Helia nudged him in the way of the daughter, wishing never to bring bad news to her promised husband, and Aristotle, missing his children still, easily fell into the role. “As could be expected, each to his own nature.”
The youth then looked to Aristotle with tearing eyes of sorrow. “Grandfather Best-purpose, you are the wisest Whiteman to live, and I seek to be the savior of the Redman and the friend of the People of Winter Past. I have more intelligence, more collected knowledge than you could imagine, swimming in the depths of my mind. I lack wisdom though. I have so much knowledge within my uncomfortably expanded mind that making decisions—once easy—has become difficult. I seek your guidance.”
Helia pinched him like a proud daughter and nudged him in an urgent manner to answer. “Yes, I will advise you. I must first know the circumstances and the question.”
Thunder-boy then spread his hands and breathed deeply before continuing, “You have your understanding of my nature. Let us not stray from what is understood in that, even if it is incomplete. In concord with your understanding, let me liken my enemies, and those of my father, and of he who you name Wolf-War and the Beast-Achilles, to the Titans. They too may travel along the River of Time. And, like Arlene, there are others of our friends—mortal as you say—with the means to summon our kind and theirs’ with the thunder-hoops given them.”
He paused to make certain he was understood, until Helia nudged Aristotle like an impatient girl, to question him—As if you were that advisor girl!
But one dekad among these barbarians and she is as willful as an Amazon!
Three-Rivers then nodded as if he had been able to understand Aristotle’s ire, and gave an indulgent wink to Helia before continuing, “The Titans sent DeathSong among us to set our world’s on a separate course—the Redman and the Winterman both. This he thought was to the good, giving those people who had been killed by his ancestors their own world, another chance to survive so-to-speak. I was one of these people, a prophet of the Redman, who returned with him to the Sunset Worlds so that I might watch over my people from beyond their living world. It has now come to me, through the One Parted Tree and Mother that the Whiteman of Further Sunset and their masters of Furthest Sunset now use the world of Winter Past like a sheep pen, out of which they gather the lambs, shear the ewes, and slaughter the rams. I am also sworn to recover a child of the Redman—the son of a Queen—from Further Sunset.”
A particularly large tear ran down his face, and it was obvious the youth was beyond making the type of statesmanlike decisions required of a tyrant or king. Helia irritatingly nudged him to intercede and stop the anguish of her divine husband-to-be.
Yes, girl, in my well-considered time!
He carefully eyed her with a look of fatherly impatience with childish haste, cleared his throat, and addressed the sulking demigod, “Thunder-Boy, you must guard your camp, protect your ages-distant homeland, regain the stolen child, and honor the request of your allies of Winter Past for aid. Though you might travel through the ages at will, it is plain that the Titans can also. Furthermore, you barely have enough warriors to secure this camp, and your mighty spear of a warrior, your bloody right hand, has already been dragged into a war on behalf of your allies. Yours is the classic dilemma of the warrior king, and I understand you to be no warrior.”
He paused to give emphasis to his assertion of unwarlike empathy, before continuing,
“There is but one course; join him, smash the Titans between him and your Wintermen allies, and go from there to the Titan stronghold while they still reel from the blow. Do as Alexander did, save do not stay among the enemy, but return to your people. This is the best course. I can advise no other.”
Helia was hugging him and kissing his cheek as Thunder-Boy seemed to levitate from his seat to stand before them, and then smiled and extended his hands, “Thank you for elevating me from beneath such an awful burden Grandfather Best-purpose.”
He then seemed to glide by them out into the campground, causing Helia to scramble from his lap, “Thank you Teacher, now come, he might need something—we must see him off!”
She is adorable you know, indulge her.
But I am suddenly weary.
Where is her sense of propriety—I am the patriarch!
He was dragged to his feet and out of the door onto the curiously laid aggregate of the campsite as she babbled like some Attic hussy—oh thank the fates Arlene took that brat Polymara away—“Come Teacher! Do you think Hera will permit you to officiate over our marriage ceremony?"
“Why, I…”
“Clearly Zeus will relent and we will be wed after the defeat of the Titans!”
“I thin…”
“Do you think it will be at Olympus?”
“Now g…”
“If I am married to Apollo at Olympus what shall I wear?”
“You know of…”
“Shouldn’t you get married first?”
“What!?!”
“I don’t mean to the Companion, she’s debased; perhaps to a princess of Apollo’s Red Men?”
His mind was crazed to bursting by being talked over like this. Then she kissed him on the cheek and grabbed his hand and skipped ahead of him, her pony tails slapping him in the face.
Just laugh old fool, what else is there left to do, but laugh.
It was as if he had never laughed before. Of course he had not, not among the people of Tomorrow, not until this frivolous moment that made him feel as young as the skipping Pythia before him.
