for Helena, he came back to her deadly wounded to beg for her to heal him. This is how she answered in
my way. (Answer to a Challenge from Bloominglibrary from early 2004)
Coloring the little bubbles and shadows dancing on the waves with a touch of gold, giving it a peaceful
and magical look at the same time. A warm wind was rushing through the crowns of the olive trees,
carrying the distant smell of salt from the ocean in the once famous city of Troy.
Wind, that was hunting screams of fear and fury away over the city walls, as well as the thick clouds of
smoke that hung in the streets, heavy with the smell of burning wood, flesh and death. The screams of
the night had died down, and the bodies and fires cooled out. Escaping the once proud city with the
last life that had hid here.
The winners where full of joy, marveling at the won treasures of gold and slaves, burning sheep and
cows to honor the goods, leaving the dead laying there where they were slain to show how unworthy
they where to the gods, not even worth to be burned or buried.
This was the time of the gods in Troy, wandering around, unseen and unheard in their ghostly forms
under the dead and suffering men in the streets. Leading the souls of the slain to the river of the dead
and beyond. To a eternal happiness or a eternal punishment.
One of this ghostly figures was on her way through the destroyed doors of the city, passing smoke and
death with not much care for it. Hers was the power of healing, not leading the dead to their eternity,
she could not help who was already dead, neither wanted she to do so. She was not here for this, she
was here for the man who had broken her heart.
Her black hair falling over her red tunic in a river of soft curls, held in place from golden comps and
pearls, dark eyes watching the death with a mix of disgust and pain. Not that she could have felt pity
for those, no, they had earned this end, a end that everyone had seen coming in some way. At least
those under the gods who were not bound in this battle.
A battle that had started with a stupid golden Apple and an even more stupid man. Exactly the man
who had broken her heart, as well as he had broken his people. Selfish and stupid, driven by the only
thing men seemingly called immortal, driven by love. In fact it had been more something like lust, or
even lusting for the jealousy all other man would have in their eyes every time they would look at him.
She climbed up the stairs to the palace that was laying in ashes after one of the longest wars the world
had seen. It was hard to set her feet on a spot in this rich halls that not was covered in death or blood,
very hard. Oenone asked herself if she would really want to make this walk at all, but perhaps it was to
late to take another way.
She stopped after she had reached a balcony that gave free a look over the whole city, till the
mountain of Ida in the distance. The home of the nymph, hardly visible for her through all the smoke
and flames that rose into the red sky, but still there.
As her memories were there, memories of a better time.
She recalled the day as it was yesterday, a young boy stumbled into the woods around her home.
Abandoned from his real people to life as shepherd with the farmers around her home only because a old
man had foreseen the fall of Troy, when the young man would become King.
She had loved him on first sight. Watching him grow into a handsome and good male, fine in every
way she could think of this word. But still only a child in her woods like many others, walking around
with their sheep and working on fields and in the trees.
The first time she really had seen him close, was as she had healed him of a deep wound he had
earned in a small fight with a few wolfs that had chased his sheep one night. It had amused her to see
him kill the attackers for his white little animals with so much passion that he not really had cared for
his wound, till it had send him to the ground.
Well, it was nor really that amusing for the young man, with his black curls and soft brown eyes as he
woke up. She had made the wounds fading with her gift of healing and her skills in weeds and
medicine to cure him.
Over the days, and weeks he visited her more often, spending many afternoons with her in the woods
whilst watching his sheep.
They grew closer and closer, laughing and joking and hunting together. Years had flown by like that
and he had vowed her eternal love and had loved her truly in those times. She even was close to steal away
some ambrosia from the other gods to grand her love immortality for a bound between them that
should last for eternity.
But one single day and a golden apple had ruined every thing.
One day in which three goddesses had
caught her lover in the middle of a discussion about who of them was the most beautiful one of them
Hera, the Queen of the gods, had offered him sovereignty of Asia If he would choose her.
Athena offered him renown in war.
And Aphrodite, goddess of beauty and love was promising him the most beautiful and fairest mortal
woman on earth as his wife.
And of course Paris had taken the woman and abandoned her like his people had abandoned him.
Oenone sighed and turned away from her memories, it hurt to much to picture him leaving her and
returning with a stolen women; wife of another man. She had been so mad and out of her mind that
she had send her son Corythus, to guide the Greeks to Troy.
She had believed her only child save on his way, after all he was the son of Paris and herself. She
could not know that this brought Troy its downfall like the old man had foreseen it.
She stepped again through endless halls full of dead and smoke, facing the death of so many innocent
people. But it was not her war that was lost, it was only his and his alone.
She finally found him, laying on his bed in the red light of the sun. The same bed he had shared with
the bitch he had taken away from the other king. Helen; Cause to this unholly war in the first place. Broken
arrows and bow at his side, a traditional humiliation, left to die in his shame. She could not help but
kneel down beside his bed, laying on hand on his cheek.
Remembering how the smile on his face had
looked or how the wind had played in the curls on his head when he was sitting with her in the grass,
watching the sheep around them.
He still was breathing, even if it was weak and growing weaker with every second. Oenone knew that
Aphrodite had taken him here, that he could at least die in peace. Helen was gone, back home with
her real husband and almost every soul that had suffered under this war had followed or was forced to
She could still see the first day, as this blond poison of woman was standing beside him, showing his
new bride to the people around them. She had been standing under the women of his people,
watching how lucky he looked, not recalling his time with her or their son.
But now, that he was laying here, he
looked as innocent as on the first day she had seen him, it was almost as If her love would come back
in her heart.
His eyes drifted open, looking up to her dizzily.
"Helena?" He whispered, grabbing for her hand.
She gritted her teeth in pain. He had called her by the name of the bitch. "No..." She informed him.
"It is not the women you took away from her husband..."
He blinked for a moment, before he tightened the grip on her hand even more. "Oenone??!" She only
nodded. "I am so glad you are here..." He smiled his awfully handsome smile, that had always made
her heart melt. "Do you know where Helena is?" He breathed hard from the pain.
This moment of peace in what she was almost ready to forgive him was smashed with this simple
question. A question she could not tollerate after all that had happened.
"Please.." He begged with a broken voice. "I need to get her... back.."
She knew that he was begging for her to heal him, that he could get up and run behind his bitch. He
held her hand still in his, getting weaker by the minute but still trying to fight for his downfall.
"No..." She had a hard time controlling her hate for him now, he had ruined all that was left of her
love for him; she had come here almost ready to forgive him, even forgive the death of their son by a
Troyan hand but now. She hissed in anger and pulled back her hand from his bloody fingers.
"Oenone?" He whispered.
But she remained deaf to his words and raissed to her feet turning away. "No.. I won't heal you
... you deserve this... as it is..."
"But.." His voice was almost to weak to be heard by this time.
She started to walk away knowing that his breathing died down into a hollow whisper. "There is
nothing in this world that I can do for you....you chose her over me...provoking a war as not more than
a toy in the hands of the gods..."
She turned a last time, knowing that he had already breathed his last air seconds ago and a smile
sneaked on her face. "..and you lost this war."
The unseen figures of the gods and fallen spirits left the dead city on this day, never to return. Troy
had fallen, through the arrogance of its prince and the will of the gods. He had deserved this. As Troy
had deserved it, and she was finally satisfied.
He had fought a war that was lost from the start.