New Friends

Five-year old Hercules and his new friend, seven-year old Iolaus, go on thier first fishing trip. On the way home, they meet someone who will play an important part in their futures.

Seven-year old Iolaus looked at the younger boy standing in front of him holding nothing but a large, two- handled, basket and thought, 'How damn dumb can he be?'. Mustering his scant patience, Iolaus tried again.

"To go fishing, you need a fishing rod," he repeated. Again.

Hercules stubbornly shook his head. "No, I don't," he repeated. Again.

Iolaus rolled his eyes, sighed, and tried AGAIN.

"Look, Herc, I'm older than you, right?"

"Right."

"And because I'm older I know more. Right?"

"Right."

"And I say, to go fishing you need a fishing rod. Right?"

"Wrong. You might need a fishing rod. I don't."

Iolaus glared at Hercules and wondered if his dad had been right for once. Skouros had taken one look at his son's new playmate and gone off on a tear. Not that THAT was anything new, and Iolaus was already perfectly aware of the village opinion of Hercules, but his dad had used some new, interesting words during the tirade. One word, in particular, had gotten Iolaus' attention. Although he had never heard his father use it before, Iolaus was familiar with the word. The same word his dad had called Hercules was what some people in the village called Iolaus.

Problem was, Iolaus had no idea what the word meant. It didn't seem to be the kind of word you just asked a grownup about. Iolaus had the definate impression that if he asked his dad what that word meant, all he'd get was a slap across the face. Iolaus didn't like getting slapped. So, no asking, even though the curiosity was killing him. Except...

Except Skouros had called Hercules that. And Iolaus had heard one of the kids in the village call Hercules that and later he had seen Hercules crying. So, maybe Hercules might know what the word meant. Iolaus could ask Hercules. If Herc knew, he would tell. He didn't seem to know how to lie, not even little ones. Iolaus had already tested him a couple of times and hadn't been able to catch him in a single lie. The other kids were right. Hercules WAS weird. Every kid lied sometimes. Hercules never did.

Weird, but kinda nice....

Which pretty much summed up Iolaus' whole opinion of his new friend. Weird, but kinda nice. And stubborn.

"Have it your way, then," Iolaus said, storming past Hercules and heading for the fish pond, the younger boy trailing rather pitifully behind.

"Don't be mad, Iolaus," Hercules begged. "Please. I'll use a fishing rod if you want me to."

'Gods, he's pathetic,' Iolaus thought. He knew fully well what 'pathetic' meant... his dad called him that all the time. That, and crybaby. Hercules was a crybaby, too.

Suddenly, Iolaus felt very guilty about being angry at Hercules. After all, he was only five and everybody knew five-year-olds were kinda dumb. They were too young to know any better.

Iolaus stopped dead in his tracks. Hercules ran right into him, knocking them both down. They landed amid a tangle of rod, basket, and limbs, rolling around in the grass until they were both giggling.

Iolaus wasn't mad at Hercules anymore. "Use a basket if you want to," he said, "I just don't think you're gonna get many fish like that. A net would work better." That was as close to an apology as Iolaus was going to get.

Hercules accepted it gratefully, smiling widely. Sitting up in the grass, he tried to explain, "The basket is for carrying the fish home in."

"O-kay," Iolaus shrugged, picked up his rod with one hand and took Herc's with the other. "C'mon."

At the pond, Iolaus found some worms and a nice rock to sit on and settled down to fish. Hercules watched him curiously.

"What'cha doing?" Herc asked at last.

"Fishing."

"Oh." Hercules shrugged, put the basket down next to Iolaus, and sat down to take off his sandels. Then he stood up and took everything else off, too. He picked up a large rock and waded into the pond until the water was up to his knees. Then he stood still and peered into the water.

Iolaus frowned. "What are YOU doing?" he asked.

"Fishing."

Iolaus rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."

Herc threw the rock into the water, hard, causing a big splash. Then he dipped, straightened, and threw something into the basket.

Iolaus leaned over and looked in the basket. There was a dead fish inside. "How did you do that?" he demanded.

"Like this," Herc replied, doing it again.

"You're hitting the fish with rocks?" Iolaus asked, not believing it for a minute.

"Sure," Hercules said, tossing another fish into the basket.

"How can you do that?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

This Iolaus had to see. There had to be some trick to this. So, down went the rod, off went the sandals and clothes, and into the water went Iolaus.

Down came the rock. Another fish. Iolaus went and got his own rock and waded back out to stand next to Hercules, watching the other boy intently. Then he tried it, and missed. Hercules didn't. Repeat with same result. Ok, try again.

Ten tries later they were both soaking wet and the basket was nearly full. Iolaus still hadn't gotten even one fish.

"I can't do this," Iolaus complained, frustrated. He hated finding things he couldn't do. He wanted to be able to do everything.

"Sure you can," Herc insisted. "Come here and I'll show you how."

"I AM here," Iolaus pointed out, pouting. He was really peeved.

"No, here... never mind, I'll come there," Herc said, tossing his rock to the shore. Then he went behind Iolaus, reaching around him to grasp his friend's wrists and lift his arms up to shoulder level.

"Now look down between your feet," Herc said in Iolaus' ear, "And hold very still until you see a fish."

Herc looked too; he could see over Iolaus' shoulder because even though he was younger he wasn't littler. He was the same height as his friend.

"There's one," Iolaus whispered excitedly.

"Wait, wait, okay, now!" and Iolaus threw the rock down, Hercules helping. The rock clobbered the fish, but it also got Iolaus' foot.

"Yowch!" Iolaus yelled, jerking his foot up and losing his balance. Instinctively, he grabbed at Hercules, who grabbed back.

Suddenly, Iolaus wasn't in the water anymore. He was several inches above it, being held by Hercules.

"Are you ok?" Hercules asked in a worried tone.

"Of course not, you dumb kid! I hit my foot with the rock! It hurts!" Iolaus was trying not to cry, that had really hurt. Great. Now Hercules would know that Iolaus was a crybaby.

Hercules looked hurt. "I'm sorry I'm dumb. I'm sorry your foot got hurt," he said as he carried Iolaus to the shore. He put Iolaus down, then knelt to carefully touch his foot. "Does it hurt too much? I can go and get Momma. Momma's really good with owies," Hercules offered.

Iolaus wiped his face with the back of his hand and sat up to look at Hercules. "What's an 'owie'?" he asked, baffled.

"When you hurt yourself. When something makes you go 'ow'. Doesn't your momma call them 'owies'?" Hercules answered.

"No," Iolaus replied, waiting for Hercules to tease him about his tears.

"What does she call them?" Hercules was fascinated. He thought all mommas called owies 'owies'. What else would they call them?

Iolaus considered. He could only think of one phrase his mother used when Iolaus was hurt and it certainly wasn't 'owie'. "'Your Father doesn't mean to'?" he offered.

Hercules blinked. "Mean to what?" he asked, puzzled.

"Hurt."

Hercules' eyes got very big as he understood what Iolaus had said. "Your Daddy hurts you?" he whispered.

"Only sometimes," Iolaus shrugged.

"Why?" Hercules was clearly baffled.

Iolaus had wondered why himself. He had only one answer. "'Cause that's what Dads do," he told his friend.

Hercules frowned. "But my Daddy doesn't hurt me," he protested.

Iolaus sighed, wriggling his foot around some. Hercules was still rubbing it and it was feeling better.

"That's because your Dad is dead," Iolaus explained patiently. All this talk of dads had reminded Iolaus of the word. Now seemed a good time to ask Herc about it.

"Hey, Herc, what's a 'bastard'?" Iolaus asked, then gasped as Hercules squeezed his foot.

"Opps, sorry," Hercules mumbled, head down. He went back to rubbing Iolaus' foot. Still keeping his head down, he asked, "Why do you want to know, Iolaus?"

Iolaus frowned at his friend. Before this, every time he had asked Hercules a question, the kid had answered right away, no fooling around. Why was he fooling around now?

"Just do. Do you know what it means or not?" Iolaus demanded.

"It's a bad word, Iolaus."

"D'uh. I knew THAT, Herc. I want to know WHY it's a bad word."

Hercules wouldn't look at him. "It means...somebody who doesn't have a daddy," he explained reluctantly.

"Well, that's just silly," Iolaus complained, "I've got a Dad, even if he's away a lot."

Hercules stared at him, eyes wide again. "Somebody called you a...a...?" Hercules asked, as though he couldn't believe it.

"Yeah," Iolaus admitted, still puzzled. "Are you sure that's what it means?"

"Uh-huh. I asked Momma and she told me. It made her sad, Iolaus," Hercules replied, still staring at his friend. "Who called you that?" he asked Iolaus.

Iolaus tried to remember. "The wine merchant, the fruit seller, the carpet seller, the butcher, the woman whose husband owns the inn, that annoying piece of crap, Tomas, the..."

"Tomas called you a..a.." Hercules couldn't seem to make himself say the word. "He called me that too!"

"Yeah, I know. That's why I thought you knew what it means."

"That's what it means, Iolaus," Hercules said seriously.

"But that's silly, Herc," Iolaus protested. "I've got a Dad and you had one until he died. It can't even mean 'your Dad's dead', 'cause mine isn't."

Hercules said sadly, "Some people say my Daddy wasn't my Daddy, he was only Iphicles' daddy. Our Daddy died before I was born. They say he died before I was made and somebody else is my Daddy but nobody knows who."

"That's even sillier. Your Mom would know." Iolaus replied.

"How would she know?" Hercules asked.

"Herc, Moms always know," Iolaus told him with complete conviction.

"Well, Momma told me that's what that means. Wouldn't she know that?" Hercules replied.

Iolaus puzzled that one out. "I've got it!" he beamed proudly at Hercules. "Maybe it means more that one thing! Lots of words do, 'specially bad words. Maybe your Mom only knows the one meaning."

"They do?" Hercules said doubtfully.

"Sure," Iolaus thought for a moment. "Take 'bitch'. That can mean a girl dog or a nasty lady or to fuss a lot. And then there's sh..."

Iolaus abruptly found himself flat on his back with Hercules crouched over him, one hand covering Iolaus' mouth.

"Iolaus, those are very bad words and you shouldn't be saying them," Hercules said seriously.

Iolaus was startled. He had never gotten this kind of reaction from another kid before. Usually they were amazed, awed, or scandalized, but Herc almost looked...angry?

Prying Hercules' hand up, Iolaus told him, "Ok, I won't."

Satisfied, Hercules got off his chest and went back to rubbing his foot.

"Sheesh, what's with you? They're only words, Herc," Iolaus complained, sitting back up.

"They're bad words and they can hurt," Hercules answered.

"Can not!"

"Can too!"

"How?" Iolaus demanded.

"They can hurt your feelings, Iolaus. They can make you cry like Tomas made me cry when he called me a...that."

"Tomas is a piece of sh...he's nothing to worry about, Herc. If he makes you cry again, I'll make him cry."

Hercules was quiet for a minute, then he timidly asked, "Do you really think I'm dumb?"

"Nah," Iolaus admitted. "You're kinda smart for a little kid. Why?"

"'Cause you said I was dumb when you hurt your foot," Hercules told him.

Iolaus frowned. "I did? I'm sorry, Herc, I didn't mean it. I shouldn't have said that."

"Then you still want to be my friend?" Hercules asked shyly.

"Sure, 'less you don't want to be mine," Iolaus looked at Hercules worriedly.

Hercules tilted his head, puzzled. "Why wouldn't I want to be your friend?" he asked in a baffled tone.

Iolaus took a deep breath. "'Cause I'm a crybaby," he admitted, bracing himself for Herc's laughter.

Hercules didn't laugh. "'Cause your owie made you cry?" he asked. "Iolaus, everybody cries when they have an owie, 'specially a big one."

"So you don't think I'm a crybaby?" Iolaus ventured.

"Tomas made me cry without a owie," Hercules pointed out.

"He won't be doing that again," Iolaus promised, meaning it. Iolaus would make sure Tomas thought twice before calling Herc a anything ever again.

A lot of the kids in the village weren't very nice to Iolaus. Their parents didn't like his dad and his dad didn't like them and the kids picked up on all of it. Many of them had tried picking on Iolaus because he was small for his age and they had discovered he was more his father's son than Skouros suspected. Iolaus wasn't a bully, but he wasn't going to be the village scapegoat, either.

That fate fell to Hercules, officially known among the village children as 'Iphicles weird little brother'. The children weren't very nice to Hercules either; they picked on him and called him names, all of which made Iolaus intensely curious. After all, just how weird could the kid be? So Iolaus had started to really pay attention to Hercules when Ipicles brought him into the village. Iolaus discovered that Hercules was big for his age, a little clumsy and prone to breaking things, and shy, but not all that weird. Hercules was good with adults, which Iolaus was not, but then he had to be. The poor kid didn't have a single friend among the other children. Even his own brother didn't seem to like him.

One day, while Hercules was sitting on a stoop in the village square watching Iphicles play with the older children, Iolaus had hidden in an alley and watched Hercules. Hercules had sat there with that sad look he always got and after a while Iphicles and his friends had left. Iphicles told Hercules to wait there until Iphicles came back to take him home, so Hercules had sat alone for a long time, patiently waiting for his brother to return.

That's when Tomas and his friends had come along and started teasing Hercules. Not the nice kind of teasing like Iolaus' sisters did with him sometimes. This was nasty teasing. Tomas had said some really mean things to Hercules, like 'nobody likes you' and 'you're a freak'. Tomas' friends had gotten into the act, calling Hercules a 'momma's boy', and then Tomas had topped them all with the mysterious bad word.

Iolaus knew exactly what they were doing. They were trying to pick a fight so they could all gang up on Hercules and beat on him. Then, if any grown-ups came by, they could say Hercules had started it. Iolaus knew all about THAT tactic, having fallen for it himself.

Warlord's sons pick up on tactics real quick. That had only been a few days ago. Hercules hoped Iolaus wasn't too mad at him. Hercules liked Iolaus. He wanted to be friends with Iolaus forever.

Hercules smiled at Iolaus. "I don't think you're a crybaby," he said stoutly.

Iolaus smiled back. "And I don't think you're a bit dumb," he replied, lying just a little.

They grinned at each other for a minute, then Iolaus gave Herc a friendly little push and they were off, giggling and rolling around, playing. When they rolled over the fishing rod, Iolaus remembered about the fish.

"Herc," he said, pushing the other boy over and tickling his ribs, "We gotta get the fish home before they get all stinky."

"Ok," Hercules giggled, pushing Iolaus' hand away. Iolaus went for the ribs with the other hand and Herc fell back giggling. Herc retaliated and Iolaus started giggling again.

Several minutes later they rolled over the rod a second time and remembered the fish again. Breaking apart, they scrambled into their clothes, still giggling.

"Does your owie still hurt?" Hercules asked as Iolaus plopped down to put on his sandals.

Iolaus wriggled his foot. 'Nope!" he exclaimed happily, "You fix owies really well!"

They each grabbed a handle on the basket and, with Iolaus carrying his rod, they started for home, dashing at first, then slowing down as the basket got heavier.

"Boy, this many fish are heavy!" Iolaus exclaimed. "How are you going to eat so many?"

Hercules tilted his head, looking at Iolaus curiously. "But half of these are your's," he replied.

"I didn't catch any fish," Iolaus pointed out unhappily.

"But you helped!" Hercules protested. "Half are your's. Don't you like fish?"

Iolaus considered. "Better than squid. Yuck! Mom's making squid tonight! I forgot."

"Well, now she can make squid AND fish you won't have to eat the squid!" Hercules replied happily. "I hate squid too," he added in a guilty whisper, then smiled at Iolaus, happy to have someone to share the secret with.

"You oughta see this squid, Herc. It's huge!" Iolaus described a large circle in the air with his fishing rod, just missing clobbering himself in the head. "We'll be eating squid for a week! I don't know how grown-ups can like stuff like that. It's all rubbery, and nasty, and...."

"Yucky," Hercules finished glumly.

"Yucky," Iolaus agreed, nodding vigorously. "Kids have more sense than to eat yucky stuff like squid. I don't know even one kid who actually LIKES squid! Do you, Herc? Even one?"

"Iphicles," Hercules told him, disgust dripping from every syllable.

Iolaus made a truly remarkable face of astonished disgust. "You're kidding! He really LIKES squid?!" Iolaus sounded horrified.

"He likes squid," Hercules stated in the contemptuous tones that only a little brother, who suffered mightly from his sibling's bizarre eating habits, could summon.

"Eeewww, your Mom must make squid all the time!" Iolaus sympathized. Up to now, he had thought Alcmene was pretty cool for a mom, but this squid business was putting her in a whole new light.

"All the time," Herc affirmed, then brightened. "But not tonight!"

"Not tonight!" Iolaus echoed. "No squid tonight!"

Hercules giggled and repeated, "No squid tonight!" and it turned into a chant.

"No squid tonight! No squid tonight!" they chanted happily together, swinging the basket in time with the chant. "No squid tonight!"

They were still chanting when they rounded the boulder and found a total stranger standing motionless in the path. He was a grown-up, with dark hair and beard.

"He must be a great Warlord," Iolaus thought, impressed by the man's black leather outfit chased with silver. By unspoken consent, both boys veered to the far right of the path to allow the man room to pass. He quickly moved to block them. Herc and Iolaus glanced at each other, shrugged, and went left.

So did the stranger. He wasn't going to let them go past him.

Iolaus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. Grown-ups who acted like this were usually trouble. Then the stranger smiled, a slow, oily, smile and Iolaus got really worried, really fast.

Iolaus had seen THAT kind of smile on warriors' faces before and it ALWAYS meant trouble. The last warrior who had smiled at Iolaus like that had been the one his Dad brought home during Winter Solstice.

Iolaus hated it when his Dad brought any of his warriors home with him. Most of them were creeps. The warrior who had smiled at Iolaus had been one of the creepiest; always watching Iolaus, trying to touch him, and telling him he was 'pretty'. Then, one night, Iolaus had gone to the barn to feed the family cow and the creepy warrior had followed. The guy had grabbed hold of Iolaus, laughing and refusing to let go until a panicked Iolaus had bit him on the arm. Iolaus had told his Mom, who told his Dad, who refused to believe that the warrior had meant any harm.

"For the Gods' sakes, he was just playing with the boy, woman!" Skouros had thundered. "You're making him into a crybaby, momma's boy who can't even stand a bit of roughhouse play!"

But Iolaus knew better. He knew that guy hadn't been playing and he wasn't nice at all. Iolaus had been happy when his Dad left after Winter Solstice with the creepy warrior, and very unhappy when his Dad brought the same creep back with him on this last visit. Worse, the creep now had a friend who was just as creepy.

Iolaus had been on his way to meet Hercules in the village square when the two creeps had caught him in the alley. Then the first creep had smiled nastily at the second creep and told him, " You don't want to bother with this little wildcat when there are so many others who would be...friendlier," and he had pointed across the square right at Hercules sitting patiently waiting for Iolaus. They had both laughed softly and walked away, whispering to each other and looking at Hercules.

Just like the stranger was looking at Hercules now. Iolaus hadn't liked it when the two creeps had done it and he liked it even less now. Every instinct was telling him to drop the basket, grab Herc, and run.

"Hello, boys," the stranger purred, giving Iolaus a quick glance with dark, sleepy eyes before focusing only on Hercules.

"Where are two such fine young warriors going this afternoon?" the stranger asked in a bored tone, like he already knew.

Hercule smiled innocently. "We're going home. We've been fishing!"

"So I see," the stranger said, gaze flicking down to the basket and back up to Hercules. "What is your name, little warrior?"

Oh-oh, Iolaus didn't like that 'little warrior' crap at all; and wasn't that guy a little closer than he had been before?

"Hercules, son of Alcmene of Thebes," Hercules recited proudly to Iolaus' horror, then he added, "And this is my best friend Iolaus, son of Skouros of Thebes."

"Skouros?" The stranger frowned, really looking at Iolaus for the first time. That didn't make Iolaus any happier. "General Skouros? I know Skouros; he's one of mine." The stranger's gaze moved over Iolaus appraisingly and Iolaus felt his stomach tighten. Creepy had looked at him just like that.

Then the stranger's smile widened.

"So, I was right. Two fine young warriors," he murmured.

He was definately closer. Iolaus started backing up. Hercules, feeling the pull on the basket handle, backed up too, tearing his gaze from the stranger to look curiously at the other boy.

The stranger had noticed, but he didn't look angry. He looked amused.

"Now, you wouldn't think of leaving before we've been properly introduced, would you, Iolaus?" he asked in that sleepy voice.

"Hi," Iolaus replied in a very small voice, hoping the stranger would be happy with that and just go away.

"Hi!" Hercules chimed in, happily.

"Hello, Hercules. Hello, Iolaus. My name is Ares."

"Like the God of War?" Iolaus asked, staring. Moms and Dads gave their kids all kinds of strange names, but what kind of nuts would name their little boy after the God of War? That was just asking for trouble.

The stranger's smile grew even wider.

"JUST like the God of War," he purred in a pleased tone.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr Ares," Hercules said politely.

"I'm VERY pleased to meet you, too," Ares purred. "I'm just surprised that two fine young warriors as yourselves aren't defending your village from the bandits."

"Bandits?!" Iolaus asked, alarmed. Bandits had attacked the village two years back, burning down several buildings and killing two men. Iolaus had been terrified.

"What's a 'bandit'?" Hercules asked. He was too young to remember the attack.

"Bad men. Very bad men." Ares explained.

"Herc, we've got to get to the grown-ups!" Iolaus urged.

"Oh, you don't want to do that," Ares said quickly.

"Why not?" Hercules asked, frowning. Telling the grown-ups sounded like a good plan to him.

"They won't have time to stop the attack, but you can," Ares told them.

"How can we do that? We're just kids!" Iolaus protested. He may have been seven, but he wasn't stupid. A warrior's son knew all about bandits.

"Your Father's catapult," Ares responded immediately. "He left it just over there on the hill, right? The bandits are coming down the south road, right past the hill."

"How do you know that?" Iolaus asked suspiciously, then added, "Herc and I can't work the catapult anyway. It takes two grown-up men to just wind it up. We aren't strong enough."

"Hercules is," Ares insisted.

Iolaus looked at Herc, who shrugged. "I'm kinda strong," he admitted, "But I don't think I'm that strong."

"Oh, you are, trust me," Ares said persuasively. "You're strong now, with the potential to be stronger as you get older. You could be a mightly warrior, a great Warlord, Hercules. You both could." He looked appraisingly at Iolaus again, a long, lingering look that sent chills up the boy's spine.

"So very much potential in both of you," Ares purred. "I would hate to see all that potential go to waste."

"Even if Herc can wind it up, we don't have any Greek Fire or boulders to fire," Iolaus pointed out, practically.

"You have fish," Ares replied, smiling.

"Bandits aren't going to be scared off by fish," Iolaus protested contemptuously.

"Oh, I disagree, little warrior," Ares demurred, still smiling. "At worst, what can it hurt to try? There's no time to reach the village to warn the adults anyway, so you really only have two choices; try to prevent the attack or sit here and watch it."

"I think we should try to get to the grown-ups," Hercules said.

"I'm with him," Iolaus agreed, jerking his head towards Hercules. "Go to the grown-ups."

"That's not an option, boys," Ares said, no longer smiling.

"Why not?" Iolaus asked stubbornly.

"I can't let you get caught in the attack," Ares stated seriously. "One or both of you might well be killed and I can't allow that to happen."

"You can't stop us from trying," Iolaus protested.

"Actually, yes, I can," Ares claimed calmly.

The boys exchanged nervous glances. A plan formed in Iolaus' brain. Throw the fish at Ares and run like all get-out for the village. Ares was old; Iolaus was pretty sure he and Herc could out-run the warrior. Herc was fast and Iolaus was even faster.

"Forget it, little warrior," Ares warned, eyes narrowing. Then he smiled again. "Such potential. You truly are a little fighter, Iolaus. Put that spirit to good use. Defend your village. You will succeed. I can guarantee it."

Now Hercules was frowning. "But WHY would bandits be afraid of fish?" he asked.

"Because I will tell them the fish come from Aphrodite herself, to warn that the village is under her protection. Not even bandits want to get on Aphrodite's bad side," Ares explained. He looked almost mischievious as he said it.

"If the village is under 'Dite's protection, why didn't she stop the last attack?" Iolaus asked practically.

Ares started, eyes narrowing again. "What did you just call her?" he demanded sharply.

Iolaus was embarrassed. "'Dite. I can't say Afrimditee...Appleditee..her name," he explained, mortified.

Ares grinned. "Don't worry, little warrior. I rather think she won't mind you calling her 'Dite," he assured Iolaus, giving him another of those creepy looks.

Iolaus swallowed and persisted, "Well, why didn't she?"

"Let's just say she couldn't. She can't now, for that matter. But we can damn well make those bandits think she can. Now let's get to it!" Ares ordered sharply.

Iolaus and Hercules looked at each other and shrugged.

"Do you really think he can catch both of us?" Hercules whispered worriedly

"I dunno, Herc. He gives me the creeps. Maybe." Iolaus whispered back, just as scared.

"Boys, boys, boys," Ares protested silkenly, "If I had any intention of hurting either of you, I would have done it by now. I'm here to help you."

Neither boy believed him.

Ares rolled his eyes heavenwards.

"Come on, those bandits aren't going to wait all day for you two to make up your minds. You're really making this more difficult than it should be," he complained in a peeved tone. He wrenched Iolaus' fishing rod out of the startled boy's hand and tossed it aside. Firmly grasping Iolaus' now-empty hand, he dragged the protesting boys and their basket of fish up the hill, Hercules loyally clinging to the other handle.

Iolaus tried to pull his hand free, but it was impossible. This Ares guy was really strong!

When they got to the catapult, Iolaus got worried again.

"Dad said we weren't supposed to mess with this thing!" he protested through gritted teeth, still trying to twist his hand free.

"Stop that, Iolaus, you'll hurt yourself," Ares fussed, studying the catapult. "Yes, this will work work," he said, sounding pleased.

"Let go!" Iolaus demanded, twisting and letting go of his side of the basket. Hercules caught it before the fish dumped onto the ground.

Ares rolled his eyes again and sighed, letting go. Iolaus skipped back, grabbing Herc's arm protectively.

Ares shook his head sadly. "Little warrior, we could be such good friends," he said, smiling.

"I have a friend!" Iolaus told him angrily, clutching Herc.

"Ah, but we could all be friends, now couldn't we?" Ares purred.

"Thanks, but no thanks," Iolaus said firmly, speaking for both of the boys.

Ares smiled mysteriously. "You may come to regret that, Iolaus," he said softly. "In the meantime, we have a bandit attack to prevent," Ares continued, all business. "Get going, boys."

"Aren't you going to help?" Hercules asked.

"Yes, I'm going to talk to the bandits. Your job is to fire the catapult." Turning on his heel, Ares abruptly marched off without a backwards glance.

Hercules looked helplessly at Iolaus, who shrugged. "Guess it can't hurt?" Iolaus ventured, uncertainly.

"Iolaus, I don't know how to work this thing. I've never seen a capalaut before," Hercules confessed shyly.

"Catapult," Iolaus corrected. "It's a war machine, Herc. This is the only one I've ever seen. Dad left it here 'cause where he was going it was too hilly and the release lever is broken anyway. He's supposed to send somebody for it and nobody was supposed to touch it until then."

"You don't know how to work it, either? We're sunk," Hercules said glumly, putting down the basket and sitting on the catapult frame.

"Nah, I figured out how it works," Iolaus told him. "Dad said 'don't touch', not 'don't look'. It's just hard. I heard Dad say it takes two men to wind it."

"Show me?" Hercules asked.

"Ok," Iolaus said, shrugging. Jumping up on the catapult frame, he shielded his eyes and scanned the south road.

"Herc, he was telling the truth! There's a whole bunch of bandits coming up the road!" Iolaus exclaimed, pointing.

Herc looked. "Wow. How many are there?"

"About three dozen," Iolaus estimated. Seeing Herc's confusion, he explained, "Three times twelve." Herc's expression didn't change. "A lot!" Iolaus clarified.

Hercules nodded, accepting 'a lot'. "Do we need to move the cata-thing?" he asked.

"Nope, it's facing exactly the right way. What we need to do is dump the fish in that big cup-thing and wind it up."

"Ok," Hercules replied, dumping the fish in, then pulling a few out. Seeing Iolaus' curious expression, Herc explained, "A couple won't make much difference and we won't have to eat squid."

Iolaus grinned, liking the way Herc's mind worked. Then he looked up the hill.

"Herc," he said thoughtfully, "Fish aren't going to hurt those bandits much, right?"

"Right. They're not very hard," Herc agreed.

"But green apples are!" Iolaus exclaimed excitedly. He pointed up the hill at the ancient apple tree.

Hercules brought the basket and stood under the tree as Iolaus clamored up it and threw the apples down to Herc. Then they dumped the apples on top of the fish.

Iolaus helped Herc wind the catapult, but he could tell Herc was doing most of it. He really was strong!

"Now what?" Herc asked, crossing his arms and rubbing his biceps.

"Wait for that Ares guy to give us a signal?" Iolaus ventured.

They sat on the catapult frame and watched the bandits coming down the road. From the hill they could see Ares emerge from the trees onto the road around the bend from the bandits. He turned and looked up the hill, motioning in the bandit's direction. Then he hid in the trees again.

"He wants us to fire the cata-thing when the bandits get where he is?" Herc guessed.

"Looks like," Iolaus agreed, pulling his hunting knife out of his waistband.

"I still can't believe your Momma and Daddy let you have a knife! That is so cool!" Hercules exclaimed in admiration.

Iolaus shrugged. "It's useful for cutting things and skinning rabbits, is all. Dad wants me to have a sword, but Mom says I'm still too little, like I'm a baby or something. Anyway, you really have to be careful with sharp things like knives or you can hurt yourself, Herc."

Iolaus clamored up on the catapult frame and knelt over the rope that would release the catapult, sawing through it.

"Ok, Iolaus!" Herc called and Iolaus sawed through the last few strands, sending fish and apples flying.

"What's that whistling sound?" Axon's second in command asked seconds before getting a faceful of fish.

The mercenaries scattered, ducking and slipping on splattered fish and small, hard, green apples.

Ares nearly laughed himself sick. "I'll bet Iolaus thought of the apples," he thought, delighted at the mercenaries' cries of startled pain.

"WHO THE HELL IS LAUGHING?!" Axon demanded, peeling bloody fish off his spiked armour.

"Me." Ares informed him, stepping out of the trees.

"Lord Ares!" the mercenary gasped, falling on his knees and landing on a fish. His knee slipped and he sprawled flat on his face.

"Good place for you," Ares commented, placing one foot on the back of the man's neck to prevent him from rising.

"Lord Ares, have we somehow offended you?" Axon's second, Dox, asked while wiping fish-scales off his face.

"Oh, you're offensive, all right," Ares agreed with a less than pleasant smile.

"Please, tell us so we can make amends," Axon begged the dirt.

"Axon, just what the hell did you think you were doing?" Ares asked in a reasonable tone. This particular band of mercenaries had had first-hand dealings with the God of War before. They all immediately stopped cursing and started sidling away.

Dox swallowed hard and tried to explain. "The men need a little R and R , Lord Ares. We thought a quick raid on this insignificant village..."

"Ah, a little raiding and pillaging to get the blood flowing, eh? Problem is, I don't remember anybody asking me for permission. In fact," Ares commented as he ground his bootheel into Axon's neck hard enough to make the man gasp and writhe in pain, "I don't remember anybody even telling me anything at all about this little diversion."

Dox started backing away. "We didn't want to bother your Lordship with such a minor thing," he said pleadingly.

Ares smiled wolfishly. "Too bad you didn't. If you had, I could have told you what a monumentally stupid idea this was." Without taking his foot off Axon's neck, Ares bent and picked up a fish, holding it out at arm's length distainfully.

"Fish," he commented meaningfully, "are sacred to my dear sister, Aphrodite."

Dox got it. "This village is under Aphrodite's protection?" he gasped. Ares had told Herc and Iolaus the truth; not even battle-hardened mercenaries wanted to get on 'Dite's bad side.

Ares didn't deny or confirm the statement. He merely asked sweetly, "Well, none of you wanted heirs anyway, did you?"

"Per...Perhaps if we made offerings...?" Dox suggested lamely.

"Oh, it gets worse," Ares said happily. He dropped the fish, lifted his foot, and grabbed Axon by the collar, yanking him up and dangling him in mid-air.

"Idiot," he hissed in the frightened mercenary's face, "Do you have any idea who lives in this little dump?"

"Nobody worth your Lordship's notice?" Axon asked hopefully.

Ares shook him, hard. "You really are an idiot," he commented as he tossed the man over his shoulder. Axon landed with a dull thud yards away.

Turning to the frankly terrified Dox, he waited, hands on hips, head tilted expectantly.

"Somebody very important," Dox guessed quickly and then he stiffened as the pieces fell in place. "One of your Lordship's children?!" he gasped in horror.

Ares barked a short laugh. "No, or you would all be dead by now," he informed Dox coldly. "Try again. Not one of MY children."

"OH, Gods, one of Zeus'?!" This was as horrifying a notion.

"You got it, Bucky," Ares confirmed Dox's worst fears. As if on cue, the sky darkened as thunder rumbled ominiously overhead. Every mercenary looked skyward, blanching, as a gentle rain began to fall.

"Now, normally, this is where I'd be sitting back to enjoy the lightshow," Ares commented conversationally, "But Junior would have a bird's-eye view of all your rather spectacular deaths and Dad doesn't want to traumatize the poor kid, so you morons are really in luck."

The morons in question stared at the God of War.

"Goodbye," Ares told them brightly. "So long, sayonara, don't let the door hit your butts on the way out."

"Goodbye?" Dox ventured, quaking.

"Get going. You've only got twenty-four hours to get out of Greece or get fried." Ares shrugged. "Your choice. I'd leave if I were you. I've been on the receiving end of Dad's bolts and trust me, they hurt."

"When can we come back?" one of the braver mercenaries asked.

Ares noticed that Dox hadn't opened his mouth. Pity he was losing that one; there was actually a working brain in that head. Ares looked skyward, pretending to consider the question as he nibbled on a fingernail.

"I'd say...never?" he said brightly, flashing them a big smile. He loved mimicking Aphrodite; it never failed to send her into the screaming jeebies. He knew damn well she was watching.

"Of course, knowing you morons, you figure 'never' lasts about six months. Don't bother looking me up when you get back. I really don't want another close encounter with one of dear old Dad's bolts."

He turned and stalked off into the trees, heading for the hill. Hercules and Iolaus was long gone by the time Ares got there. He grinned, wondering if they had waited around for the show or if they had taken off as soon as the catapult went off. He would bet the latter. Skouros' whelp had probably figured that business with 'Dite would keep Ares busy long enough for them to make their getaway.

On the whole, Ares was pleased with the little scenario he had concocted. He was dead certain the fleeing mercanaries would spread the word about the little village being under the combined protection of not one, but three gods, from here to Eygpt. Between fear of reprisals from Zeus, Ares, and not least of all, Aphrodite, the War God had just ensured that Thebes was about to enter an era of unparallelled peace that should last at least two or so decades...long enough for Hercules to reach adulthood. This deal should score him some major brownie points with Dear Old Dad.

Hera might have made sure Aphrodite wouldn't try to protect the maturing godling, but it hadn't occurred to her that Zeus could force Ares to do so. But then his Mother seldom reckoned with the effect of his Father's temper on Ares. Ares hadn't been kidding about those bolts.

Ares leaned against the catapult, remembering the feel of Iolaus' hand in his own as the boy struggled to get free and the trusting, innocent blue eyes of of his father's latest little mistake. Potential there, in both of them. Fire deep within the little mortal and steel deep within those innocent eyes. A bond already formed and growing deeper by the day. Ares had seen the birth and death of enough life-long friendships on his battlefields to recognize another. Nobody else among the gods seemed even aware of Iolaus; except, perhaps, 'Dite. His sister had made some mysterious comments concerning this little chore their father had sent him on.

Ares sighed. "Well, perhaps I can be a brother to this one," he thought, but he doubted it. Zeus' whelps always seemed to hate him from birth. This Hercules was the first that hadn't spat in his face on their first meeting.

"He had the little wildcat to do that for him," Ares thought almost fondly. If Iolaus had been there, he would have recognized the look that flitted across the War God's face. It was the same wistful expression that Hercules wore when watching his brother and the other children playing a game they wouldn't let him join.

The next morning, both Hercules and Iolaus woke to find a pair of miniature warrior's guantlets just their size next to their pillows.

Finis

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