Xena: Warrior Princess

Light-hearted Fan Fiction

First Edition

by Karen Dunn

http://www.StaggeringStories.net/

This eBook is copyright 2011 Karen Dunn and is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 licence (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/). Xena: Warrior Princess is the property of MCA/Universal and Renaissance Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended.

Xena Warrior Princess: Bardic Theories (Or "Hey Xena, I've figured out this thing called gravity.")

Written by Karen Dunn

Disclaimer: Xena, Gabrielle and Argo aren't mine. The gods are no one's. I'm just playing with the toys and promise to put them away nicely when I'm finished.

This story has a spot of extremely mild violence, a lot of extremely tested patience and a ton of theories. There may be a slightly naughty word or two in there - it depends where you grew up and how strict your parents are.

This is for Keith, because he's lovely and laughed in all the right places.

It all started on one of those quiet days. One of those days spent fishing and swimming and generally taking it easy.

I remember that I was sunbathing at the time, a soft breeze tickling my skin as I listened to Argo chomping on a clump of grass and Gabrielle chatter on about anything and everything. You know how bards get.

I learned a long time ago how to listen to her without actually listening; how to filter out the idle gossip from the interesting stuff that required me to nod or make some kind of noncommittal noise of agreement.

Gods, she can talk. And her theories! You wouldn't believe some of the things she comes up with.

That day was a definite theory day and I had on my serious face, greeting every new bardic revelation with a shrug or a "yeah, I can picture that".

That was something else I learned a long time ago - never make fun of a finely worked theory from a ticked off Amazon with a big stick. No matter how outlandish the theory, no matter how harebrained the theory, no matter how much your sides ache from holding back the laughter. Warrior Princess or not, it bloody hurts when she hits you with that thing. And three days of the silent treatment tries anyone's patience.

So anyway, there I was, flat on my stomach, armour draped over a nearby tree, weapons tucked into Argo's saddle miles out of reach, sun tan coming on very nicely thank you when she comes out with the most STUPID thing I have ever heard her say.

Yes, even more stupid than, "Hey Xena, that Caesar guy - I think he has a thing for you."

Even more idiotic than, "Do you think my being a virgin has anything to do with all these kidnap and sacrifice attempts?"

"Xena," she says, "you know the moon..?"

And I actually look up, which was a really dumb thing to do. If I had kept my head tucked into my arms I might have got away with it. But no, I had to look up.

"Yes, Gabrielle," I say, "I know the moon."

"Well," she continues, and I can almost see the cogs whirling in her mind, "you know the moon looks round..?"

I can't help myself, "yee-e-ees..?" I draw the word out, giving her ample warning, I feel, that this one is going to be difficult for me to take.

Does she notice? Does she Hades.

"Well, I have this theory, right?"

I had guessed that much.

"I have this theory that if the moon looks round from here, you know, from the Known World? Well, perhaps the Known World looks round from, well, you know…the moon…"

If I had been sitting on a chair I would have fallen off it laughing. I gave serious thought to building a chair just so as I could do that. As it was I just held my breath until I thought I would burst and watched her as she watched me.

If she didn't expect an answer, I thought, I may get through this unbruised. I let my head fall back onto my arms and slowly expelled the breath.

"What do you think, Xena?"

Oh damn and blast and bloody smelly horse poop.

So, anyway, one afternoon's sunbathing went right out of the window.

Later, I was walking along next to Argo working out a good story in my head which would explain the black eye.

Yeah, laugh it up, but you try ducking when you're already lying on the ground.

"War Lords", I'll say to anyone who asks, "there were these ten…no, twenty…HUGE War Lords and they all attacked at the same time, and I had to protect Argo, and Gabrielle was off talking to the trees or something equally bard-like, so she couldn't help me out, and before I knew it one of them had walloped me a good'un."

Yeah, that's believable.

And since the Bardic One is no longer talking to me, she won't contradict me.

Ha! Perfect.

A person approaches…let the games begin…

Okay, so the scruffiest peasant on the road listened patiently to my amazing story of heroism, courage, best friend neglect and all round tragedy and laughed like a drain.

It's be all round Greece by Thursday.

Great…

It took years to work on this reputation!

The afternoon wears on and I realise that I am hungry.

Time to start grovelling. Pride is one thing, but I am not ready to face my own cooking just yet.

Gabrielle is stomping on ahead, radiating her bad mood to all around, slamming the end of her staff into the ground with each step and muttering under her breath.

I'm not sure what she's saying but I hear the words "moronic" and "narrow minded" being uttered in the same sentence as "warrior" and "princess".

I decide to let it go and not be offended.

I am really hungry.

I tug on Argo's reigns and catch up with her in a heart beat, setting my expression to apologetic and tearful. (And let me tell you, it has taken close to three years to get that tearful look just right. It is not something that comes easily to me and I only use it in dire emergencies such as this.)

"Gabrielle," I say softly - hey, I can do 'soft'. She's not the only one who can turn on the charm, "Gabrielle," I say again when she refuses to look at me, "I'm sorry. It's a good theory, a great theory. And if you think the Known World is round, who am I to argue?"

She stops just in front of me and I almost walk into her. I can see her shoulders relaxing just a little and I start to thank the gods for her general good nature.

She never stays mad for long, right?

Ding! Wrong! Thanks for playing oh ye of many skills, one of which is not the ability to read Amazon body language.

She turns to face me, ever so slowly, and gives me The Look.

Now, part of me is crying 'foul' at this point. I taught her The Look, godsdammit, and I don't think it's fair that she keeps turning it on me. But that part of me is drowned out by the nervous knot in my stomach which seems to be insisting that I stand and blink at her like a rabbit caught in…caught in…damn! Someone should invent a saying for that scared rabbit look.

But whatever it is the rabbit is caught in, I was impersonating the wide eyed panic very nicely.

"Xena," she says, and I almost back away, "If you think one dewy eyed apology just because you're hungry and don't want to poison yourself is going to get you off the hook this time, think again."

Damn!

I blink again before my pride starts to slap me around a little.

'You are the Warrior Princess,' it says, 'You are the Destroyer of Nations, the Bitch of Tartarus. Are you going to let this…this…poet boss you around? Are you going to let her talk to you like that and get away with it?!'

That little inner voice has served me well in the past.

I narrow my eyes and step forward, letting Argo's reigns fall, "Gabrielle…" I say in my best warning, don't mess me about, I'm pretty close to getting annoyed voice.

Well, they say pride comes before a fall.

I wish they would stop saying it.

I pick myself up off the ground and rub my ankle as she leans back on her staff and continues to glare at me, "Gabrielle!"

Oh yeah, that's intimidating. Go from deep, husky and threatening to high pitched, whiny and childish all because she clouted you on the foot.

My pride throws up its arms in disgust and walks out on me.

It even slams the door.

She is still looking at me and I know exactly what I have to do.

I have to beg.

"Gabrielle, I really am sorry. I shouldn't have laughed…"

"Or rolled on the ground…"

"…or rolled on the ground…"

"Holding your stomach…"

"…holding my stomach…"

"Carry on."

"I've forgotten what I was saying."

"You were apologising."

"Oh yeah." I pause and look at her, "I'm sorry for all that and for trying to get round you with the tears and the eyes and everything."

She gives a smirk of victory and I imagine what it would be like to pluck her eyelashes off one by one, "Apology accepted."

I let out a breath and grin at her, "That's great."

I unhook my chakram and look towards the trees, "Shall I catch us some dinner?"

My stomach rumbles noisily and she smirks again before shrugging and walking off, "That's okay," she says, "I'm not hungry."

I trail behind her and consider calling on Ares. If I was leading his army again, she'd have to show me some respect. I'd make her cook rabbit for me all day and all night. I'd make her stand up in the centre of Athens and admit that her theories are all crazy. I'd make her..

"Xena! Come on!"

I pick up Argo's reigns again and slouch off after her.

Argo snorts at me. It sounds like laughter so I reach into the saddle bag and eat her last apple.

Teach her about loyalty.

Little do I know it, but up on Mount Olympus Ares has heard my thought and is doing a little dance of joy. He has, as you know, been offering me his army on a plate for years and years and years.

This is like all his birthdays and solstices wrapped up in one.

He gets me and my armour back, he gets Gabrielle as a lackey and general all round slave and he gets to storm across Greece on a wave of glory.

All because Little Miss Grumpy came up with her stupid Known World Is Round theory.

He raises his hand, ready to do the flashy god thing, when Zeus pokes his head round the door and stops him.

Ares is niggled, "Come on Dad," he says, "She wished for my army. I didn't beg her or force her or stamp around on that irritating blonde until she agreed to do as I say. She wished for it."

Zeus, for once, doesn't get annoyed with his son. There are no thunder bolts or lightening flashes. He just looks a little sheepish, "Yes, I know, son," he says, "but unfortunately you can't exercise your godly powers on a Wednesday anymore."

Ares looks at him as though his beard has jumped off and danced the can-can, "What's so damned special about Wednesday?" he splutters.

Zeus won't look him straight in the eye, "Wednesday's belong to the Goddess of Chaos. She gets a little irked if anyone else goes messing around with the mortals on a Wednesday."

"Goddess of Chaos?!" Ares is all but spitting fire now as he watches a golden opportunity become so much star dust, "There is no Goddess of Chaos!!"

"There is now" says Zeus.

"What do you mean, 'there is now'" yells the God of War, "You can't have no Goddess of Chaos one minute and a fully functioning Goddess of Chaos the next. That would be…"

"Chaotic" said Zeus, "Yes, I know. Why do you think they call her the Goddess of Chaos?"

Ares flops down onto his throne and puts his head in his hands. Zeus floats over and pats him awkwardly on the shoulder, "There, there, son. It's Thursday tomorrow and Xena's bound to wish for your help again. After all, that bard really is irritating."

Ares sniffs, "You think?"

Zeus gives a fatherly smile, "I think."

Ares wipes a hand across his eyes and sits up straight, "And you won't let the Goddess of Chaos change the no meddling day to a Thursday?"

"I promise."

The God of War gives a little smile, "Okay."

Zeus pats his boy on the back once more and gets up to leave, "I almost forgot," he says, "The Goddess of Chaos is planning a little fun with your warrior and her sidekick. You might want to watch."

Ares waits a while until his father has gone, before waving a hand and vanishing.

He and the Goddess of Chaos hit it off at once.

If I had known what they had planned, I would have stayed by the river and let Gabrielle go off alone to sulk.

It seems that the power of prophecy is also not one of my many skills.

By late afternoon I am recognising land marks. There is a village ahead. I am no longer hungry, though. A quick solo detour, under the pretence of visiting the bushes, produced a handful of berries and some apples.

Gabrielle keeps looking at me suspiciously and I know I have a self satisfied smirk on my face.

Not to mention quite a lot of berry juice.

Ha! Take that, bard face! I survived without your cooking for ten years and I can do it again.

We round a bend in the road and see another scruffy peasant hurtling towards us in a cloud of dust. He screeches to a halt and falls at my feet, gasping for air.

I grin. Sorry, but I still have a thing about men throwing themselves at my feet. Old habits and all that…

"X-Xena," he gasps, so I guess that he recognises me. It's the leather, the armour, the height. And the fact that there are still 'wanted, dead' parchments in every tavern from Athens to Sparta. I have noticed that not many of them have 'wanted, dead or alive' written on them, and the ones that have usually have the 'alive' part scribbled out. I really should talk to someone about having them taken down. It gets a little tedious when you're strolling along, minding your own business and behind-the-times bounty hunters keep dropping out of the trees shouting about a five thousand dinar reward and would I be so kind as to drop the sword and not slice them up with the chakram.

Anyway, I digress.

"Xena," he says, having got his breath back, "you have to help us!"

I raise an eyebrow.

Gabrielle has told me that the eyebrow thingy puts people at their ease. Sort of like, 'hey, she's calm about it, things can't be that bad.' I had to practice in front of a mirror for three weeks to get it just right. It was very difficult.

"What's the problem?" I ask as Gabrielle helps the man up and offers him a sip from our waterskin.

"There's a band of ruffians outside our tavern," he gasps, "They're demanding we give them all our gold and livestock or they'll burn the village to the ground."

Aha! Time to earn respect and awe from all around me. Time to do 'The Hero Thing!!!'

Time to gallop head long into the village astride my trusty steed. Time to draw my sword from its scabbard and wave it menacingly. Time to let my war cry pierce the sky and scare the raiders out of their wits. Time to fling my chakram at exposed throats, laughing as blood spurts…

"I'll talk to them," says Gabrielle, "Perhaps we can work something out."

Work something out? Who's the hero in this partnership anyway? What are you gonna do when they aim a row of crossbows at you? Talk them to death?!

Come to think of it…

"Work something out?" I say, "These are War Lords, Gabrielle. They stab first and ask questions later."

She looks at me with that 'you're not completely forgiven look', "Come on, Xena," she says, "they sound like petty thugs." She raises her staff and twirls it, "Let me do the hero thing for a change. You always get to do it. Do you have any idea what it's like to be known across the whole of Greece as 'whatsername-the-one-that-travels-with-Xena'? Let me go in there and threaten them a little and you can hang around out here and get kidnapped by their friends who just happen to be heading into town."

I raise the eyebrow again, "Kidnapped?"

She seems a little upset about this and her ears are going a strange shade of pink, "Yeah," she says, "Kidnapped. It's what always happens to me, so I think it's high time it happened to you for a change."

I decide to humour her, "Okay," I say, "I can do that."

I watch as she strides off into the village.

I count to ten.

I follow her at a discrete distance.

Yeah, okay, so she's a grown woman who can make her own decisions and shouldn't be treated like a kid, but you and I know she's going to get ambushed the second she sets foot in town. And I'm still a little ticked off at her for the food thing, and I'm not in the mood for a full scale rescue.

So I follow her and try not to sulk.

I reach the edge of the village and watch as Gabrielle walks up to a crowd of swarthy-looking men. She looks the biggest of them in the eye and says, "Evening."

The man blinks down at her.

He is one of those typical War Lord types. You know: seven foot two tall, seven foot two wide, shaggy hair sticking out at all angles from a head the size of a boulder. Big scar across his face, hardly any teeth, bad breath, fists the size of slightly smaller boulders with 'pain' tattooed across the knuckles of one hand and 'PAIN' tattooed across the knuckles of the other. He has the type of face that only a mother could love, and even she'd have to spend time practising in front of the mirror.

He blinks at her again and I see her life flash in front of my eyes.

Odd feeling, that.

I start to draw my sword, ready to leap to the rescue when he says, "Evening yourself."

I then spend the next hour sitting on a rock, just out of sight, listening as Gabrielle and the softest bunch of War Lords you could ever meet, talk about anything and everything, sing bawdy drinking songs and tell even bawdier jokes.

I shall have to ask my so-called-innocent little sidekick where she heard the one about Ares, the donkey and the game of hide-the-soap.

And then I'll wash her mouth out with it.

I was on the verge of falling asleep when the big guy falls backwards off his seat and begins to laugh like a drain. I wonder what joke Gabrielle has told him this time, when I notice that she is not laughing.

That she is standing up and glaring at him.

That she is raising her staff high above her head with that look in her eye.

"It's not funny!" she yells, "I say the Known World is round!!"

Oh heck…

I take off running, my sword in my hand, just as she wollops the big guy across the stomach and spins round to face the others as they surround her.

Ohheckohheckohheck…

And so the fun begins.

I execute one of my patented triple-somersault-with forward-twist-and-extra-loud-war-cry moves, knocking three of the baddies down and landing next to Gabby as she begins to realise that perhaps she is in over her head.

"Oh, hi Xena" she says as she parries a sword thrust.

I give her The Look, "We need to talk about your temper" I say.

We stand back to back as they attack in earnest, "I'm really sorry," she says, "But it's my best theory. The more I think about it…" she whacks one poor unfortunate over the head, "…the more I know it's right."

Big Guy is starting to recover, so I kick his legs out from under him. Seven foot two of ticked off muscle coming at me, I do not need, "I agree," I say, "as theories go it's no crazier than any of your other ones."

She goes quiet for a moment, and I know she's trying to work out whether I've just insulted her. "Okay" she says, "okay.."

For a moment it is just us against them as we kick butt together. Then…

"…Xena..?"

Oh for the love of Zeus…

"Yes Gabrielle."

I dodge a particularly dangerous sword blow…

"If the Known World is round…"

…spring ten feet into the air…

"…well, how do the people on the underside…"

…somersault backwards whilst hanging in the air like a feather on a breeze…

"…keep from falling off?"

And suddenly I have the grace of a brick and the aerodynamic qualities to match. I plummet to the ground and land with a rather painful crash on top of the remaining four baddies.

"Oh yes" cries Ares, punching the air, "That's brilliant. Brilliant!!!"

And he does a little dance.

The Goddess of Chaos grins and does something meaningful with butterflies.

Down on the hard, hard, bloody hard ground I disentangle myself from the now unconscious War Lords and get to my feet.

Gabrielle is blinking at me in shock as the gravity of the situation hits home, "…are you okay?" she says.

I am a little embarrassed that I have fallen on my backside in front of a whole village of people. I brush myself down and shrug, "yeah," I say, "must have hit an air pocket."

She looks as though she is about to ask me what the Tartarus an air pocket is, but behind her the first War Lords are also getting to their feet and brushing themselves down.

I brace myself, all ready for a super-duper-twirling-backwards-kick-'em-in-the-goolies somersault. The War Lords charge us and I leap…two feet into the air and land awkwardly on my ankle.

"Ow!" I say and try again.

I land better this time, but still only manage a two foot leap.

Gabrielle is twirling her staff around her as she holds off the bemused baddies, "Xena!" she yells, "Could you please contribute a little more to this fight? Standing there jumping up and down on the spot is not very intimidating."

She whacks the closest man on the head and I marvel at how she can still talk the legs off a centaur even in the middle of a battle.

Not willing to humiliate myself any more than I have done, I kick butt the good, old fashioned way - from ground level.

All is going well until I spot an archer standing at the far end of the village. He has a clear shot at me.

In your dreams, sunshine!

I snatch my trusty chackram from my belt and toss it nonchalantly in the vague direction of the archer, knowing it will somehow reach its target.

Gabrielle watches as it strikes the corner of a house and spins off at an impossible angle…

"You know…" she says,

…it skims through a water trough, gaining altitude as it leaves the other side…

"…there's this other theory I have…"

…chips a chunk of wood from the top of a tree, doubling back on itself as it plummets towards the ground…

"..it goes something along the lines of 'every action must have an equal and opposite reaction'…"

…sparks off of a large rock while reversing its course and speeding towards the exposed neck of the archer. It is a beautiful sight to see and I feel a lump in my throat…

"…and if I'm right about this theory - as I usually am - then your chackram is breaking some rather important laws…"

…and falls to the ground inches from his neck, lands on its edge and rolls gently down the hill.

I feel like crying.

"…I call them the Laws of Physics" says Gabrielle as she finishes off the last of the baddies with a smug smile.

Ares falls to the ground and rolls up into a wildly giggling ball, "Oh Zeus," he gasps, "This is perfect, this is absolutely perfect. I never thought I'd see…."

And the laughing carries on unabated.

If I had been there to see it, I would have done something quite unpleasant to his nose.

The Goddess of Chaos smiles and does something else meaningful with butterflies.

Meanwhile, I have another problem.

The archer has fired his arrow in shock - quite a common problem among men of a certain age - or so I've heard.

I watch the arrow streaking towards me. I ready myself to catch it, but take a quick sideways glance at Gabrielle, who is frowning.

"Don't even bloody say it!" I yell as I duck just in time.

The arrow buries itself in the wall of a house behind me with a thud. The archer runs away.

I think back wistfully to the days before I had a sidekick. Good days. Happy days. Quiet days.

Okay, so I was a rampaging War Lord with a price on my head in ever town in Greece. Okay, so I killed at a whim and led an army of men who were not really very nice at all. Okay, so my mother hated me, my friends feared me and my enemies wet themselves as soon as I came over the hill.

But at least I could jump. At least I could somersault. At least my chackram did what it was meant to do.

And nobody, I repeat nobody, bothered me with their stupid theories on the nature of the Known World.

I pick myself up again. I dust myself down again. I walk towards my still frowning sidekick. "Gabrielle," I say in my most menacing tone, "I'm spotting a little pattern here."

She looks at me, "A pattern?"

"Oh yeah," I say, "Just ever so."

I take her by the arm and lead her out of the prone mass of War Lord's all taking a snooze, "I want you to do something for me," I say.

"Stop talking?" she asks and I realise she is not as dopey as I had thought.

"No", I say as I point to a flock of ducks flying overhead, "I want you to say 'I have this theory. Ducks can't fly.'"

She frowns again, "I have this theory. Ducks can't fly?" she asks.

A suddenly flightless duck hits her on the head with a somewhat startled quack. It waddles away, salvaging as much pride as it is possible for a duck to salvage.

For the next few moments it rains ducks.

"Bugger," says Ares, "She's figured it out."

I pick my way cautiously through the mess of mallards, dragging a, for once, speechless bard behind me.

"I want you to do something else for me," I say.

"Another theory?" she asks.

I smile, the scary all-teeth-and-eyes smile which totally fails to intimidate her, "Oh yeah," I say, "Definitely another theory."

I look up at the sky again, "I want you to say, 'I have this theory. The god or gods responsible for this really feel the need to appear before us.'"

Ares whimpers, "I'm dead."

The Goddess of Chaos frowns and squashes one of her butterflies.

The others flutter away in disgust.

So anyway, all of a sudden Ares is standing before us, looking sheepish. This is no big surprise. If he hadn't been involved I would have been shocked. And maybe a little hurt.

Standing next to him is a goddess with a squashed butterfly in her hand.

Gabrielle gasps and steps forward to examine the deceased insect, "Oh," she says, "I have this theory about butterflies…"

I Look at her until she shuts up.

I stride up and down in front of the two Olympians, "I don't ask for a lot," I say, "A sharp sword, an accurate chackram, the ability to perform feats of physical dexterity beyond the means of mortal woman," I continue, "I like my life. I like the wandering from place to place, I like my horse, I even like Gabrielle on a good day. But you gods…"

They try to look innocent, but I'm not buying it.

"…you gods", I carry on, "You do nothing but meddle and interfere. You curse everything you see, you mess with people's lives, you put me and my friends under one spell after another. If it's not personality changes or body swaps, it's enchanted scrolls and abysmal luck with men…" I point at Gabrielle who is studying the end of her staff, "…do you know how long it's been since a guy has kissed her and lived to tell the tale?"

The two gods look at their feet.

I'm on a roll now, "Do you have any idea what it's like to traipse the length and breadth of Greece with a sexually frustrated bard in tow?"

Some one taps me on the shoulder, but I ignore them.

"Some of the stories she makes up! They'd make your hair curl!"

The tapping becomes more insistent and I turn to look at my sidekick. She raises an eyebrow, "Um, I think you're straying somewhat from the point here, Xena," she says.

I pause. She's right.

I glare at the two gods as they scuff their feet in the dust like naughty school children, "You'll take this curse off right now or I'll provide her with a few theories which will make your lives Tartarus."

Behind me, the sun is going down and the Goddess of Chaos breaks into a smile, "Fine," she says with a wave of her hand.

She disappears.

I look at Ares, "Would you mind explaining what that was about?" I say.

The God of War grins at me in that sexy, dark, bearded, creaking leather way he has, "It's Wednesday," he says and vanishes in a burst of light.

I am confused and frown a lot as I go to retrieve my chackram. I give it a test throw. It bounces off of six walls, decapitates one of the ducks which was just figuring out that it could fly again, and returns to my hand.

I smile.

Gabrielle is twirling her staff in thought when I return to her side, "You know," she says, "I have this theory about gods, too…"

Sigh.

The End

No ducks were harmed during the production of this story. (Stunt ducks were used for the more dangerous parts.) However, Xena's pride was more than a little dented and the butterflies remain baffled to this very day.

Xena Warrior Princess: Prelude to a Hangover

Written by Karen Dunn

DISCLAIMER: All the usual stuff. Xena, the Gabster, Herc and Sexy...I mean Iolaus aren't mine - they belong to those lucky, lucky people at Renaissance.

The night out and hangover which inspired this little piece of fluff were mine and I will fight to the bitter end to protect them. Try and pinch them - go on, just try. Look, I'm begging you - take the pain away!!

This is for Andrew and Jamie who will get the joke in a few years time.

Special thanks to Neil for beta reading the whole thing and not making me stay after class to do it all again. Cheers, Bud.

The sun had gone down hours ago. The night sky was peppered with stars and the moon was smiling down and lighting the road ahead as two heroes strode with manly gait toward the distant lights of a town.

The smaller of the two punched playfully at the treetrunk arm of his companion: "…and the centaur gasped and said 'but Hera told me it was a cure for herpes'!!" before grinning a broad, toothy grin.

The giant of a man at his side threw back his head and gave a hearty, heroic, ever-so-macho laugh: "Iolaus" he guffawed, "I swear your mouth would make Aphrodite blush."

They walked along in companionable silence for a while, pondering manly deeds and recalling heroic feats, as the moon climbed higher and higher in the sky. Iolaus began wishing for a hot tavern meal, a mug of warm ale and a comfortable bed for the night. They had been sleeping under the stars for too long and…a giggle from up ahead brought the two men to a halt.

"Herc?"

The big man shrugged, "I don't know. Let's take a look."

They sneaked forward and peered round a handily placed tree.

Now Hercules had seen the Warrior Princess in many and varied a situation. He had seen her happy, he had seen her sad, he had seen her in a killing frenzy ready to hack his heart out with her sword, he had seen her in the kind of situation a gentleman would never brag about unless they were asked really, really nicely four hundred times in a row by their far too nosy buddy.

But this was a new one on him.

He and Iolaus settled back against the ever so handy tree and watched as the up tight, always in control ex-Destroyer of Nations and her sweet as apple pie, wouldn't breathe in in the wrong kind of tavern sidekick lay on their backs, looking at the stars, surrounded by empty wineskins and drank themselves further and further into oblivion.

It had all started with a bet. One of those stupid bets that gets forgotten in the ensuing outcome. One of those "I bet you couldn't…" "I bet I could…" kind of bets that most people leave at that but really good friends follow through to the end.

The bet went as follows:

"What have we got to drink, Gabrielle?"

"Water."

"Is that all?"

"That's all."

"Damn."

"There's a town just over that hill. I could go and buy us a wineskin."

"Do we have enough money?"

"Not really. But I could haggle."

"Yeah, right."

"Hey! I can haggle!"

"It's just that I fancied a skin of really good port."

"I could get port."

"For…" counting, "…three dinars?"

Confident swagger, "Yeah, for three dinars."

Sceptical muttering.

Annoyed, "Xena, you know I can haggle. I'll bet you that I can get us as many skins as I can carry for three dinars."

"Bet you can't."

"You're on!"

Xena watched as Gabrielle grabbed her staff and strode out of the campsite. She gave an evil grin and leaned back against a fallen log, "And no sleeping with Inn Keeper!"

"Xena!!"

"Kidding."

"You're gonna pay for that."

Well, an hour later the bard returned, her arms loaded down with wineskins which she duly dropped at the feet of her somewhat surprised friend.

Xena uncorked the first one and took a tentative sniff, "Port! How in Hades name did you manage that?"

Gabrielle sat down looking smug, "You're not the only one with many skills, my friend."

Xena took a long drag and sighed in contentment, "Well, however you did it, it was worth it."

"Glad you think so."

"I do."

"Good. 'Cos you're re-thatching the tavern roof tomorrow morning."

Sigh, "I'll get you for that, bard."

And things had gone on from there. They had to return the wineskins the next day and it would have been rude to take them back still full of port.

So the drinking began.

And carried on.

And on.

Until eventually: "Oy."

Gabrielle blinked over at her friend, "Wha'?"

"I've forgot who I am."

"Oh."

"Have you forgot who I am?"

The bard considered this, then shook her head, "Nope."

"Oh."

Silence, broken only by the sound of someone hiccuping gently, then: "Who am !?"

Gabrielle gazed up at the stars, which gazed right back at her, and held her arms aloft in the traditional heroic manner of the best Academy trained bards, "You're Xena: Warrior Princess, Bitch of Tartarus, Destroyer of Nations, Scourge of Ares and laxative to every constipated bad guy to cross your path."

Xena grinned, "I gotta lotta names, don't I?"

"Yup."

More silence, then, "Who are you?"

"I'm Grabi…Gari…Grabri...you know that's just typical of my mother!"

"Wha'?"

"She coulda called me anything in the Known World - anything - but she hasta call me Grabirelle. An' you try sayin' that when you're drunk."

Xena tried, then shook her head, "Can't be done."

"Yeah I know. It's typical. She called Lila Lila, you know…"

"Well, I kinda guessed."

"It just rolls offa the tongue."

Another grin, "So I've heard."

Gabby took the wineskin from her friend and drained it, "She did it on purpose, ya know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." The skin was tossed aside as Xena uncorked another, "All the time we were growing up it was: 'be good, look afta the baby, take that outa your mouth, don't eat that or you'll die, get down offa the roof.' And then - and then - she goes and makes us move to Potti…Potal…"

"Po-ta-dee-a."

The bard slapped her friend on the shoulder and tried to sit up, "Zactly! So now, thanks to my mother, I'm Grabirelle of Pottidooy." She gave up the effort and flopped back down against the log, accepting the wineskin from Xena and almost drowning herself while drinking.

Xena snatched it away from her choking friend, "No consideration, tha's her trouble."

"She's a bitch is what she is!"

"Why?"

"Cos she knew - she knew - I'd hafta spend the wholea my adult life sober an' never have a drink neither."

Xena prodded her, "Yeah. Cos no taxi-chariot is gonna pick you up just to have you dribble that at him."

"Zactly!" Gabby nodded her head sadly, "I don't think I like my mother any more."

With a shake of the head, Hercules glanced over at Iolaus. The smaller man was curled up in a tight ball, tears of silent laughter coursing down his cheeks, one fist stuffed into his mouth as he bit on his hand in an effort to stay quiet.

The demi-god frowned, "Iolaus," he whispered, "They're our friends. We shouldn't be laughing at them."

Gosh, he was heroic and chivalrous and ever-so-nice. He was just the kind of guy you could take to meet the family, knowing that he would love the food, laugh at the jokes, offer to do the dishes and never - never - chat up your sister the second your back was turned.

Iolaus was just as heroic and still ever-so-nice, but you and I know that the second your back was turned he would be rolling around the hayloft with your sister, you mother and your great Aunt Gertrudia simply because they were there.

He looked up at his buddy and tried to pull himself together, "Sorry, Herc," he whispered, "You're right. We should let them know we're here. After all, they're going to need your patented hangover cure in the morning."

Herc nodded and got to his feet.

Now, he was about to step into the campsite. Honest he was. But the next words out of Xena's mouth were, "D'you think Herc'lees is sexy?" and before he knew it he was still as a statue and had Iolaus' arm in a vice-like grip, preventing him from moving.

Anyway, Xena had said, "D'you think Herc'lees is sexy?"

Gabrielle gave one of those girlish giggles and elbowed her friend in the ribs.

Xena elbowed her right back, "No. No seriously, Gab. D'you think Herc is sexy?"

Gabrielle considered this for a moment then scrunched up her nose and shook her head, "Too many muscles."

Behind the ever so handy tree, Iolaus sniggered.

Hercules glared at him.

"Wha's wrong wi' muscles - I like muscles."

"Nah. I don' like a guy to have that many muscles…jus' one…big…one…"

Xena choked, spilling port all down her front, "Grabirelle!!"

"Y'see! Y'see! I tol' you it was m'possible to say when you're drunk!"

"Don' change the subject!"

"You get very shrill when you're shocked, y'know."

"I am not shrill!"

Gabrielle rescued the fallen wineskin and took a noisy slurp, "Oh, wha's the probl'm. I happen to think Herc'lees has too many muscles."

"Hah!"

"Now Yolus, on the other hand…Yolus is…"

"Is wha'?"

Behind the ever so handy tree, Iolaus' interest perked up noticeably.

"Yolus is jus' a…a sexybot."

Hercules bit his lip and tried not to snigger.

Heroic demi-gods did not snigger. It was nowhere near manly enough.

"Sexybot!?"

"Yeah…" All defensive now, Gabby sat up and glared at Xena who was laughing like a sewerage trench, "…stop laughin'!…will you stop laughin' at me!!"

Xena tried to stop laughing. She just didn't try very hard, "I'm sorry," snort, "…sexybot…" giggle.

"All right…okay, funny lady…what's so damn'd special about Herc'lees, eh?"

Xena sat up a little woozily and frowned, "Herc'lees is…well, he's…he's a demi-god y'know?"

"So I've heard…"

"And he's got a lot of…stamina…"

Gabrielle raised an innocent eyebrow, "Stamina?"

"Yeah, you know…when it comes to… ex'r'cise… he can…keep it up for a long time…"

Another, equally innocent eyebrow followed the first, "Exercise?"

Xena chucked the wineskin at her friend in frustration, "Oh come on Garibrelle…you know wha' I mean."

The bard caught the skin, took a swig, smacked her lips noisily and shook her head, "Nope, you've los' me."

"Do I have to spell it out?"

Deciding things had gone on far too long for heroically, manly scruples to allow, Herc stepped out from behind the ever so handy tree.

Gabrielle saw him straight away and did what any good friend would do in such a situation. She milked it for all it was worth.

She grinned and looked the Big Guy straight in the eye, "If y'wouldn't mind" she said.

Xena was unaware, oblivious and blushing like Hades. Not that anything made Hades blush. As a rule he'd seen it all and, once he got round to taking off his gloves, he had done it all too.

Anyway, she was blushing and embarrassed and wanting this conversation to end. "He's a damn'd good lay, all right!?" she shouted.

Gabrielle's grin widened as Herc shuffled uncomfortably and wished he was somewhere else. "Oh" giggle, "I see…" snort.

Xena glared at the bard and noticed that she wasn't actually looking her in the eye. That she was grinning at something behind her.

A thought occurred to her and she swallowed, "He's standin' behind me, isn't he?"

Giggle "Oh yeah."

"I hate you, Gab. Jus' thought you should know."

"That's okay, Sshena, I hate you too."

With as much dignity as she could muster, Xena turned slowly and flashed Hercules a beaming, all teeth and eyes, smile, "Hi Herc…"

To his credit, the demi-god had his blush firmly under control, "Hello, Xena…Gabrielle…"

Iolaus stepped up behind his friend and Gabrielle looked him up and down, loitering a little too long on down, then gave an enthusiastic wave, "Hi Sexybot!"

"…um…"

Gabrielle tried to raise the wineskin to her lips once more only to find it snatched away by a Herculean sized hand, "I think I should take care of that."

She tugged it back, "But I wanna nother drink."

He tugged harder and she fell backwards in an undignified and completely unregal heap, "No you don't."

"I'm a Namazon Queen an' if I say I wanna nother drink then I wanna nother drink. Now gimme that back or I'll set Sshena on you - an' she's…she's…"

"She's passed out, Gabrielle."

She looked. She had, "Oh."

Hercules emptied the skin into a nearby bush, "I think you've both had more than enough."

"Yeah? Well I think that it's time for another round o'the wineskin."

"I agree!" cried a voice from ground level.

Gabrielle grinned down at her sprawled friend, "Hey, you're awake!"

"Takes more'n a few drinks to take down Xena…"

The bard nodded knowingly, "She's right you know."

"Destroyer of Princesses…"

Hercules raised an eyebrow with a sigh, "Really"

"Bitch of Laxatives…"

"Oh yeah," said Gab with a serious frown, "Use-ly it takes arrows…lots n lots of arrows…all fired at the same time n'all aimed really really acra…acur…all aimed really really well."

Xena tugged on Herc's arm, "I've been sick on your boot."

"Sigh."

And the night rolled on.

Iolaus squirmed as Gabby, leaning back against the fallen log with a silly grin plastered across her face, tugged on his sleeve, "I learned a song. D'ya wanna hear it?"

"Well…"

She tried to focus on him, but her concentration kept wandering and her eyesight insisted on following it, "Issa really good song. It's got Amazons n'centaurs n'stuff."

He sighed, "Well, if you must."

"Great! It's called An Amazon Staff Has A Knob On The End."

"What!!?"

Deep breath, "Oh, an Amazon's staff has a knob on the end

A knob, a knob, a knob on the end

A little white tuft to tickle your friend

Oh an Amazon staff has a knob on the end."

Xena nudged the wide eyed Iolaus with a badly aimed elbow, "There's twenny five verses of this y'know."

"Oh Zeus."

"And some o'them are really, really rude."

"Really"

"Oh yeah. Hey Gab. Sing the verse with the centaur and the wood nymph."

"Okay" Another deep breath "Oh, an Amazon staff has a knob on the end

But centaurs have knobs of all…"

Iolaus clamped his hand over the slightly out of tune bard's mouth, "That's all right, Gabrielle. I think we can guess the rest."

…lick…"Your hand tastes nice."

"Herc!!"

The two men left at verse 17 - the one with the sword, the codpiece and the chastity belt, which Xena was singing along to with great enthusiasm and much waving of arms. Hercules suggested that he and Iolaus make camp a little way away. No one would be able to sneak up on them and they would be close enough incase of alcohol induced emergencies.

The night rolled on with much singing and giggling and general hazy jollity.

Then morning arrived.

The sun rose in beautific splendour, casting its golden rays across the land. Sunbeams danced across the fields and played among the branches of the trees bringing new light to the fresh dawn.

Birds chirped and cheeped, hopping from branch to branch as the joys of spring soared through them, releasing itself in a gorgeous chorus of song which echoed across the land inviting one and all to rise and greet a fine new day.

A chakram buzzed its slightly unsteady way through the branches bringing startled squawks then instant silence amidst a flurry of feathers and leaves, "Shut the Tartarus up!"

Gabrielle lifted her head from the bedroll, instantly regretted it and lowered it again with a heartfelt groan, "Xena…do you have to be so loud?"

The Hungover Princess caught the returning chakram with one hand and pulled the blanket over her face with the other, "…hate birds…" she muttered.

For an hour there was silence, the only sound being Argo's gentle munching as she chomped her way through a clump of grass.

Memory, like the sneaky thing it is, slowly returned.

With a crashing of undergrowth and smiles which reflected the sun in a far too painful fashion, Hercules and Iolaus tramped out of the forest and stamped ever so loudly into the campsite singing the final verse of "And Zeus Has A Very Long Thunderbolt" at the top of their voices.

Xena peered at them over the edge of her blanket, "Go away."

Ignoring her, Hercules set down the bundle of firewood he was carrying and began to make a fire and prepare a meal while Iolaus took hold of Gabrielle's blanket and pulled it off with one swift tug, "Wakey wakey!"

The bard didn't miss a beat. As the blanket was pulled away she rolled to the left and disappeared under the edge of Xena's bedroll with a muttered curse.

Iolaus grinned, "I didn't know you knew words like that."

A head of ruffled blonde hair poked out of the blanket, "I'm a bard. I know many words."

The hunter chuckled and tugged the second blanket away leaving both women glaring at him from the ground, "Iolaus," whined Gabby, "go bite a Bacchae."

"Don't tempt me" he growled before stepping aside to let Hercules through. The demi-god handed a plate of something unrecognisable to Xena, "Breakfast! A trustworthy old remedy from my misspent youth. Works wonders for hangovers."

Xena tried to give him The Look, but her eyes weren't ready to co-operate just yet and she ended up squinting, "I'm going to have to hurt you."

He grinned, "Well get this down you and you might be in a condition to catch me."

He offered a second plate to the bard.

Gabrielle took one look at the greasy mess on the platter before her and groaned, closing her eyes. Then the smell hit and those eyes widened in shock as her face turned a charming shade of green before she leant over and threw up all over Hercules' boot.

The demi god raised one stoic eyebrow, "Oh good," he muttered, "Now it matches the other one."

Xena set her plate aside and patted Gabrielle on the back, "You okay?".

"Oh yeah", the bard took a quick look at Herc and Iolaus as they hovered beside her, a picture of concern, "but I don't think I could face a day on that roof.".

Xena frowned, "Roof? But you don't...".

Gabrielle elbowed her in the ribs, "No Xena, a deal's a deal. We said we'd re-thatch that roof and we will - no matter how ill we both feel." she raised an eyebrow, "And I'm sure you must feel as bad as I do.".

Xena looked at the two men then back at Gabrielle and grinned before raising a pained hand to her head, "I've learned to hide pain, my friend," she said with a theatrical groan, "The roof's not that high so we shouldn't be hurt if we fall.".

The bard and the warrior got to unsteady feet and began to gather their things..

Gabrielle hugged the surprised Iolaus, "thanks for looking out for us and for making such a lovely breakfast. We've got to go now.".

Xena whistled and Argo trotted into camp, standing patiently as her saddled was loaded up..

Iolaus looked at Hercules, "Herc, they're in no state to spend the day on a roof.".

"I agree", chivalry kicked in and the demi-god placed a hand on Argo's bridle as Xena climbed into the saddle, "You and Gabrielle take it easy for the day. Iolaus and I will thatch the roof.".

She almost managed a scowl, "Thank you but no. A deal's a deal and we have work to do." She reached down and tugged Gabby up onto Argo's back, "We'll be fine.".

Hercules refused to let go, "Xena, listyen to reason. you're not at your best and it's going to be a hot day. Let us do this for you. As friends.".

The bard and the warrior looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement. Gabrielle smiled down at the two men, "Well, if you insist.".

"We do.".

"We'll see you around then.".

"Take care.".

With a gentle kick, Xena set Argo into a slow walk through the trees in deference to their delicate condition..

Once they left the campsite, though, the war horse began to pick up the pace and she looked back and grinned at the bard..

Iolaus watched as Argo broke into a trot and then an all out gallop, "Is it me, or have we just been conned?" he asked..

Xena's warcry echoed back through the trees accompanied by Gabrielle's laugh..

Hercules patted his friend on the shoulder, "Fished in," he smiled, "hook, line and sinker.".

They turned and walked towards the village where a threadbare tavern roof was waiting to be thatched..

Alkaseltzus, god of hopeless drunks, earned quite a few Brownie points during the writing of this fiction and is flaunting them around the halls of Mount Olympus even as we speak.

For those of you who don't know what Brownie points are I can only say "dib dib dib, ging gang gooly, Brown Owl" and leave you none the wiser.

Xena Warrior Princess: Literal Thinking

Written by Karen Dunn

DISCLAIMER: Xena, Gabrielle and Argo are not mine. They belong to those pleasant and ever-so-talented people at Renaissance.

No sex, not a lot of violence but there is a bad word in this one - just one and it's over very quickly.

Please feed the bard - she's ever so hungry.

The ambush was well planned and viciously executed.

Gabrielle and I were strolling along the road, minding our own business, a game of Guess the Warlord in full swing when the trees exploded in a mess of arms, legs and weapons as a sizable band of ruffians leapt out to block our path. They were all heavily armed and in desperate need of a shave. And they all had that evil glint in their eye that promised no mercy and lots of bruises.

I counted them quickly. Twenty two big, tough men against little old me and my sword and a rather small bard with a rather big stick.

Good odds.

It was almost lunch time and this looked liked the perfect way to work up an appetite.

Within minutes we were back to back, kicking butt and breaking heads as the bandits began to look less and less tough and more and more worried.

Twenty two to two? They should have tripled that number.

A jab to the chest, a punch to the nose, a staff across the shoulders. This was exhilarating...this was invigorating...this was, well, fun...

And then he was there. All muscle and machismo and 'I'm too sexy for my leathers' attitude and for a moment the world fazed out.

He sauntered towards me, studs and buckles glistening in the sunlight, sword balanced casually on his hip, dark eyes glinting from his chiselled bearded face.

"Hello, Xena," he said.

I dispatched the bandit I was fighting with a sharp blow to the side of the head and turned to face him, my blade resting at the base of his throat, "What do you want?"

He smiled at me, "Same as usual."

I turned away, "Dream on" and made to throw myself back into the fray.

But then he was behind me, invading my personal space and the sword was suddenly very heavy in my hand. It fell to the ground with a clatter.

His voice was soft and smooth and oh so tempting. He played around in my head, whispering pictures into my mind, enticing me with promises of bloody glories and boundless treasures.

His hands were gentle on my skin as he ran them along my arms, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. His words left my body in a fog, drowning all reason and pulling me closer and closer to the dark side of my soul that had, for so long remained locked off.

I knew I was losing the fight, that it would take just one more word, whispered huskily into my ear to force me into that final step. To bring the Destroyer of Nations screaming down onto Greece on a fiery wave of guts and glory.

Then Gabrielle kicked him in the balls and kind of ruined the mood.

I shook the fuzziness from my brain as the god of war curled up at my feet clutching his dented pride and whimpered, an irate bard leaning over him and calling him words I haven't heard used outside of the more questionable taverns in Athens.

I shall have to have a word with Ephiny next time we visit the Amazons. I certainly didn't teach her these words and the bullies and bandits we have to fight on the road have been sure to watch their language since the f-word incident not long after we started travelling together.

Her father had sent a rather threatening scroll demanding that, if I insisted on dragging his daughter the length and breadth of Greece, I was to keep her away from spicy food, mind her language and protect her honour.

Ah well, one out of three ain't bad.

Well, during one particularly intense battle, throughout which Gabrielle had hovered in a safe corner, hopping from foot to foot, itching to step in and help me but not knowing how, the usual battlefield banter had been parried back and forth.

I thought nothing of it at the time.

Until the future bard asked me what a fuckwit was and could she use it in her latest story?

Well, I could see her father's well-sharpened pitchfork becoming a major and somewhat painful issue if I didn't do something quickly.

There followed a quick trip to the stream, with a bar of soap and a struggling bard, for a thorough oral washing-out, then it was on to Athens to have the word put out that, even though I had no complaints about the constant ambushes and wannabe muggings - they keep me on my toes - anyone who resorted to foul language during the butt kicking would make me very cross indeed.

Our attackers were almost polite from that point on.

Some of them even apologised before raising their swords.

So anyway, Ares was curled up on the ground, hating the world, with a ranting bard getting right in his face.

I could see this turning nasty but wasn't sure who to feel afraid for: Gabrielle or Ares. So I grabbed her by the arm, ushered her onto Argo's back, leapt into the saddle in front of her and rode like Tartarus.

The last thing I heard before we rounded a bend in the road was the somewhat high pitched voice of the God of War calling, "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little bard too!"

The threat is hardly new, so I gave it no further thought.

Had I remembered that it was Wednesday, I would have been a little more cautious.

Wednesday belongs to the Goddess of Chaos. And she thinks Ares is a thoroughly nice bloke.

Had I looked back and seen them chatting conspiratorially in the middle of the road before disappearing in a haze of butterflies and an ever-so-evil chuckle, I would have booked Gabrielle and I into the nearest inn and refused to move until Zeus himself came down and promised me it was safe.

But I didn't.

Precognition, it seems, is not one of my many skills.

I first noticed something was amiss when we stopped for a rest just before lunch.

I was perched on a rock, sharpening my sword while Gabrielle practiced The Bard Thing on a solely unimpressed Argo.

I heard her stomach rumble followed closely by a heartfelt, "Gods, I'm hungry."

I didn't look up, "Yes, I noticed."

"I'm really, really, really hungry."

"I get the idea."

"I'm soooo hungry..."

"Gabrielle..."

"I'm so hungry I could..."

I sighed, "You could eat a horse?"

Her eyes lit up, "I could?!"

She jumped to her feet and looked closely at Argo, licking her lips. Argo snorted nervously.

I stopped sharpening my sword and frowned, "Get away from my horse, bard."

"Just a bite."

"Gabrielle, put that knife down..."

"Perhaps a piece of haunch..."

Highly trained war horse or not, Argo is not stupid and, when Gabrielle started rummaging in our cooking bag, the mare tossed her head, slipped her reins and galloped out of the clearing at top speed.

Gabrielle sprang to her feet, "Hey!" and she sprinted off after her.

As Argo disappeared down the road with the bard hot on her heels brandishing a knife and a pouch of herbs, my little inner voice started muttering about gods and interference.

That little inner voice doesn't often let me down - if you don't count the incident when I was six years old and ran through the town in the dead of night in my nightclothes screaming that Thaddeus the blacksmith was killing my mommy in her bedroom 'cos I could hear her moaning and everyone should come and help. Aside from that one solitary, rather embarrassing oversight, my inner voice has stood me in good stead.

I gathered our things, cursed Ares' name, and set off after them.

I found Gabrielle two miles down the road, leaning against a tree stump, trying to get her breath back.

She looked up as I approached, "Your horse is a coward, Xena. A really really fast coward."

I glared at her, "Give me the knife."

She knows that glare of old and handed it over with a scowl.

"And the herbs."

She put her hand behind her back, "These are my sister's 17 secret herbs and spices, Xena. They've never been out of the family..."

I Looked at her. She handed them over, too.

Smart girl.

"Come on," I said, "We've got a horse to find."

Gabrielle licked her lips, "Yeah!"

"And if you so much as look at her the wrong way, I will do something to you that your father hasn't had to do since you were ten."

"You'll buy me a pony?" she asked, "Why would you buy me a pony for eating Argo?"

I glared at her and stomped off down the road with the confused-looking bard running to keep up,

Being a horse, Argo knew relatively little about concealing her tracks and it proved rather easy to follow her trail.

Add to that the fact that either Gabrielle's culinary desires had really scared her or my trusty steed had been at one too many ripe apples again and all we had to do was follow our noses.

We rounded a bend in the road and there she was - my faithful, fearless, oh so reliable war horse.

"Argo!" I called to her and smiled fondly as she raised her head and whinnied at me.

With a swish of the tail she was trotting towards us when Gabrielle's stomach monster made itself known with a loud, angry rumble.

Before you could say Pegasus, Argo was gone in a clatter of hooves and a cloud of dust.

I glared at my sheepish friend, "For the love of Zeus, Gabrielle..!"

She gave me an indignant look, "Well, it's not my fault. Someone wouldn't let me start lunch earlier."

I didn't grace that with a reply. My dark side is always lurking in the shadows and it's best not to tempt it too much.

All day we walked. All ruddy day in oppressive heat, warding off those blood-sucking buzzing insects that seem to find my skin a particular delicacy.

And no sign of my horse.

I'm beginning to think that Argo is yellow in more ways than one.

As the sun began to set, my internal Idyllic Scenery Radar beeped and I pulled back a branch to find a perfect clearing next to a bubbling brook, bordered nicely by fallen logs.

Gabrielle flopped down next to one of the logs with a sigh, "I'm soo-o-o hungry."

"Don't start that again," I growled.

Why I bother growling at her is beyond me. It has absolutely no effect and I end up feeling silly. She just smiles at me until I blush self-consciously and have to go for a walk.

This was one of those times.

"Get a fire going," I told her, "I saw some berries back there. They'll do until we go fishing."

And I stomped off.

Stealth is not required when hunting berries. They rarely put up a fight.

I walked back into camp just as Gabrielle was putting the last twig on the nicely blazing fire. I place the berries next to her and picked up my sword to give it a therapeutic sharpening.

I heard the bard make an "Oo!" of delight, "Blackberries! Can I have some now?"

I buffed the blade with the corner of my bedroll, "Yeah, knock yourself out."

As soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake. Running footsteps made me turn just in time to see the jinxed bard fly headfirst into a tree...

"Gabrielle! Wait!!"

...and fall to the ground in a stunned heap clutching a handful of squashed blackberries.

With a sigh, I walked over to make sure she was alive before sitting by the fire to munch on the remaining berries.

They were quite sweet.

She woke up a few minutes later with a sore head and pinched the last of the berries from out of my hand, then we set off down the road in pursuit of the wayward horse.

Now, I'd like to claim that it was my preternaturally fine hearing that warned us of the ambush. I'd like to claim that I had to tell Gabrielle to get her staff ready as there was trouble ahead and that I basked in the awe she showered on me, amazed at yet another demonstration of my many skills.

I'd like to claim this but the bard cheerfully announcing, "You do know there are about 100 bandits waiting up ahead, don't you?" kind of put paid to that.

So I satisfied myself with drawing my sword in a fancy, impressive manner and growling, "Don't exaggerate, Gabrielle, there are 47 of them at most."

She glared at me as she lifted her staff into a defensive position and we strolled on up the hill towards the 47 bandits who were all trying to hide behind the same bush.

Things started well.

We stood in the road and waited patiently for the bandits to realise they weren't fooling anyone with their questionable rabbit impressions and finally all 47 of them lined up before us and tried to look menacing.

Only the leader was really successful. He was tall and swarthy, desperately in need of a bath and had a chin full of stubble the hardiest of razors would have had a hard time clearing.

He had a lethal-looking sword in his hand and an insane glint in his eye. I would give him five out of ten on the Ooo I'm Scared scale. Not bad for a common bandit.

Gabrielle, as usual, tried words before wallopings and smiled her best smile, "Gentlemen," she said, "I'm sure there's no need for unpleasantness. Let us pass and we'll be on our way."

They looked at her.

"Go take a hike, Blondie!" growled the leader before spitting a glob on phlegm at her feet.

I grinned to myself. She could have taken the insult, could have taken being called Blondie when today she was very obviously a redhead. She could even have taken the growl.

But spitting at her brand new, ever so clean boots would be the last straw.

I took an unconscious step back and waited for her to explode in a whirl of staff wielding fury. Waited for her to glare up at him in outrage. Waited for her to do one of the two things to him with the staff that has been known to make men scream.

The second thing is too eye-watering to mention and is illegal from here to Athens and back again.

I should have known that it was not that type of day.

"Go take a hike, Blondie!" he had growled.

"Okay" she said brightly and turned and strolled off up the road.

I blinked after her, "Gabrielle?"

She kept walking.

"Gabrielle!?"

The lead bandit drew his impressive-looking and rather sharp sword and smiled a smile of not many teeth.

She was not turning back.

"Now is not a good time to go exploring!"

As one, the others drew a variety of weapons and the clinical part of my brain noted that I had a choice of ways in which to die: sword, spear, club, staff and any number of assorted kitchen implements.

I just hoped to all the gods that I would not go down in history as Xena, the greatest warrior to ever live before she met her death at the end of a brutal looking hand whisk.

I always fancied going out in a suitably heroic manner - something involving saving the innocent, preferably children. The rescuing of children is always smiled on by the tellers of heroic tales. Either that, or saving an entire town from a fire breathing dragon or rampaging warlord with one arm tied behind my back.

Of course, in that case Hades would want to know why I had my arm tied behind my back and I'd have to spend the rest of eternity listening to Gabrielle whine on and on about how we would have lived longer if I hadn't insisted on being cocky.

Speaking of the bard, she was disappearing over the hill so I called out a final desperate appeal: "There are 47 of these guys, you know!"

She carried straight on, her pace brisk, marking time with her staff as it thumped into the ground.

The bandits closed in, "I'm really gonna hurt you if I live through this, bard!"

And then I was fighting for my life.

So now I have a bard and a horse to hunt down. One of them I shall offer an apple and a swift rub down, the other I shall hurt.

I haven't yet decided which is which but the cuts and bruises and whisk burns I received in the battle are giving me a damned good clue.

I came to a village and spotted both my wayward charges. Gabrielle was just disappearing into a tavern while Argo was grazing on a patch of grass by the well.

I marched up to the horse and tugged on her rains bringing us face to face, "You and I are going to have words," I said as I walked her to the stables and left her in the hands of a nervous-looking stable boy.

One down...

I stomped towards the tavern which went by the delightful name of The Gutted Truffle. I knew the place of old. It was a Ten Winters Ago kind of tavern.

The Gutted Truffle was something of a muddle as tavern's go. With its dank, dreary corners hiding secrets which no one with the remotest interest in living to old age would try to seek out; its splinter-wood tables and beer crate stools and unidentified stains oozing frightening stenches, the Gutted Truffle had all the makings of a perfectly respectable dive.

For years barbarians and warlords shared bawdy jokes with Amazons and warriors as they knocked back huge frothing flagons of Mother's Gusset while trying to out-gross one another in the rude song stakes.

You knew where you stood with a tavern like that.

It had all gone wrong some three years ago.

Crug, the landlord, had returned from a two-week holiday in a bed and breakfast by the sea with lots of strange ideas about hygiene and the like. Before the regulars knew what hit them he had coasters for the drinks and separate holes for men and women to throw up in. And he changed the name from the Gutted Peasant to the Gutted Truffle.

He said it was posh and would attract a better class of clientele.

The barbarians and warlords and warriors and Amazons all shrugged and ordered a slow drink and a fast woman.

Which was when Crug informed them that the delightful services of Mad Dolly and her ever-itching band of bed warmers would no longer be available as he needed the rooms for paying guests. The kind who stayed a night, paid their bill and didn't leaves stains on the sheets which Mrs Crug was afraid to go near.

The Gutted Peasant Tavern was now the Gutted Truffle Inn.

Half the regulars left before the first pint was pulled.

They came back again when they realised it was the only pub in town but they weren't happy and deliberately vandalised the coasters.

Crug called them asinine philistines and watered down their Mother's Gusset.

It was lucky for him that I was the only one who understood what he had said - and even luckier that I was in a good mood at the time.

I looked round my once familiar stamping ground and immediately noticed a distinct lack of vertically-challenged bards.

I went to the bar and glared at Crug, "Where did she go?"

He was polishing a tankard - another of his strange new habits, "Who?"

"The short Amazon with the staff."

"Oh her. She went out back with Foddus."

"What? Why?"

"He asked her to show him a good time and she said okay."

I was away from the bar and through the back door in the blink of an eye, sword drawn and bloody murder bubbling near the surface. I skidded round the corner and ground to a halt.

They were both lying under a tree to the back of the tavern, fully clothed with Foddus wearing a look of complete bewilderment as Gabrielle fed him nutbread and told him the story of Hercules and the Amazon Women with much waving of arms and emphasizing of exciting parts.

She spotted me straight away and waved cheerfully, "Xena," she called, "I'm just showing this nice man a good time. Won't be a sec."

He looked up as I stood there, sword drawn and murderous expression firmly fixed, and jumped to his feet, "Xena!?" he spluttered, almost choking on his nutbread, "I didn't touch her...if I'd known who she was...I didn't...I wouldn't..." He glanced back and forth between me and the lazing bard and for a moment I thought he was going to cry, "Why am I apologizing?" he whimpered, "I didn't do anything!"

And he ran away, his previously unquestioned bad boy reputation in tatters.

I sheathed my sword, took the startled bard by the ear and marched her back through the tavern and out to the stables where Argo was trying her hardest to look ashamed.

I was pleased to see Gabrielle no longer had that hungry look in her eye when it came to my horse - perhaps she had sated herself on nutbread and Amazon fantasies.

Perhaps things were returning to normal.

Yeah right.

"Xena" she whined, tugging away from my grip, "Xena, I have to go back to the tavern."

"Why?"

"I promised Crug I'd tell a few stories."

Annoyed, I grabbed her ear again and dragged her back to the tavern. I settled into a seat as she headed for the stage with a wave to Crug who, to my astonishment, waved back with a cheery, "Break a leg, Gabby!"

Well, I never knew she could move that fast.

In the blink of an eye she had taken a running jump from the edge of the rather high stage and was hurtling through the air towards a table of rather startled-looking drinkers.

That I caught her at all is a miracle.

I flew across the room and, with a rousing battle cry, threw myself between her and the now openly cowering drinkers.

We made quite a mess of the table and I had to buy everyone a fresh drink.

Well, we both walked away unharmed but the rest of the tavern seemed to think this was all part of the act and Gabrielle, being a bard and having far more imagination than it is safe for one person to possess, caught onto a money making idea faster than Salmoneus could say "ker-ching!"

She dragged me to the bar, as the crowd began slamming their tankards on tabletops and calling for more, and said, "How do you fancy being an actor?"

Crug placed a mug of port in front of me and I took a deep drag, "Nope."

She was hopping from foot to foot, "Think about how much better my stories will be if the actual Warrior Princess is there to act out the best bits!"

"Not gonna happen."

She shook my arm, "Oh come on, Xena, it'll be fun."

I pried her fingers from my arm one at a time and Looked at her, "Please explain how me humiliating myself in front of a tavern full of strangers will be fun?"

"Don't you see? It will add an extra dimension to the story. It'll help the audience focus on what's happening."

I went for the low blow, "A good bard doesn't need visual effects, Gabrielle, and you're the best bard this side of Corinth."

"Oh..."

"Don't sulk."

"But..."

"You can talk 'til you're blue in the face, the answer will still be no."

I turned back to the bar and tuned her out, concentrating on my mug of port.

After a couple of good swallows, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I glared at the nervous-looking little man at my side, "Yes?"

He pointed at something behind me, "Your friend's gone a funny colour."

I spun round to find Gabrielle still chatting away nineteen to the dozen, a string of gasped Please Xenas and It'll be funs pouring from her rather blue face.

For the love of Zeus! When I find the god responsible for this curse,...

I leapt away from the bar and slapped her on the back, "All right, I'll do the gods damned story!!"

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, smiled sweetly and passed out at my feet.

I hate when that happens.

Well, the tavern finally got its story and I came through it relatively unscathed.

Okay so I had to damage a couple of hecklers in the front row for calling me "sweetie pie" and trying to look up my battle dress but other than that, Gabrielle said it went rather well.

Yeah, sure. She's not the one who will have to put up with the thespian jokes for the rest of her life. She's not the one who will have to tolerate warlords laughing like drains at the start of every battle and asking whether or not the light is right for me and would I like them to avoid my good side.

And she's not the one who had to fight to keep her dark side in check as she left the tavern with every swarthy bandit from here to the Aegean shouting out for an encore and throwing flowers.

We stopped a couple of miles out of town and bedded down for the night.

Morpheus was calling me, like the git he is, and I just knew he had a head full of dreams lined up that would involve bright lights, bouquets of flowers and me smiling tearfully at a room full of luvvies saying things like "This is such a surprise" and "I want to dedicate this to my mother" as I gripped a cheap 'n' tacky award to my chest.

Ah well, I thought, I'm a warrior, perhaps I could persuade myself to charge through said luvvies hacking limbs left, right and centre.

I snuggled down into my bedroll and prepared for a night's dreamscape mayhem.

Just as I was drifting off I felt a prod , "Xena?"

I sighed, "Gabrielle, it's late," and closed my eyes again.

I knew it wouldn't work. She prodded me again, "Xena?"

"WHAT!?!"

"I can't sleep."

It had been a long day. I had had enough. Drastic action was called for.

So I took advantage of the situation, looked her in the eye and said, "Count sheep. Works for me."

"Okay," she said and I heard her wonder away from the camp in search of sheep.

Given that we're right in the middle of cattle country, it'll be a long search.

I slept really well that night.

Morning came and I was up with the first birdsong.

Gabrielle was nowhere to be seen but I wasn't worried. She was probably snoring at the foot of some tree or other, worn out by last night's great Greek sheep hunt.

I nipped down to the stream and snatched a passing trout from its sparkling depths. The fish looked at me with wide, unblinking eyes, its mouth opening and closing in panic.

All I had to do now was cook it.

That's one thing I will never understand. If you gave Gabby and I identical fishes and we both cleaned them, wrapped them in leaves and put them in the fire for 10 minutes per pound plus an additional ten minutes just to be sure; she would end up with a mouth watering meal fit for a king while I, despite my many skills, would produce something vaguely fish shaped that a starving man would turn down, saying he'll chance his luck at the next city and, yes, he knows there isn't another living soul for three weeks in any direction but he'll be damned if he's putting that in his mouth.

So I threw breakfast back into the stream and spared us both a bad day.

I knew I had found her the second a scrawny young boy came running through the grass at a cliff edge, waving his arms frantically to get my attention.

Cows were grazing everywhere. There wasn't a sheep in sight. Or a bard for that matter.

I grabbed his arms as he reached me, "Calm down. Tell me what's wrong."

His bottom lip trembled, "It wasn't my fault! I swear it wasn't!"

"What happened?"

"She kept asking me where the sheep were. I told her over and over that there are no sheep, that this is cattle country but she wouldn't let it drop. So I told her..."

I had a bad feeling about this, "Told her what?"

"I told her to go take a running jump and..."

"And she did."

He nodded and pointed behind him, "Right off that cliff."

Oh great. As if I didn't have enough guilt to cope with. Go and count sheep, I'd said. It helps me sleep, I'd said. And all because I'd had a rough, humiliating day trying to keep her out of trouble.

I threw myself down at the edge of the cliff and peered over, dreading what I might see.

What I saw was my bard hanging from a vine, looking slightly worried.

Relief is not a strong enough word.

She went to wave at me but thought better of it, settling for a sheepish grin, "Um, Xena?"

"Yes, Gabrielle?"

"This isn't fun."

I grinned back, "It doesn't look it. Would you like a hand back up?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

I uncoiled my whip and lowered the tapered end down over the edge. Eyes tight shut, she reached out and wrapped it round her wrist and I hauled her back up onto solid ground.

A shudder ran up my spine and I turned.

With a crackle of light Ares appeared before me, the Goddess of Chaos behind him, shedding a hazy cloak of butterflies.

The God of War looked from Gabrielle to the cliff and back again, "You mean it worked?"

I stormed towards him, "I knew this was your doing!"

He shrugged and pointed a thumb at the Goddess of Chaos, "Well, it was her idea but I agreed to it. Never thought it would work, though."

He walked over to the glowering Gabrielle, "I'm sorry but I always wanted to say this and in your present state of mind, it should be fun," he said, not sounding apologetic at all. He cleared his throat, "Gabrielle. Go fu..."

My chackram hit him square on the nose.

"Ow!"

"Be nice."

He wriggled his dented nose back into shape, "A guy's gotta have a little fun."

I took him by the scruff of the neck and marched him up to the bard, "Okay, you've had your fun, now take the spell off."

"Do I have to?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

He pouted at me, "You know, officially you can't make me do this...I mean, I am a god, you know..."

"Try me."

"One day, I'll say no..."

"And on that day Hades will be skating to work."

"Ouch."

He shook himself free of my grip and straightened his shirt with as much dignity as he could muster. Then he threw a lightning bolt at Gabby's chest and grinned as she fell to the floor, "All done," he said and disappeared in a cocky sparkle.

The Goddess of Chaos handed me a butterfly, "Great with mayonnaise," she whispered and vanished.

I looked at the butterfly, decided I would never be that hungry, and set it free.

I think it laughed at me as it flew away.

I couldn't be sure that Ares had done as I asked, so a test was in order.

"Gabrielle?" I called as she rose groggily to her feet.

"What is it?"

"Go jump off a cliff."

Hey, I'm faster than her. I'd catch her. Probably.

"What?!" She was glaring at me but making no attempt to mimic a lemming.

I breathed a sigh of relief and patted her shoulder, "Let's go."

She shook my hand away and I noticed that her face was going a pink ragey colour, "You tell me to go jump off a cliff and expect me not to comment?"

"Gabrielle, it was a test."

"For what?! Blind idiocy?!"

Oh great. She didn't remember a thing. What is it with gods and amnesia?

I placed my arm back across her shoulders and led her off down the road, "Let me explain..."

"You'd better."

"Well, you remember that ambush..."

The End

Disclaimer: Although Gabrielle was unharmed during the writing of this fiction, her fear of long drops and respect for lemmings has reached new heights.

Xena Warrior Princess: Letting Rip

Written by Karen Dunn

DISCLAIMER: Xena and Gab...not mine...Renaissance...lucky bastards...

Just a little piece of nonsense that came to me as I watched the storms blowing away the south coast of England.

"Come on, you can do it."

"Aaaa...oh, gods, I can't...aaa"

"Yes you can."

"aaa...nnnn...it's not happening..."

"Just relax."

"Aaa..."

"It's the most natural thing in the world."

"Aaaa...I can't...sob..."

"It'll never happen if you tense up."

"<gasp>...aaaa..."

"Try rubbing it - it helps - honest."

"I am...aaa....ohh..."

"Would you like me to rub it?"

"<glare>...aaaa....nnnn..."

"I'm just trying to help."

"...aaaaaa...."

"That's it!"

"Nnn...oh gods. Here we go....aaaa."

"You're nearly there!!"

"Aaa aaah <oh gods> aaaa.................AAACHOOOOO!!!!!!"

"Xena..."

"<sniff> Oh that is so much better."

"I'm pleased for you. But next time, could you use a handkerchief - that was disgusting."

"<sniff>"

The End <sorry>