So...I decided to chop myself some onions today! This idea was in my head quite some time! I am planning a Part 2 of this but I believe this can also stand on its own! As the title says...
Telemachus was marching across the hall slowly and steadily while supporting the body of his old father. Surely the celebrations for the harvest were going very well and people were having fun but the new King of the Cephallinians had to excuse himself to escort his father to his chambers, for he had apparently drunk more than what he should have and needed his rest. He didn’t mind that little break. Telemachus was never fond of huge crowds anyways and he liked some quiet and solitude. Ever since his father finally came back home after his redemption trip he often spent more time with him than with the servants! He had so much catch up to do with him and so much to talk about and learn from him! As the years passed and Telemachus finally grew old and experienced enough to become king at his own accord, Odysseus gave the throne to him, just like his father before him had also done, and he promised to support him. For Odysseus himself, his life seemed to have been completed with happiness. After his son got married and he brought to this world his beloved grandson, Perseptolis, whom he named after the family tradition himself, his happiness was completed. He had nothing more to expect. He felt his heart was filled with happiness and calmness after a lifetime of worries, torture and ordeals! His son had grown, he was doing a marvelous job as a king, and his grandson was strong and healthy, growing every day! What else could he ask for! Odysseus was already 79 years old, just a few hours away of his 80th birthday. Age was taking over his body pretty fast, especially given the ordeals he had gone through; his bones were often complaining, his arms and fingers often suffered from stiffness and pain, especially when the nights were humid and cold but Odysseus welcomed that pain with happiness. He had grown old when so many others wouldn’t even dream of and he was generally healthy; he still had all of his teeth and most of his hair and his wits were sharp as always, not deteriorating by age. He would praise Athena every day of his life for this. Somehow he would hate to become an imbecile with age, or so he used to say, he would hate to become a burden to his son especially given the sorrows he had given him unintentionally all these years back. Telemachus chuckled as he fixed his staggering father onto his body better.
“Now, now, father!” he said playfully, “I swear to gods, the older you get the more like a child you act!”
“Well, my son, I am now old man, I have no responsibilities anymore other than catering to my family’s garden and play with your son and dear grandson of mine; gods bless him! I believe I earned myself the privilege to act so!”
Telemachus rolled his eyes.
“Even so, you shouldn’t have drunk so much! In your age you should watch your health better!”
Odysseus once again chuckled and made a dismissive move with his hand.
“Oh well…” he said nonchalant, “Wine is one of the few pleasures I have left in this miserable world at my age, my son!”
“Oh, father!” Telemachus scoffed, “Come on now!”
“Either way!” Odysseus shrugged, “This year’s brew was just too good to resist! And you did very good job selecting it and choosing the perfect time for the sea water to be mixed in it! You made it hard to resist!”
“Father! You’re unbelievable!”
“Part of my charm, I’m sure!”
Telemachus couldn’t help himself chuckle softly as he led his father to his bed chamber, to his beloved olive bed. Initially Odysseus had given that as a wedding chamber to his son and his daughter-in-law but for the past few months Odysseus had made this request if he could live his last days in that room where he gave life to this family, where he used to share with his mother his nights and early mornings. Odysseus was devastated when Penelope died. He mourned her for weeks. However Telemachus saw also how calmly he took it. They both grew old and finally enjoyed their lives. That last tribute of Odysseus closing her eyes seemed simply to close that circle. Odysseus mourned but he didn’t despair. He greeted her death like an old friend and thanked all gods that it found his wife healthy and happy and that she died peacefully in her sleep. Penelope had also requested that she were to be transferred to her old bed a little before she died; this was where she had left her last breath. Therefore, after Odysseus made the same request, Telemachus feared his father had sensed his own death coming, thus making him even more careful and worried of him. His father was dismissive of it, of course, and in a way he was right; he wouldn’t be around forever, but to Telemachus the news of losing his father were too sad, too scary to comprehend even if it was the most normal thing in the world. Either way he now led his father to his bed, slowly and steadily and assisted him to it. Odysseus sighed in relief as he was placed upon the mattress and assisted out of his sandals by his son. His son often did this; he attended to him himself, not asking the servants to do things like this. It was as if he was trying to make up the lost time. He breathed deeply again as the bed sheets were paced above his body as well as a blanket his wife had loomed for him; his favorite. It pictured an intricate pattern of olive branches, moly flowers and waves circling a ship that roamed close to a mountain-like island. The ship had three figures standing on them embracing. Penelope had spent months on this blanket and she had given to him as a gift a few years before when he was complaining for the pains in his body from the cold. His father could hardly part with it lately. He even jokingly (or perhaps not so much) said that he wanted this blanket to be his funeral shroud, covering the sheet.
“Is it comfortable?” Telemachus asked
“Yes, thank you…” Odysseus whispered
His hand slowly touched Telemachus’s cheek, feeling the black, curly, bushy beard covering it along with his warm flesh. He smiled affectionately with moist, onyx-black eyes, perceiving those blue eyes of his wife’s to him. Yes, Telemachus was their pride and joy. He took the best out of both of them! He had his strength, his resilience and he had taken his mother’s eyes, her kindness…her wisdom… Yes, Odysseus was proud of what they had done. This pride was exceeding any of the labors he performed in any war; any praise he ever received in his life seemed insignificant before this result he had before him…
“You go back to the celebrations, my son…” he whispered affectionately, “Go back and have fun…don’t spend the rest of the night here with your old father… I will be fine…”
Telemachus scoffed softly, feeling strangely emotional. For some reason his own eyes felt almost watery.
“You silly old man!” he whispered cupping his father’s hand on his cheek with his own, “Anyways, are you sure you are okay? I can ring for someone to come and attend to you”
“Positive…” Odysseus whispered, “I am fine. I will just sleep. I am really tired”
Telemachus shook his head defeated.
“Fine, but please do not hesitate to call if you need anything”
Odysseus’s hand holding his wrist made him stop. He turned to look at the old, white-haired figure of his father’s.
“Thank you…” the tormented king whispered, “…For everything…”
Telemachus half-chuckled, again not sure why he was so emotional all of the sudden. Perhaps he too had more to drink than he should have and it affected him.
“What?” he asked, “That sounded almost like a goodbye…”
Odysseus smiled. His smile was calm and his eyes were glistering in the moonlight.
“What an idea!” he whispered, “There is much life left in these old bones! I buried many much younger than me! I have plenty of years ahead of me!”
“Rest well, old man” he whispered and kissed his father’s brow
Odysseus could only nod as he watched his pride and joy, his son who grew strong and healthy, leave the wedding chamber where he was born into, with his crimson cape waving behind him. He smiled as he was alone in the moonlit room…his eyes shedding two tears.
It was the last, white lie Odysseus of Ithaca was to say…his last goodbye to this world and he wanted to see them off all smiling and celebrating. He didn’t want his last memory to be of his son crying or closing his eyes. This was the last task he had to do himself; alone. He didn’t have much time left and he knew it…and yet he felt calm. He had fulfilled his purpose. There was nothing else for him… He was happy.
He was breathing heavily. His large chest (not as muscular as it used to be) was moving up and down with each breath. He looked up at the canopy of olive branches and smiled. His eyes then moved to the side, to the window that had a clear view of the sea… His eyes filled with tears but these tears wouldn’t shed.
“Death will find you at ripe old age…peacefully…away from the sea…or by its salt huh…?” he whispered chanting the words of Tiresias
Death was something he considered so many times in his life; both with aversion and fear as well as with wishful thinking. Now he felt calm. He could hardly understand how he had survived so long; how he lived longer than many other men of his time; longer than his beloved Penelope… Now he knew it was his time drawing near… There in his favorite bed, under his olive tree…looking at the sea that gave him so much happiness so much adventure and so much torment… He felt calm. He closed his eyes for one second lifting away the tears that had filled his eyes.
The unworldly and yet somehow familiar voice brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes to see that tall figure he never thought he would see again in his life; one of the few people that he wished to have met again and never did. His tall, square figure shone with incredible warm light, dressed up in a fine armor incorporating intricate patterns of feathers instead of plates. His magnificent plumed helmet brought up his dark eyes and the beard that adorned his cheeks and chin. He had a sword to his hip just like he could remember. His skin shone like golden, his long, brown curly hair neatly falling down his back under the helmet. He smiled without wanting to at that rigid figure before him.
“It is I, Odysseus…indeed…”
Odysseus chuckled in delight.
“Wow…” he whispered, “I heard you bastard turned into a god by rumors but, on my word, I never expected to see it with my eyes… Gods you look the same as I remember…you haven’t changed!”
“Nothing and everything has changed…” Diomedes said in his deep, soothing voice
A god then! Odysseus didn’t know if he had to feel proud or a bit envious of him! However after years and years he spent on earth and learnt humility in the most painful ways, his envy was reduced to minimum. Diomedes deserved it, if half the stories that reached his ears about him were true. Besides who would want to live forever like this? He had people waited for him somewhere else too…
“So…” Odysseus whispered, “If you are here…that means…I am dying…right?”
“Yes…” Diomedes whispered.
That was definitely Diomedes he remembered. He never beat about the bushes and always came straight to the point.
“And you came to take me…”
“I asked Lord Hermes for the honor…yes.” Diomedes replied, “I was assigned with this task.”
“No” the answer was simple; direct, “I have lived a long life…I have seen my son grow, I held my grandson in my hands…I nourished him too, to become a young man, I held my wife as she breathed my name one last time… I have nothing else to live for. My time would come… Death does no longer scare me. Death is not unknown to me…”
“Do you have any regrets?”
Yet another direct question. He breathed in and out once, looking upwards in thought.
“I would be a liar if I said I had none…” he finally confessed, “Many good men found death by my hand…many wicked too… I did many things I am proud of and many others I would always carry with me… The lives that fell under my command; both friends and foes alike are always present at my conscious”
“The war of Troy” Odysseus agreed, “Ten years we fought. Ten years we bled. Ten years we killed…and killed we did!”
“Quite so.” Odysseus agreed. “They called you ‘Lord of War Cry’; they called me ‘Sacker of Cities’… The titles would haunt us for the rest of our lives…”
“We bore them all our lives”
“Yes…we did…” he consequently scoffed, “And look at us now! You a god…and I an old man in my deathbed…who would have thought!”
“Do you want to linger a bit further…?”
Odysseus looked around once more.
“No” he replied, “I have lived everything any mortal could live. I am tired, Diomedes. Please take me now…I have nothing else to expect…”
Diomedes smiled one of his known, half-smiles. Child-soldier to the end; a man born and raised in war.
“I am to accompany you to your journey for a little while”
“The journey to the Underworld is not unknown to me…I have not many surprises to expect… But I appreciate it…”
Diomedes extended his hand to him.
“It is time…” he whispered, “Time to go…”
“Yes…” Odysseus whispered, “I have one last request…”
“Can I see my homeland one last time as I go…? Please…do not deny me this last thing…”
Odysseus cried. He felt the last tears run down his wrinkled cheeks.
He took the hand of his old friend and closed his eyes. Once more, the much-enduring Odysseus accepted his fate… The last thing he saw before his eyelids blocked his mortal flesh eyes was the canopy of his olive bed and a tiny glimpse of the starry sky beyond…
My oh my what have I done indeed!!!! And be warned I was writing this while listening to this amazing piece of music from anime Tasogare Otome x Amnesia! I never manage to go through without tearing up with that one! TT-TT
So according to the prophecy of Tiresias Odysseus would die of ripe old age peacefully but ironically the translation from the phrase "εξ αλός" can be both translated "by its salt" or "away/out of its salt" so either his death would come "by the sea" or "away from the sea".
Somehow I tried once again to combine them! XD as you know me I cannot help myself. So Odysseus dies "away from the sea" in his bed at night but "by its salt" for he drank wine mixed with sea water before his death. There you go!
The age was picked so that Telemachus would be in his 40s when this happens. In a way he is at the same age as Odysseus was when he was at the final wars of Troy.
Yeah I imagined Telemachus being almost a copy of his father too apart from some more height and the eyes of Penelope (which were chosen randomly to be blue)
Tlemachus's wife is not named because the two prominient theories is either he gets married to the daughter of Nestor's or to Nausicaa. I sometimes tend to lean towards the second one solely because I find it interesting but I leave it to your imagination.
Perseptolis being named by Odysseus was part of an idea discussed with @ditoob before how the grandfather or grandmother leaves the name to the grandchildren after Autolycus names Odysseus.
And Diomedes is here!!! Imagine if these two never met so many years and meet when Odysseus dies!!! The idea was too much stuck in my head to ignore! So yes lo and behold my idea of a small dialog between them.
