By Sarah

Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and all related characters and concepts are the property of MCA/Universal. No infringement is intended.

The meadow was perfect, Iolaus thought. Bright green grass rippled in the gently scented breeze. The early morning sun filtered through the trees, reflecting off the shallow stream. Birds filled the air with song. Absolutely perfect.

He seated himself on a broad, flat rock near the water. From that vantage point, he could see anyone coming long before they got close to him. Today's project demanded the utmost privacy.

Here in this lovely pastoral setting, Iolaus was going to write a poem of such beauty, of such power, that when Hercules heard it the demigod would instantly realize that he loved Iolaus and would declare that love for all to know.

How hard could that be?

An hour later, Iolaus had some idea. He couldn't understand it. When he and Hercules had attended poetry competitions in Athens and Corinth the singers had made it look so easy, effortlessly rhyming words like 'delphic' and 'stygian'. The blond hunter looked down at the few words he had painstakingly scrawled on a scroll and sang:

Hercules, he's brave and strong!
He goes 'round righting ev'ry wrong!
From Argo's deck to Hydra's lair
No hero has such lustrous hair!

"Oh, gods! I sound worse than Joxer!"

"*Nobody* sounds worse than Joxer. Trust me."

Iolaus almost fell off the rock as he started in surprise and dropped the scroll to the ground. He'd been so intent that he hadn't even noticed anyone's approach. 'So much for privacy,' he thought. A young woman, a shepherdess from her plain white tunic and wooden crook, sat beside him.

"You know Joxer?"

"Oh, yes. I was there when he wrote *his* song. I even helped him with it." She smiled proudly.

"Uh, huh." Iolaus kept his face as impassive as possible, trying to think of anything but the insidious rhythm of Joxer's song.

Alas! His efforts were to no avail as she brushed an untidy brown curl back from her forehead and sang in a clear, sweet voice--

Joxer the Mighty!
He's very tidy!

-- and Iolaus knew the damn thing would echo in his head for hours.

"It's certainly ... uh, memorable." He congratulated himself on such a diplomatic comment, only to be disconcerted when she burst out laughing.

"My, you *are* a polite one! And just as handsome as Apollo said."

"Apollo?" Iolaus repeated blankly.

"My brother. I'm Thalia." She looked at him expectantly. "Thalia? Muse of Comedy? There's eight more at home like me? Ring any bells yet?"

"Oh, *that* Thalia. Sorry, didn't recognize you without your mask," he hurriedly apologized. He knew from personal experience that it didn't do to insult an woman or an immortal, much less an immortal woman. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Thalia was just a little more *here* than a mere mortal would be. 'I guess hanging around with Hercules I've gotten too used to what the gods look like to be startled by them.'

"Um, it's always nice to talk with the gods," he continued, "but I'm not really sure why you're here."

Thalia muttered to herself. "Mother always said 'Do comedy and they'll never take you seriously.' Why didn't I listen to her?" She shook her crook in Iolaus's general direction. "See this? I'm also the Muse of pastoral poetry. You're sitting in a pasture. You're writing poetry. What'd you expect?"

She took in his abashed expression and gave a little sigh. "Never mind. I suppose the only Muse you were thinking of was my sister Erato. I'll give you a few pointers -- if you want to invoke her, try scented oils and silk sheets. She's a real sucker for them."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to inconvenience you." At least now he knew why his poem was coming out all wrong. "I guess I'll have to try again another time."

"Why don't you just *tell* Hercules how you feel?" Thalia asked bluntly.

"I ... I ... don't think I can. I've been hiding my feelings for so long that I don't think I can look him in the face and tell him that I love him." He looked at her, a hopeful expression on his face. "Do you really think that Erato could inspire me?"

"She worked wonders for Sappho." Thalia smiled at him. "I like you, Iolaus. You've got a quick wit and a merry heart. I've listened to some of the stories you tell around the campfire and they make me laugh. I'll put in a good word for you with my sister."

"Thank you! I promise I'll make an offering to you at the next shrine I pass. What do you like --? Thalia?"

He was alone again on the rock.

"I will *never* get used to that 'vanish into thin air' bit." Iolaus said to the empty meadow. "I guess there's no point in working on this anymore." He picked up the scroll from the grass and began to roll it up when some neatly written lines caught his eye.

Hercules, though most brave and bold,
That Iolaus loved him had to be told.
Though the blond slept in his arms,
Herc was blind to his charms
And complained of his feet being cold.

He laughed softly and tucked the scroll into his belt. 'Someday I'll share that with Herc.' He headed out of the meadow, toward the road. Toward Hercules.

'Someday.'

THE END

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