Disclaimer: All I own is a ticket stub for a $2 million epic botched masterpiece.
A/N: To all fans out there, before you flame me into oblivion for bashing Troy allow me to explain how I feel about it. I'm no purist (as you will see my memory of The Iliad and Greek mythology in general is sketchy at best), but I do feel that the producers took a plot/cast you can't go wrong with and managed to come up with something that was both very good and very, very bad. I've taken what I think is a very good part and done a little one-shot enlargement.
For no reason other than convenience I've decided to use the Latin versions of names, hence Hector rather than Hektor. The quote is my own transcript of the movie; if it is in any way inaccurate please tell me, and I'll get it fixed as soon as possible.
Read, enjoy, and please review!!!
You won't have eyes tonight; you won't have ears or a tongue. You will wander the underworld blind, deaf and dumb and all the dead will know: this is Hector, the fool who thought he killed Achilles.
- Achilles, Troy
The earth was rocky, harsh to the touch. His sandals had long since fallen to rags as he stumbled through this barren wasteland.
Cold, he thought, so cold. Born and raised in the warmth of the sun, prince of a kingdom reaching across desert lands, he shivered in this dank and hollow place. The chill was unbearable torture.
How long had he been wandering? Time seemed to overlap without meaning. His throat was thirsty but never drenched; his hunger was constant but the blessed relief of unconsciousness would not come. All it did was drive him mad until he crawled on all fours and gibbered like a beast.
Truly, this was the realm of death.
So Achilles had kept his word and left him for carrion. Had he been allowed the proper funeral rites, his soul would have crossed the river Styx by now. The eldest prince of Troy, dragged through the dust before his own city! What bare shred of pride was left in him rose up in fury to lash at the darkness.
"I have given ye leave to collect your dead. Is this the mettle of your honor?"
But all that comes from his throat is a hoarse rattle, garbled by the stump of his tongue.
The blind, left to their darkness, see visions fantastic and unimaginable. His sight was filled with the gold sands of his youth -- the walls of Troy in their impregnable glory, Andromache's beauty like an oasis in the desert, his father and brother standing before the temple of Apollo. Where was the sun god now? Achilles dared strike his statue, and still he makes no revenge!
Gurgling laughter fills ears that no longer exist, the sounds of a child playing with a toy lion. Perhaps the red haze of madness is upon him -- perhaps Hades is merciful, and sends him relief. Andromache's white robe flutters like a butterfly. He follows on bleeding feet -- one more step and he will catch her, one more step and the nightmare will end --
A rush of sensations, the sound of roaring water, and he is lying on the wooden planks of a boat. A figure with an oar stoops over him and says,
"And so this is Hector, the fool who thought he killed Achilles."