The old woman slowly made her way through the stalls of the busy agora,
searching for the one vendor that she knew would have what she needed.
Walking was hard for her now. Her legs no longer moved the way they used to,
muscles were stiff and bones brittle. Her ankles, once slim and strong were now
swollen and ached with each step she took. Her body, once firm and muscular
had gone soft from the ravages of time. The long dark hair which had shone like
silk was now mostly gray and hung like clumps of string down past her
shoulders. Although the day was warm she pulled the tattered shawl tightly
around her shoulders feeling chilled, her aging body no longer able to retain its
own heat.

The agora was swarming with people and the delicious aromas of many cooked
foods and spices filled the air. The constant din of merchants hawking their
wares and the voices of their customers as they bargained for various
merchandise was almost deafening. But she didn't mind. This day was special.
On this day she was going to visit an old friend, one that had come to mean very
much to her.

Finally she found the stand that she had been searching for. She made her
selection and paid the merchant, no haggling today. Gently holding her purchase
she turned and once again plodded through the maze of stalls, painfully making
her way to the edge of the village. Several times she had to stop to rest and catch
her breath. Thinking back to younger days she smiled to herself. Never in her
wildest imagination had she ever pictured herself like this. As a matter of fact, she
never thought that she would even live to this advanced age. People in her line of
business rarely did.

At last, she exited the gates of the village and began the long, torturous walk up
the steep hill to the place where her friend was. With each step, distant memories
flooded her still sharp mind. She remembered a time when she was so ruthless
that she did not care whose lives would be forfeit in order for her to get what she
wanted. It was a wild time. She commanded a great army and her men obeyed
her every whim. Villages were burned , homes looted, men, women and children
were killed in her name. She would take sadistic pleasure in all of these raids,
never caring for those whose lives she had touched so horribly and so fatally. She
remembered a girl, once innocent, who became so devastated by what the warrior
and her army had done, so filled with hatred for her, that she, herself, had grown
into a highly skilled, abominable warlord, who was totally without conscience or
regard for human life. This child grown to woman, that she had wronged so
tragically, was so bent on revenge, that she became a dangerous killer,
obliterating anything and anyone who crossed her path.

The old woman suddenly was very tired, very hot and uncomfortable. She
removed the shawl and then sat upon a rock. Taking off the water bag which had
been strapped around her shoulder, she squirted some of the cool liquid onto her
parched tongue. Then she took out a small cloth and soaked it with some of the
water. Wiping the sweat from her burning face with the cool fabric, she
remembered some more of her colorful past.

The image of a fair haired demigod came into her mind and she smiled at the
pleasing recollection. The son of Zeus was a tall, muscular, handsome fellow with
whom she had briefly fallen in love and who had changed her life forever. In the
beginning they were enemies, but soon he had shown her the error of her ways
and had convinced her that she could change. Putting all of her past
transgressions behind she had started a new path, one dedicated to doing good in
place of evil.

Early on in this new life of hers she passed through the village of Poteidaia where
she met a young woman. This blonde haired youth possessed a gentle soul and a
naivete which at first she had found quite annoying. This innocent followed her,
leaving her home behind, hoping to join with the warrior in a life of adventure.
Not caring for companionship, the dark haired woman had repeatedly asked the
blonde to leave and go back to her own family, but the fresh faced youngster was
persistent and finally won the battle. The older woman reluctantly resigned
herself to the younger's presence and although she found her annoying, a
friendship began to develop. The warrior learned to appreciate the delicate
qualities of her new companion. The young woman started out as the cook who
also spun great tales, but more importantly she became the warrior's confidant,
her advisor and her conscience. This was that special kind of friendship, the kind
which was so close that it grew into love. The bard's pure and simple way of
looking at life tempered the passions still buried deep within her heart and
touched the very depths of her soul. Their friendship went through many
changes, some good and some bad. They shared many adventures many filled
with fun, but they had also encountered heartache. The pair had even formed
friendships with others along the way leaving their mark upon all whose paths
they crossed as they traveled. It was to be with this friend that the old woman was
now making this arduously difficult, albeit short, journey.

The old one rose heavily from the rock. She had dallied there long enough. Once
again she climbed the steep ground in the direction of her destination. Not much
further now. Her fingers absently touched the tattered pocket of the simple frock
she always wore, feeling the small glass vessel that she had carried with her for
such a long time. Still there. Breathing heavily from the effort of walking she
began to cough and spit up bits of bloodied mucous, something which had been
happening with great frequency.

Finally she reached the end of her journey. The beautiful lilac tree that she had
planted with her own hands was in full bloom, it's sweet fragrance permeating
the air. Once again she sat down, this time next to the pile of rocks which, while
still grief stricken, she had arranged so precisely to protect this special spot. Very
gently she placed the single long stemmed red rose upon the stones. Smiling
wistfully, her hand ran lovingly over their sharply pointed edges.

"Hello my dear friend. I'm here. It's been a while, I know, but this trip is very
hard for me now. I'm not young like I used to be. I've missed you terribly. My
life has been so empty without you in it all these past years. I wish so much that I
could go back in time and be with you once again. I always thought it so unfair
that the fates took you first. It should have been me. That is selfish, I know, but
when your life ended, I wanted very much to go with you. With your dying
breath you convinced me to go on, and I did. I continued without you just as I
did when you were by my side. I kept your memory in my heart, and I've carried
you with me all these years, hearing your voice, seeing your smile and feeling
your love. I thought of you whenever I felt that terrible weakness which might
have caused me to slip back into my old ways. I would spend hours reading and
rereading your wonderful scrolls, reliving our incredible life together with each
story and poem. I hope you understand, but this is the last time I will be able to
come here. I am old, my health is failing and my eyesight poor. My life has no
meaning and has become intolerable. It is nearing its end. I can no longer make
this short journey to visit you, yet I cannot bear being without you, so today, I
travel one more time. Today, finally, we will be together."

Hands trembling the old woman reached into her pocket and withdrew the small
glass vial. She removed the cork and studied the tube's contents. Then she gazed
up into the bright blue sky drinking in the brilliant sunshine and the lush
countryside around her. She listened to the song of the Thrush while inhaling the
sweet fragrance of the lilac bush. Satisfied that she had filled her mind with
pleasant images of the beauty in life she quickly swallowed the bitter green liquid
and lay down next to the grave of her beloved friend. Closing her eyes, her last
thoughts were of the bard and with her last breath she whispered,

"I love you, Gabrielle."

Her pain finally gone, her mind at peace, she slowly drifted into that last, deep
sleep.

"Xena."

She opened her eyes trying to see the image standing in the glare of the sun's rays.
The form moved over, blocking the brightness and with recognition, a smile
slowly formed on the lips of the warrior.

"Gabrielle."
"It's time, Xena."The blonde extended her hand to the still reclining woman and
reaching back she allowed herself to be helped up. Standing face to face now, the
pair, still holding hands, exchanged the happy looks of two people who had been
away from each other for a very long time. The warrior turned and looked down
at the body of the old woman.

"She's at peace now, Xena."
"Yes, she is."

The older woman smiled and then, hand in hand, the dark haired warrior and
her beloved companion, the blonde bard turned and began walking towards the
blinding sunlight, together once more, never to be parted again.