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A few days after setting sail, Elpenor had asked how long he thought they'd be gone. Perimedes replied they'd be home sooner than a year had passed. It was a logical assumption; how could the Trojans oppose the Achaeans, who were smarter and mightier, for longer than that?
When the first year of war passed them by and they had yet to bring Troy to its knees, Elpenor brought up Perimedes’ claim again. Not to be nasty or gloat that Perimedes was wrong, but simply to mention it. Perimedes wished Elpenor had been gloating, though — it would've justified the anger he felt.
Now, several more months have passed. The Ithacan army finished sacking another of Troy's neighboring cities yesterday, and they're allowed a moment's rest before continuing to the next. Elpenor is snoring where he lies in the grass, hands folded on his stomach. Perimedes shifts but cannot find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep; all that's left for him to do is observe Elpenor, and think.
One cannot accurately guess what Elpenor is like by watching him sleep. He appears calm and peaceful like this, his face smoothed into something that may resemble handsomeness. He has a charming air now, completely unlike the awake Elpenor. Perhaps one day he'll mature… though Perimedes doubts he'll ever grow clever. He remembers when they reached Troy's beaches and no one dared setting first foot on the shore, fearing he'd also become the first to perish in battle, as prophecy proclaimed.
But then Odysseus tossed his shield on the sand and leapt onto it. Before any battle begun, before the Achaean army had completely disembarked, their Captain and King proved his brilliance. If Perimedes hadn't felt pride to serve him previously, he did then. Elpenor, however, had worried. He didn't understand the Captain's plan and Perimedes needed to explain it to him, twice. Such a tedious task.
Watching Elpenor sleep is tedious, too. With a huff, Perimedes gets to his feet. Wandering around camp is time better spent.
Elpenor snorts; Perimedes pauses to glance over his shoulder. But when Elpenor doesn't stir, his broad chest rising and sinking as heavily as before, Perimedes stalks off.
(The wine they snuck at breakfast went mostly down Elpenor's throat, so Perimedes doesn't know why he expected anything different.)
Their camp is temporary, and looks like it. Not even the Captain bothered to set up his tent for the day or two they'll be staying. Perimedes wanders with no destination in mind, content to observe his fellows and catch pieces of conversation. Every so often someone will greet him, always asking where Elpenor is. Sometimes he tells, mostly he shrugs and goes on. A year ago being treated as one half of a person vexed him. Now he won't bother to mind. Truth is, they have been each other's constant companion since meeting on the ship. As the fleet's youngest, it made sense. The only boys among men, it's obvious none of the other soldiers are eager to speak with (much less listen to) either of them for long. Things might change in a few months once Perimedes finally turns twenty. But he imagines not. He and Elpenor won't be throwing off their childish images anytime soon — not while their voices still occasionally crack and their stubble grows in uneven patches on their faces.
If they could, they'd grow thick beards like the Captain. Elpenor still tries every other month until he's convinced to give up. Perimedes, however, refuses to look like a fool and shaves regularly. Being clean shaven isn't so bad either — Eurylochus always is. Once they asked him why and received evasive non-answers. It was the Captain who grinningly shared that Eurylochus' wife preferred him smoothfaced.
Perimedes and Elpenor hadn't even known Eurylochus was married. The Captain spoke long and often of the Queen to anyone who would listen (and sometimes to those who rather wouldn't), but Eurylochus was tighter-lipped. Fortunately, Perimedes and Elpenor's curiosity got sated by the Captain himself, clearly as happy to speak of his second in command’s wife as he was of his own. Eurylochus seemed flustered by the end of it, but also… happy? ...to be retold stories of his own life with the Captain's dramatic flair.
Elpenor was happy as well afterwards. The thoughts of loving marriages cheered him up, he claimed. Perimedes bit his tongue instead of revealing he didn't understand the appeal. Of course, he knew of the benefits of marriage. But at the same time... Well. He thought he'd be equally fine on his own. He'd been on his own this entire time, so why not continue?
He reaches the designated kitchen-area of camp. It's brimming with spoils of war, food and slaves. A pile of fresh pomegranates is unattended; quickly, Perimedes nabs the biggest one he sees. Alternating between rolling it in his palms and tossing it in the air, he retraces his steps.
Elpenor is awake by the time Perimedes returns.
“Where were you?” he asks around a yawn while stretching. His hair is tousled and his tunic is wrinkled from lying on the ground.
“Just around camp. You look like a slob.”
Elpenor just shrugs and rubs his crusty eyes. Perimedes unsheates his knife and cuts off the pomegranate’s top. Eurylochus showed him how to open the fruit with his hands once. When Eurylochus did it, it cleaved perfectly even. But every time Perimedes tries, one half is larger and fuller of seeds than the other. Today is no different. Perimedes frowns at the halves, then looks up at Elpenor's smiling face, cheeks pink from the wine and the sleep.
Perimedes gives him the bigger half.