Troy Chapter 2 (I)

Splitting things up so it doesn't get to be too much at once.

I thought maybe to make it so that when the gods spoke to humans directly their language would be a little jumpy, I mean gods don't often talk directly to people, so they wouldn't have a very modern speech pattern; but they do try to blend in. So I thought I'd throw in some old English words and Elizabethan phrasing here and there, as they struggle to sound normal but forget themselves once in a while. but I'm not sure if it works or if just makes them sound weird and takes away from the story; so let me know your thoughts.




Alexandros sat in the shade of an ash tree. The heat and the sun had dried most of the grass in the field. In the distance, his sheep lazily ate and napped; and his old dog slowly but stubbornly circled the sheep to keep them together and watch for predators. He wanted to join the sheep in napping but knew his father would skin him alive if he dozed off and lost the creatures. Struggling to stay awake, he bit into an apple, chewing slowly, letting the bitterness and tartness of the apple invigorate him.
“Good ofernon, Alexandros,” said a voice from beside him.
Alex jumped and gasped. His view encompassed most of the valley and he had not seen the man approach him. His dog was old but sharp as ever and would have barked as the man came near.
Covering his shock, he boy stood quickly, not wanting to be rude, and was surprised at the man’s height. Alex was tall for his age, the only one of his 12-year-old peers to be taller than most girls, but he had not reached his full height yet. Alex knew he would likely grow a foot taller yet, as he was still shorter than his father. Even so, the stranger was a good two feet taller than Alex, fit and tan. He wore a casual toga but the cloth was exquisite. There was a helmet tucked under his arm (Alexandros knew not what for, when the man had no other armour), and he had large, clean, sturdy feet wrapped in leather sandals.
“Afternoon, sir,” Alex replied, knowing it would be rude to inquire who the man was, how he knew Alex’s name, and what the helmet was for. “Will you share the shade with me? You must be hot and tired, having approached me so quickly,” he said instead, noting that the man did not look hot or tired at all, though Alex himself was coated in a thin sheen of sweat just from sitting under a tree.
“I would be grateful for your hospitality!” replied the man, as if the tree and the shade and field somehow belonged to Alex. He seemed to remember something then, and suddenly looked very tired and sweaty indeed. Alex gaped at the sudden change, then remembered himself and offered the man some water from his water skin and a slice from his apple. They sat in silence while the man ate and drank, Alex all the while trying his best to muster all of his 12-year-old patience and play the host instead of bombarding the man with questions. After what seemed like an eternity to Alexandros, a polite amount of time to pretend to enjoy a bitter apple to the stranger, and only a few moments in reality, the stranger spoke again:
“You are very thoughtful, young man, abounding in kindness to share your food and water with a tired old man,” he said, though Alex noted that the man was looking oddly fresh again, and not old at all. His eyes were sharp and clear, his skin smooth and youthful. “I have heard of your honesty and fairness, and see from your gifts to me today that thou art of good character and have true values. You know not what a chore it is to find a man who takes hospitality seriously. Did you ever hear about Philemon and Bacchus?” The man shook his head, as if lost in a memory. Alex, meanwhile, was pleased to have been referred to as a man, if confused by the man’s occasional slip into a more archaic dialogue. “I am here because a friend of mine recommended you. He said that you were the most honest person he had met, and...”
“Now, wait!” Alexandros interrupted, leaping to his feet, “if this is about that bull...do you know how much trouble I’m still in because of that man? I’ve been working extra hard for a year and still am not close to paying my father back for his loss! I gave him up because your pal won fair and square, but if you’ve come to try taking advantage of me...”
The man startled Alexandro by laughing. Alex blushed. He was being rude, and he was very angry, and he didn’t know if the man was laughing with him or laughing at him.
“Please sit back down with me, good fellow, and listen well, for I have a great many things to tell you. I will begin with my name,” he said as Alex settled himself, “and regard me closely.” The boy did, squinting his eyes a little. He wasn’t sure what the man meant or what he was looking for, but some fibre of his being was screaming that this was no regular person. Perhaps he was royalty? Then, as Alex watched, the man became even more handsome and tall and clean. His skin was clear and flawless, glowing as if the man had just been bathed and oiled. His robes were trimmed with gold, his sandals brushed clean, his hair smoothed down, and his face looked very young and smooth. It was the man’s eyes that caught Alexandros’ attention, for despite the stranger’s youthful appearance, his eyes looked like they had seen too much, or maybe as if they saw everything. Then, as he put on his helm, is seemed as if Alex’s vision cleared. There was no better word for it. Before, he had seen the man and not thought much of it except that the man was a little strange. But suddenly the man was sharp, as if Alex had been looking at the man without focusing on him. He saw not a man but a god before him. A god with winged sandals.