This story was written for Slash Advent Calendar of 2003 at http://www.kardasi.com/Advent/2003  It was the only Hercules story in the bunch of over 300 fan slash stories so the boys probably got a little lonely.   It is a hard story to rate, but I don’t think slashers would consider it over PG-13, but I am rating this version R to keep the kiddies away.  There is a real Greek myth that is a little gory anyway.

 This story is set in that mysterious time period between the end of Young Hercules and the start of the Hercules Movies.

Beta: Thanks loads to Julia, Tol10 and Uber-Dylan.

RURAL DIONYSIA

 By McJude

They were not going to make it back to Thebes for winter solstice.  A series of little delays -- too many distractions by monsters and bandits, too many ales and bar fights and too many pretty girls who wanted to do it one more time in the morning -- had extended the travel time.  While Hercules remembered the excitement of first few times he and Iolaus had returned to their homes on solstice break from the academy; now that they were out on their own, controlling their own schedules, the time and the need to be anywhere did not seem that important. 

He sat watching Iolaus’s rabbits brown on a stick over the fire.   They looked the way Iolaus liked them cooked, as brown as they could get before the flesh started to char.   Their solstice meal would be not that different than any other meal, but it would be fresh and delicious.

He wondered where his friend had run off to, hoping that his sudden disappearance into the bush did not portend of an evening spent purging bad food they had eaten along the way.  Other cooks were not as careful with the freshness of their game.  Dealing with a sick Iolaus would extend the travel time even further.

The small blonde man suddenly burst through the thicket dragging a huge log, thick like Herc’s thigh and almost as long as he was tall.   It was always amazing how Iolaus could scowl from the difficulty of the task and still sport a smile.

“This aught to be the right size.”

“To club a giant?”

“For tonight, Herc.”  Iolaus had a bit of a pout on his face and in his voice.  “And I could use a little help.”

Hercules grabbed the log, held it above his head, and carried it to the fire.  The sight and scent of a perfectly done rabbit distracted Iolaus from further comments about the log.  At least there was no worry about being cold tonight. 

*  *  *  *

Iolaus had brought wine.  Heavy syrupy wine that smelled like the skin in which he had been carrying it.  While Hercules appreciated the effort Iolaus had taken to secure the wine, he preferred the fresh spring water from the pool near the camp.  That meant Iolaus drank all the wine himself.  Even in the firelight Hercules noticed that his friend’s nose, cheeks and eyelids had turned several different shades of pink.

“Well, I guess it’s time to burn – my log.”  Iolaus said.

“Your log, I don’t see your name carved into it.”

“I found it, I carried it back to camp, and I am going to burn it.  It’s a winter log.  I am not going to be the one to blame if the Kallikantzaroi come to camp.”

“Iolaus, you can’t still believe . . . after all we’ve been through with gods and monsters.”

“Let’s say I don’t take chances.  Especially with the Kallikantzaroi.”

Hercules rolled the large log onto the fire and the two men sat down and waited as its dry bark warmed and burst into flames.   They sat watching the dancing fire, which while making the clearing brighter, made the shadows appear even darker.

“See, Iolaus.  There’s no need to worry about Kallikantzaroi.  We don’t have a horse, so they can’t come and braid its tail.  There’s no milk, or wine, to sour.  You’ve drunk it all.” 

Iolaus wiggled a bit, stretched and burped.

“But, what if they come and pee on the fire.”

“I thought that was you’re specialty, Iolaus.”  He paused and read the look on his friend’s face.   “I’ll scare them off; I have the strength of ten men.”
 

The big man leaned and put his arm around his Iolaus, drawing him close to him.   For a few seconds he wondered if there truly was something special about this time of year, being with friends, practicing a ritual . . .

“I remember when my mother used to tell me the story of this time of year.”  Hercules began the reminiscence even without the aid of wine.

“Me, too, were you scared?”  The wine seemed to have brought back some of the child in Iolaus.  Even though he was older and in some ways more mature than Hercules, youth did not hide far below the surface.

“A little, when I was really young.  You have to realize that I knew Zeus was my father, which made it even more personal.  The story was about my half-brother.   I liked the part about where ‘the force of indestructible life first springs forth, breaking all bonds, creating a celebration of the breaking of all barriers and the fulfillment of every wish’.“  Hercules indicated with his fingers that he was quoting exactly what his mother had told him.

“Did she even tell you the good parts?”

“What?”

“You know, Herc, when the chalk faced Titans lured the baby into the cave with those special toys.  How they cut him up, boiled him in milk and roasted him.”

“Ugh, Iolaus, that sounds like your cooking.  I guess my mother skipped that part.”

“Thought so.  Anyway Zeus smelled the roasting meat and came to look. When he discovered the Titanic crime, he incinerated them with his lightning. From the soot that rose in the air he created humanity.”  The same wine that had made Iolaus languid now served to accentuate his arm gestures.

“Now, that part she told us.  Guess my mother was applying a little censorship the stories.”

“Bet she didn’t tell you the rest. . . about  the only part of Dionysus had not been destroyed. Although Dionysus's flesh was destroyed and his bones were buried at Delphi, indestructible life survives through his divine phallus.”

“Divine phallus.  Your mother told you THAT, Iolaus?”

“Nah, I learned it years later back when I was on the streets, participating in a REAL Rural Dionysia festival.  It’s a really wild one, Herc. They had a processional with this huge phallus.  All decorated.   Men would dress as women, women as men, to celebrate the breaking of barriers.  Dancing around the phallus.  Drinking. . .  fucking . . . more drinking. . . did I say fucking.”

“Wait a minute, Iolaus, isn’t that the festival where they used to dress a man up as Dionysus and . . .

 “He was sacrificed and eaten by nine women. That’s the one, ‘cept now they use a goat.”

“Sounds  . . . “  Hercules wasn’t quite sure what to say.  His background and that of Iolaus were just too different.  Sure they were best friends . . . even though he wouldn’t admit it to anyone . . . they were also sometimes lovers.  It was just that Iolaus was more comfortable discussing these things.  To Hercules sex was extremely private.  “. . . festive.”

Hercules lay back.  He glanced once again at the burning log, it definitely would last the night, and over at Iolaus.  His friend’s eyes were closed, but he realized it wasn’t from sleep, or the wine, or the smoke . . . Iolaus had the look that indicated that he was thinking.

“Herc,” the fire danced in Iolaus’s now open blue eyes and his smile grew wider than Hercules had ever seen it before.  “Remember when you told me earlier that you had the strength of ten men.  Do you suppose you have the talent of nine women?” 

“Happy Solstice, Iolaus.”  Hercules said as he rolled toward the smaller man whose symbol of the indestructible life force had sprung forth breaking all barriers.  More than one log would burn tonight.

McJude

October 1, 2003