They've been planning this behind my back for weeks! Theia and her mother made me a beautiful new dress, with laces on the bodice and down the sleeves. I am wearing it as I write this. The three of us spent all morning swimming and eating all the things that Pemon raided from the bakery (at least, he says he raided it, but I think that the baker will not be too angry since Pemon is his son!).

I haven't had such a good time in months! I shall go to bed still laughing, for I feel like a little girl again.

News has come today, and I don't know what I am going to do. Last year, when Theia was selling the harvest, she talked to a man who was from the Academy of Heroes. He must have been quite impressed with her, because she just received a letter inviting her to begin training there!

She is beside herself with joy. It is better than she could ever have dreamed of. She will tell me time and time again that the Academy is where the daughters of the Amazons study!

There is more. Pemon wants to go with her, although he doubts that he will do very well. Still, it will be good for Theia to have a friend in such a strange place that is said to be so difficult to get through. No one doubts that within a week she will be in command of every cadet in the place, but she will need someone to talk to and Pemon is very good at listening.

I am glad for them. All their dreams are coming true. Still, I cannot help crying for myself. I have no wish to leave Potadiea; it is the only home I have ever known, and Theia and Pemon are the best friends I will ever have. Home will no longer be home without them here.

I must put on a brave face. They must not leave with only memories of my tears to comfort them. And until the caravan comes in two weeks they will be here, the same as always.

Tonight I am truly alone for the first time in my life, though if all had gone as I wanted I should have celebrated. I am engaged to Atreus.

Here is how it happened. In the morning Pemon and Theia leave for the Academy with the caravan, so tonight the whole village celebrated their last night with us. I wore the dress Theia gave me for my birthday and danced the night away with Pemon, although he never could dance to save his life. There, I am crying again. I don't want to think of Pemon tonight.

Still, I must or I will never understand why I have done the things I have done. But I fear this will be hard to read afterward, for my tears blur the words beyond recognition.

Pemon asked me to marry him.

How could he do such a thing? Pemon! Poor, silly, clumsy, foolish Pemon! Tonight there was a strange sort of maturity about him that I have never seen before, and I felt that he was no longer my dear old friend, but a stranger. He asked me to wait until he returned from the Academy, when he could take care of me. He said he had loved me since we were children and had never even considered marrying someone else.

I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. Marry Pemon? It had never even crossed my mind! The whole thing came without warning, hitting me like a hurricane, with such suddenness that it scared me out of my head and made me panic.

"No!" I cried. "No, how dare you! Of course not! Are you out of your mind?"

Oh, the look on his face as those cruel, hurtful words came out of my mouth! It broke my heart.

"Okay," he said. "I just thought I'd ask you, just . . . in case. Goodbye, Nysa. May the blessings of the gods be upon you . . . as they always have."

I wanted to find Theia for comfort, but she was not to be found and I fear that I will never see her again.

It all came cascading on me in one terrible, confusing wave . . . the way Pemon used to laugh, with his head thrown back; the musical prayers of the Hestian priestesses; Hylas's hand against my cheek; my fear at having to leave the village to survive; my dreams of raising my own children; Atreus, always there, waiting for me to decide.

Then I did. In a split second of panic and loneliness, I fled to Atreus, who has been there from the beginning, and finally told him my answer. I will marry him.

I have been a fool. Already I know that I never should have done such a thing. But my worst mistake, I am sure, was refusing Pemon. I love him, and have always, as close as a brother. Would it be such a hard thing to love him as a husband? But my words are spoken, my choices are made. There can be no turning back now.

In the morning, the village will know and the celebrations will start, but for now I can lay in my bed and cry until I have no more tears left in me.

That was the last entry.

Gabrielle put down the parchment and turned her head, to keep her tears from landing on it among Nysa's. For a long time, she sat in the corner of the library and cried with this girl, both of them confused and lonely and sad. Nysa spoke to her like a voice from the dust, crying out a warning that she could not help but hear.

Misery comes from rejecting the love you had all along. Daughter of mine, listen well.

Gabrielle did listen well. When she had cried herself out, she wrapped up the journal again in its oilskin cover and put it back on the shelf. Then she emerged from the darkness of the library into the blazing sunlight and went in search of the love she'd had all along.

Please take a moment to write to Seriana at silverhawkwarrior@netzero.com and let her know how you liked the story!

COPYRIGHT NOTICE:
Xena: Warrior Princess, Xena, Gabrielle, Joxer, Eve, and all other characters who have appeared in the series, together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of StudiosUSA and Renaissance Pictures. No infringement of copyrights or trademarks is intended in the writing of this fan fiction. The characters of Nysa, Theia, Pemon, Atreus, and Hylas were created by the author for use in this fiction. This story is copyright © 2000 by Seriana Ritani and is her sole property along with the story idea. This story cannot be sold or used for profit in any way. Copies of this story may be made for private use only and must include all disclaimers and copyright notices.