Note: This is the third "vignette" in a series beginning with "I Had Forgotten," followed by "Now I Remember." It is totally unnecessary to read the other two first as they stand on their own..but it might be more meaningful to you if you do.

Comments are always welcomed and appreciated anytime at warriorsbard@hotmail.com

Copyright 1999 by My Warrior

The smells coming from the back room can only be described as marvelous. The bard is baking another loaf of nutbread and, despite the mild protests from the taller, darker one; she is bustling about in her usual whirlwind manner, the kitchen in her complete control.

"Gabrielle, don't you think it's a bit soon to be careening around here like..."

The bard cuts the warrior off in mid-sentence with a wave of her hand.

"Xena, I'm not "careening." Where'd you get that word, anyway? Besides, you know I can't just sit back and take it easy. I'm bored out of my mind."

"I know that Brie, and I'm sorry, but you are still healing, you know."

" I know." She smiles. "You've got flour on your nose, fearless warrior."

With that, the bardly one reaches up and touches the facial feature in question. "Now you've got some dough there, too." She winks.

With an exaggerated sigh, my daughter makes an attempt at removing the offending substance, but I can still see the amusement in her clear blue eyes, daring to be squelched.. For now, warrior control gains the upper hand. She puts on her best no-nonsense scowl.

"That's your third loaf of nutbread."

"Very good, Xe. I see you paid attention in school." The bard flashes her a brilliant smile, and the warrior rolls her eyes.

"I suppose you don't want me to mention the 4 dozen cinnamon rolls and the chocolate cake."

"Three dozen, six and a half," the bard corrected. "Not counting the ones you ate."

Xena ignores this.

"I just don't think you should be running around like a madwoman all day."

She touches the bard lightly on the shoulder, stopping her forward progress from the oven to the already overloaded table. I think I hear the table sigh in relief at the warrior's action.

"Let me take a look at that wound."

A sigh from the smaller one. "It's fine, Xena. Look, if I have any problems, I promise I'll sit down for a while. Deal?"

The warrior growls protest. "I suppose."

I clear my throat loudly as I enter the kitchen. My daughter nods in my direction, and the bard hurries over to where I am standing.

"Hey Cyrene!"

Out of nowhere, a muffin appears in my hand. The heavily laden table seems unaffected by the loss.

"Here, try this. I experimented with one of your recipes. Tell me what you think."

The muffin is delicious. "Thanks, honey. It's wonderful."

Xena looks incredulous. "You made muffins, too? When did you do that?"

Gabrielle reaches over and pops a small piece of the sweet cake into Xena's mouth. "Remember when you went to feed Argo? They were just coming out of the oven then."

The warrior shakes her head. "By the gods, Brie, did you rest at all this afternoon?"

Perhaps it is none of my concern, but the mother in me surfaces now with abandon. It's time to intervene. Besides, the oven is in pain and filing a work comp claim.

"I think you two need to get out of the inn for awhile. Go do something." I catch Xena's eye, just for a moment.

"Something quiet." I add. "Now get."

They both look at me for a moment, but I shoo them out with a toss of my head and a look that says there will be no further discussion. I reach into the oven myself, divesting it of twin loaves of fresh wheat bread. The warrior looks up in disbelief. The table faints in horror. The bard unties her apron and throws it over a nearby chair. She looks at the warrior. "I see now where you get that look."

Xena hasn't said a word, but her eyebrow is arched slightly and a lopsided grin rests comfortably on her lips. Gabrielle smiles, that radiant, adorable smile of hers, and takes the warrior's larger hand in her own.

"C'mon, Xe, lets go sit down by the river. I promise not to do any high dives off the cliff wall, okay?"

"Well...."

"Please?"

That one word seems to rob the warrior of any further comments. She squeezes the smaller hand gently, but does not release it. The bard's fingers slip through each one of the warriors as if to renew the grip she already has on the warrior's heart. I can almost feel the energy that passes between them. It is like the strongest wildfire and the softest whisper all at the same time. Xena surrenders to no one like she does to this woman, who, like no one else, has been able to see past the sometimes-hard exterior to the sweet soul that lies underneath.

"Alright." Xena turns to retrieve her weapons from the table.

"Do you really need those?" the bard asks, softly. She is still holding the larger hand and she pulls the warrior gently around. "I mean, we're just going down to the river."

"You were just going down there, too, when you got ambushed." Xena pointed out to the bard.

"I'm not taking any chances this time. Please don't ask me to."

Gabrielle leans against the doorframe wearily. "Xe..."

The warrior looks up, a touch of regret in the crystal orbs. "Maybe if I'd been with you when Krykus-

"Xe, don't...please.."

"Gabrielle, if anything ever happened to you..."

"I know. I feel the same way about you, even though I probably couldn't protect you as well as you do me. But I don't want you to be so..shaken by all of this that you don't think you can let me out of your sight. Or..that we can't go anywhere without looking in all the closets first."

"You want to go to the river by yourself?"

"Of course not. You're missing my point. I want to go down there, put my feet in the water and just enjoy having my favorite person in this world sitting next to me. I just don't want to have to watch my back every second, is all."

"You don't have to. I'll watch your back." And I'll do a better job next time, too...You're always getting hurt, because of me...because of who I am, or who I was...it doesn't really matter, because I've got a thousand faceless enemies..warlords, soldiers, innocents....you shouldn't have to endure this, not you....you've done nothing to deserve it; your crime is that you care about me, and look where it got you. You wanted adventure, but I bet you never bargained on this.....

Not wanting to think about it any longer, the bard sighed. "Let's just go, okay?"

"You're not okay with this, are you?"

"Xena, we're supposed to be a team. The last thing I want to feel is helpless."

"You're far from helpless, Gabrielle."

"Then why are you always the one looking after me? How many times have I stepped in and rescued you?"

"Not counting the time you brought me back from the dead, just once."

"Big deal."

"It was a big deal. I could rescue you a million times and you'd still be ahead."

The bard looked up, confused.

"You rescued my soul, Gabrielle. That means...everything to me. It's all that matters."

She reached out a callused hand. "Let's go to the river, sweetie."

The term of endearment registered on the bard's face clearly. She lit up like a thousand of the brightest stars in the night sky, the same way she always did under the stoic warrior's affection. I tried to suppress a chuckle at the thought that my daughter, once called Destroyer of Nations, had just used the word "sweetie."

They went out into the late afternoon sun. I watched them walk, hand in hand, until they disappeared into the woods and I could see them no more. Xena's weapons were still on the table. It was, I suppose, a type of surrender for her. An acknowledgement that she could not single-handedly save the bard from every foreseeable trouble that might come their way. I knew it was hard for the logical warrior to abandon said logic for even a moment, but I also knew that, for the bard, she would make the attempt. For a moment I am swept away to that time that seems so long ago now, the day that my wayward daughter finally came home. And I, disbelieving, turned my back on her in favor of believing the worst..again. We all want the best for our children; we hold hope in our hearts that the finished product will make us walk just a little taller and rest just a little easier at night. How blind could I have been not to understand that until a life is over, it is never really finished?

It is always changing, moving, sculpting itself into what it will eventually be. All the pieces, picked up one at a time as the years go by, contribute to who we are and what we will become. They are all pieces of whatever brought us to this moment....to the place we are now...

Oh, I chastise Xena for being too overprotective but she is more like me than I ever thought. What irony! I sit here and wonder if there was anything I could have done differently that would have made her turn from her path of destruction, or, even better, not have gotten on it in the first place. Would it have made any difference if I had loved her more? Loved her differently? What about Toris? He chooses never to come home, hidden by the shame he caused his family by abandoning his brother when he needed him the most. And his brother...that sweet boy, so full of potential, a life wasted by the stench of war and discord and bloodshed.

And yet I know I could have changed none of it, I have only the here and now, and so does Xena. You can't change any of it, Xena, no matter how hard you try. You can't protect your bard from every evil thing even though I know you feel you must make the attempt.. Sometimes things just happen. But you, you want to fix everything, as if there is an easy solution to every problem but there isn't...sometimes you just have to go on living and do the best you can. When will you stop blaming yourself every time your bard feels even an ounce of pain? You can't change the past, my dear, and you can't predict the future but you can live in the present and be grateful for each new day that you see the sun and know that you are making a difference and that you are loved..

The walk to the river was uneventful, the only sound was the thousand unspoken thoughts passing through the warrior's active mind.

I know I can't protect you from everything, my stubborn little bard. But I would, you know. If I could, I'd shield that glorious heart of yours from everything that threatens to diminish the light that comes from it. You are so brave, so very brave, and yet I know that every glimpse into the filthy, evil part of this world has an effect on you, even if you don't say anything.

I know I can't protect you, not as long as you choose to stay with me, but I would, you know.

I wake up every morning and marvel that you are still here, that you still want to be here, despite every horrible thing you have seen and experienced because of me. If you had stayed at the academy you might be a great bard by now, known all over the world for your stories. If I could give you once ounce of that innocence back, I would.. I'd trade it in an instant for whatever worldly thing I might have that would be of any worth to any god...just to give you a second chance at a better life. You have seen so much, and yet..you want to stay, you want to be here with me, even though that means that you are always at risk. What I feared most has happened..that my enemies know what you mean to me and they have already used that against me. How many times will they hurt you to get to me? How many times will you bounce back from it like nothing has happened even though you know everything has changed and just keep moving forward? What if the next time you're not so lucky? If there were any words to tell you just how much you mean to me, I'd use them, but they all pale in comparison to the actual emotion that I am ashamed to even utter them. If I could find such a word, it would fall from my lips, ....but I'm no good with that sort of thing;, I'm certainly no bard, my skills lie in the use of the weapons in my hand and the logic in my head and when even they fail me I feel as vulnerable as a child...

You're quieter than usual, my stubborn, prideful warrior. I wonder what's going on in that mind of yours. You see Krykus behind every tree, and in every town. You want to shield me from thugs like him but you know there will always be another Krykus, somewhere. You can't stand between me and everything painful and you know it. I wish you knew how rich my life has become because of you, how much I've learned, how much I've seen that I never would have dreamed possible from that little room back in Potadeia. I know it's hard sometimes, but I wouldn't trade this life with you for anything else.. You just can't allow yourself to believe that you deserve someone's unconditional caring because everything in your existence has always come with a price. Not this time, warrior. I have no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive, and I want nothing from you but your love in return. I want to wake up every morning to that brilliant, dazzling smile of yours that you reserve only for me. If I could give you one gift, it would be the ability to see what a difference you have made...how much better this world has become because you lived in it, because you finally found your way, because you care. And in the life of one big dreamer of a bard, on whose soul you are forever etched.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Warrior grins at Bard.

"Oh, nothing much. You?"

"This and that."

"We're here."

"It's beautiful."

"Sit down here with me, sweetie."

"I love you, Xena."

"Love you too." Xena pokes the bard playfully on the arm. "You wanted to put your feet in the river. Go for it."

The bard grins in delight, taking pleasure in such a simple thing. In an instant, her boots are off and she sticks her toes into the cool water, kicking up a small stream of droplets onto the warrior sitting next to her.

"You know you're asking for it."

"I know." Another wildly mischievous grin from said Bard.

"It'll take you a week just to dry out."

The bard giggles.

"I love that sound."

The bard blushes.

"Know what I love?"

"What?"

"That look."

The one with that broad, lopsided grin that says you're up to no good. Because when I see it I know that, just for the moment, you are truly enjoying yourself. For that time, there are no wars, no guilt, no visions of doom in your head. For that one second, you shine, and it's so totally you. It's the you that never became the warlord, it's the you that feels the freedom to let yourself enjoy the moment, it's the you I see every time I look into your soul because I know it's always been there. It's the you that walks into a room and where everyone else sees the warrior, I see the woman who speaks 12 languages and knows every street in Greece by memory. They look at your weapons and fear their wrath, I see the woman who takes a 4-mile detour just to pick up some extra apples for her horse. I love the quiet, peaceful way you look when your sleeping and you don't have visions of Cirra that night. I love the way you walk into an unfamiliar town wearing that unmistakably intimidating stare, and yet you bend down from your full six feet to speak to a child who's tugging at your leathers just because he wants to say hello.

"What look?" Warrior grins, still lopsided.

"That one." Bard smiles.

The leather-clad one stretches her shoulders back, and looks out over the slowly moving water.

"This place...it's amazing. Do you know how many battles were fought near here? This used to be a shortcut for Cortese and his army..you can reach any number of the surrounding towns in a heartbeat if you come through the pass here and cross the river at this very spot. I know, I've used it myself..." She trails off. "Still, it's beautiful."

Bard rolls over onto her stomach and gazes up into the face that has seen enough in 29 years to last a lifetime. Bard speaks.

"You know what I find so incredible about this place?"

"What?"

"So many different things have taken place here..some good, some not so good, some that don't fit into either category. But the river..it just keeps on moving, no matter what."

"Water has to keep moving, Gabrielle. If it didn't, it would just pool somewhere and become stagnant."

The bard smiles, a soft, knowing grin.

"Exactly."

"Trying to mix in a little philosophy, are we, bard?" The smile is returned, just as soft.

"Oh you logical types could use a little of the arts now and then."

"Philosophy's an art?"

"In the hands of a bard, you bet." The green eyes twinkle. "We bards are sorely underestimated, you know." She pulls a small parcel out of her bag. "I brought along some of the muffins."

Xena shakes her head. "I think your appetite is sorely underestimated. Where do you put it all, anyway?"

"In about 2 seconds, I'm gonna tell you where to put it, warrior." Another giggle.

"Oh you are, are you?" The feral grin.

"Oh yeah."

"I bet the water's cold." Warrior advances on Bard.

"I bet you want to do your own cooking for a month."

Xena appeared to consider this.

"Hmm..Well, lucky for you my culinary skills are limited to bread and cheese."

She picked up a flat rock lying near her boot and skipped it out over the surface of the water. It took several good hops before losing momentum and dropping to the bottom.

"We've had a rough year."

"Yeah..." The bard wiggled her toes under the water. "But, you know, we've learned a lot too..and we've done so much. We've improved situations for others, Xena, for the greater good. Things got just a little bit better because we took the time to care that they did. And whatever it was that allowed us to do that..."

"Is what we brought with us to this moment."

"Yeah." The storyteller smiled, and gave the armored one a friendly shove. "You gonna be a warrior-philosopher from now on?"

"I think I'm better suited to the kick-butt, in-your-face approach. But I'm certainly cultivating a tolerance for smart-alecky bards." She grinned wildly, then winked.

I watched them approach, walking in a comfortable, companionable silence, the younger one with her usual energy and the older with noticeably less tension in her gait. They nodded in my direction as they climbed the stairs to the sleeping quarters. Long moments later, as I was closing the door on the last patron of the evening, I heard my daughter descend the stairs two at a time and retrieve her weapons from where she had placed them hours ago.

"Almost forgot these." She smiles, and I marvel at how youthful exuberance and the toll of the years fight for dominance in the impossibly blue eyes. After all the things she has seen and the things she has been, to have her end up on this path, in this direction...the sheer weight of that emotion threatens to overwhelm me and I realize how fortunate I suddenly feel that after everything, she is standing here in my inn with a look of contentment I thought I'd never see.

As I reach up to kiss her, and we say our goodnights, I know I will always be grateful..... for whatever brought us to this moment.

Finis.