#odysseus comrades

[katerinaaqu]

Aaaaaand my Ismarus story is complete to my AO3 too!

Ismarus! Ismarus! (P3 + Afternote)

Continuation from Part 2 So October 6th had been a special day to me because two very good artists have posted art from the OG works of the epic cycle and were kind enough to consider my help! I am immensely honored! The artists are of course @jacobpking with the amazing odyssey project and @shafeeyaart with the three main couples So I had to finish my fic now as you remember dedicated also to my friend @artsofmetamoor and her amazing art! Followed by my usual notes and afternote!

He shook the helmet so that the stones remaining in it would be mixed better. As one hand reached in and picked one was followed by a yelp of triumph and a disappointed moan from another direction.

“On your face, Nicolaus!” the soldier who obviously got the price he wanted called back to his friend, “She’s mine!”

“Damn you, lucky bastard!” his friend grunted as he saw the other take the woman-prize he had won in the lottery, “I should fucking kill you! Always with that rotten luck of yours!”

“Hey, hey!” Odysseus called out warningly, “Enough with this!”

He was holding these helmets for hours now; making sure that all ships got their share one by one in sharing the spoils and the slaves that were to be taken with them during their trip. Somehow Odysseus had a bad feeling about this; they had started this whole campaign to get provisions; carrying extra load and mouths to feed seemed a bold and counterproductive move. However leaving them behind was also a risky decision. Slaves and gifts could be exchangeable to lands they would encounter if there would be a need for more provisions or hospitality gifts. Although he knew some of his men wouldn’t want to part with them. He remembered Troy again; how they got divided in the 9th year of the fight, over a concubine. He looked over to the sides where the old and the new captives were. Some of them were also his own; working as servants among the troops and taking care of the horses of his chariot. For one second he remembered his long lost youth; he had lain with women before. Servants and some slaves had passed from his bed before that blessed trip to Sparta; some were skilled and willing, one or two were worried and scared of him or his status.

During the war, for one or two moments of desperation and longing he had considered it; to take one of them again. However the very moment they were before his eyes, he felt disgusted with the idea and his weakness for even considering it; ending up sending them away. The slave women that he had taken from his days of fight and plunder seemed empty in his eyes now. It wasn’t the abstinence that made him so restless to go home though. Oh, he wished his wife was here to embrace her and apologize to her for his absence! He wanted to fall in her arms and kiss her like no tomorrow; forget himself in her bosom and cry till he wouldn’t have any more tears to shed; he wanted to beg her for forgiveness for letting war turn him to what he became! He shook his head violently, to lift those thoughts away (and possibly some tears that threatened to burn his eyes) returning to the lottery. The spoils were almost completely done and shared. He sighed.

“Eurylochus, finish this, please…” he said leaving the helmet to the hands of his brother-in-law, “I am tired. I also need to inspect the rest”

“As you wish, sire…”

Odysseus stood at the middle of the men who were admiring the spoils they would get. He looked around the mountains already turning dark by the dusk as the sun had set to the other side of the horizon. There was something ominous about the mountains and they were exposed. They couldn’t seek shelter in the city that was almost burnt to the ground by that moment so they had to camp by the beach and the fact that they had only the sea and the mountain for escape routes was something he didn’t like. The mountain was almost threatening now!

“Alright, men!” he called over the voices of discussions and laughter, making sure all had their ears on him, “We finish the sharing and we set ourselves to go! We are exposed here. You had your fun, now we embark to go!”

“Go?” one of the generals, the one who had complained upon the other man getting a better woman said, “We sailed for five days in a storm and we spent the entire day fighting and now you want us to embark again for the unknown in the middle of the night?”

Odysseus looked at him in disbelief.

“What part of ‘we’re exposed’ don’t you understand?” he yelled back, “We are but a handful of people, we are in a foreign land surrounded by unknown mountains! Anything could attack us at any moment and we will be unable to react! I am not discussing it! We’re leaving!”

“No!” one other general said firmly as he stood up, “We won’t leave! We earned a day of peace! Let us at least sleep in dry land for once!”

“Are you defying my order?” Odysseus’s eyes sparkled warningly

“We cannot follow that order now, sire!” the man stood his ground, “You can’t demand from us to sail so early!”

“You heard what Odysseus said!” Eurylochus came in, “This place is not secure! We will take turns resting out the sea! His judgment hasn’t failed us yet!”

“We can’t travel like this!” the first one spoke again, “You cannot force us to travel in the black night like this!”

The king of Ithaca was fuming. His hands and his entire muscle system were clenched painfully. He was almost ready to grab him and punch some sense into him. He couldn’t indeed transfer his true agony and worry that the location wouldn’t be favorable to them.

“Odysseus…” Eurylochus touched his shoulder whispering, “I understand you. You are right but everyone is exhausted from battle. And we have some more wounded to take care of and better do this on dry land…”

“Dammit!” Odysseus growled in defeat

Yes, he wouldn’t be able to force his men to follow his orders if they refused to move. As he pranced about the camp that was about to be set for a night under the stars he also watched the slaves that would be taken with them; women and children that were free a few hours prior. Their eyes were hateful; resentful. For once moment they looked like Trojans in his eyes. He shook his head trying to lift the thoughts away again.

“Sire” Perimedes spoke, he was in charge of them for that night, “Shall we move them to the ship?”

“No” Odysseus growled in annoyance, “We are supposed to stay here”

One of the tied women laughed loudly. He knew her. She was the wife of the king he had killed in battle. She was dragged out with her children along with the rest of them. Her children were set aside to be shared in the lottery. She, herself, was offered to him as a prize. Initially he had refused insisting that all should go in lottery but his men had insisted. In one way the king of Ithaca dismissed it and kept her. He wouldn’t find much use of her now anyways. She was a handsome woman with long brown locks and big brown eyes. However her beauty was insignificant to him; not to mention that the symbols of her people tattooed on her made him feel even more the danger and the disturbance inside him every time he looked at her direction. And now there was her laughter; laughter full of anger and contempt. Odysseus, with his nerves already tensed he approached and grasped her by the rope that was tying her, pulling her towards him threateningly.

“What’s so funny, huh?” he demanded

The woman spat a few words at her dialect.

“I’ll need a translator here!” Odysseus called to whoever might hear nonchalant

“Oh, I’ll give you a translator!” the woman spat in her heavy accent

“Oh, good” Odysseus said feeling a sense of déjà-vu as he almost repeated the words he had said to her late husband, “You speak our language! I had begun to fear that I need to learn more languages! My Phoenician is kinda rusty and whatever Scythian I picked up at Troy won’t help me with you!”

“Your arrogance will not save you, Greek!” the woman spat at him again, “My people will come like the rain and get you! Your days are over! You and your men shall not survive this!”

Anger boiling inside him, Odysseus grabbed her hair, earning a light yelp from her. He had to try very hard not to feel the fever of battle inside him again. He knelt down and pulled her closer to him, his faces inches apart from hers, eyeing her warningly with his eyes sparkling like the fire that forged the obsidian, the stone that had colored them!

“Listen here, madam!” he whispered dangerously, “If there is something I know best, is to survive! Mark my words on that! I would be more worried about myself than anything else!”

He released her and stood up. He began walking away ignoring whatever comments Perimedes and the rest of his companions would make about her being feisty or whether he had made a good choice for his war prize. That entire dialog disgusted him right now! The woman hissed again before growling a few words and then one more, directed to him. Odysseus winced but he kept going, not looking at her at all. He knew enough Thracian dialect to know what the word she said meant;

Monster

*

The fire was blazing at the beach but this time it was not the city burning to the ground but the multiple cooking blazes that his men had lit up. Odysseus could hear all around the sounds of cattle and sheep being slaughtered and prayers being said and sacrifices being offered. His men had also taken out some of the jugs of wine and were already mixing the red liquid to craters. Some members of his crew who knew how to play music were already setting up the instruments for dance and celebration. Odysseus could see none of that. He was constantly looking around, double-inspecting everything. In fact he refused to remove his gear. After cleaning himself and making a prayer to the gods, he demanded his armor to be placed upon him once more, his chariot inspected, fixed if necessary and ready. He could barely concentrate to his food and drink. He sighed as he sat against the root of a sea tree watching at his men dancing and drinking themselves to their heart’s desire, celebrating as if it was the end of Troy anew. Odysseus grunted and shivered a bit at the cold of the night.

“Fools!” he thought, “Mindless fools! You are getting drunk and celebrating at the footing of the enemy! Gods I wish I could just take my own ship and leave you all behind! But…UGH!”

He sighed to himself passing his hands over his face. What was he thinking?! All of them came to this together and they should leave together! Maybe he was being too paranoid. Maybe he was exaggerating. Maybe, just maybe, the Cicones wouldn’t arrive later. Maybe they weren’t so many as he feared. And maybe, just maybe, the queen was only trying to scare him.

“Hey…”

The soft voice of Polites made him literally jump out of his skin for one second. He gasped and then drew a deep breath.

“Polites!” he sighed, “You scared ten lives out of me…”

“Sorry…”

“Never mind, my friend…I am just too distracted”

He sighed gratefully as a fleece was placed upon his shoulders by Polites. He embraced it tightly around his body before double-checking that his spear was there.

“Come sit with us by the fire” Polites suggested, “It has gotten chilly”

“No thank you” Odysseus retorted, blowing some air to his hands, “I need to be here and observe the area”

“You placed guards by the camp remember?”

“Irrelevant!”

He drew a breath and tried to collect himself.

“I don’t like this, Polites…” he whispered, “We should have gone when we had the chance! This is madness! Everyone acts as if we are back in Ithaca with no worry in the world!”

“I understand, Odysseus, but still…”

“We should be on our way home now!” Odysseus insisted stubbornly, “And yet…yet we…”

He sighed and extended his hand to Polites. Polites handed him over his goblet and Odysseus took a gulp of wine in thought before returning it to him. He eyed his men again, celebrating, dancing and oftentimes having their way with the women they had acquired or had brought with them from Troy; some were willing, some coldly accepting their fate, some did not seem so. His mind went back to Cassandra again; the way her body was barely covered by her torn clothes; her face disfigured with tears…the Locrian Ajax seeking shelter to the very same place he did the deed…

“I just hope I am wrong about this…” he whispered, “For the first time in my life I wish I am wrong, Polites!”

Yet another round of deafening silence passed between them. Odysseus wanted to scream; to cry out to his men to at least remain sober that night…but he felt helpless; as if nothing he would say would work even if he tried.

“Go to eat, Polites…” he encouraged his friend, “I’ll be fine, really”

“You sure? I can stay if you want”

“Better not” Odysseus said gloomily, “I want to be alone for a while, Polites. Thanks for the fleece…and the wine. I needed it”

“No problem…” Polites said worriedly.

He didn’t like that shadow over Odysseus’s eyes ever since they took Troy. Ever since he was so affected by their own win he was always jumpy and moody however everything seemed to be turning darker in him ever since the final preparations after the celebrations for taking the city. What had happened in Troy that made Odysseus such? What were they doing deep in the city, away from all other eyes that made Odysseus moan and groan in his sleep almost every night? He didn’t dare to ask. He obeyed the order as he stood and left.

Odysseus was left alone again…alone in his thoughts and dark memories. The fall of Troy…the slaughter of innocents…the baby king thrown off the walls…the contempt and judgment…the rape of Cassandra…the yells and cries of Hecuba and finally the most terrifying of all the darkness falling over the eyes of Polyxena…as he held her wrists down; he felt her pulse erasing and finally Hecuba yelling; screaming and almost plucking his eyes out as she was slowly losing her mind in grief… And now there was the bloodlust and the taking of Ismarus that made them all go loose again… He covered his face with his hands as if that could stop the thoughts emerging.

“Fools!” he thought again in despair, “Don’t you see? We need to go home! We need to go back as soon as possible! We must be free from this curse! From war…”

Somehow he knew that was not true. War and battle was inside them. They almost craved for it now. It almost felt like the only reason he was staying was so to see the next battle happening!

“Woe is me!” he thought, “Woe is us! Fools! At least remain sober! We are exposed to danger! We need to go home! They shall come…!”

And yet he couldn’t leave them behind and go. No, he couldn’t leave them. He was afraid for his life in the case of an attack but he couldn’t leave anyone behind! What king would he be to them unless he stuck around till the end? What leader would it make him if he picked up what he could carry and run by himself? He had tried to keep the kings united in Troy. How could he divide his men now? Fear and desire for return were eating his heart. His mind and legs were telling him to run; to go to his ships, gather those who had some sense to leave and go but his heart was divided. He had made a promise to them; that he would try to see them all to his best abilities come back. He once more looked up the mountains, feeling this primal fear a boar feels when going to the waterfront to drink, while smelling the hounds from afar and yet has no choice but to go or else it would die.

“Father Zeus please let me be wrong about this…let me be wrong…”

As the moves and cries and laughter and dance of his men was almost hypnotizing to him, he made that last prayer…

And he didn’t know what was the thing he wished to be wrong in the most; his fear of the possible incoming counterattack or his almost eagerness to face it?

*

He softly twitched and that shook him awake. Had he fallen asleep? He had tried to remain awake but apparently the fatigue of the battle made him fall asleep before the crack of dawn for he didn’t remember seeing the sun coming up. There was a mist coming from the sea and the sky still had that grayish sheen of dawn. The humidity could pierce the bones and yet that wasn’t his problem. One look at his sleepy, tired eyes and saw his men sleeping at the beach; unmoving in their fatigue and their alcohol-induced sleep. The remains of their feast were scattered about the sand and the soil; cooking fires long now extinguished for there was hardly any smoke coming out of the dead embers. He moaned in pain as his body cracked from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. His hand searched for his spear that always rested by his side. He had no idea what had stirred him awake in the first place, the same much as he didn’t know how he had fallen asleep in the first place. There was this feeling of uneasiness inside him that wouldn’t leave him alone. The birds in the forest had started their morning song, the sea had started sending soft waves with the low tide; the ships were creaking from where they were tied at the shallow waters. Everything seemed quiet. Perhaps too quiet for his tastes! Like the man who got baked by the constant noise of battle, this easiness was foreign to him now; unnatural. And all of the sudden, as his men were barely stirring awake; he heard a distant base note coming from the forest. It seemed like a distant call of a deer to its potential mate. Odysseus jolted to his feet; bronze spear clasped in his hand for dear life. The sound was heard again. His dizzy mind then came back to actual action like the hunter that came back from a long pause finally realizing the sound’s meaning.

“AMBUUUUUUUUSH!” he yelled on top of his lungs rousing everyone

Not fast enough. Too late.

Terrible battle cries and the deafening stampede of feet running down the mountain blocked all his senses as the horde of the Cicones jumped out of the forest and lashed upon his unsuspected comrades, wielding knives and swords and spears. His defenseless comrades or perhaps those who had more than enough to drink the night before barely had time to react when knives slit their throats from side to side; blood gushing out at the color of ruby, before they had even time to get up. Others barely had time to react; grabbing upon their weapons that lay by their sides.

“GUAAAAARDS!” Odysseus called upon those who were already protecting the camp, “EN GARDE! ENSSEMBLE! THEY MUST GEAR UP!”

He himself rushing upon the scene; naked sword in one hand and spear at the other as the very few and tired men that had their armor on rushed to their comrades’ assistance; those men who clumsily tried to gear up; swords or pieces of armor falling from their hands upon the sand and cordons not able to be tied in time. Odysseus feeling his wits escaping him in fear for their lives and his own he rushed upon the enemies; like a shepherd dog rushing upon the pack of wolves in blind rage and driven by the loyalty for its own masters; out of duty to protect the flock, regardless of the heart that pumped blood faster in its chest in worry and fear.

“HURRY!” He was calling in desperation, “HURRY YOU FOOLS!”

And the sound he feared the most was heard; neighing of horses. All color left his face as the strong Thracian horses emerged and their riders on top released arrows that pierced through flesh like butter.

“No!”  The Man of Many Wiles cried out, “DEFENSE! COME TOGETHER!”

The order was heard but moved slowly as the shields joined together, not enough time to prepare the rest of his men. The arrows arrived bearing fire. Odysseus felt his heart sinking as he knew they barely had time to react; the Cicones had used his own trick against him now. Out of all their cries justified. Odysseus knew enough of their language to know that they were chanting; “ISMARUS! ISMARUS!”

“POLITES!” he roared, “TAKE THE MEN YOU CAN AND GO TO THE SHIPS! SAIL AWAY! NOW!”

“What!?” Polites cried out, “That would make it impossible for you to escape”

“I KNOW!” Odysseus roared, “IF THEY BURN THE SHIPS WE’RE DONE FOR! GO! GET THEM OUT OF RANGE! NOW!”

Polites needn’t hear this twice. Rushing upon the fastest and strongest of the men who hadn’t geared up yet, Polites rushed to the sea and they ran into the waves, soon swimming frantically to the ships and climbing the hulls from the ropes. Polites barked orders to them to release the sails and pull the anchors up echoed across the plane from a distance. Several heads turned towards those who were lucky enough to be slow to gear up and now they were on apparent safety upon the ships that slowly yet steadily moved towards the deep.

“TOGETHER!” Odysseus cried in the meantime, slashing with his sword the leg of a rider passing by him

He had to keep his men together; he hoped their spirits wouldn’t leave them upon seeing the ships abandoning port. They could hear Polites’s orders to the oarsmen, frantically going out of range. One or two arrows pierced the black hulls and the men in rushed upon putting the flames off before the tar on the wood were be set aflame. Odysseus grabbed a slave next to him.

“You! Come with me!”

The two of them rushed upon the chariot waiting and the Man much Enduring forced the horses to trot as his slave would take the reins. Spear and naked sword at hand he rushed upon the enemy, cutting the line of defense. However the Cicones knew his trick and they were prepared. He had time to take the lives but of a few riders before an arrow stroke one of the horses and one the wheel of the chariot. The wounded animal neighed pitifully and the other in panic took the chariot down. The slave got crushed under the heavy weight of the animal and the chariot and Odysseus was thrown off. Head buzzing by the stroke and head feeling set aflame, Odysseus struggled back to his feet. His whole body was in pain and he felt a streak of thick blood running down his temple. He moaned in pain but also feeling grateful the sand had taken most of his fall. He struggled to his uneasy feet; adrenaline hammering against his temples he forced himself to take a step and another and another; blood tickling his brow, getting in his eye. He eyed the battlefield; no, the field of slaughter as the riders would cut through some men like butter as they fell on the sand, painting it red with their blood. He saw the slaves being freed and running for cover in the forests (on occasion falling under the swords of his men or the Cicones in the heat of the battle; for no one could tell friend from foe anymore). The laughter of the woman that was his war prize came to his ears. He looked at her; somehow he had found himself close to her this time too.

“I told you!” she said triumphantly from her kneeling position; arms still tied behind her back, “You and your kin shall not escape this!”

For one moment he saw only red.

He grabbed her by the throat in a bruising grip and his sword dripping dark blood of her companions hovered over her head; ready to claim her life, against the promise he extracted from his men not to harm women or children. She faced his fierce gaze bravely even if her eyes were almost popping out of their sockets in her effort to breathe; blood vessels pumping to her forehead. His hand shook for one second; thirsty to take the blood of the person that was mocking him only to push his lips together in defeat and practically throwing the coughing and struggling for breath woman back onto the sand and running to the central field of action once more, standing before his men that were being circled by the riders and the footmen of the Cicones. He noticed a few men had managed to overthrow some enemies from their horses and now rode as well the best they could to even the odds.

“MEN!” Odysseus roared, “WITH ME!”

Trying to organize the chaos and repel the enemy was not easy but the soldiers who knew nothing but war and violence for a decade did hear the order. As they ran to their best of strength, feet digging the sand below; breaths were hissing at their throats and blood and sweat running down their faces the Cephallinians rushed forward. Odysseus felt once more as if he was floating; as if everything were in slow motion around him. Neighing of horses, screams of men, fire and whistling of arrows, clanging of metal… All became a mass in his brain, his own breath hissing to his ears; his own heart beating fast. However this time it wasn’t triumph he felt; it wasn’t like the slaughter of Troy or the conquest of Ismarus; right now it was a battle for survival…under the eyes of their terrified comrades both on and out of the ships. Some of his men lost heart and ran towards the sea in their need to escape and they were met with arrows coming from the Thracian bows. Odysseus stopped hearing anymore…

Soon he had stopped even to feel…

*

The dusk had come; cold and bloody; the sky matching the sand and fire in color. The beach was quiet once more; this time the quietness was heavier than anything else before for it was weighted down by death; the death of their own. Odysseus was gasping for breath; legs almost unable to hold him anymore. He had felt so only once in Troy, no, now it seemed worse for they were running upon the sand which soon was wet with thick blood. Sweat and crusted blood was covering him. He was half-staggering as he walked upwards at the path to meet his men at the top of the beach; bronze sword falling from his hands; bloody upon the very bloody sand. His comrades had driven the ships back and descended to inspect the damages. The beach was full of dead bodies; horses, warriors and slaves. Gasping for breath always Odysseus scanned the perimeter with liquid eyes full of terror. He looked towards the sea. The waves seemed to be licking the blood off the beach like unworldly tongues; a bloody offering to the god Poseidon and his nymphs; but it was not the blood of the cattle they had slaughtered the night prior; it was human blood now… Fires were still burning around, his chariot was completely destroyed and burning too like an unworldly heath along with the two horses that died upon the bloody sand, still tied to their reins. They had fought all day and somehow they had managed to repel the Cicones; killing several of their men. But at what cost… The Man Much Tormented clenched his hands to the point of his nails breaking the skin. Polites had walked a bit closer but he kept his distance as if he feared for his own life too.

“How many men have we lost?”

His voice was hoarse; whispery…inhuman.

“Odysseus…we…”

“HOW MANY!” his sudden yell made them all jump back

“S-Seventy two…” Polites stammered, “A-About 6 pairs of hands from each ship…without counting the slaves…”

The eyes of their king became bottomless; bottomless like the abyss that had claimed the lives of their companions.

“In one day…” he whispered with voice coming straight out of his wide chest, “…We lost almost as many men…as ten years in Troy…”

He was shaking; from top to bottom in primary anger. In an explosion he kicked a fallen helmet; he didn’t know if it was his or not. Screaming on top of his lungs towards the heavens. That anger he accumulated in battle didn’t seem released till that one moment. All the men surviving once more lowered their heads upon that primary anger; that fury that justified his name Furious or Anger Bringer…the rage they all now saw as justified. As the cry subsided he was left out of breath; gasping anew.

“Cursed Troy! Damn you all! Damn you all who fell by my hands! Cursed life! Cursed war!”

“Gather the dead…” he ordered in a whisper

He didn’t need to yell. Not anymore. His throat was aggravated; now it felt like it came from the depths of Hades itself and yet he didn’t need to yell to be heard. Everyone seemed to be able to hear even his thoughts now. Odysseus mopped his bloody temple with his hand.

“We must offer them a funeral. Each ship will call their own so that we will leave on time…”

“What about the barbarians?” Eurylochus dared to ask

“I don’t bloody, care Eurylochus!” Odysseus snarled at him, “Take their arms for all I care and burn them or bury them in a hole! I don’t care to think of it now!”

Taking one moment to calm himself he realized that he couldn’t leave them there. He didn’t know the customs of the Thracians but he couldn’t leave someone unburied.

“Wait…” he said, “We shall burn them too. Give them a funeral. Then their own will see what will become of them. We shall burn them”

“Yes…burn them! Let this all damn place burn!”

Eurylochus nodded. He knew it wasn’t wise to aggravate him further. The bodies were gathered and cleaned the best they could, they separated enemies from friends and poured their offerings to the dead. The arms were taken off the corpses; sad loot at the end of a battle. Odysseus had taken also a ring and a necklace from the dead body of the Queen; he had found her dead among the corpses. Was she killed in the raid by some of his own or did she end her own life? He didn’t know. She was cut loose from her binds but that was all he knew. He would be a liar if he said he felt sad for her passing. In fact he hardly felt anything anymore for her or any of the other unlucky girls that had also fallen into the battle and the commotion; some of them had survived the war of Troy only to be killed by the swords of the Cicones or their arrows upon their escape or taken by them as loot as well.

“How strange…” the king of Cephallinians thought, “We are all the same at war… Who is the civilized and who the uncivilized! Who is the Greek and who is the barbarian?”

And yet he felt nothing. He was almost numb as the cacophony of the voices were yelling different names towards the skies three times each, for the souls to be led to the afterlife… He hardly felt anything at the smell of burning flesh, so familiar to him now, from the funeral pyres set. He hardly felt the cold water as they entered the sea (also to wash the blood of themselves) and climbed to their hollow ships with anything they managed to salvage (and Odysseus congratulated himself for his prudence to add most of the food in the ships beforehand) from the beach and he barely felt a thing as his commanders barked the orders for their departure. His eyes glued upon the beach where the funeral pyres could still be distinguished against the purple-black of the dusk. Odysseus couldn’t care less if the fires burnt the forest behind or not. He felt Polites behind him once more.

“This was my fault, Polites…” he whispered

“My lord?”

“I was arrogant… What did I think? This is war…there is no side that wins or loses… I was foolish to believe I could get us out of here without any loss…”

“Odysseus…”

He was silenced by the hand of his king that raised itself.

“Can you take the first shift, Polites? I can’t stand anymore… I need to sleep…”

“Of course…” his best friend whispered in return, “You stayed up almost all night yesterday…”

“Thank you…”

Tiredly the king of Ithaca dragged his body to the end of the ship. His shoulders felt heavy…as if 72 more souls had hanged themselves from them; added to the already unbearable load of the lives of Troy….and Ismarus…

**

So here we have the first massive loss Odysseus suffered after Troy! 6 men from every ship perish from the attack of the Cicones.

In the Odyssey Odysseus mentioned how his men began a proper feast during their stay at the foot of Ismarus with slaughtering cattle and drinking wine, so that made me wonder how Odysseus would feel and what he would do. What would be his course of though and for one more time I thought the reoccuring memories of war will be swirling in him as well as the gloomy thoughts of his change. And of course some more violent reactions of his because of his state of mind and all.

The battle was once more inspired by Kapnisis music as I have said before to dear @dionysism this time the song "Μάχη στο Μανιάκι" ("Battle on Maniaki") because I love how the theme re-occures but with a sadder turn:

which again gave me this feeling of helplessness as the Greeks are literally trying to push back the enemy that caught them literally in sleep.

The share of spoils and the stripping of one's enemy are both mentioned in the Iliad as tradition. I also make Odysseus send Polites to defend the ships instead. This is so that for startes Polites is a powerful general in his army but also kinda wanted to show some double-standards on Odysseus part that he wants to get his best friend to a safe distance from the slaughter instead of someone else.

And yup for those who didn't get there yet, the helmet scene was inspired from Lord of the Rings! Hehehehe!

The tradition of clling one's name three times was also mentioned in the Odyssey as a form of a funeral ritual.

Forthe funeral I imagined again the soundtrack to its finale part! ^_^

As always my special thanks to:

@cjbolan @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @superkooku @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @ditoob @tunguszka20 @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @simugeuge @tumblingghosts @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog @loco-bird @greek-mythology-lover @leynaeithnea @freetyphoonglitter

Also a very special thanks and a hug to @ellilyre

**

(Afternote)

“No…ahh…no…gods…Troy…run…no…no!”

He was not fully asleep, he was not fully awake as he was mumbling incoherent things in his disturbed sleep. He was constantly moving about in his sleep, constantly fisting his fleece blanket; sweat plastering his curly hair to his forehead.

“Ahh! No…! Argh…..no! Ismarus….Troy…no… Ismarus…Ismarus…”

His back nearly arched under him.

“No! Argh…no…the fire…knife…the knife…no…! Argh! Troy…Ismarus…no!”

The hand on his shoulder was warm and welcoming.

“ARGH!” he half-threw himself in a sitting position

“Odysseus…what’s wrong…are you alright…?”

It was Polites’s voice. That much he could tell but the dizziness of sleep and dream were still in his brain. He was too foggy to think; swinging between sleep and awake to fully comprehend. Polites saw him struggle, as if, to breathe.

“No…no…” he was mumbling half asleep, “No more…the blood… Ismarus…Troy…”

“Odysseus please!”

There was the scent of metal to his lips; someone had brought a goblet to them. It smelt like wine.

“Please drink this…”

“I don’t want it…” Odysseus mumbled half-asleep still, shaking his head, “No…”

“Please! I beg of you…drink it…” Polites begged, “It will help!”

The ruby liquid touched his lips and he subconsciously swallowed. It felt bitter to his tongue; it almost tasted like blood. Apparently fatigue and the cloud of sleep had not left his brain yet for no sooner had he finished the goblet up and he leaned back, his head once again hanging to the side; surrendering himself to Hypnos’s spell once more, however this time there was no moaning or twitching in his sleep. Apart from a tensed expression between his brows he seemed calm.

“What did you give him?” Eurylochus asked concerned

Polites took out his pouch and showed some dust into it.

“I got this medicine from a Scythian merchant at Troy. He advised me to mix it to wine for better sleep.”

“Are you telling me you are using this?”

“How do you think we sleep after Troy?”

“Good point…” Eurylochus had to agree.

His gaze fell upon his sleeping king. The one that a few moments ago was flapping like a fish out of the water, as if struggling with unspeakable things in his sleep.

“What in all hells of Tartarus happened in Troy…?” he mumbled, “We all have regrets from time to time and dream badly but…not like this! What the hell happened to him to break like this…?”

“I believe he saw the Queen Hecuba lose her mind before him. He didn’t allow anyone else in his tent at that time…” Polites whispered, “It must have been hard…”

“Undoubtedly when Zeus or Dionysus sends upon the illness of the mind it is terrifying but still… Is it just that…? Sure the taking of Troy the way it happened could shake anybody… But this? What on earth happened behind closed doors and away from our understanding?”

“I heard…” Polites mumbled, “I heard that there was a sacrifice involved…”

He made a protective sign with his hand as if the words he was about to utter would be enough to curse them all.

“…A human sacrifice that is…”

The word hovered…longer than it should be; something terrible no one dared to ask.

“But…” Eurylochus managed to utter, mouth agape, “That was…before… I heard goddess Artemis demanded it…”

“No…not that… At Troy…and perhaps, they say, the reason he is like that is exactly because the gods were not involved…”

“Are you saying...?”

“No! Absolutely not! I am sure these are just terrible rumors to hurt our king! They always do come up with those!”

“Are you saying Odysseus is incapable of that…?” Eurylochus challenged

“I-…” Polites hesitated, “I don’t know…but there must be an explanation! There always is…”

They remained silent. They could hear Odysseus’s breathing. On occasion his tongue seemed to chant again and again: Troy…Ismarus…Ismarus…

*

“Odysseus…wake up…”

The warm shaking hand on his shoulder drew him out of the world of sleep. He was drowsy and confused but he could remember where he was. They were sailing home again…that should be the only one that mattered. He had given instructions to his men and they would sail away… And yet why could he smell the rain so intensely to his nose? The sky was gray, dangerously turning black. However he knew he had slept all night. He could hardly understand a thing. He blamed the wine Polites watered him the night before but it was not the time to discuss that.

“Did everyone get to have some hours of sleep…?” was the first thing he asked

“Yes” Polites confirmed, “We all had our shifts”

“And you didn’t wake me up?” the king of Ithaca asked as he was helped back to his feet by his friend.

“No” Polites admitted, “We thought you needed sleep. You had stayed awake all night before”

His king chose not to comment on that for now. Instead he leaned on the parapet of the ship. What he saw alarmed him. The sky was dark and the winds were already howling and there was a drizzle rain. There was the sound of distant thunder from afar and the strong, northern wind was already rising more and more, making his eyes tearful with the bitter cold and the drizzle slowly becoming needles that almost felt like piercing the skin. Polites didn’t need to ask when he saw the horror in his eyes. Neither did Eurylochus.

“Captain…” his brother-in-law started

“Men…” Odysseus whispered, “We must prepare ourselves! A storm might be coming!”

“Oh shit…” Eurylochus mumbled

The sails were already snapping at the wind. Odysseus suddenly saw…the winds were pushing them back…away from the sores they wanted to reach… He knew then they were up for another detour.

“Gods…gods have mercy on me! I want to go home! I just want to go home! I shall repent for my sins! Just let me embrace my wife first!”

He looked up and then he drew a breath. He had to collect himself. Perhaps that would be a minor detour. He would have to endure it. He had to; he couldn’t break now that they were so close. He couldn’t let his 72 men die in vain like that!

“MEN!” He yelled the order, “Secure the sails! Prepare for a storm!”

“And gods help us…let us survive this ordeal and escape this thrall of storm to get back home! Athena…Athena I beg of you…”

He took the ring and chain off his pouch, the ones he removed from the queen and threw them into the sea; a silent prayer and a petty offering so that he could at least hope their ships would survive. He was up for another detour… Ithaca had to wait…somehow he knew… He joined the men and kept barking orders as the sailors; expert now in sea and storms, were already gathering the sails and rowing for dear life. Odysseus grabbed the steer himself, making yet another protective sign with his hand, one last prayer to the gods. And yet he could swear that the winds that howled in his ears, making the raindrops whip his face like tiny needles were chanting again and again.

Troy…Troy…Ismarus… Ismarus!

[sowearecleariamhere]

Penelope could easily be painted as the damsel yearning for her lover, the woman without much agency waiting for her husband to come home (which of course we all know she isn't, she is a literal and metaphorical queen), and in a lesser story*) she might have been cast into that stereotype. I think that is why I love her almost yelling "You're mine" at Odysseus in WYFILWMA.

It is so possessive and decisive, ruling out any "buts". It perfectly underlines her steadfastness, her loyalty, her agency. She claims Odysseus as hers without question once she knows it is really him, that he is finally back home. She is seemingly offended that Odysseus even suggests that she might not accept him after how much he has changed. (She will make her own mind up about that, thank you very much, and said mind has been made up for 20 years btw)

It is not only that Odysseus has come home and now she chooses him. No, she has been choosing him over and over and over for the past 20 years with every action she took. It is not him coming back that now puts her in the position to choose him - it only reveals that choice, that there never was another choice other than Odysseus. Which leads me to my honorable mention:

Ody: "[...] You’ve been waiting for love."

Pen: "I've been waiting for you."

Penelope definitely had a surplus of suitors (108) and even if their motives might have been questionable, she could have easily found a new husband if that was what she wanted, maybe even one that genuinely loved her. But Penelope's love is Odysseus. Love for her is synonymous with him. No one else is even worth considering, she would rather be alone or even die before she gives any other man the time of day.

tldr; I love love LOVE the wording in WYFILWMA, how it shows how Penelope is just not taking this shit from her husband. She knows what she wants and that is Odysseus, even if it is not the original model but the slightly banged up version, the heavily traumatized, now with grey hairs probably, war criminal, ruthless god torturer version of her husband.

Because he is still her husband, goddamn it.

This might very well not make much sense bc I am insane over them currently

*) "lesser story" is not referring to the odyssey or saying epic is better than the odyssey, I mean to compare them both to any completely different work (or franchise if you will) that does not give characters agency where they should have it

[deathnguts]

Thinking about the AU where Diomedes takes care of Penelope while Odyseuss is gone and how he probably would have taken care of Telemachus too and taught him all the things his real father couldn’t so the boy wouldn’t grow up without guidance as a man. Thinking about a young Telemachus thinking of his father and not being able to match the story with a face for his whole life and then guilty beyond repair when that face starts to be Diomedes.

[haze-of-hyperfixations]

a concept. to consider. what if. what if there was a Remember Them reprise after the Thunder Saga. "We are not to let them die in vain" except he's the only one left so it's "I am not to let them die in vain." and there's no backing chorus of his men. because. they're all dead.

and the line takes on a whole new meaning now that he's the one who chose to let them die.

(not in vain. it can't have been in vain, it can't have been for nothing. i have to see her. i have to see her, because if i don't make it home, those men died for nothing. the ends always justify the means. i can justify anything as long as it ends with Penelope and Telemachus both in my arms again. but if it doesn't-

but it will. it will. it has to.)

and our- ... -and my comrades will not die in vain...

[katerinaaqu]

I created this Analysis on the part of the story in this post:

This part is so funny to me. Dude was asleep how did he know

[backpackingspace]

Okay but do you think the people who were really close to odysseus during the Trojan war had a running bet for when odysseus claimed to have a vision from Athena if it was true or not? Because half the time he was just lying about that.

[dootznbootz]

Diomedes: Odysseus! I need your help! Nestor's in trouble! Odysseus:

(Book 8 of the Iliad)

[tarnia2]

Slowly going from my "Polites had a crush on Odysseus, who didn't reciprocate, but it was all okay" headcanon to a "They shared a tent at Troy" headcanon.

[somereaderinblue]

Saw that post about the Vengence Saga and drew it-

ADSAKDBASKHGDJASHVBDXDKJSabdhjbsahxb?!#?!

@protagaster YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS MASTERPIECE RIGHT NOW!

[squeebh8]

odysseus was the first and last man to achieve the lethal, never seen before combo of wife guy, malewife, and house husband

[lyculuscaelus]

When someone asks you why you’re sobbing like an Odysseus inside a KFC restaurant, just tell them you’ve just listened to Love in Paradise from Epic the musical, Bones in the Ocean by the Longest Johns, Elysian Fields from Ulysses Dies at Dawn, in a row.

[katerinaaqu]

The Humanity of Odysseus and the Importance of the Curse of Polyphemus (an Odyssey Analysis on Fate and Destiny)

I believe there is one thig that needs to be said about the Odyssey and Odysseus in particular and something I have rarely seen properly adapted. It is the importance of the unchangable fate in antiquity in general and homeric poems in particular. One can say this starts from the character itself; Odysseus name meaning "Anger Bringer" or "Furious" is an indicator that not only the character will be dusliked by many but that he would also cause anger which one can expect would lead to terrible consequences. However I believe the moment Odysseus was truly deprived of all his choices was the infamous Curse of Polyphemus:

In Rhapsody/Book 9 of the Odyssey, Odysseus describes his misadventure with the cyclops Polyphemus and when he revealed himself to him, Polyphemus prays to his father, Poseidon, giving Odysseus a double-curse (as it happens to most predictions that have at least two ways they can go) which goes like this:

"I call upon you, Poseidon, Earth-bearer with cyan/black/dark hair, if I am your son and you wish to be my father (you wish to be called my father), do it for me so that Odysseus the Sacker of Cities will never reach his home, the son of Laertes who calls Ithaca his home, but if fate calls for him to see his friends and reach his well-built home and his ancestral land, make it so it will be terrible (here return), that he will lose all his companions and in a foreign ship and find misery waiting for him at his home!"

(Translation by me)

So as you can see the curse has two different outcomes

He will never see his home again

If he does, it will be without his companions brought by a foreign ship and he will find misery at his own home when he arrives

At this point, given that the story is "in media res" aka "told from the middle", we know now that the second part is fulfilled, or almost fulfilled. Odysseus is in Scheria, he is alone, he is shipwrecked, there is no sign of any of his companions anywhere so we expect him to return at this foreign ship, aka a Phaeacaean ship to his home at any moment. However by the moment the curse is placed, Odysseus doesn't know which outcome is to befall upon him. And while the second part is weirdly specific (and in a way preparing us for the outcome) the first one is not nearly speficic enough!

Make it so he never sees his land again.

This could mean anything; does he get killed in the ardous trip? Does he get straddled to a place for the rest of his life? Does he somehow lose his...memory and never return home again (similarly to how his men ate the Lotuses at the Lotophagi land)? What is more, nowhere in this part does it say his comrades will survive the ordeal. Although the curse means specifically for Odysseus not reaching his home and one could assume his men would but not Odysseus, that is not guaranteed.

Both of these scenarios are terribly gloom for both Odysseus and his men. So what does Odysseus do? He does what every human being would have done;

He tries to change fate!

He tries constantly to lift the curse:

Even if he knows deep down is pointless, even if he more or less has realized they are off for an arduous trip that will cost them probably all of them their lives, Odysseus STILL TRIES to change the fate! He sails off to find help. He goes to Aiolus and asks for help. He gets the bag. At this point Odysseus is at the end of his wits. He has a chance, he thinks, to change fate, to change the curse. He remains awake for 9 days to make sure he will (see also my other analysis in regards to that) and yet it is all in vain. His men open the bag JUST A LITTLE BEFORE they reach Ithaca and pushed back.

At this point it becomes all the more clear that they are up for an endless journey or a settlement away from home at best case scenario and all to die at worst case scenario. Odysseus doesn't give up! He asks AGAIN, this time he is denied.

And then comes destruction...

They reach the idland of the giant Laistrygonians and here Odysseus suffers the worst loss he has suffered so far; he loses 11 out of his 12 ships in a single raid and barely manages to escape with the rest of his comrades resting on his ship. Right now is clearer than ever that the curse is taking place so the real question is; which of the parts shall it be fulfulled? And they reach the land of Circe. Plenty of his men turn into pigs. Eurylochus barely escapes doom and runs at him to tell him "LEAVE THEM AND GO". Odysseus knows in his bones they are doomed! He knows he either leaves them and fulfulles the second prophecy (for his men already perish little by little) or either way the first part of the prophecy is fulfilled. What does Odysseus do?

He tries AGAIN!

He sells himself to Circe, he requests his men's freedom. He ASKS Circe for advice, he descends the Underworld, asks Tiresias for a course; how he can reach his home, how he can save his men, how he can REVERSE THE CURSE. Even if he knows it is impossible to challenge fate (not even Zeus could transcend fate). In a way he comits a form of hubris hoping to change fate. And yet he is HUMAN! He cannot accept that his men would die that he cannot go home. He wants to TRY! So sure enough he gets a possible way out...

Tiresias gives him hope...

The prophet tells him he can save his men AND reach Ithaca IF they do not eat the cattle of Helios Hyperion. What is more Circe gives him advice for the trip; the course they can follow, the steps they can take and again the warning of NOT eating the cattle of Helios. Odysseus takes heart to those, he DESPERATELY GRABS on them! He thinks he has a chance. Maybe...JUST MAYBE he can reverse this terrible curse! He can MAKE IT RIGHT! He has a chance to change fate! He has a chance to reverse it!

Self-Fulfilled Prophecy

Little does he know though that the trip is already set for failiure. Skylla claims 6 of his best men (his men CONTINUE TO PERISH) and yet Odysseus thinks that this is a sign that he can make it, that the terrible sacrifices will pay off and that he is on his way to break the curse. He is following the instructions therefore it must go well. And come the Cattle Of Helios Hyperion.

An attempt to dodge fate...

Odysseus tells to his men that they should not stop at the island now. He is not ready to take another risk. He will not do the same as the sack of Aiolus. He wants to AVOID THE ISLE ALTOGETHER. If his men are not tepted, they will not break. He intends to keep going and it could have worked...but...

Sure enough his men are tired they need to stop

Odysseus has no choice. At this point he probably realizes there is no way to change fate. He sees it now that everything is up for destruction and he still doesn't know WHICH VERSION will be fulfulled! And even if every part of his brain tells him everything is lost Odysseus REFUSES TO GIVE UP! No, this cannot be the end! There must still be time and space to reverse it!

He makes them promise

Odysseus makes his men swear to everything sacred that no matter what they shall not touch the cattle. That they would survive only with the provisions given by Circe, that they will not be tempted no matter what. Sure enough he extracts the promise from them but of course the prophecy is now moving. Wind is opposite. There is no way they can go. They get straddled for WEEKS. Food is over. Odysseus sees the path is for destruction and yet...

HE TRIES AGAIN!

He goes to the island to pray! There MUST be another way! The gods can hear him...maybe pity him and release them from this! And yet he falls asleep from fatigue, stress and godly intervention. Now the clock is ticking! His men cannot withstand hunger anymore and slay the cattle. Now their fate is shielded. We now know they will die. We know also which part of the prophecy will be fulfulled; Odysseus will come home ALONE, just like we see him narrating alone (even if we might as well wonder whether Odysseus would remain in Scheria, it is pretty much settled that Odysseus returns to Ithaca). However Odysseus doesn't know...but what he fears the most has happened

One last desperate attempt.

Odysseus is human above all. He sees the slain animals, he KNOWS his men will die and even that time he REFUSES to accept it! He REFUSES to give up! He sets sail again, hoping to save them, to save them all (himself included) as they roam for 7 days in the sea

And doom strikes...

His men all perish, his ship is gone! Odysseus is left alone in the sea, fighting for 10 days to the brief of death. Right now Odysseus is no longer struggling to change fate...he is no longer struggling to save anyone but himself...he is struggling

...SO THAT AT LEAST THE FATE IN STORE FOR HIM IS HIS RETURN...

He now has suffered the ultimate loss. He needs to at least make it home! Even if that means without companions, even if that means to be home in misery...he just HAS TO GO HOME! He cannot just perish in the sea or be forever straddled outside Ithaca! And then Calypso happens. Odysseus is left in her isle for 7 years.

He now fears he will never see his home again

He cries every day on the beach. His rape every night is strong enough reason for him to do so but also the fact that he now FEARS that the first section of the prophecy is fullfilled; that he is never to see his home and friends and family again. That his fate was not to perish in the sea but to be forever held against his will away from his beloved home and family. And he is filled with despair. When he has lost all hope that he will ever roam about the sea again; with at least SOME HOPE that the second part of the curse would be fulfilled, he is ready to throw himself in the sea; give an end to his life since there is no point in hoping anymore. The worst scenario has happened for him. He has nothing else to expect...

And it is so...till Hermes brings the order to release him. Now Odysseus finds hope anew that he will return. And he struggles with all his might to survive! Even if he is days out in the sea in a small raft. Even when his raft is destroyed and he has to literally swim to Scheria. his mind goes "NO! I WILL NOT PERISH! I WILL GO HOME!" and sure enough he does and he does meet his friends again and he does find this misery at his home and yet now Odysseus can endure this misery, because he knows he managed to get home and he knows that he has left but ONE TASK according to Tiresias.

He tried to beat fate and he failed...but now he has hope...

So as you see, and forgive me for the long analysis, Odysseus is more human than anyone can imagine and always relatable character. Despite his flaws and mistakes one of the noblest mistakes he made was to think he could change fate and dedicate a large part of his trip trying to do just that; change the curse and save his companions which only ends up to a self-fulfilled prophecy but I doubt anyone can deny that we would all have done the same. I doubt any of us would just abandon all hope and sit tight waiting for the prophecy to be filled either way. He would all have tried to change such a grim outcome!

Because we are human. And so was Odysseus.

[fluffypotatey]

save me Ruthlessness from Epic the musical

[melodyartist-blog]

A fair trade.

What's your payment method:

-cash

-card

-the loyalty and devotion of your new born baby

Athena probably regrets choosing him as a pupil, just sometimes...maybe more times than we think

this is funnier when you know that Menelaus offered him the opportunity to stay with him in Sparta, so they would just hang out( I guess??? Just like two bros would) just because Odysseus was one of the few warrior he standed😭

I'm not gonna explain myself...

I'm just gonna say that there was a lot of wine in that Kylix and Menelaus got absolutely wasted (he probably doesn't even remember what happened)

[nikoisme]

actually the fact that odysseus knew he'd be gone for 20 years makes the gears in my brain turn. You kiss your son goodbye knowing you will miss every milestone of his. He will be a grown man and will not remember you. You will be a father only by title. Your wife will lay alone in your wedding bed, she will wake and see the side you've slept on is empty. You won't hold each other for a long, long time. Your parents may not even be there to welcome you back. You know you will return, but the war stretches on and on. Your comrades fall. Your ships are on fire. Your best warriors are nothing but ashes in an urn. But it's eventually over, you can go home. But still, there's more time left. First it's a storm. It's winding up in strange lands. It's hunger. It's temptation. Your men grow weary. You have twelve ships and then you have one and then it's only you on a single timber. You know you will return, but everything has gone so horribly wrong that you can't help but wonder if the fates fooled you. Everyone you know is either dead or are living again. You are the only one stuck in between. Neither dead or alive. You sit on a beach staring out to the sea from the moments the birds sing til the sun dips over the horizon. Every day is the same - you sit on the stones and weep, you trek the shores, during the night you're in her bed. Your skin is cracked and sunburnt, your beard long and tangled, your hair etched with more and more silver hairs. Your eyes are dull, sunken. Your bones ache when you walk, your breath is shorter. The sun rises and sets. The waves wash away your footprints. You are growing old but the island is the same. You are left behind. Your home will change and you won't change with it. In fact, everyone will change, but you will not recognize what's different. Some of the lines under your eyes will be the hauntings of war, while your wife's will be from the sleepless nights of buying you time. You flinch when you see each other. You expected to see someone else, and she expected to see no one at all. You could once hold your boy in your arms, but now it feels like he's the one holding you. The trees in your orchard have grown taller. Some of the houses in your kingdom are empty. The children that sat on your knees now have their own children on their own knees - or they lie dead, by your own hand. Who are you? Who is your son, your wife? You will get to know each other, you will change together eventually. But there will still be something off, like a brick not fitting quite right in the foundation. Off like a living man among the dead, someone who wasn't fated to die, but was supposed to die a long time ago. A dead man among the living. You will not belong, even though you are the father of your son, the husband of your wife, the son of your father, the king of your land. There will always be something missing, something aching.

And you are willing to let it all happen when you lift your baby son from the field, away from the plow.

[hamletofficial]

In The Odyssey, Odysseus is extraordinary for the flexibility with which he can inhabit many different names, or no name at all. It is this quality of being multinamed and nameless that enables him to survive. By contrast, almost all the warriors of The Iliad yearn to have a name and a story that lasts forever. Their many names and titles, as sons and brothers and comrades and fathers and rulers, are essential to their identities, their connections with one another, and their fame after death. They fear, above all, being humiliated (cursed with a negative name), or forgotten and nameless. The lists and catalogs of names are essential to the poem’s own work, of memorializing and mourning the dead. Once the bodies return to dust, these syllables are all that remain.

– Emily Wilson, Translator's note for The Iliad.