GROUND IOLAUS

by Amorette

After Hercules had finished being sick, he staggered back to his feet but remained on the other side of the tree from the pile of steaming gore that used to be his partner.

"I'm so sorry about this," muttered Odious, the most minor of all the Olympian gods, wringing his hands. Odious was so minor, he didn't actually get to live on Olympus but on a lesser mountaintop nearby and upwind, for Odious was the god of offal collectors and renderers and collectors of night soil and consequently always smelled rather unpleasant. "I honestly thought he was a deer and I was going to try my new meat grinder out. . ."

At the green look on Hercules' handsome face, Odious stopped, wiping his hands on his blood-stained apron.

"He was wearing a purple vest," gasped Hercules, the tears streaming down his face. "How could you mistake him for a deer?"

"Well, there was a small herd of deer and I was concentrating on catching one of them and I saw this movement and I thought it was another deer and grabbed it and stuffed it in the machine before I realized. . .Oh, Hephaestus is not going to be happy with me. He didn't want to help me make the machine in the first place and now that one of his favorite mortals has been turned into sausage stuffing. . ."

Hercules staggered away, sobbing and retching. Odious stared sorrowfully after the demigod, feeling really, really bad. He honestly thought he had tossed a deer into the meat grinder, until the strands of golden hair started coming out and Hercules had run up screaming.

Odious went back and stared at the red pile, noticing a few strands of fabric mixed in with the other bits. That must have been that purple vest that Odious had gotten just a glimpse of as he stuffed his prey into the grinder. Behind him, the god could hear Hercules sobbing and moaning, bewailing the loss of the other half his soul, the best part of his heart, his dearest friend and companion.

Crouching down, Odious picked through the pile. He was disappointed. The setting must not have been fine enough. There were still several identifiable bits besides the hair and fabric, a bit of boot, a piece of liver, the broken end of the blade of small throwing knife, a length of intestine.

The god glanced over his shoulder at the demigod, who was leaning against a tree, not the one he had been sick by, and tearing his garments.

Hephaestus wasn't the only one who would be angry. Zeus would be mad because Hercules would get all sulky and grumpy without his cheerful friend at his side. Aphrodite, who Odious had never actually met but had dreamed about all his miserable life, was also said to be quite fond of this poor mortal. Hades was probably gnashing his teeth already, since he hated dealing with Iolaus.

"Right," muttered Odious, piling bits and pieces up depending on whether he thought they came from the top end or the bottom end. "I can do this. I know how mortals go together. I've seen the inside of every animal there is. . .although, technically, I've never rendered a human being, how different can they be?"

Here was a bit of skull and some teeth. This mortal had had nice teeth. A fairly long fragment of thigh bone went there, a sliver of collarbone there. When Odious finished, there was a vaguely man-shaped pile of meat on the ground, about the height that Iolaus had been before he went through the godly grinder.

Odious could still hear Hercules off in the distance, wailing and carrying on. The god stood up, rolling his wide shoulders and cracking his knuckles by locking his fingers together and giving his hands a backwards flex. He gathered up his power, every little bit of it he could find, and directed it at the nauseating pile. Well, Odious didn't find it nauseating but anybody else would. While Iolaus had been a handsome man, he made a very unappealing pile of renderings.

The power flowed from the god's filthy fingertips and began to dance around the pile. Sweat ran down Odious' face as he commanded the bones to reassemble, the organs to rebuild, and the flesh and skin to wrap around the slowly developing form. He worked from the inside out, top down, wanting to get as much of Iolaus' hair out of the pile as possible before he got into the really complicated inside bits. Wouldn't do to have poor Iolaus having a hairball after all was said and done.

Putting the mortal back together was the most difficult thing Odious had ever attempted. He might have given up halfway through, while trying to get Iolaus' digestive tract to tuck neatly back in place, had Odious not heard Hercules sobs. Poor boy really was suffering. And he was calling on Zeus for help and/or revenge so Odious better get going.

"Come on, mortal," mumbled Odious as the golden skin wrapped around the sleek muscles. "We can do this."

Desperately, Odious sent a message to his cousin Charon, one of the few gods he got along with, asking if Iolaus had crossed the Styx. They had a brief mental conversation, Charon complaining the Iolaus had refused to get into the boat and was sitting stubbornly on a rock, waiting for his friend to come and fetch him. Odious asked Charon to send Iolaus back and the boatman agreed.

Just as Odious thought he was going to faint from the effort, Iolaus' newly reassembled heart started to beat and his lungs expanded, giving his throat the chance to scream that he had earlier been denied when he had been stuffed head first into the grinder.

Odious collapsed on the ground as Hercules came running back. He stopped, stunned, as he saw the god lying on the ground, a startled Iolaus next to Odious.

Iolaus looked at Hercules, saw the demigod's stricken face and started to say something reassuring but before he could, he was swept into his friend's strong embrace.

"You were dead," gasped Hercules, burying his face in Iolaus' curls. "Odious ground you up by mistake."

"Was that who that was," Iolaus replied, hugging Hercules back. He hadn't been happy sitting on his rock by the river, arguing with Charon, and he was glad to be back again. "I knew I'd never seen him before. Is he the source of that smell?"

Odious heard the last remark and frowned, then decided that Iolaus and Hercules looked so happy, it was worth the effort. Plus Hercules, who hadn't let go of his restored friend, was thanking him, which meant the minor god was off the hook. He said, "No problem. Sorry about the mix-up," then grabbed his grinder and vanished.

"I didn't think I could get you back this time," sobbed Hercules, clutching Iolaus close, "And you know I can't stand being without you. You are my light, my life, my reason for living. . ."

"Yeah, yeah," said Iolaus, patting Hercules on the back, hoping Hercules wouldn't start hiccuping. When Hercules got upset and started crying, he would frequently get the hiccups and Iolaus, if he was still being held by his friend, would get squashed. Hercules' hiccups had nearly broken Iolaus' ribs before. "I'm fine. Put me down."

Gazing lovingly into Iolaus' cerulean eyes, Hercules carefully set his friend down. Iolaus, freed from Hercules' rather enthusiastic embrace, started to step away from the demigod and promptly fell down.

"What in Tartarus," Iolaus muttered, staring at his feet.

Hercules blinked, then lifted his head and bellowed, "Odious, get your miserable stinking self back here and fix this!"

Iolaus pulled his boots off and inspected his feet, wriggling his toes. They felt perfectly normal. The only problem was, his left foot was on his right leg and his left leg ended in his right foot. He held them together, giggling at the sight, while Hercules raged.

Iolaus said, half to himself, "Weird how having your feet mixed up makes walking so difficult. Calm down, Herc. I'm sure we can get someone to fix 'em and if not, well, could be interesting."

"Iolaus," said Hercules, "You are too forgiving. Odious! I'm counting to ten and then I'm coming after you."

Iolaus wiggled his toes again and laughed. He wasn't dead, again and he was sure everything would be all right. It always was.

January 2002