A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to update. I've been on a writers block.
I actually got the bug to write again after editing the previous chapter.
So, without further adieu, I give you CHAPTER FIVE! (evil laugh)
NOTE: The island of Haitus is the home of the Trojans, and so I created a village named Priat for the Trojans to reside in. It is pronounced "Pree- At"
Chapter Five: The Isle that was Lost, has now been Found.
The winds wailed as Achayus struggled to keep his tiny vessel afloat in the raging storm. He was soaked to the bone, balancing the wooden sides as wave after wave shot through the boat. His hands worked furiously to unravel the knot that held the sails outstretched. Rain pellets threatened to tear the fabric to shreds.
After many unsuccessful attempts, the boy finally managed to wrench the sails free. The black sky was unrelenting and Achayus swore that as the swell of the wave that at last overturned his craft, he saw the face of Poseidon in the water. A menacing, yet understanding glare that sent chills down his spine. It would be the last thing he was to see for some time. The dark tsunami engulfed the meager ship in an instant.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
It was hot. Too hot for work like this, the young man thought. But his mother needed the kindling so she could start the fire for the banquet. It was his Aunts birthday and his Uncle wanted it to be most extravagant. His uncle was with the other older men searching for more wild boars too feast upon. Sweat beaded the brow of Astyanax as he lugged the remnants of the driftwood up from the quiet shore. The white sand sliding over his bare feet.
"That was quite a storm last night," His mother Andromache commented as he piled the wood on top on one another.
"Yes, one might have thought someone angered Poseidon." He replied gruffly returning to collect a few more pieces.
"Astyanax, I remember seeing more wood a few miles down shore on my walk this morning. Go and collect that as well my son." She called after him loftily examining his hands.
"Yes mother." He called back with a wave. His mother had forever been the most aloof woman he'd ever had the chance to know. Not even his Aunt Helen, the heralded beauty of Troy, seemed that detached. He understood that his father had died fighting in the Trojan War. Slain by a man named Achilles. The elders told stories of his victorious father to the little children of their village. They particularly liked the one where his father perished at the hands of the Spartan. Biting his tongue in an effort to muffle a stream of curses, he looked up to search for this wood his mother claimed to see.
To his surprise, it was not wood he saw, but a young man. The waves pulling him back out to sea, Astyanax ran towards the body. Was he alive? Who was this mysterious stranger? The boy was clad in naught but a tattered sail. Although he seemed unconscious, there wasn't a mark on him. If he was a sailor, and if his ship had been destroyed in the storm, would he not be covered in bruises? His wondering was interrupted by the boys coughing and spluttering.
Astyanax looked long and hard at the young man at his feet. Shoulder length hair was soaked and slowly becoming entangled with sand. He was not a scanty little thing either. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he should be competing in the arena, not sailing a small ship. The boy sat up and clamped his hand onto Astyanaxs' calf.
"Where am I?" he asked, his rescuer noticed that the boys eyes were a vivid blue.
Astyanax swallowed and calmly replied,
"You are lying on a beach on the island known to us as Haitus."
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Achayus looked up at the man before him. Tall, but lean, his rescuer seemed to tower over him. Achayus went to stand and realized that the storm had stripped him of his clothes. Nothing but his threadbare sail covered him.
"Haitus?" he repeated. The man nodded. This was it! The island he had been searching for. Clasping for the necklace his mother had given him, and his weapons at his waist he was startled to find them missing.
"My things! My mothers necklace... its, they're gone!" He felt his eyes water as he thought of his mother. A part of his heart felt guilty for lying to her, but he needed to do this. It was all for her. He again looked at the man who had now crouched to look Achayus in the eye.
"Who are you?" the man asked. Contemplating his answer, he replied slowly.
"Achayus. And you?"
The man nodded.
"I apologize, it was rude of me. My name is Astyanax. Son of Hector and Andromache. Heir to the Trojan Throne. Might I be of some help to you?"
Achayus nodded and gathered the sails around his waist. He knotted the cloth as firmly as he could and stood. Hector, the name was familiar.
"Yes, I'm quite parched. The ocean salt did nothing but drain me. I'm as dry as this here sand." The boy said meekly.
Astyanax blinked and nodded.
"Oh yes. I'm sure you must. Here, come with me. I'll take you to our village. I'm sure my mother and uncle will be pleased to meet you - what did you say your name was?" The older man asked.
"Achayus" the young man supplied.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
"Welcome to my village Achayus. This is Priat." Astyanax said proudly with his arm around the boy.
The small village of Priat was quite active. White smoke billowed from the tops of the huts that had been built on the beach, the forest and brush had been cleared back a good hundred or so yards and more houses had been built using the leftovers. Children ran across the sand and dove into the clear blue of the ocean.
Achayus looked in wonder. This was all that remained of the Trojans? The majestic peoples of Troy had been reduced to hut dwellers on the coast of a distant isle? Surely the gods were joking.
"Mother!" Astyanax called out. Achayus squinted to see the woman in question.
She was elegant and tall. A thin woman, her hair was dark and lustrous. Age treated her well, the only way you may have been able to tell her age was the beginnings of gray hairs on her temples. The white flecks were hidden under a golden band that held her hair off her face.
"Astyanax! Son, where is the wood I asked to be collected? Your uncle Paris will not be pleased if this banquet for your Aunt does not go smoothly because you forgot to collect the wood!" The woman barked.
Astyanax looked back at Achayus and winced. Achayus nodded knowingly... mothers.
"Actually mother, I was collecting the wood as you asked when I came across a marooned sailor." The man said waving his hand towards Achayus. The woman dropped her haughty gaze and leveled her eyes with the scruffy and sopping being in front of her.
"Your name boy." She said.
Achayus stared deep into the dark eyes of Astyanaxs' mother and bowed low.
"Achayus Titus -" he paused struggling with the proper title of the woman. She sighed.
"My name boy, is Andromache. I am the widow of Hector the Great. You may address me as so."
"Ah, yes. Achayus Titus, Andromache Widow of Hector the Great."
"Astyanax, have you no manners? This boy looks like Hades spit him out. Get him some water, and some clothes. He looks about your size. Come boy, sit here." Andromache motioned to a fraying rug a few feet away from her.
Achayus graciously stepped forward and kneeled on the blanket before the regal looking woman. She held her head high as she leaned forward from her chair to inspect him. Stormy eyes looked out from a fair face and he felt as if she were stripping him to the bone.
"Where did you set sail from boy?" she asked as she continued her examination.
He needed to think fast. Of course if he said Phenelaos, they might suspect him relative of their departed cousin – his mother. Taking a deep breath he tried to think of someplace safe to say.
"I'm waiting boy." Andromache said impatiently, her fingers clicking on her wooden throne.
"Greece, milady. But, but I have been on the ocean for so many years, my homeland is a mystery even to me. Greece was the last place I set sail." He blurted his lie.
At the mention of the betraying country, the woman stiffened.
"Greece you say? Well. Isn't that lovely. Astyanax!" she turned her head to a slightly larger hut compared to the others. The man emerged quickly and rushed forward with a flask of water and a fresh change of clothes.
"You called mother?" Astyanax asked expectantly.
"I just wondered what was taking you so long. Give the boy the clothes and water and go back for the wood I asked for." Andromache waved her son away, her harsh words still hanging in the air.
The older man flinched at her words, but left without a word.
"Forgive my son." She said turning to Achayus.
"My husband died many years ago while Astyanax was still a babe. He does not know the discipline that only a father can give. I have tried, my brother in law Paris has tried but my boy is simply an unruly soul. His father was the same." A flicker passed through her eyes. Achayus tried to catch it but the flash was gone as quickly as it arrived.
Opening the flask, he pressed the opening of the bottle to his lips and drank. Andromache inspected the clothes that her son had left and they seemed to be to her liking.
"You may dress in my house, over there." She pointed to the hut that Astyanax had just come forward from. "I know exactly where everything is and how much of everything I have." She said with forewarning. Achayus nodded respectfully.
"Thank you Lady Andromache for your kindness. The gods would be pleased." He said taking the clothes from where they had been dropped and making his way over to the shelter.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Once inside, he dressed slowly. So this was Haitus? He wondered to himself. This small village named Priat was all that existed on this island? It would appear to be so. Another thought crossed his mind.
"What am I going to do?" he whispered.
He had formulated no plan of attack, the only thought in his mind had been to find Haitus, kill Paris and come home to his mother. It was already proving to harder than he had expected. He needed a battle plan. Pulling on the shirt, he tried to think of ways he could bluff his way through until he had some kind of idea of what he was going to do.
A/N: If you're wondering why Andromache is so cold, I've made her character very detached. She loved Hector very much so when he died, she tried to cope with it. What is the easiest form of coping? Anger, aloofness, haughtiness, detachment etc. I just wanted to let ya'll in on it so that you weren't all "OMG! You've made Andromache so out of character." Okay? Okay.
NOTE: The island of Haitus is the home of the Trojans, and so I created a village named Priat for the Trojans to reside in. It is pronounced "Pree- At"
Chapter Five: The Isle that was Lost, has now been Found.
The winds wailed as Achayus struggled to keep his tiny vessel afloat in the raging storm. He was soaked to the bone, balancing the wooden sides as wave after wave shot through the boat. His hands worked furiously to unravel the knot that held the sails outstretched. Rain pellets threatened to tear the fabric to shreds.
After many unsuccessful attempts, the boy finally managed to wrench the sails free. The black sky was unrelenting and Achayus swore that as the swell of the wave that at last overturned his craft, he saw the face of Poseidon in the water. A menacing, yet understanding glare that sent chills down his spine. It would be the last thing he was to see for some time. The dark tsunami engulfed the meager ship in an instant.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
It was hot. Too hot for work like this, the young man thought. But his mother needed the kindling so she could start the fire for the banquet. It was his Aunts birthday and his Uncle wanted it to be most extravagant. His uncle was with the other older men searching for more wild boars too feast upon. Sweat beaded the brow of Astyanax as he lugged the remnants of the driftwood up from the quiet shore. The white sand sliding over his bare feet.
"That was quite a storm last night," His mother Andromache commented as he piled the wood on top on one another.
"Yes, one might have thought someone angered Poseidon." He replied gruffly returning to collect a few more pieces.
"Astyanax, I remember seeing more wood a few miles down shore on my walk this morning. Go and collect that as well my son." She called after him loftily examining his hands.
"Yes mother." He called back with a wave. His mother had forever been the most aloof woman he'd ever had the chance to know. Not even his Aunt Helen, the heralded beauty of Troy, seemed that detached. He understood that his father had died fighting in the Trojan War. Slain by a man named Achilles. The elders told stories of his victorious father to the little children of their village. They particularly liked the one where his father perished at the hands of the Spartan. Biting his tongue in an effort to muffle a stream of curses, he looked up to search for this wood his mother claimed to see.
To his surprise, it was not wood he saw, but a young man. The waves pulling him back out to sea, Astyanax ran towards the body. Was he alive? Who was this mysterious stranger? The boy was clad in naught but a tattered sail. Although he seemed unconscious, there wasn't a mark on him. If he was a sailor, and if his ship had been destroyed in the storm, would he not be covered in bruises? His wondering was interrupted by the boys coughing and spluttering.
Astyanax looked long and hard at the young man at his feet. Shoulder length hair was soaked and slowly becoming entangled with sand. He was not a scanty little thing either. His shoulders were broad and he looked like he should be competing in the arena, not sailing a small ship. The boy sat up and clamped his hand onto Astyanaxs' calf.
"Where am I?" he asked, his rescuer noticed that the boys eyes were a vivid blue.
Astyanax swallowed and calmly replied,
"You are lying on a beach on the island known to us as Haitus."
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Achayus looked up at the man before him. Tall, but lean, his rescuer seemed to tower over him. Achayus went to stand and realized that the storm had stripped him of his clothes. Nothing but his threadbare sail covered him.
"Haitus?" he repeated. The man nodded. This was it! The island he had been searching for. Clasping for the necklace his mother had given him, and his weapons at his waist he was startled to find them missing.
"My things! My mothers necklace... its, they're gone!" He felt his eyes water as he thought of his mother. A part of his heart felt guilty for lying to her, but he needed to do this. It was all for her. He again looked at the man who had now crouched to look Achayus in the eye.
"Who are you?" the man asked. Contemplating his answer, he replied slowly.
"Achayus. And you?"
The man nodded.
"I apologize, it was rude of me. My name is Astyanax. Son of Hector and Andromache. Heir to the Trojan Throne. Might I be of some help to you?"
Achayus nodded and gathered the sails around his waist. He knotted the cloth as firmly as he could and stood. Hector, the name was familiar.
"Yes, I'm quite parched. The ocean salt did nothing but drain me. I'm as dry as this here sand." The boy said meekly.
Astyanax blinked and nodded.
"Oh yes. I'm sure you must. Here, come with me. I'll take you to our village. I'm sure my mother and uncle will be pleased to meet you - what did you say your name was?" The older man asked.
"Achayus" the young man supplied.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
"Welcome to my village Achayus. This is Priat." Astyanax said proudly with his arm around the boy.
The small village of Priat was quite active. White smoke billowed from the tops of the huts that had been built on the beach, the forest and brush had been cleared back a good hundred or so yards and more houses had been built using the leftovers. Children ran across the sand and dove into the clear blue of the ocean.
Achayus looked in wonder. This was all that remained of the Trojans? The majestic peoples of Troy had been reduced to hut dwellers on the coast of a distant isle? Surely the gods were joking.
"Mother!" Astyanax called out. Achayus squinted to see the woman in question.
She was elegant and tall. A thin woman, her hair was dark and lustrous. Age treated her well, the only way you may have been able to tell her age was the beginnings of gray hairs on her temples. The white flecks were hidden under a golden band that held her hair off her face.
"Astyanax! Son, where is the wood I asked to be collected? Your uncle Paris will not be pleased if this banquet for your Aunt does not go smoothly because you forgot to collect the wood!" The woman barked.
Astyanax looked back at Achayus and winced. Achayus nodded knowingly... mothers.
"Actually mother, I was collecting the wood as you asked when I came across a marooned sailor." The man said waving his hand towards Achayus. The woman dropped her haughty gaze and leveled her eyes with the scruffy and sopping being in front of her.
"Your name boy." She said.
Achayus stared deep into the dark eyes of Astyanaxs' mother and bowed low.
"Achayus Titus -" he paused struggling with the proper title of the woman. She sighed.
"My name boy, is Andromache. I am the widow of Hector the Great. You may address me as so."
"Ah, yes. Achayus Titus, Andromache Widow of Hector the Great."
"Astyanax, have you no manners? This boy looks like Hades spit him out. Get him some water, and some clothes. He looks about your size. Come boy, sit here." Andromache motioned to a fraying rug a few feet away from her.
Achayus graciously stepped forward and kneeled on the blanket before the regal looking woman. She held her head high as she leaned forward from her chair to inspect him. Stormy eyes looked out from a fair face and he felt as if she were stripping him to the bone.
"Where did you set sail from boy?" she asked as she continued her examination.
He needed to think fast. Of course if he said Phenelaos, they might suspect him relative of their departed cousin – his mother. Taking a deep breath he tried to think of someplace safe to say.
"I'm waiting boy." Andromache said impatiently, her fingers clicking on her wooden throne.
"Greece, milady. But, but I have been on the ocean for so many years, my homeland is a mystery even to me. Greece was the last place I set sail." He blurted his lie.
At the mention of the betraying country, the woman stiffened.
"Greece you say? Well. Isn't that lovely. Astyanax!" she turned her head to a slightly larger hut compared to the others. The man emerged quickly and rushed forward with a flask of water and a fresh change of clothes.
"You called mother?" Astyanax asked expectantly.
"I just wondered what was taking you so long. Give the boy the clothes and water and go back for the wood I asked for." Andromache waved her son away, her harsh words still hanging in the air.
The older man flinched at her words, but left without a word.
"Forgive my son." She said turning to Achayus.
"My husband died many years ago while Astyanax was still a babe. He does not know the discipline that only a father can give. I have tried, my brother in law Paris has tried but my boy is simply an unruly soul. His father was the same." A flicker passed through her eyes. Achayus tried to catch it but the flash was gone as quickly as it arrived.
Opening the flask, he pressed the opening of the bottle to his lips and drank. Andromache inspected the clothes that her son had left and they seemed to be to her liking.
"You may dress in my house, over there." She pointed to the hut that Astyanax had just come forward from. "I know exactly where everything is and how much of everything I have." She said with forewarning. Achayus nodded respectfully.
"Thank you Lady Andromache for your kindness. The gods would be pleased." He said taking the clothes from where they had been dropped and making his way over to the shelter.
()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()
Once inside, he dressed slowly. So this was Haitus? He wondered to himself. This small village named Priat was all that existed on this island? It would appear to be so. Another thought crossed his mind.
"What am I going to do?" he whispered.
He had formulated no plan of attack, the only thought in his mind had been to find Haitus, kill Paris and come home to his mother. It was already proving to harder than he had expected. He needed a battle plan. Pulling on the shirt, he tried to think of ways he could bluff his way through until he had some kind of idea of what he was going to do.
A/N: If you're wondering why Andromache is so cold, I've made her character very detached. She loved Hector very much so when he died, she tried to cope with it. What is the easiest form of coping? Anger, aloofness, haughtiness, detachment etc. I just wanted to let ya'll in on it so that you weren't all "OMG! You've made Andromache so out of character." Okay? Okay.