joegoda | To Legends!

The night had been long, and the day even longer. People came and went and congratulated Bags on having survived another year. Grizelda had made sure that his favorite cake had been made and presented him with some nice new scabbards for his favorite swords, as his old scabbards had turned rather old and ... er... scabbardy.

Esmeralda presented her father with a picture she had drawn of her and her father, holding hands under a sunset. At least, that's what she said it was.

Each of the merchants of Tears had presented Bags with a token of their appreciation. From the Bakers, a bread that was shaped in the form of the royal crest. From the Butchers, an entire cow, butchered and locked into one of Pockets' inventions, a box that froze things. From the Clothier's a new suit, in browns and greens, colors that the Tailor said matched Bags coloring. "You're an Autumn." he said.

Thought out the day, townsfolk and friends passed through the Mansion, bearing gifts and well wishes. Bags, in his typically friendly just folks sort of way, tolerated them all and thanked them for their thoughts and remembrances.

Pockets had been unusually absent. He wasn't at breakfast, didn't make a nuisance of himself at lunch and when all the festivities were going on until late in the evening, was no where to be found. In some ways, Bags found it to be a relief, not having to keep an eye out for whatever craziness Pockets was getting into. In other ways, Bags found it to be worrisome. It wasn't like Pockets to not show up.

Granted, it was totally like Pockets to forget a birthday. Bags understood his friend well enough to know that time just didn't run the same for Pockets as it did for the rest of the world. In the twenty plus years they had known each other, Pockets may have brought a gift perhaps once, and even on the right day.

Grizelda looked at her husband from the open doorway that led to the patio in back of the Mansion. Bags was sitting on one of the benches, looking up at the moons, lil 'un and big 'un. He was quiet, but that was not unusual. What was unusual was his mood. To Grizelda, it just felt... sad.

"Bags?" She asked. "Are you all right? Didn't you have a good time?"

"Yeah." Bags replied, not looking back. "It was a great day, Griz. Sometimes I forget how much people actually think about me, you know?" Now he did turn back to look at his wife, smiled a sad smile and said, "Thank you for all that you did in arranging this for me."

Grizelda crossed the small space between the doorway and where Bags sat and placed her hands on Bags' shoulders. "You deserve it, honey. These people would really be lost without you."

"Maybe." Bags sighed. "Maybe not. Brigs could lead them as well as I do. Hell, I think even the Tailor could lead them as well as I do."

"Now Bags, you know that's just not true." Grizelda sat down next to him and took his hand. "It's the reason they look up to you as much as they do, you know. The way you speak your mind and sort out what is important from what isn't. That's what makes a leader, Bags. That's what these people see in you."

Bags sighed. "Yeah, I guess." He looked back up at the moon. "Still... there are times..."

"You wish you were out there, running free." Grizelda kissed Bags shoulder. "I know. I can feel it in you."

"Not all the time, Griz." Bags reached his hand up and pulled Grizelda close. "Just when big 'un is full like it is now. Or the wind blows a certain way, and I can smell the forest far off in the distance. Or I hear a song in the pub that I hadn't heard in a long, long time." He sighed again. "Sometimes being the King sucks."

"I know, honey." Grizelda rested her head on his shoulder. "And if you didn't do it as well as you do, I'd tell you to hell with it, let's get back on the road and go see what's out there." Silence covered the pair as the night mist started to creep in.

A while and a number of snuggles later, Grizelda stood up. "I better go check on the kid. She had a big day, and you know how active that makes her dreams."

"All right, Griz." Bags didn't let go of her hand. "I'll stay out here just a bit longer, I think. I love you."

Grizelda started for the doorway back into the house. "I love you too, you big lug."

"I wonder what happened to Pockets." Bags mused.

"What?" Grizelda turned back at the doorway. "You know... I hadn't even thought about him all day, but now that you mention it, it has been awfully quiet." She thought a bit and reached out with her gift. "I don't feel he's in any danger, Bags." She felt a bit more, searching with her mind and heart for their friend. "Maybe he thought that staying away would be his gift to you. You know Pockets better than anyone. Sometimes his wires don't quite cross."

"I know." Bags said. "Still... to not show up at all..."

"I'm sure we'll find out tomorrow, when he shows up with some fantastic story about conquering the universe again." Grizelda looked into the house, up the stairs where Esmeralda's bedroom was. Small sounds, like the growls of animals could be heard. "I'm sorry, hon. I think Esme's having a dream. Pockets is okay, Bags." Grizelda disappeared into the house.

Bags sat, quietly, listening to the sounds of the night. An owl was hooting somewhere nearby, and the crickets were chirping like mad. The sounds made him want to get up, run, run far and find wrongs to right, bad guys to fight and riches to be had. Bags sighed. "I'm not a kid anymore." He sighed again.

"None of us are, chum." Pockets stepped out of the bushes.

Bags jumped off the bench, and just saved his mug of beer from spilling over. "What the seven hells! Pockets, you just about scared me to death! Where the hell have you been?"

Pockets stood at the edge of the patio, rubbed the top of his balding head and smiled shyly. "Well, Griz was partly right, Bags. I did want your day to go pretty smooth. I know that things get kinda wonky when I'm around. I gave you the day off from me." Pockets walked over to his old friend and wrapped his arms around him. "You realize this is a manly hug, full of testosterone, right? Don't think I'm getting all girly on you, cuz that is not going to happen." Pockets took a step back and said, "Happy Birthday, Bags."

Bags took a long drink from his mug and said, "Thanks, Pockets. It was a pretty good day, at that, but you didn't have to stay way, you know."

"Well, Bags, I kinda did." Pockets sat down on a stool nearby. "See, you getting older means that I'm getting older, and like you just said, we ain't kids any more." He laced his fingers between his knees and looked up at the moons. "There's a whole bunch of stuff that we haven't gotten to do yet, and it occurred to me that we may never get that chance. Hell, Bags, I could die tomorrow. I mean, I won't, but I could. Maybe. If maybe a large rock was dropped on me or something." Pockets thought for a second. "Nope. That wouldn't do it either." He smiled his goofy lopsided grin. "Well, you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Bags nodded.

"So, I wanted to tell you something, before I got too old, or you got too old, or something happened where we never saw each other again." Bags looked at him oddly. "No, I haven't heard or seen anything, but there's things happening all over that I don't have a clue about." Pockets got up and poured himself a beer from the keg.

"Look, Bags, we've been together for ... well, a long time. And there have been a bunch of times where you've saved my life, or I've saved yours or we've been apart for months while you were fighting for some army or other, or I was a prisoner of the Mad Wizard..." His voice faded off...

Crickets, Owls. Somewhere the screech of a mouse being caught.

Pockets coughed. "Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that there is nobody in this whole world, or this whole set of worlds or the entire Universe that I am more proud to call my friend." He choked a bit. "You have been my brother, my father at times, and my very best of confidants. You have put up with me when I was at my craziest and you know, you know that nobody else would have. You have been there through thick and through thin. I want you to know that I recognize it, and for all that you have been through and been with me, I love you, Bags. You are my very best of chums and there isn't anyone in this world that could ever take your place."

The two sat there quietly drinking, not saying anything. Grizelda poked her head out the doorway, just once, but being the wise woman that she was, she withdrew and smiled her secret smile and left them alone.

"So... ahem." Pockets began again, "I was thinking that maybe you and I could go check out Capitani's new show. You know she's put together a play, with a few of the school children. I watched a couple of rehearsals and it's not bad."

Bags stood and crossed over to the keg. He got his mug filled half way before the keg ran dry. He finished that in one quick swallow, turned back to look at Pockets and said, "Aw hell, Pockets. We weren't made to go out this way were we? Two old farts sitting and watching a children's play? Isn't there some sort of new dragon we can go slay? Some evil empire we can overthrow?"

"Sorry, Bags." Pockets said. "Since we tossed out Beegle... or you did, rather, it's been pretty quiet. No dragons. No evil empires." He was quiet for a very long time, and then, "There is a new thing I'm working on, though. I know you're bored here, and maybe I can find away to get you out and adventuring again." He scratched his beard. "I dunno though. It hasn't been tested." He stood up, walked over to his friend and slapped him on his broad shoulder. "Maybe we should take a trip to Nomad's land. See what's over there."

"Tears would never let me, Pockets." Bags said sadly. "Hell, I'm not even sure Griz would let me." He thought about it. "She might, though..."

Pockets nodded. "Well, think about it, okay? Let's go to Swineheart’s tomorrow and talk about it. There's bound to be something that turns up. Hell, Bags, something is always happening to me, you know that."

Bags smiled. "Yeah, that's true. Where you are, can trouble be far behind."

"That's the spirit, chum." Pockets moved into the shadows. "I'll see you at breakfast, Bags. Happy Birthday!"

"Thanks, Pockets." Bags watched until just the barest shadow of his friend could still be seen in the dark. "And I love you, too"

Just as the last gray of Pockets' shadow faded from sight, the little man's voice could be heard saying, "I heard that."

Bags picked up the mug that Pockets had left behind. He drained the beer that was left behind and carried both mugs into the house, smiling.