A

Author's Note: This answers the December 2002 Challenge, to rewrite a Christmas song with Hercules themed lyrics. I went a little overboard with this one, but amongst the silliness I mean it as a loving tribute to my wonderful, talented, amazing fellow bards and also to the beloved characters who have been my inspiration. The songs are all indexed at the end, for I did use a few strange ones.

I don’t claim to own those familiar characters we all know and love. I do own Corperatus, but I will loan him out if you want to play “Pin the Tail on the JackA**” at your Christmas Party. Hagios Nikolaos appears courtesy of fanfics of Christmas Past.

And a big, hearty thank you to everyone who graciously allowed me to write them into the story. A special thanks to Llyra for giving me permission to use her so liberally, a brave thing since she’s glimpsed the depths of my depraved mind before. :)

Iolaus was literally dancing with excitement, bounding along the road several paces ahead of his partner. Hercules followed much more sedately, but with a warm smile and a merry twinkle in his eyes as he took in his friend’s unbridled enthusiasm.

“I just love Solstice,” the hunter exclaimed with a happy sigh.

“Really?” the demigod remarked dryly. “I never would have been able to tell.”

Iolaus giggled good naturedly and paused, falling into step beside his friend.

“There’s just a magic in the air, you know,” he continued. “Everybody’s happy and celebrating, and you get to see family and old friends and there’s dancing and feasting... Definitely my favorite time of the year.”

To prove his point, the hunter stopped walking and threw out his arms, launching into song.

“That was a nice thought, but you’d better not get your hopes up just yet,” Hercules advised his friend as Iolaus finished warbling his last note and took a grand bow. “You know how trouble tends to jump up every time we’ve planned a nice, relaxing vacation.”

“Oh, come on, Herc,” the hunter scoffed. “You worry too much. What could happen?”

“Well, that for starters,” the demigod replied, pointing down the road. Iolaus squinted, trying to make out the figure that was running toward them at breakneck speed, calling out their names and waving her arms frantically.

“Hey, isn’t that Llyra?”

“Yep,” Hercules replied. “And you know what that means.”

“Oh, definitely trouble,” the hunter grinned.

The heroes waited as the bard came flying toward them, skidding to a halt and almost collapsing at their feet. Iolaus caught her before she hit the ground, holding her tightly in his strong arms. Llyra looked up into his sparkling blue eyes, realizing that her current position was not the best one to help her catch her breath.

“Here,” the demigod offered, passing her his waterskin.

“Thanks,” she gasped, taking a welcomed gulp of water. After a few minutes, she was more or less composed, and reluctantly left the warmth of the hunter’s embrace, ensuring him that she was fine. But he hovered closely to her, ready to offer assistance if she should need it again.

“Um, Llyra?” Hercules finally said. “Did you want us for something?”

“Yes,” she blushed, realizing that she’d been standing there speechless, just grinning at Iolaus, lost in the memories of her incredible birthday night. But Llyra quickly recovered her composure and grew serious as she remember the task at hand. “Actually, Quiet Wolf sent me to find you. She needs your help in Thermopylae right away.”

“Then we’d better hurry,” the demigod declared, glancing at his partner for his confirming nod. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Before Iolaus had the chance, Hercules linked Llyra’s arm through his own and began escorting her down the road, dropping a quick kiss on the top of her head. “It’s good to see you again.”

Iolaus followed them with a frown on his handsome face, though it was not caused by his partner’s upstaging. He hadn’t missed the somber expression that had come over one of his favorite Iolausian’s face, and it worried him. Llyra was hardly ever so serious, which was just one of the reasons he loved her. And the hunter also knew that Quiet Wolf never would have sent for them so close to Solstice unless something was very, very wrong. He began to have a bad feeling that the trouble waiting for them was going to turn out to be *TROUBLE*.

The threesome traveled quickly, and they soon reached the quiet streets of Thermopylae. Llyra led the two heroes to a small inn in the center of the town where Quiet Wolf had been busy wearing a small trench in the floorboards as she paced back and forth restlessly.

“Thank you both for coming,” the bard greeted them, hugging each of them in turn. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I don’t know where else to turn.”

“You know you’re never a bother,” Iolaus assured her quickly, giving her a grin. “Just tell us what the problem is.”

“Have you ever heard of the Bard’s Orphanage?” Quiet Wolf asked.

“Sure,” Hercules replied. “It’s right here in Thermopylae. It’s a place where the muses house WIPs and missing scenes and other story ideas until they can be adopted by loving bards who raise them into fine, upstanding fanfics. A very noble institution.”

“Its about to be shut down,” Llyra informed them sadly.

“What?” Iolaus demanded. “Why?”

“The lease is up, and the owner, Corperatus, doesn’t want to renew,” Quiet Wolf explained. “He doesn’t care about the muses or the bards or the fans or anyone. All he wants is the property, so he can turn it into a more profitable venture. If he succeeds, then all those wonderful gifts of the muses will be lost to the bards forever, and fanfic will slowly die out. We can’t let this happen!”

The thought was so horrific, that the bard felt compelled to sing about it.

“You want Hercules to talk to him?” the hunter inquired, his tone indicating that a little more than talking might just occur.

“No.” Quiet Wolf shook her head. “I’ve already talked to him. Legally, Corperatus is within his rights to terminate the lease. The best I could do was to get him to agree to sell the lease, but there is no way I can come up with the kind of money he’s asking for. Especially since we only have until Solstice.”

“Why don’t you talk to the Iolausians?” Hercules suggested. “They are the kindest, most generous group of people I’ve ever seen. I’m sure they would be willing to help front the money.”

“Oh, we know that they would,” Llyra quickly agreed. “But we just couldn’t ask them for a donation of this magnitude. At least not without giving them something in return.”

“I’ve got it!” Iolaus exclaimed. “Why don’t we throw a giant Solstice bash? We can sell tickets and invite all the Iolausians, and in return they get a wild party, some food, and some great entertainment.”

“Iolaus, you are brilliant!” Quiet Wolf shrieked, throwing her arms around the hunter.

“Wait a minute,” Hercules said slowly. “Exactly what kind of entertainment are we talking about here?”

“Come on, Herc,” the hunter laughed, untangling himself from the enthusiastic bard. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. First things first. We’re going to need the whole gang for this caper, so let’s get moving. Llyra, you start organizing things here and keep Quiet Wolf out of trouble. Herc and I will summon the calvary.”

Iolaus made his way out into the street of Thermopylae, followed by a slightly hesitant demigod who grumbled suspiciously under his breath as his partner began to sing.

“Wait a minute,” Hercules intervened, looking his partner squarely in the eye. “What was that about joining the band? You aren’t thinking what I think you’re thinking, are you?”

Before Iolaus could answer, a burst of pink sparkles announced the arrival of the goddess of love.

“Hey, Aphrodite,” the hunter greeted her. “What brings you here?”

“We heard about the little problem with the Bard’s Orphanage,” she told them, fluffing her blond curls and giving her Sweet Cheeks a blinding smile. “We want to help out. Dad told me to invite you to hold your benefit party up on Olympus.”

“Cool!” Iolaus enthused.

“Hold on,” the demigod interjected, giving his partner a firm “down boy” look. “No offense, Aphrodite, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. This is a very important fundraiser, and there’s too much at stake to risk giving the gods an open invitation to screw it all up.”

“Chill out, Hercola!” the goddess admonished her brother. “Give your suspicions a rest for the holiday, ok? This isn’t some sort of plot or trap. All of the gods owe just as much to the bards as you guys do, and we want to help out. Nobody is going to make trouble. We really do want to help. And Olympus is the perfect location. It’s already all decorated for you and everything. Just imagine...”

The goddess of love spun in a carefree circle of delight as she began to vocally serenade the two heroes.

“Come on, Herc,” Iolaus cajoled after he gave Aphrodite due applause. “Even you can’t say ‘no’ to that. Let’s do it. Please?”

The demigod had been moved by his sister’s tune, and he grudgingly decided that he would put away his differences with the gods for one night. After all, he might have said ‘no’ to the goddess of love, but he never could say ‘no’ to Iolaus.

“All right. Aphrodite, we accept your gracious offer.”

“Awesome,” she exclaimed, jumping up and down. “Now, you get all the invitations out and set up the entertainment, and we’ll do the rest. Later!”

Hercules watched as she vanished, then turned to his partner.

“Iolaus, I demand to know exactly what sort of entertainment you are planning.”

“Not now, Herc,” the hunter muttered impatiently, already scribbling away on a scroll. “We have to get the word out to all the Iolausians. What do you think of this?”

The demigod glanced over his friend’s shoulder and read the lines he had penned, a slight frown creasing his brow.

“Why do you have to make it so flowery?” he asked.

“Oh, I suppose you’d just have it read ‘Come to Olympus for a Solstice party’?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Honestly,” Iolaus sighed in frustration. “You’d think after all these years you would have learned something from me by now, Herc. If you want to catch the fish, you have to present them with some attractive bait.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Forget it. You’re hopeless.” The hunter added a few more touches to his scroll, then held it up and admired his handiwork. “Not bad, even if I’m not a bard. Come on, we have to get this delivered, and then we need to get to work on the entertainment.”

Hermes was charged with the task of delivering the message, with strict instructions that it was a *singing* scroll. So, the god dutifully visited each and every Iolausian, startling more than a few of them with his rendition of Iolaus’ invitation.

As the Iolausians were all receiving their invitations and sending their replies, there was a flurry of activity happening up on Mount Olympus. As Aphrodite had promised, it was the perfect place. A stage had been placed in Demeter’s garden, holly and ivy garlands adorning the marble columns and topped with bright red bows. Tables and chairs were meticulously arranged in front of the stage, assuring that everyone seated would have a perfect view. A fountain in the center of the garden spewed a constant stream of Dionysus’ sweetest wine, and the buffet tables were heaping with the most fabulous confections the gods could design. The air was perfumed by the delicate flowers throughout the garden, and soft music floated in the breeze, courtesy of Apollo’s lyre and Pan’s pipes. Hercules noted with amusement that the satyr was firmly chained to a sturdy pillar. He made beautiful music, but a pretty girl did tend to bring out the animal in him. As they were expecting Amazons to attend the party, Zeus had decided not to take any chances.

“Well, I think we’re all set,” Iolaus announced, coming up to his partner. “Everybody is here and knows what to do. How are things on your end?”

“Great,” the demigod replied, his eyes scanning the scene before him. The garden had been prepared before they had arrived and he really hadn’t had much to do to prepare for the party, having left the entertainment in Iolaus’ hands. Finding that his strength was not needed when the gods could put things in order with a wave of a hand, he had mostly been devoting himself to patrolling the area and keeping his eyes peeled for trouble.

“Uh oh,” the hunter murmured, seeing that frown of concern creep back across his friend’s face. “I know that look. You’ve seen something suspicious, haven’t you? Or is it just one of those divine god-type feelings?”

“Neither,” Hercules admitted. “There’s no sign of trouble from any direction. And that worries me more than if I had seen something.”

“I think you’re just going to have to face it, Herc. For once, the gods are true to their word, and they are all working together to make this happen. So, you’d better just sit back and enjoy it because its surely not going to ever happen again.”

“You’re right,” the demigod sighed, giving a small shake of his head. “I just never thought I’d see the day.”

“Leave it to the Iolausians,” the hunter giggled. “They are the only ones who could have inspired this miracle. Even Ares is on his best behavior.”

“He’s got a soft spot for them,” Hercules acknowledged. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt them, and he’d put the fear of retribution in Strife and Discord, too. But what about Hera?”

“Yes, what about Hera?”

The two heroes froze at the icy voice behind them. Iolaus was the first to dare to turn around, and at his groan, Hercules made himself turn and face the spiteful face of his hated stepmother.

“Hi, Hera,” the hunter greeted her with false cheerfulness. “Nice place you have here. Love what you’ve done with the temples. Must have taken a lot of work, so you wouldn’t really want to start blasting around and ruin them, right? I mean, that’s not really a traditional Solstice custom.”

“It is for me,” the goddess purred evilly, her eyes glowing with malice. “There is nothing better than inflicting mayhem on those hapless mortals below when they are basking in the peace of their Solstice celebrations.” Hera snapped her fingers, and Apollo and Pan stopped the tune they were playing and began accompanying the goddess as she sang.

“You see, Hercules,” Hera said regally when her song was through. “Although it would give me great pleasure to thwart your plans here tonight, I cannot. The bards immortalize me in their tales, and I don’t want to lose that anymore than you do. So, just for tonight, I’m forced to ally myself with the rest of you. You have my word that I won’t ruin the party. But as for tomorrow... all bets are off.”

“Imagine that,” Iolaus murmured as the queen of the gods stalked off. “She actually does have a heart buried somewhere under all that hate.”

“No she doesn’t,” Hercules said disgustedly. “It’s her vanity doing this. She’s nothing without the bards to stroke her ego and immortalize her in infamy. If she’s really going to lay low tonight, it’s out of selfishness, believe me.”

“Maybe,” the hunter whispered thoughtfully. After all, Hera had the power to immortalize herself in infamy. Or at least to command the muses to do it for her directly. Iolaus couldn’t help but suspect that just maybe the frigid goddess wasn’t as cruel and heartless as she seemed. “Anyway,” he continued, in a normal speaking tone. “We have to go over the order of the acts. Do you want to go before or after Aphrodite and Hephaestus.”

“I told you, Iolaus, I am not singing,” the demigod declared fiercely.

“Why not?” the hunter cajoled. “You used to, at the Academy. And you have such a pretty voice...”

Hercules turned his back on his partner and walked off, as Iolaus followed him snickering, pausing to wave to Quiet Wolf and Llyra as they visited the fountain of flowing wine. Llyra let her goblet fill and turned to her friend to propose a toast, but Quiet Wolf had already gulped down the entire glass.

“Easy there, Arthur,” Llyra scolded her mildly as she went for a refill. “Save some for the party.”

“I can’t help it,” Quiet Wolf sighed, treating her second glass of the sweet nectar more gently. “I’ve got about one nerve left and I’m terrified that something’s going to go wrong. And what if this doesn’t work? I don’t even want to imagine what would happen to us all if...”

“Calm down,” Llyra commanded, grabbing her friend’s shoulders and giving her a small shake. “Don’t make me slap some reason into you. Everything is going fine, and we’ve done all that’s within our power.”

“But what if it isn’t enough?” the bard persisted.

“Well, then maybe we’ll get a Solstice miracle,” Llyra grinned.

She succeeding in coaxing a smile from Quiet Wolf, who could never be in a bad mood around her fellow looney.

“A toast,” Llyra proposed holding up her glass. “To winning our lease back.”

Quiet Wolf clinked her goblet with her friend’s and they both downed their wine. Not having a handy fireplace, they just tossed the glasses over their shoulders, both thinking that they needed to pay a visit to Callahan’s when this was over.

“Let’s go get that banner up,” Llyra suggested. “And get you away from the spirits for awhile. You have to work in the morning, remember? I’m not about to turn you loose with those cobras and pythons when you’re still half-smashed or hungover. I’d think that one constriction a lifetime is more than ample.”

Laughing, Quiet Wolf followed her wise friend over to the stage and helped her unroll the festive banner. Hanging it was another matter, and one that they found quite a struggle. At least until Ares materialized just in time to give them a hand.

“You two amaze me,” Ares told them, holding the heavy cloth in place while they secured it and raised it up, so that it stretched gaily across the top of the stage. “The entire Greek pantheon at your disposal, and you still try to do everything yourselves.”

“Yeah, well I’m not in the habit of asking the gods for anything,” Quiet Wolf snapped at him, then felt the pangs of guilt as she realized how nasty she had sounded. “I’m sorry, Ares,” she apologized quickly. “I’m just worried about tonight. If we don’t raise enough money...”

“You will,” he assured her. “You’ve always been able to do anything you’ve set your mind to. It’s that damn Iolausian quality.” He grinned rakishly at her to show he was teasing.

“Ares, maybe it’s the wine talking, but I just want you to know how much I appreciate all your help,” Quiet Wolf said sincerely. “You and the other gods. I’m not sure we could have done this without you. Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure,” the god of war replied. “I might have my fun with you Iolausians from time to time, but you know I’d never, ever hurt any of you. To tell you the truth, I think you are the only ones who really understand me. And without the bards, there would be no one to tell the stories of my triumphs, or the victories of my warriors. So it is I who should thank you for that, and of course, offer my assistance in every way, when my help is needed.”

“Why, Ares, that is almost sweet,” Llyra grinned, a mischievous gleam creeping into her eyes. Immediately, the god lost his smile and his face froze into his trademark scowl of malice. “Oh, you can’t fool us,” she continued. “You try to pretend you are big and bad and warlike, but underneath you’re just a big softie with a big, big heart.”

“That’s enough,” Ares growled, a fireball forming in his hand. “The joke is over, or else you can forget all that crap I just said about never hurting you.”

“Fine,” Llyra acquiesced, holding up her hands in surrender. But as she went back to work, she shot Quiet Wolf a look of devilish delight and began to softly sing.

By the time Llyra had finished singing, Quiet Wolf was rolling around on the floor howling with laughter, and Ares had let his fireball fizzle out and was smirking with amusement.

“All right, you’ve had your fun,” he growled, but there was a twinkle in his dark eyes. For Ares knew that for all his temper and for all of his schemes against Hercules and their golden hunter, the Iolausians loved him in spite of it. They understood that he served a purpose, a necessary function, and that he wasn’t a totally bad guy. He was capable of love, and capable of kindness and compassion. Although these displays were fleeting, they were there and the bards were able to see this, and they glorified him for the complex god that he was.

“Oh, Llyra,” Quiet Wolf gasped, holding her aching sides. “I think you should sing that on stage tonight.”

“Neither of you two screeching harpies are going anywhere near the stage,” Ares ordered. “After all, we want the crowd to give us money, not demand a refund. Speaking of which, the crowd will be arriving soon. I’ve got to go get into my costume. You two finish up here, and leave the singing to the professionals.”

“Well, I liked it,” Quiet Wolf said, dissolving into another fit of giggles as Ares disappeared.

“You are a sorry sight, my friend,” Llyra sighed, reaching down a hand to pull the bard up. “Are you drunk already?”

“Not anymore,” Quiet Wolf muttered quietly, her expression growing cold as she looked past Llyra at the pair who had just come through Olympus’ golden gates. “Excuse me.”

“Happy Solstice!” Arianna called out, smiling as she saw her friend coming to greet her.

“It was,” Quiet Wolf hissed, taking the startled bard by the arm and leading her a few paces away. “What is *he* doing here?”

“I asked him to come,” Arianna replied.

“But why? No one’s going to have any fun tonight if Corperatus is here. A constant reminder of just why we have to do this and exactly what is at stake.”

“But that’s why he needs to be here,” Arianna explained gently. “Tonight is a celebration of the joy and peace of Solstice. And of the courage and honor of heroes, and why we love them. And of course, to the glorious muses and to the talented bards who take their gifts and create the wonderful tales for everyone to share and enjoy. Corperatus doesn’t understand any of this. He’s a lonely, bitter, regretful man who has convinced himself that money is everything, because he has nothing else to fulfil his life. We have to show him that there is so much more to be had. That the world is filled with love and friends, generosity and kindness, and heroes that will risk their lives to protect the innocent and gladly sacrifice themselves for each other. And how sharing stories about these heroes, and the undying love they have for each other, helps the rest of us to feel more complete in a way, safer and happier, and how it gives us hope and makes us believe in the inherent goodness of the world. If we can make Corperatus feel these things that we know in our hearts, then not only will we have saved the Bard’s Orphanage, but we will have saved a man’s soul, as well.”

“You’re right,” Quiet Wolf said softly, her friend’s words touching her heart. She had let her temper get the better of her, leading her to believe that Corperatus was less-than-human, an evil entity to be hated and feared. But Arianna, much more level-headed and driven with a deep rooted compassion and a gift for understanding the human psyche, was not as quick to dismiss him without looking at why he was doing the things that he was. She felt only compassion and pity for this misguided man, and her extraordinary tact and dignity helped Quiet Wolf see that they had to at least try and make him see the light. “But you owe me big time,” she whispered, giving her friend a smile to show she was teasing.

Taking a deep breath, Quiet Wolf approached Corperatus, her smile becoming slightly forced as she greeted him and welcomed him to the Olympian Solstice Party. The bloated merchant looked down his nose at her, sneering slightly as he insincerely told her he was glad to be there. He rudely cut the bard off as she tried to inquire about his trip, waddling away in the direction of the buffet tables.

“May the gods give me strength,” Quiet Wolf muttered, looking up above her, momentarily forgetting she was actually on Olympus and the gods were all around her. But a flutter caught her eye and distracted her from the oily merchant’s ill-mannered treatment. “Is it snowing?”

“Magic snow,” Llyra told her, coming over in time to hear her blurted question. “A light dusting to put everyone in the spirit of Solstice, but its not cold and it won’t melt until Solstice is over. Courtesy of Demeter.”

“Doesn’t form snowballs, either,” Quiet Wolf said dejectedly, trying and failing to squeeze the falling flakes into a ball as her two friends greeted each other. “That’s probably for the best. Young Iolaus is here, and I can just see people trying to dodge flying snowballs while they’re up on stage.”

“Everything looks wonderful,” Arianna gushed, taking in the beauty of the garden. “What can I do to help?”

“I think everything’s about done,” Llyra surmised, looking the surroundings over with a critical eye and going over the mental checklist in her head. “All we need now are the Iolausians, and we’ll be ready to get this shindig started.”

“Solstice on Olympus,” Quiet Wolf sighed dreamily. “I never imagined we’d ever be here. It’s almost too good to be true.”

“Yeah, it’s *heavenly*,” Llyra grinned, beginning to sing.

“Oh, you are a riot,” Quiet Wolf told her friend sarcastically. “And by the way, I’ve only had eight and a half mugs of wine, thank you very much!”

“Well, I could do with one,” Arianna declared with a laugh. “So lead on, my friends.”

“To the fountain,” Quiet Wolf and Llyra cried in triumphant unison. The three of them raced to the fountain, filling up their goblets with the rich wine and drinking a toast, this time to the brave, irrepressible, handsome, strong, loyal, golden ball of energy who had captured their hearts.

“Who are you talking about?” the hunter asked innocently, coming up behind them as they clinked their goblets.

“Oh, just some crazy, reckless, proud, stubborn, hot-headed hero we know,” Llyra told him, giving the others a broad wink as they hid their giggles.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a hero,” Iolaus remarked, dipping his own goblet into the fountain. “Sounds like the kind of guy you girls would be better off staying away from.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt about that,” Llyra agreed, as Quiet Wolf lost it completely and fell into an uncontrollable laughing fit. Iolaus looked at her strangely for a moment, but he was familiar with the Wolf howl, having been the cause of some of them in the past, so he just shrugged and moved to hug Arianna, kissing her on the cheek as he welcomed her to the party.

“What’s going on over there?” the bard asked, hoping to detract attention away from the hot flush she could feel in her cheeks. The hunter looked over to where Hercules was escorting Corperatus to a table right next to the stage.

“Herc’s just saving his life,” Iolaus drawled, taking a sip of his wine. “That idiot actually had the nerve to put his greasy paws on Xena. Personally, I would have let her put the pinch on him, but you know my partner. Always the diplomat. Can’t say that I blame the slimeball, though. Xena is looking pretty irresistible tonight. As are all of you,” the hunter smiled winningly. “What do you say the three of you lovely ladies come with me and we can go and sample some of those delightful pastries?”

“There’s no time for that.” Jason appeared at his old friend’s elbow and gave him an impatient shove. “Go get changed, Iolaus. The first group of Iolausians are coming.”

The hunter applauded theatrically when the Argonaut finished his tune, but as Jason raised a fist and shook it threateningly at him, he turned and began trotting off to wardrobe, sneaking a pastry in each hand as he went by the table.

“Ladies, my rogue of a friend is correct. You do all look beautiful tonight. Now, let’s go greet our guests, shall we?”

The three bards followed Jason to the Olympian gates, watching Hade’s gleaming black chariot approaching, pulled by a muzzled Cerberus. As the vehicle neared, they could hear the faint singing of the gleeful Iolausians.

Hades pulled up at the gates, and his passengers disembarked, enthusiastically greeting their friends and getting welcomed inside as the god of the underworld took off again to pick up the second group. In no time, everyone had been delivered, and Demeter’s garden was packed with Iolausians, all dressed in their Solstice finest and more than ready for a good time. They all milled about the garden, partaking of the godly food and drink as they enthusiastically greeted old friends, and met a few new ones. The air was festive and spirits were high, as all the guests were delighted to be in the majestic Olympian realm, celebrating Solstice and honoring their heroes, whom they knew would not let any trouble break out on such an auspicious night.

Finally, after giving the guests plenty of time for feasting and catching up with one another, Quiet Wolf took the stage, clearing her throat and addressing her assembled listsibs.

“Hi everybody!” she called out, trying to get their attention. She tried again when she got no response, but her words were drowned out. But the crowd immediately fell silent as a ball of fire shot up into the sky and exploded. “Thanks, Ares. Hey, everyone! We are so glad that you all could make it tonight. On behalf of everybody who helped to arrange this event, I’d like to officially welcome you to Mount Olympus!” The bard paused as a loud cheer resounded. “We’ve got a great show for you tonight, and I think we’re about ready to start. So everyone get comfortable, sit back and relax, and we’ll get this party started!”

All of the Iolausians began scrambling, refilling their plates and goblets, and making sure to take care of those “nature calling”issues beforehand, so as not to miss anything, before finding their seats. When everyone was settled, the torches illuminating the garden all dimmed and a bright beam of light centered onto the stage.

“And now,” Quiet Wolf announced as the crowd watched in hushed anticipation. “I would like to present a man who needs no introduction. A big welcome for our own golden hunter, Iolaus!”

The crowd erupted into a wild frenzy of clapping and cheers and a few whistles of appreciation. Iolaus bounded out onto the stage with a broad grin of delight and took a deep bow. He had donned a new, tight pair of black leather pants and a long sleeved, dark green silk shirt that was open in front to expose most of his smooth chest. His unruly curls had been tamed into a shining golden halo, and as he approached the bard on stage, he held a sprig of mistletoe temptingly over his head. Quiet Wolf blushed and obligingly gave him a quick kiss to a bevy of cheers and catcalls from the crowd, before rushing off backstage.

“Happy Solstice,” the hunter sang out, to another round of cheering. “I’m glad to see all of you, and thank you so much for coming. As you know, we are here for a special reason tonight. We are trying to raise enough money to buy out the lease for the Bard’s Orphanage. Everyone one of us here tonight is a bard, or a fan of a bard. We rely on the bards to entertain us with stories of adventure, love, courage, and triumph. And the bards rely on the muses to help them weave their tales. Without the Orphanage, all that is lost. Nobody wants that.”

Iolaus glanced down at Corperatus, who was still seated at the table right next to the stage, a smug smirk on his face as he listened to the heartfelt words. The hunter’s blue eyes turned into an icy stare, which quickly faded as he turned his gaze onto his partner. Hercules, fearing for the merchant’s life with so many passionate and protective Iolausians glaring daggers at the man, had chosen to sit with him, for safety’s sake. The demigod smiled and nodded encouragingly at his friend, and that was all it took for Iolaus to regain his holiday spirit.

“But let’s forget all that for now,” he continued, the happy grin returning. “We are also here to celebrate Solstice, and above all, to have a little fun. So now I’d like to introduce our generous host tonight who made all of this possible. Please give a big welcome to the king of the gods, Zeus!”

Dressed in regal flowing robes of dark blue, outlined in gold, Zeus took the stage, smiling charmingly at the pretty faces he could see in the crowd as his music began.

“Thank you, Zeus,” Arianna said over the applause, stepping out onto the lighted stage. The king of the gods bowed before her, taking her hand in his and kissing it gently.

“It was my pleasure, my dear,” he murmured.

A loud coughing erupted from the audience. Zeus glanced out to meet his son’s warning gaze, and with a wave to the audience, he grinned rakishly and left the stage.

“And now,” Arianna addressed the crowd. “I’d like to bring out our next performer. He brought in a very sizable donation tonight, and I think we’ve all decided we just won’t ask where it came from. Here is everyone’s favorite non-reformed thief, Autolycus!”

The king of thieves took his place, running a hand suavely over his moustache as he relished in the loud cheers.

“The people love me,” he said in an aside to the group backstage. “But then, what’s not to love?” Ignoring the mutterings that seemed to be originating from a certain reformed thief, Autolycus began his song.

After his umpteenth bow, Llyra was finally forced to give the dashing thief an encouraging nudge toward the wings of the stage. Autolycus grudgingly gave in, taking his leave, waving and blowing kisses to his adoring legions.

“Next, we have a special performer who eagerly volunteered to help us out tonight. Everyone please welcome your favorite ferryman, and mine, Charon!”

Scuttling out onto the stage, the gravelly voiced ferryman turned to face the crowd.

“I wrote this song especially for a certain person here tonight,” he announced, looking meaningfully off toward the wings of the stage. “You know who you are.”

The black cloaked figure hurried off, not bothering to wait for his due applause.

“Next, we have a special treat,” Quiet Wolf told the crowd. “Some students from the Academy have a song they’d like to sing, and Cheiron tells me they’ve been working really hard on it. So let’s get them out here!”

The centaur appeared on the stage, followed by three familiar cadets, jostling each other as they lined up next to their headmaster.

Cheiron finally succeeded in shooing his cadets from the stage, and they immediately lost all interest in their song as they found a few audience members willing to share a table, and maybe a little more, with them.

After a few moments, Iolaus flew out onto the stage with a sheepish grin, his curls no longer tamed and sporting the shiny mistletoe leaves. Hercules pointed to his friend’s head, and the hunter removed the plant and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it back in order.

“Now you all have to help me out,” he addressed the crowd. “We have a woman of many, many talents with us tonight.” Iolaus paused, his grin growing broader. “Many talents. She’s a wonderful bard, and she lent a hand to some of our performers tonight when they were trying to compose their songs. But, she says she’s not a singer, so she doesn’t want to come out here. So maybe if we all cheer really hard, we can convince her to come on out and give us a little something.”

The audience began to cheer as loudly as they could, and the cajoling finally encouraged Gabrielle to move out onto the stage. She looked beautiful in a long white dress, but as she caught Iolaus’ eye she self consciously patted her hair and adjusted the garland of ivy leaves that adorned her head.

“I’m really not a singer,” she insisted. “But there is one little tune that came to mind, and I think you’ll all enjoy it.”

Iolaus took the battling bard’s arm and led her offstage, grinning from ear to ear as he saw his partner turning a bright shade of red.

“Thank you, Gabrielle,” Arianna said, taking the stage. “That was entertaining, but I think we all learned something, as well. And remember, Xena, it is Solstice. A time of peace, not homicide. Next, I am happy to introduce a pair of gods that we all know and love. Please welcome the master of metallurgy and the liaison of love, Hephaestus and Aphrodite!”

The god of the forge came out shyly, a bit embarrassed with all the attention. But Aphrodite pulled him along, relishing in the cheering and cuddling up close to him as they began to trade verses.

“Thank you, to our goddess of love and to her brawny blacksmith. And on behalf of all the Iolausians, a special thanks for looking out for those oh-so-Sweet-Cheeks!” Llyra grinned as the crowed cheered in agreement. “Now, it is my pleasure to introduce our celebrated denizen of the dance. You know her, you love her, so give a big round of applause for the Widow Twanky!”

“Hello, my darlings,” the Widow enthused, flouncing out onto the stage, richly bedecked in a long, red, white fur-trimmed cape. “And a happy Solstice to you all. I was just backstage speaking with our hunky hunter, and he was telling me about a friend of his, Hagios Nikolaos, better known as Father Solstice. He sounds like just my type, and since I’m between husbands right now, and resigned not to wait forever for a certain deliciously divine demigod, well... A girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do. Maestro, if you would be so kind?”

“Thank you, Widow Twanky,” Quiet Wolf said. “She gives new meaning to playing hard to get. Now, for those bards who may feel inconsequential from time to time, this next song is for you. The muses speak through us, but ultimately, we have the power to edit and hone and adapt their whisperings into our own words. Which gives us the power to emphasize certain things, downplay others... and change what we do not like. And even those who would be our enemies, come here tonight in respect of that power. So, I give to you Strife and Discord, who have learned the hard way *not* to piss us off!”

The pair of glowering godlings came out on stage, sulking, but willing to submit to what was required in the hopes of winning back the favor of the bards.

As Strife and Discord were belting out their number, trying desperately to outdo each other, Quiet Wolf hurried backstage and found her friends gathered around Feducious. Her heart sank as she took in his dour expression, but then she had to remind herself that it didn’t necessarily herald bad news. Personally, she doubted if the somber man was capable of any other expression. But as she looked at him expectantly, Feducious shook his head.

“Are you sure?” the bard asked, clinging to a desperate hope that they still had a chance.

“I counted all the proceeds three times,” Feducious told her.

“Are we even close?” Llyra wondered.

“Kind of close,” he hedged, not wanting to completely dash the hopes of the nice bards who had worked so hard.

“Now what do we do?” Quiet Wolf moaned. “We just can’t lose that lease, not after all of this!”

“There’s an easy solution,” Ares announced, a tiny flame of fire dancing around his fingertips. “I could just blast him for you, problem solved.”

“There will be no blasting,”Arianna insisted firmly. “We’ll just have to rally the Iolausians. And if that isn’t enough, then we’ll just have to convince Corperatus that he can’t shut down the Bard’s Orphanage.”

“That’s very noble of you,” Quiet Wolf said despairingly. “But it seems to me that he has his heart set on it.”

“More than that, I think he’s enjoying it,” Llyra added.

“I didn’t say it would be easy.” Arianna grinned and shot an impish look at her friend. “Besides, Quiet Wolf, when have you ever walked away from a challenge?”

“All right,” the bard conceded. “Come on, the idiot twins are done. Let’s go rally.”

Arianna, Llyra, and Iolaus followed Quiet Wolf out on stage, surrounding her with moral support as she addressed the crowd.

“Are you all having a good time so far?”

The enthusiastic answering roar almost bowled them over. And it broke all their hearts to have to dampen all those soaring spirits with the dismal news.

“I’m glad you’re all enjoying yourselves. I don’t want to stop the fun, but I thought you should all know what’s happening. Feducious has just finished counting all the proceeds, and it turns out we are still a little short for what we need to buy out the lease.”

Quiet Wolf took a deep breath, hating to ask her friends, who had already given so much, for anything more. But before she could even ask, a line began forming at the foot of the stage. The wonderful, generous Iolausians were coming forward, donating as many dinars as they could possibly spare.

“People!” Everyone turned to look at the loutish man who had gotten to his feet. “It’s time to stop all this nonsense. I admire your determination, but your efforts are futile. You need to accept that you’ve lost, and move on.”

“Who says we’ve lost, Corperatus?” Iolaus demanded, scooping up a handful of dinars from the stage.

“Please,” the merchant sneered. “You have no idea what that land is worth. These paltry coins are not going to be enough to compensate for that.”

“We weren’t too far off from your asking price,” Llyra told him, glancing down at the dinars at her feet. “So that determination that you claim to admire will see that we reach it, even if we all have to give every last dinar we have.”

“Maybe.” A cruel smile oozed across the merchant’s face. “But asking prices have been known to suddenly double with no warning.”

“You can’t do that!” Quiet Wolf cried. “That price was already inflated to begin with.”

“And now it’s just tripled.”

“Wait a minute.” Arianna stepped forward and put a restraining hand on her friend’s arm, glad that Quiet Wolf did not have a snake hook handy. If she had, the merchant would surely be getting the business end of it right about then. “I have a proposition for you, Corperatus.”

“Save it for someone who’s interested,” he told her. “I’ve wasted enough time on this hopeless cause.”

As he turned his back on her and prepared to leave, Arianna looked into the wings of the stage.

“Ares, blast him!”

“Finally!” The god of war ran out and sprung from the edge of the stage, landing with sinewy grace in front of the bloated, pasty merchant. Ares cracked his knuckles theatrically and produced a glowing fireball, going into his windup.

“On second thought, maybe I could stay a while longer,” Corperatus stammered in terror.

“That’s the spirit.” Ares let his fireball die out, but clamped an iron fist on the merchant’s shoulder. “Now have a seat, and hear the lady out.”

Cringing painfully from the small show of godly strength, Corperatus slumped back into his chair, giving the grinning bard his full attention.

“I propose a bet,” Arianna declared. “You give us another chance, sit back and watch our show. If we can convince you that the Bard’s Orphanage is worth saving, then you give us the lease. If we cannot, then you keep the lease and all the money we’ve collected, too.”

The greedy merchant perked up, intrigued by the offer. After all, he knew that nothing would ever convince him that the quaint little building was worth more than the property values of something profitable. He had absolutely no doubts that he would be walking away at the end of the evening with his lease and with a sizable bankroll.

“Very well,” he agreed. “I accept your terms.”

“Why don’t we just make it official?” Hades, master of organization and prince of paperwork, not to mention binding contracts, strode forward with a scroll. He quickly outlined the conditions of the wager, and Corperatus signed it. “Quiet Wolf? If you would...”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” the bard whispered to her friend as she scrambled down off the stage to sign the document.

In truth, Arianna was more than a little nervous. If her plan backfired, not only would they lose the lease and the Bard’s Orphanage, but they’d be out a whole lot of money, too. But they’d had no other choice, and deep down she really believed that they would be able to make Corperatus see the love, the joy, and the hope that the bards’ stories brought out.

“All right,” Llyra announced as Zeus acted as governing witness and signed the contract. “We need a game plan. Iolausian huddle.”

Iolaus, Arianna, and Quiet Wolf joined her in a tight circle.

“So, what do we do?” the hunter asked.

“Arianna’s on to something,” Quiet Wolf said. “We have to get Corperatus to see what we all see, what we know in our hearts. And we have everything, and everyone, we need right here to convince him to fork over that lease. So team, go out and rally like you’ve never rallied before!”

The bard turned to address the crowd as her friends scampered off the stage.

“All right, gang. We’re going to take a small intermission to do a little reorganizing, but then we’re coming back with the show. So don’t go away, because there is lots more entertainment on deck, including a song by a certain blond warrior that I’m sure none of you want to miss!”

As the crowd voiced their agreement, Quiet Wolf left the stage, bolting after her cohorts, a decided gleam in her eyes. Arianna was right - she did love a challenge, and this certainly was going to be the mother of all challenges.

The four conspirators wove through the throngs of guests and Olympians, seeking out those that could help them bring their message home to the cold, uncaring merchant. Once the supporting players had been found and had agreed to take part, the whole crew assembled once more backstage, quickly going over their strategy. Once everyone knew more or less what they were doing, Quiet Wolf went back out on stage to call the crowd to order. She found the audience had already assembled themselves, sitting quietly at their tables, a palpable heaviness to the formerly festive air.

“Hey, I know that there is a lot riding on this,” Quiet Wolf began. “But, this is still a party. And we are still here to have fun. I’ve always said, nobody knows how to party like the Iolausians. You aren’t going to prove me wrong, now are you?”

The chorus of “nooooo” that greeted her ears was a bit weak.

“Then I’ll bring out our next performer,” the bard continued, hoping that the following acts would be able to raise the spirits of her dejected listsibs. “Our heroes would not be where they are today without her. Please give a warm welcome to Alcmene!”

The crowd did perk up, giving the mother of the legendary Hercules her due applause.

“Thank you,” she told them, giving them a beautiful smile. “That’s very kind of you all. Well, one of the reasons that we are here tonight is to celebrate Hercules and Iolaus. Even when they were little boys tumbling around on my floor, I knew there was something special about them. I knew that they were destined to be heroes. And I feel very blessed, for I had the honor of watching them grow up into the wonderful men they became. Men for which my pride knows no limits. Hercules and Iolaus, with no thoughts of themselves, live to bring hope and faith to those that have none, and to help those with nowhere else to turn. Both in reality, and for those reading about their legendary adventures. So, if you’ll indulge a doting mother...

“That was wonderful, Alcmene.” Iolaus’ blue eyes glowed with love as he stopped his surrogate mother from leaving the stage long enough to give her a hug and a kiss. “Now, its true that Hercules and I try to help those that need it. I suppose some could argue that we do it for the glory. After all, he is the great son of Zeus. A legend, and famous the world over. But there are so many other heroes out there that just never get the recognition they deserve. People that are not after glory or fame. Just ordinary people, who risk their lives to help others because somebody has to do it. True heroes, that live with the dangers and the hardships and the thankless sacrifices every day, because they believe that what they are fighting for is worth it. Because it is right. So everyone, welcome a few of my friends to the stage now, and let them know that you do appreciate all that they suffer in the name of justice.”

The applause thundered as Jason and the Argonauts led the group of heroes out onto the stage. Students of discipline, the brave men and women assembled fell into their designated spots and waited silently for the music to begin. But they were all smiling, and a few eyes were even misty, due to the love and support that washed over them in waves from the appreciative crowd.

Arianna had to wait a very long time for the audience to quiet, the cheers following the collective heroes as they trooped offstage. Finally, the crowd began to settle, eager for the next performer.

“They say that heroes are a dying breed,” the bard began. “I’ve even heard some say there are no more heroes left in the world. Fortunately, that isn’t true, as we all know. Hercules and Iolaus and all of the incredible people that were just on stage are proof of that. But being a hero is not always about braving danger and fighting monsters and warlords. A true hero is someone who can stand up when called upon and, despite being afraid, will rise to the occasion, fight the good fight, and do what needs to be done. Hercules and Iolaus are perfect examples of two individuals who, by their own example and through bardic tales, can inspire heroism in the most unlikely of places. So now let’s welcome someone who can well attest to this. Come on out here, Salmoneus!”

The salesman appeared, a little startled by the enthusiastic response he received. But he grinned and waved to the cheering crowd.

“That was wonderful, Salmoneus.” Llyra sent the salesman off with a smile of thanks. “And now I’d like to introduce a man who has more reason than most to celebrate Hercules and his heroism. He’s a little shy, so make him feel welcome.”

Iolaus2 came out of the wings, a little hesitant at first. But, he was a trained performer, and as his music started, he launched into his song with a degree of professionalism. The crowd at first didn’t know what to make of his tune, for it was hardly light holiday fare.

The timid man stepped forward when he was through, waiting patiently for the cheering to subside.

“Thank you all so much,” he said quietly, but in a calm, steady voice. “The plain fact is that I owe my life to Hercules. And despite that I was a constant reminder of all he had lost, he still rescued me from my world and even found it within himself to open his heart to me. He offered me his friendship, and asked nothing from me in return. And when everyone else saw me as a lowly jester, Hercules saw a hero in me. Not only did he save my life physically, but he gave me back my self-worth and my dignity. I’ll never be able to thank him for all that he did for me. And I’ll always be grateful, both to him and to the bards, for relating some of these adventures and helping others to find the hidden hero deep with themselves.”

The audience went wild when the former jester finished his touching speech, the whole crowd moved by his heartfelt words. All except for Corperatus, who yawned loudly and obnoxiously, a fact that did not escape Quiet Wolf’s attention as she returned to the stage.

“As we’ve been hearing,” she began, glaring at the merchant. “The stories that the bards write have the ability to inspire the readers. But they also have the power to move readers, and strike chords of emotion deep in their souls. Stories celebrating love and friendship, or mourning loss, can touch another with shared emotion. The love and loyalty that is described is something that money just cannot buy. And the happiness one can get from a great story can’t be bought for any price. But no one wants to take the word of someone without two dinars to rub together. So maybe our resident rich and powerful delegate will be more persuasive. Put you hands together for the King of Corinth himself!”

Iphicles appeared on the stage looking his royal best, clearing his throat gently as his music began.

“My friend, Iphicles,” Iolaus announced. “Give him another hand.”

The crowd didn’t need his urging, and kept the applause high for the king until the hunter was ready to begin.

“Traditionally, Solstice has always been a time of celebration with friends and family. When you look back over the past year and give thanks for the good and try to forget the bad, and hope for the best for the coming new year. And while a year without any new adventures from all of our talented bards would be a bleak one, I’d just like to thank you all now for all of the wonderful stories you’ve given us over the past years. All of you Iolausians have hero’s hearts and loving souls and no one can *ever* take that away from you. I can honestly say that I’m glad I’m here tonight, right now, with all of you. And even if our adventures never get written about again, its not going to stop Herc and I from doing what’s right.”

The cheering was deafening as the beloved golden hunter finished his song. Gifting the crowd with a smile that shone brighter than the sun, Iolaus waved and started to leave the stage, but he was surprised by Hercules appearing beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I wasn’t planning on performing tonight,” the demigod addressed the crowd. “But we are an act short, since Hermes had to bow out due to an acute case of laryngitis. Seems somebody had the brilliant idea of getting him to deliver two hundred odd *singing* invitations.” He shot a pointed look at his partner, who was suddenly wearing a perfect mask of innocence.

“Anyway,” he continued. “I’ve never been very good at verbalizing the things I feel mostly deeply about. It seems to come easily for Iolaus, but I just can’t seem to put into words very strong feelings of anger, or grief, or love. Fortunately, I’ve got you wonderful bards to do that for me. But, this kind of thing is always easier to express through music, right? So here we go.”

“Happy Solstice, Herc,” Iolaus murmured, his damp eyes shining with love and happiness. Hercules stepped forward, catching his partner into a big bear hug.

“Happy Solstice, Iolaus.” The demigod released his friend and turned back to the audience. “Something miraculous happened today. Warring factions, bitter rivals, and sworn enemies all put their differences aside to be here. Individuals that were trying to kill each other yesterday are sitting here peacefully tonight, united in the common cause to help the bards. Which just proves the power that they wield, and the magic contained in the tales they weave so skillfully. We need them, and we need the joy and the laughter and the comfort and the release that their stories bring us. And since we’re here for the bards, I think its time we hear from them. Llyra, Arianna, and Quiet Wolf, come on down!”

The three bards came out on the stage a bit reluctantly, slightly embarrassed from being singled out.

“Go ahead,” Iolaus urged them. “Just tell us a little about things from your side of it.”

Llyra glanced at her two friends before stepping forward.

“I just want to say, and I think my fellow bards will agree, that we don’t have any magical or mystical talents. Maybe we hear the muses’ calls a bit more strongly than most, but anyone can be a bard. When you love your subjects, and are moved to the core by their stories, then its easy to describe those emotions and feelings in such a way that they are conveyed to others, too. You just have to look inside your heart and listen to the voices of the muses.”

Next Arianna stepped forward, pausing for a moment to organize her thoughts.

“The call of the muses is faint, but persistent. Their whispers can haunt you, until you can think of nothing else, and can’t rest until the piece is written. Then seemingly out of nothing, a story is born. A tale where justice is served, wrongs are righted, good triumphs over evil, and love is the most powerful force on earth. The stories of the bards give us all the chance to cheer for our heroes, and they give us something to believe in and hold onto when our own lives are thrown into chaos. And all of these offerings of the bards, be they grand, sweeping epics or sweet little vignettes, have the same thing in common. The unifying thread of two brave, selfless heroes who love each other beyond measure, so even the simplest of tales still has the power to nourish our souls.”

Finally, after much prodding, Quiet Wolf stepped forward. She felt very deeply about this subject, and it was hard for her to talk about something so personal. But she knew she was surrounded by friends, and she felt safe enough to lower her defenses.

“I never set out to become a bard,” she began. “But the muses would not take ‘no’ for an answer. When I started reading all the wonderful, amazing stories by the other bards, I became inspired to write. Their words and their renditions of the adventures of these two heroes that we love completed me, somehow. I hadn’t been aware of it before, but then I realized that helping to ensure that these legends lived on was what was missing from my life. I drew strength from the love that Hercules and Iolaus have for each other, and the love and support that my listsibs offered so freely gave me the courage to actually share my efforts with them, something I had never been able to do before. The proudest day of my life came at the moment I realized that something I had written had struck a chord in another person and had moved them to tears. That is the most precious gift, and its something that definitely cannot be bought. So I’d like to say a special thank you to all the bards who have had the courage to share their work with us, and especially to those that have moved me to tears.”

The bard concluded her song in a trembling voice as she tried not to break down completely. Quiet Wolf was terrified at the thought of losing the muses, not wanting to know what would become of them all in such an event. Personally, she didn’t know if she would be able to handle it. Although the muses sometimes made her crazy, she had come to rely on the calming release of creating a tale about her heroes. It was what kept her sane. And she could only envision herself babbling incoherently trussed up in a straightjacket in a nice padded room somewhere if the unthinkable were to happen. And from the sneer on Corperatus’ face, that was a distinct possibility.

“That was very noble of you,” he said, not sounding as if he meant it. “But as you can see, I’m not convinced that these stories suggested by the muses have any sort of power or do anything to make the world a better place. So if you’ll just hand over my money, I’ll be leaving.”

Chaos erupted as the crowd all started shouting at once, begging for another chance, protesting the judgement, and issuing the odd threat here and there.

“All right,” the merchant hollered above the din, holding up his hands for silence. “I’m a reasonable man. I’ll let you keep your money... in exchange with one night with Xena.”

“That’s it! No more Mr. Nice God of War!” Ares went into a real windup, but he was knocked off balance by the warrior princess herself, striding up to the leering merchant. Xena looked stunning in a tight fitting, shimmery red dress, but her eyes were blazing and her face was twisted with anger. Not waiting for music, she got right into Corperatus’ face and launched into song.

Xena finished her song and turned to the three bards still standing on the stage.

“You have been given a gift,” she told them earnestly. “You can use the power of words to unleash emotion. So, use them! You know what you need to do.”

“What we should have done all along,” Quiet Wolf muttered. “Somebody please tell me that they have a Gold Apple Award ballot on them.”

“I don’t, but I can get one.” Llyra ran off and returned minutes later with the promised item. Quiet Wolf didn’t even bother to ask where she’d gotten it, knowing that her friend had a knack for making things happen. They all scanned the ballot quickly, conferring amongst themselves and coming to a consensus. Then they dashed back into the audience, then returned to the stage with more friends.

“There were so many amazing stories written just in the space of this past year,” Quiet Wolf announced. “We’ve picked out a few award nominated tales that really showcase everything we’ve been talking about up here. The bards have all agreed to read their stories. Just give us this last chance, and if you still aren’t convinced, then we give up and you win.”

If Corperatus was thinking of refusing, he changed his mind quickly when he spied Ares glowering at him. Nodding, he sat back down at his table and motioned for them to continue.

And so the bards took the stage, one by one relating their stories. Allie read “At the Hunter’s Bedside”, her sweet and sentimental tale that showed the depth of Hercules’ feelings for his reckless partner. Caro read her stunning epic “Without Words”, lulling the audience into an awed silence as she recounted the deadly plot by the mad, power-crazed King Pellius that almost cost Iolaus his life. More than a few eyes grew moist as she recounted how the brave, heroic hunter never gave up through his torture, and how his huge, caring heart was the ultimate key to his salvation. Pythia presented “A Taste of Honey”, her rich, descriptive style making the scenes come alive before the audience’s eyes. MaryE’s “Amazin’ Grace” helped show that even though Hercules was half god, he was not invincible, and he relied on his faithful friend to help him through the times when he faltered. Quiet Wolf read “Giving It All Away”, demonstrating the lengths the heroes were willing to go to for each other, and the sacrifices they willing made without a second thought. And Arianna’s “My Unsung Hero” tugged at the heartstrings with her descriptions of Hercules’ desperate vigil at the golden hunter’s bedside, willing him to live. But it was the scene where Milius presented Iolaus with the poem he’d written from the demigod’s words of love, praise, admiration, and pride that sealed the deal.

Corperatus had resigned himself to having to sit and listen to the bards drone on. But despite himself, his interest had been piqued. And without even realizing it, he’d been drawn into the wonderful worlds the bards had created. He was rooting for the heroes and clamoring for justice from the villains. Wincing in sympathy for painful injuries, and laughing at the carefree antics of the irrepressible hunter. On the edge of his seat for the action, wringing his hands for the drama. And when the last word had been spoken, Corperatus slumped down in his chair, his face streaked with tears, for he finally understood the power of the bards to sweep the readers up into the tide of emotions, and for the first time in his life, he could see the incredible strength of love and he yearned to know it himself.

“Well, Corperatus?” Hercules asked quietly. “What is your verdict?”

“My verdict,” the merchant said slowly as he stood. “Is that I’m keeping the lease.” As the crowd collectively gasped, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “That way I can protect it and make sure that nothing ever happens to disrupt the Bard’s Orphanage or the muses. I can see it now, that these stories do give hope and inspire people to greater things. You’ve managed to convince me, Iolausians, and your lease is safe with me.”

The crowd let out their loudest cheer of the night, with many of the Iolausians coming forward to hug and kiss the reformed merchant. Corperatus, never before the cause of such pure happiness or the recipient of such freely given friendship, felt the rest of his icy heart thaw and heard the faint whisper of a muse in his own ear. Laughing, he jumped up on the table and began to sing.

The audience, far from being cheered out, fell into whistling and clapping once more. Almost simultaneously, the entire crowd on Mount Olympus broke into song.

“All right,” the god of war thundered. “Now let’s get this party back on track!” Ares leapt up on the stage, his black leather gleaming in the torch light as he struck a pose and curled his lip.

As the crowd watched in fascination as Ares swivelled those leather clad hips, the muses smiled to themselves, viewing it all from afar. As the god of war’s song wound down, the very faintest glimpse of a song could be heard in the air.

Happy Holidays Everybody!!!!

*1: “It’s The Most Wonderful Time of the Year”
*2: “Christmas” - The Who (Yeah, it’s a stretch to call this a “Christmas Song” but I couldn’t resist)
*3: “Oh Come All Ye Faithful”
*4: “Ding Dong Merrily on High”
*5: “Up on the Housetop”
*6: “Deck the Halls”
*7: “Frosty the Snowman”
*8: “Christmas in Heaven”
*9: “Here Comes Santa Claus”
*10: “We Need A Little Christmas”
*11: “Holly Jolly Christmas”
*12: “Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer
*13: “Let It Snow”
*14: “The Chipmunk Song”
*15: “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus”
*16: “Winter Wonderland”
*17: “Santa, Baby”
*18: “Nuttin’ for Christmas”
*19: “Santa Claus is Coming To Town”
*20: “Christmas for Cowboys”
*21: “Snoopy’s Christmas (Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron)”
*22: “Twelve Days of Christmas”
*23: “Silver and Gold”
*24: “Happy Xmas (War is Over)”
*25: “A Baby Just Like You”
*26: “It’s In Every One of Us”
*27: “When the River Meets the Sea”
*28: “Noel: Christmas Eve, 1913"
*29: “Mr. Grinch”
*30: “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”
*31: “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”
*32: “Do You Hear What I Hear?”

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