A Dream.

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All night I struggled.  Contest after contest.  Always underwater, always a bit behind the competition.  But, on I went, knowing I could not win by the halfway mark.  Brutal.  Some did not live to see the end.  Others were broken in the events.  Too dumb to know I was hurt, at times, too mean to always care.  I suspected I didn't belong in the final courses on some events, as earlier exceptions probably discounted my later participation.  I could plainly see I did not win every event.  I just assumed that the judges simply didn't have the brass to debate the thing so just let me continue, enjoying my suffering, losses, and humiliations.  As pathetic men always say, if you can't beat em', fuck em'.

All night.  Pounding my head against the proverbial wall.  I knew, finally, even through that thick skull I use for these sorts of efforts, that I could not win.  Didn't confront me none, as long as I got to that finish line, lifted that last weight, threw the javelin past the last line, slayed that final beast.  And I was there, made it, every time.  Finally, the contest was over.  We were given a week to clean up, and relearn to walk straight.  Those of us who remained.  A feast was thrown.  Even those who had been maimed were there, for there is honor in that.

The feast was grand.  Meats of all sorts, wine of very fine quality all throughout, dancing girls filled the place, and favored daughters were dressed to kill and be... noticed.  Before total mayhem could befall, but well after the feasting and sipping was underway, the presentation of winners was announced.  I knew, by score, I did not place.  I wasn't, absolutely, sure, however, who did win or even place.  There were many measures being used.

They called up so-and-so, a representation of a new/old friend.  It was Thorn/Vox.  They had him stand on the top stand, but did not indicate his place.  Then another new/old friend, Butte/Desert Cat.  They had him stand on the second tier, but again, did not name his place.  Then they stalled a bit.  Some kind of a hubbub ensued.  It looked like fists were about to fly among the judges.  Finally, several judges were shoved out of the circle and left in a huff.  Doom!  I looked around, to see if they were... joking.  My name, again.  Slowly I rose, limping just a bit with that twinge that remained.  I pulled out of that as best I could and strode up, still a bit weary that my name was in jest.  Up, I was lead, to the third position.

Then they announced the places.  Thorn/Vox received the Perseus award, not a first place, but the highest count.  Butte/Desert Cat received the Aristaeus award, not the second most points but the most... inventive solutions were his.  And I received the Heracles award.  After the calling, and cheers and accolades, and a time to enjoy the glory, I felt called to discuss this with the judges.  So, after a time, and much of the usual required... mingling and receiving of honors, I slipped over to the judges area.

What, pray tell, would have allowed you to choose me, I asked.  Blunt, as usual.  I could not have gotten the numbers.  I was not in the circle by any means I could tell.  Ah, that, the lead judge intoned.  No, you did not come in third, or fourth... I think, by count, you were nearly twelfth.  Thirteenth, the call was corrected by some judge in the back of the group.  Scratching my head to showcase my puzzlement, the judges just enjoying my suffering.  A moment of silence as the judges who remained grinned and pleasured themselves at my growing impatience.  You were chosen because you were not only not supposed to win, some of the *cough* judges had arranged that you would not even survive the events.  They, of course, have been... sent on their ignominious ways.  They will be marked by their treachery for all of their days and live without peace or honor.

Having been beset, as you were, that you finished every contest, completed every task, and did not die or even encounter a wound that is lasting, you have received the right honor.  Now, go, enjoy the feasting.  With our gratitude for such a well fought contest.  Heal up quickly.  We have use for you and the others, or will soon.  This contest was not mere folly or frolicking, lad.  The time is coming when heroes are needed again.

Some dream.  Whatever.  I just want some more of that roasted beef!  Well... and t'em flowers weren't all that bad either.  But beef first, flowers later.  All I'm saying.  Ha!