The Last Ballad of Olympus

The swift winds tickled her skin like sharp nails gnawing deeply into that milky white flesh as they tried to wake her. However, the unknown maiden only had death on her head as her eyes did not flutter a lash. Her body was pale, coloured only with pinks and lilacs from the bruises she obtained. She wore nothing but her skin and a sheer fabric that served as some comfort from the sand. She was still on the seashore with her hands raised upwards as her lower body twisted from the fatigue of her previous ordeal with the salty waters. 

The poor maiden was like a beautiful cadaver. There were no birds in the sky to signify her presence to others. The only companion she had was the ravaging waves that harassed her as they gradually reached her feet. Heaven hid the sun, shying away from another chance of hope. The smoke from the mainland fires loomed in the air, painting the whole scene with gloom and despair. The breeze slowly gained pace, clawing on everything with the vivid feel of sharpness. The Maiden of the Unknown, who lay on the cold sand, remained lifeless as her surroundings slowly morphed into the first level of Hades. 

Though Armageddon was drawing near, a ray of mercy was bestowed upon her as a call echoed. Not a slight consciousness, the maiden was suddenly lifted out from her silent agony as bronzed and slightly wrinkly hands carried her out from the nonchalant sand that once assaulted her back. With her long, golden-brown hair dangling down, the maiden was finally free from the clutches of the cold waters and unforgiving environment where her body had been dragged. 

"There, there—you are now safe." A coarse yet gentle voice resonated from her dreamless sleep. 

***

"Poor child," Whispered the old woman as she carefully washed the maiden. "What happened to you, my dear?" She wondered, while staring at the beautiful pale face, drained of warmth. "Do you think she was from the mainland, Aegeus?" 

The old man, who paced back and forth on the other corner of their humble abode, looked at her and responded, "Who knows, Elpida? I just found her on the shorelines while returning from an unfruitful fishing trip. Did you know that fish have been almost nonexistent since the tragedy?" 

Continuing to nurse their foundling, Elpida simply stated with a glimpse of sunshine in her tone, "Well, you may now have lost your title as a fisherman, but you have gained favour from the gods for saving this poor child. She was barely alive, and who knows what might have happened to her if you hadn't found her?" 

"I hope our pretty stray recovers."

Elpida smiled slightly while brushing some hair off the maiden's face. Oh, how glad she was that her husband had found her and spared her from the impending death. The maiden was too lovely, too sweetly looking to face death at such an early stage of her life. "I believe she just bloomed into womanhood, my dear." She told her old husband, who idled on a chair after pacing in the room. "She looks so young and charming. Could she be of royal blood?" 

"I thought so too, darling. The child was unlike us, who carried the burden of the sun and labour. If she is indeed from the mainland, did her family survive?"

A strike of sympathy rose in her heart, "In Zeus's name!" She gasped at the realisation. "Oh dear… might she be an orphan?"

Aegeus only sighed at such a sad thought. 

Later on, nearing dusk, the old couple prepared their meal and still hoped for their lovely foundling to finally open her eyes. They lit their oil lamps, lowered their heads, and hoped that if the gods could still hear them, they prayed for the recovery of the sleeping maiden. They might have met the young lady on that day, but the old couple already felt some connection to her that they could not fathom. To Aegeus, he felt like a protective father, waiting to strike the madman who hurt the girl. And to Elpida, she felt like it was her womb that conceived the lady, having such a maternal bond and empathy towards her. 

"Vivinna would love to meet her. I know for sure." She smiled at the sleeping form of the lady, dispelling the lightning flashes of the incoming stormy night. 

Aegeus agreed. Their only daughter would have the same sentiments if she gazed at the poor state of their foundling. "And I agree. Vivinna always wanted to have a little sister." He chuckled, then held his wife's hand, and slowly said, "Maybe we should follow our daughter and not wait for her letter. I know there is some anxiousness inside of you, darling, but I know—I just know deep in my heart—that our daughter and her family are now safe in the new land built by a god."

"If she is safe, then where are the letters?" Elpida retorted, tightening her hold on his hand. "We do not even know who this god is."

"A son of Zeus, as the pythia said—a lost soul who now rose from the ashes. An unknown god who now made himself known. Blood with fire and mouth spits the same fatherly wisdom as his father. We should not lose faith, Elpida!" Aegeus reassured her as he lightly kissed her hand while the fire on their lamps danced along the soft passing of the musky breeze. 

Despite the doubt, Elpida sighed in content as she enclosed her husband's hands in hers. "I guess we have to be a bit braver and more adventurous like our daughter." She confessed.

"Yes—we have to." Aegeus settled. 

Elpida's gaze then went back to their sleeping foundling as she wondered for her sake. "How about our little maiden?" She asked him. 

"We will take her." Aegeus immediately answered, certain of his decision. "No one shall be left behind, not even our two goats."

The old woman's face lit up, painting a cheery expression from her loving husband's plan. 

Ever since the catastrophe, many had already fled from the mainland of Hellas and its little islands. One of those few who trusted a group of sailors was Aegeus and Elpida's only daughter, Vivinna, along with her husband, Neilos, and their children. The small family immediately escaped upon hearing about the new settlement in the far seas. Their exchange of farewells was brief, only left with promises of letters once they arrived in the new land. It had been days after the first voyage of the refugees, and Elpida's anxiety grew more and more, worrying for their safety. Perhaps the time to step into the waters with the same valour as a soldier has come, and so shall the fret must end.

"I guess this is the time we shall tread upon the uncertainty, my love. And I do hope that before we cross on the narrow seas, our sleeping Foundling will be awake by then." She prayed. 

"Oh, do not worry too much, darling—she will and I know that." Aegeus smiled before planting another kiss on his dear wife's hands, sealing his assurance. 

***

Tomorrow came as dawn rose in shades of grey and crimson. The smoke came hither with ferocity, carrying death on its shoulders. No sun still, signifying Helios no longer bore the weight of the morning glory. 

Last night's prayer was surely unheard. As the prophecy said, the gods were no more, with their spirits lingering in jeopardy. Poor people had nothing but uncertainty and obvious melancholy to carry them through the rest of their days. 

Old Aegeus woke up before the sky turned red, planning on going to the harbour to see whether another voyage would take the remaining survivors to the promised land of the new god. Elpida, on the other hand, remained in their house as she diligently took care of their sleeping beauty. 

She hummed a song while cleaning the body of the young lady. In her head, she implored the spirits of the gods to spare the woman out of death's reach. "Too young to bid farewell to this life. Hellas might go down now, but surely there is a chance for her to experience life." She whispered, carefully cleaning her foundling's battered body. 

More prayers were said for her—prayers that beseeched, to whoever heard it, to wake her up. Elpida might be a stranger to her, but something about her felt so familiar as she continued her grooming, brushing the tangles out of the maiden's golden brown long locks. 

And no sooner, though the gods were gone now, a miracle happened…

While the endearing old Elpida returned the bowl of warm water to the kitchen, the pretty foundling slowly fluttered her eye, clearing out the darkness from her sight as light pierced through. She fluttered her long curly lashes again to study the unfamiliar setting, and silver eyes were then revealed as consciousness slowly gripped her head. Carefully rising from her sleep state, a slight nauseating sensation rang through her head, causing her to whimper from the sudden pain. She let out a little yelp, enough for old Elpida to run back to her. Once the old lady caught sight of her, her jaw dropped. 

"Oh, in Zeus's name!" She shakily exclaimed, trying to calm her excited nerves. "Oh, our little foundling! You are now awake!" She then delightfully greeted her as she sat beside her and cupped her lovely heart-shaped face. "Look at you, my sweet—you are truly a beauty! And look at those majestic eyes, they are silver! Goodness me." 

Gaze growing like a saucer, the pretty foundling was dazed by the rapidity of the moment. She said nothing to counter the old woman's merry exclamations, only to give her a naïve tilt of the head as if she were a dog curious about anyone and anything. 

"Where are my manners?" Elpida scolded herself, understanding the confusion displayed on the pretty lady's face. "My name is Elpida! You are here at our little abode, and my husband found you washed up ashore."

Pretty foundling gave another blank stare, displaying more confusion with her big eyes fluttering as her head tilted to the other side.

Seeing this juvenile reaction, Elpida began to wonder something, but still did not entertain the notion too quickly. "My name is Elpida." She said again with a little emphasis, though gentle, like a mother usually does. 

Pretty foundling then mouthed what she said, trying to bring out her voice from her tight throat. The old woman gave warm encouragement for her to repeat, and no sooner did she manage to echo her name with a small, almost whisper-like tone, "Elpida!" She said, and echoed once again, "Elpida!"

"That is right, my dear!" The old woman chuckled. "I am Elpida. Now, do tell me, what is your name?"

Pale lips quivered from the inquiry. Her eyes lowered as fingers fidgeted onto the blanket that served as a shield for her naked body. Her mind was of a child who had never seen the world. The old woman's question seemed to ring loud bells, but the answer was nothing, sending only sharp anxiety into her nerves that prompted her whole body to shake a little. Pretty foundling only made unintelligent noises as she tried to think through despite the growing fret and pain in her head. 

"Oh, my dear, do not push yourself." Elpida wrapped the frightened lady in her warm and big embrace as she acknowledged the weariness that was now etched on such a lovely face. "I do not mean to pry. I am not here to hurt you. I am a friend." She gave her a grin when silver eyes looked up at her. "There, there—calm those nerves and be at ease. My husband and I's roofs are also yours. If you are not ready, tell us your name, there is no problem."

In truth, the pretty foundling's name never imprinted on her very head. There was no montage of who she was. There was not even a single sound resonating to aid her in discovering her past. The poor maiden was a stranger to herself. With a childlike look on her face, the beautiful silver-eyed maiden could only blink and flutter those long curly lashes of hers as her lower lips trembled from all the questions; she did not even know the specific words. Enchanting big eyes then formed a pool of tears as she began to sob. 

"Oh, do not cry, my sweet. Nothing to worry about. Come here—" In her gracious embrace that cradled such a fragile body, the crying foundling found little solace as her tears flowed down from all the answers she would never know. "Cry everything, my sweet. Mama Elpida is here for you."

The poor girl cried and cried until her tears could make a river. She was babbling like a little girl as her emotions rolled in a whirlwind inside her blank head. 

"Please do not cry too much, my pretty." Elpida cupped her cheeks and wiped her pearly tears with her thumbs as she gently said in a motherly voice, "Calm down now. Dry those tears, for we do not want to ruin those pretty eyes of yours. Do you want to eat? Well, I prepared some soup. Now sit still and let old Elpida get you some nourishment."

***

As soon as noon came and the grey clouds became thick on the heavens, Aegeus returned from his trip with a basketful of food and other necessities in both hands. Once the doors were closed behind him, Elpida greeted him with a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek.

"That smile only appears when something good is happening—what is it?" He pointed out as he jovially teased her. 

"Well, good news indeed," Elpida answered, retaining that sunny smile on her mouth that could dispel the gloom from their dreary place. "She is awake." She then whispered into his ear.

A surge of delight grew inside the old man's soul as if some prodigal daughter had returned to them. 

As he walked towards where their foundling stayed, Elpida cautioned him to be very gentle and added that the young lady seemed to be still fazed from the ordeal she had been through. 

Peeking through the slightly open door to a small room, Aegeus saw that the young lady was indeed awake. But he noticed her shivering, anxious about everything as she stared and examined everything inside her confinement. 

"She is awake!" Aegeus exclaimed in a hushed voice. 

"Yes, but she seemed not to be good in spirit." Elpida honestly noted, prompting her husband to turn his head towards her and give an inquisitive look on her face. She stared back at him with sincerity and added, "As a mother, it breaks my heart to see such an innocent person, perusing the uncertain cruelties of the fates. I see her beautiful silver eyes that glistened only with blankness and questions she could not even articulate with her lips."

Aegeus was perplexed by what she had just informed him. What did she mean by that? He questioned, while looking back at their foundling, who was dressed in an article of very loose clothing—owned by his wife—and her hands reached out, trying to touch the bird who was hopping on the window stool. 

Studying her a little more, the old couple witnessed the childish way the maiden was acting. She was very eager to touch the bird and only managed to fly him away out of the window. However, with her naïve curiosity that dreaded to be quenched, the maiden threw half of her body to reach the little bird she longed to befriend. 

"Oh, careful, my child!" As his pulse quickened and adrenaline rushed once he saw the young lady carelessly trying to catch the bird, Aegeus grabbed her and pulled her back inside. "In Zeus's name, please do not do that again!" He reprimanded her in between heavy breaths. 

Her ears perked up, and her silver eyes grew big like the full moon when she shot a frightened look at him and the old lady who had just come in. The maiden then cried, scared to think that they were there to punish her because she had done something wrong.

"Do not cry, my dear!" Elpida comforted as she kneeled beside her and wrapped her in her arms. "I told you to be gentle!" She mouthed to Aegeus.

"I'm sorry!" He responded to her, only to be criticised when she ordered him to apologise directly to the poor girl who was bitterly crying in her arms. Defeated, the old man sighed, lowered himself before them and gently implored their foundling for forgiveness. "Forgive me, my dear. I did not mean to scare you. I was only afraid that you might hurt yourself."

She peeked through Elpida's arms upon hearing his apology. 

Seeing the wide eyes of their foundling, Aegeus apologised again—this time, his voice was more sincere, gentler, and best described as that of a father. "I am sorry, my dear," he softly caressed her head, stroking her curly hair. "I did not intend to frighten you. I was only worried that you might fall. Though our house is small, I do not want you to get any more bruises." He then curved a warm smile for her. 

The pools in her eyes glistened when she saw his face grinning, with an understanding that he was true to his words and wanted nothing but her trust. Slowly and timidly moving away from Elpida's embrace, the young lady stretched her hand to his face and cautiously touched his cheek, studying him as if she were learning the very essence of his soul.

Trying not to scare her once more, Aegeus remained still until the lady pulled her hand away. 

"Well, greetings to you, my dear." He chuckled. "My name is Aegeus. What is your name?" 

"She does not speak much, darling," Elpida responded, somehow matched with a slight worry in her tone. "I do not think she knows her name." She then whispered to her husband as their foundling buried her face into her bosom.

Bobbing his head, Aegeus said no more and brushed the head of the strange yet naïve lady, who returned to his wife's comforting hug. A current of sympathy then waved into his heart for her, pitying her for the assumption that fate was never kind to her. 

More questions now lingered in the old couple's minds. It felt like shadows clawing in their brains, crumpling their nerves until it became a mush, giving them nothing beneficial. 

Their foundling was such a mystery to them. She was a beauty with no history, a butterfly with no wings. Looking into her eyes, it was like looking into the star itself, but sadly, there was no glimmer. 

As the embers on their hearth slowly died down and the crickets loudly sang their chorus, the quaint house of Aegeus and Elpida was gradually drifting along with the spirit of Hypnos. Tucked in on her makeshift bed, with a warm blanket and soft pillows, their mysterious maiden finally went into dreamland in bliss. 

"I pray to whoever heard us that this child will be in good spirits tomorrow," Elpida whispered to Aegeus as she rose from their foundling's side after placing one more pillow. 

With much compassion and hope, the old man nodded and added, "I do too. This child has been through a lot, though she does not tell us. Her eyes bore great sorrow." 

When the night deepened, the fire of the hearth finally bid its farewell, letting the darkness hover all over the withered land.