“Get out of the road!”
Arcadia didn’t have many roads. Its hills and trees made sure of that. Regardless, this horse-drawn wagon persisted through the bumps. Until a lone ram sat in its path.
“Let’s just go around,” the driver’s wife said. “This isn’t a good place to be.”
“That’s just a rumor.” He unsheathed his sword, “And that sheep is gonna be my new coat if it’s not out of the way in 10 seconds!”
“I’m pretty sure the horns mean it’s a ram, dear.”
The ram saw the sword. He looked at the red-faced merchant. He looked behind the cart. Then went back to eating grass.
The merchant took a step off the wagon. Anger fueling his actions. But, they disappeared when a whistle got the ram to stand up. Like a soldier at attention.
A young boy with golden curly hair emerged from some trees. He looked to be around 12 or 13. A short and not very well-fed 13-year-old.
Once he whistled again, the ram came right on command. The animal no longer cared about the grass. His owner had found a juicy apple.
“Sorry about that!” He said, “He tends to wander off!”
The merchant didn’t have anything to say. He just wanted to get going. His wife was polite enough to wave to the boy.
Neither bothered to ask where he got the apple from when there wasn’t an apple tree anywhere nearby. There were apples in the back of their wagon. There was also a bag of coins and spare clothes. All of which were now behind the tree the boy had emerged from.
“Can’t fit this,” the boy said, looking at the clothes. “I wonder where I can find some stitching tools.”
He gave his trusted ram the biggest apple of the bunch. Eaten in two bites. A light nuzzle from the animal as thanks.
Off the two went with the haul. The ram carried the heavier bag on his back. The boy slung the bag of clothes over his shoulder.
They didn’t travel very far. Past the forest and across a valley was their home. A cave that was just a stone's throw away from a creek. With a shallow grave right outside.
The boy left an apple by the headstone. Made of wood and carefully carved to the best of the boy’s ability. But still not as pristine as he’s liked.
They entered the cave. As the boy set his bag down, he saw just how dirty his companion had gotten going through the forest.
The child took one sniff, “You need a bath, boy.” He smelled himself, “We both need baths.”
A woman’s voice calmly stated, “Well, if that’s all you need, I’ll just leave this bucket and be on my way.”
The boy grabbed a rock. The ram prepared to charge. They stood ready to attack whoever had snuck into their home.
Eris casually swung a metal bucket by its handle around her finger. Her back was against the wall and her eyes closed as if she was napping. A leather bag was tied to her hip.
Her impossible constellation hair was now blonde and shoulder-length. A black star-shaped flower by her ear. Her gold sandals blinded the boy when the sunlight hit them.
“Is that how you greet your goddess?” Eris asked.
“My what?” He asked. Now more annoyed than confused.
Eris strutted forward. She set the bucket down in the light. Revealing clear and still water from the creek.
Fully emerging, she opened her eyes. Pure golden irises. Brighter than any polished metal. The perfect glow told the boy she wasn’t lying about her godhood.
He guessed, “…Queen Hera?”
“That’s my mom.”
He gasped, “Lord Ares! What’re you doing with boobs?”
“Do I look like,” Eris stopped herself.
The boy laughed at his successful prank. Eris had to admit, she did fall for it. And it was mildly amusing.
She cleared her throat and started again, “Eris, Goddess of Chaos.”
Eris took a step off the ground. She leaned forward and floated in the air. Like a cloud, inching her way toward him. Passing him by as he unloaded the bags into the cave.
Organizing what little food he had. Putting the coins in a withered box. Folding the new clothes and placing them by some worn down shoes.
“I have enough ‘chaos’ in my life. Thanks. If you can send a Lord Hephaestus to build me a house. I’d happily join his temple.
“Perhaps you need a method to the madness.” Eris whispered, “Hermes.”
Hermes side-eyed the goddess. She had a smug ‘I know everything’ look. When he looked back to the food pile, the apples were all golden. They were lined up, spelling out a very important detail.
‘Son of Maia’.
“Fine,” Hermes gave up his task. He knew better than to try to outrun a goddess. Even though he could, he wasn’t leaving his Ram or his haul behind.
Even if the ram was chewing on the grass outside.
He sat cross-legged and back against the wall, “What do you want me to do?”
Eris continued to hover above him, “Something that’ll benefit us both. I want you, my little orphan, to steal some cows.”
“From?” He inquired.
“Lord Apollo’s temple. It’s about a day away.”
“You could’ve just stabbed me if you wanted me dead.”
“Child murder isn’t fun. Usually.” Eris explained, “Besides, gods can’t kill gods without Zeus’ permission. Demi-gods in your current case.”
Hermes was back to being confused. He was an only child. No uncles or aunts that his mother had mentioned. The ram was the closest thing to family he had.
“Am I supposed to believe that Apollo is my father?”
Eris hung upside down. Her hair floated just out of reach for the boy to grab. She wanted to pluck every yellow hair out of the child’s head.
“Kid, King Zeus is,” Eris realized the cards she had been dealt. This one misunderstanding might make convincing the boy easier.
“King Zeus…didn’t approve of Apollo marrying someone who wasn’t a goddess. Even worse, an inferior, homely, forest nymph. So,”
Hermes quickly jumped up and pulled on Eris’ hair. Yanking her down to Earth. Knocking her into the bucket, spilling water all over her hair and clothes. Then he sat back down as if he had done nothing. All in less than 2 seconds.
The ram only saw a blur yanking Eris down in an instant. An instant headache. An immediate rage.
“You impudent little half-breed!” Eris rose back up. Her golden hair dissolved into a cosmos. She grew taller than the cave would let her fit comfortably. Muscles and soaked clothes expanded with her.
“Your punishment will be death! Slow and painful! Thanatos will have to put you back together before taking you to the underworld!”
“Shut up,” Hermes ordered.
Hermes counted each point he made on each finger.
Point one, “If I’m a half-god, then I’m still a god. And you need permission from King Zeus to kill me. Otherwise, I’ll see you in the underworld.”
Point two, “If Zeus is my dad, then you’re my sister. And I doubt any dad wants his kids killing each other. So, again, I’ll see you in the underworld if you touch me.”
Point three, “I've been faster than a bull long enough to know I’m not just a nymph’s son. A nymph with more power in her finger than you have in your entire body. But let’s say you’re lying, I’ll just ask King Hades the truth when I arrive in the underworld. It’ll take a while, but eventually, whoever my dad is will be speaking with you.”
Eris shrunk back down like a deflated balloon. Her hair went back to its mortal yellow. Her goddess-gold eyes stayed the same.
“Clever boy,” Eris admitted.
She rang out her clothes. Instead of falling to the ground, the water formed a floating ball. Something for her to kick at Hermes.
He ran out of the way. Easily. Hermes even rested against the other side of the cave wall similarly.
Hermes stuck his tongue out. Happy that Eris’ revenge failed. Or so he thought.
His stuff was now just as soaked as Eris once was. Hermes’ triumphant taunt soured into a glare.
“They’ve got plenty of houses on Mt. Olympus.” Eris tempted, “The place is full of food and fancy clothes. All you need to do is become a full-fledged God.”
“Oh, is that all?!” Hermes mocked.
She shrugged, “You can start by getting one of the Olympian’s attention.”
Hermes knew this was a trap. If not, she had some ulterior motive. 13 years, and not 1 god had swung by. Why now?
He looked past Eris to the ram relaxing by some dirt. Head in the shade provided by the wooden grave. As appetizing as the apple was, the ram knew not to eat it.
Why should Hermes get Apollo's attention?
Why not?
End
