Categories > Original > Romance > Timepiece: Damaris
A Broken Leg and New Acquitances
0 reviewsDamaris meets the Romans while trying to sustain a broken leg.
0Unrated
Chapter 2: A Broken Leg and New Acquaintances
Everything was terribly dark, and I was not sure if I was falling or flying. Looking in the direction I was going I saw a light that was growing larger much faster than I thought it should, until I was completely surrounded in it. Then I knew that I was falling, and I screamed when I saw a rapidly rising earth coming toward me.
I frantically started twirling my arms in the air, only to land hard on my leg, and hear a shattering crunch. Then everything went black.
When I woke up, two men were looking down at me holding helmets in elbows and looking from one another to me and then back again.
I groaned as one of them dug his toe into my side. My leg was crumpled underneath me and aching horribly.
“…girl.” I heard one of them say to the other. “...she… alive.”
“I …leg…” They were speaking Latin, and I could only make out a few of their words from the three classes I had taken. They were speaking incredibly fast, and their accent was different from that of my teacher’s.
“Where am I?” I said in English.
One of them came quite close to my face. “…you…”
“Damaris.” I tried to roll over, and pain ricocheted from my leg to my head and back again. I could only groan again.
They looked at each other again. “…roman…”
The sun was impossibly intense in my eyes, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, but lift my arm to shield my eyes. They were speaking again, but I couldn’t understand any of it. I felt too tired and weak.
I tried to roll over the other direction and found myself lying face first on the ground. I rolled back the way I came. One of the men gave his helmet to the other and bent down, picked me up and I fell asleep as we walked somewhere.
I woke up in a dark cool room which seemed to have been dug out of the side of the hill. The floor was soil, but rocks had been built up to make a wall and ceiling.
There was some whispering on the other side of a curtain at my feet, but it was not Latin and I could not understand any of it.
My cloths had been taken and I was lying wrapped in a blanket from chest to knees. My leg was lying limply, and only yelled at me when I tried to move it.
Suddenly I saw a hand poke through the curtain with a lamp. It was a woman, and she looked very troubled. She came in and sat on a stool next to where I was laying. Putting the lamp next to her she looked at my leg and then at me. She was pretty girl with long blonde hair and large eyes. She was wearing a green toga that looked like the roman chiton. I didn’t want her to touch me, and I moved away quickly only make my leg squeal in pain.
She smiled at me, and said something in Latin that I couldn’t understand, and then called into the other room. The two men from before entered. They were wearing white togas. I tried to move again, afraid of what might happen and then felt as two very large sets of hands took hold of me. One at my shoulders which pushed me into my little bed almost crushing me and the other placed holding my good leg and hips in place.
The woman then pulled her sleeves over her elbows and tied them in place with a string, and then gently touched my injured leg. I tugged against the arms hold me down, only to find that they held still harder, and then screamed as there was another crunch and the bones in my leg were snapped back into place. The arms did not release their hold as the woman strapped two straight pieces of wood to my leg and bandaged it tightly.
I gurgled noises and tried to move. No doubt these people thought I was genuinely insane. As the woman tied the final knot they all three left, leaving me in the dark. My leg felt secure in the bandages and sticks and I pulled the blanket more securely around myself. The man’s hands on my shoulders were warm and dry, but as it had been on my bare skin, my stomach felt full of butterflies.
I could hear them talking again, and then a wonderful smell of food came through the curtain. I felt my stomach growl around the butterflies, and decided I should get up. I shifted my weight, but because my right leg was broken and I was lying on the left side of the room. My leg was throbbing, but I had to get up, because I was feeling so hungry. I had only gotten onto my elbows when the woman appeared again, with a steaming bowl in her hand. I hoisted myself up to lean on the wall.
She smiled at me and sat down on the stool. Taking a spoon, she looked as though she were going to try and feed me. I shrunk back, and then held my hands out to her and said in very rudimentary sounding Latin, “Could I?”
She sat for a moment, and then smiled and handed me the bowl and then began talking. She spoke very quickly and I couldn’t keep up with it. Then she laughed and called into the other room.
The two men came in. The woman said something to them and motioned to me. One of them was looking from her to me and then back again. The other simply looked at me. I felt puny under his grey gaze.
When she had finished, the one who had been looking at me looked closely at me, and said something so quickly I didn’t understand, but I caught the word “Olympus.”
“Olympus?” I managed weakly, and then thinking maybe I knew what he had meant said, “Chicago.”
They all looked at each other. The one spoke to the woman and the other was saying, “Chicago…Chicago,” over and over again to no one in particular.
I wracked my brain for something to say in Latin so that they might understand me. “Uh…I…err…do not speak…Latin…well.”
They all turned on me. The woman said something very slowly to me, “You…Olympus.”
I gave her a blank stare and took a bite of the soup. It was delicious. She tried again, and this time I could tell she was really trying. “You are not from Olympus?”
I smiled, and this seemed to reassure them. “No, Chicago.” Why on earth would they think I was from Olympus? Perhaps because I had fallen out of the sky, but this was the twenty first century, it would be more logical to think I had somehow fallen out of a helicopter or airplane. Although that was not likely.
It was her turn to give me a blank stare.
“Uh…Chicago, USA?”
Nothing.
“US of A?”
Nothing.
“The Cubs?”
Nothing.
I had been speaking in English, but I didn’t know the words I should be looking for.
“America?”
There was a faint glimmer, but it soon died to nothing.
One of the men said something slowly to me, but I didn’t understand him. He tried again when the woman said something else to him. I watched the conversation the same way I might watch a foreign film with no subtitles, trying to pick out the mean through the actions.
“Roman?"
I shook my head. “No.”
They seemed to understand that. I licked my lip where a little soup had fallen. “My…uh…name is Damaris.”
“Damaris,” The woman repeated. “Good. My name is Julia. This is Demetrius and Phaedrus.”
The men tilted their heads toward me.
The one called Demetrius was a big, barrel-chested man with blond hair. His eyes were pale, but in the dim light I couldn’t tell what colour they were. He had a long, bridgless nose that slanted to the side as if it had been broken a few times. His neck was large, and his biceps which showed under his dress were enormous.
The other man, Phaedrus, was of the same build, but a little shorter, for Demetrius was very tall, his hair was a brownish. He had a well trimmed beard, and dark eyes. His nose had a large bridge in it.
Julia was blonde with darker eyes. Her hair was long, and she had tied it back with a piece of leather or something like that. Her nose was long, narrow and very straight, like a Grecian portrayal. She was wearing a grayish coloured shift and a belt.
The light coming through was getting dimmer, and I was finishing up the soup which tasted so good I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to be finished. It was full of delicious vegetable and some kind of meat I couldn’t identify all in a rather thin but very tasty broth.
Julia took the bowl from me and said something to the two men who subsequently left. She then put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You…sleep…now.”
I nodded and wasn’t sure what to say in response. She helped me keep my leg airborne as I scooted forward to lie down.
Everything was terribly dark, and I was not sure if I was falling or flying. Looking in the direction I was going I saw a light that was growing larger much faster than I thought it should, until I was completely surrounded in it. Then I knew that I was falling, and I screamed when I saw a rapidly rising earth coming toward me.
I frantically started twirling my arms in the air, only to land hard on my leg, and hear a shattering crunch. Then everything went black.
When I woke up, two men were looking down at me holding helmets in elbows and looking from one another to me and then back again.
I groaned as one of them dug his toe into my side. My leg was crumpled underneath me and aching horribly.
“…girl.” I heard one of them say to the other. “...she… alive.”
“I …leg…” They were speaking Latin, and I could only make out a few of their words from the three classes I had taken. They were speaking incredibly fast, and their accent was different from that of my teacher’s.
“Where am I?” I said in English.
One of them came quite close to my face. “…you…”
“Damaris.” I tried to roll over, and pain ricocheted from my leg to my head and back again. I could only groan again.
They looked at each other again. “…roman…”
The sun was impossibly intense in my eyes, and I couldn’t think of anything else to do, but lift my arm to shield my eyes. They were speaking again, but I couldn’t understand any of it. I felt too tired and weak.
I tried to roll over the other direction and found myself lying face first on the ground. I rolled back the way I came. One of the men gave his helmet to the other and bent down, picked me up and I fell asleep as we walked somewhere.
I woke up in a dark cool room which seemed to have been dug out of the side of the hill. The floor was soil, but rocks had been built up to make a wall and ceiling.
There was some whispering on the other side of a curtain at my feet, but it was not Latin and I could not understand any of it.
My cloths had been taken and I was lying wrapped in a blanket from chest to knees. My leg was lying limply, and only yelled at me when I tried to move it.
Suddenly I saw a hand poke through the curtain with a lamp. It was a woman, and she looked very troubled. She came in and sat on a stool next to where I was laying. Putting the lamp next to her she looked at my leg and then at me. She was pretty girl with long blonde hair and large eyes. She was wearing a green toga that looked like the roman chiton. I didn’t want her to touch me, and I moved away quickly only make my leg squeal in pain.
She smiled at me, and said something in Latin that I couldn’t understand, and then called into the other room. The two men from before entered. They were wearing white togas. I tried to move again, afraid of what might happen and then felt as two very large sets of hands took hold of me. One at my shoulders which pushed me into my little bed almost crushing me and the other placed holding my good leg and hips in place.
The woman then pulled her sleeves over her elbows and tied them in place with a string, and then gently touched my injured leg. I tugged against the arms hold me down, only to find that they held still harder, and then screamed as there was another crunch and the bones in my leg were snapped back into place. The arms did not release their hold as the woman strapped two straight pieces of wood to my leg and bandaged it tightly.
I gurgled noises and tried to move. No doubt these people thought I was genuinely insane. As the woman tied the final knot they all three left, leaving me in the dark. My leg felt secure in the bandages and sticks and I pulled the blanket more securely around myself. The man’s hands on my shoulders were warm and dry, but as it had been on my bare skin, my stomach felt full of butterflies.
I could hear them talking again, and then a wonderful smell of food came through the curtain. I felt my stomach growl around the butterflies, and decided I should get up. I shifted my weight, but because my right leg was broken and I was lying on the left side of the room. My leg was throbbing, but I had to get up, because I was feeling so hungry. I had only gotten onto my elbows when the woman appeared again, with a steaming bowl in her hand. I hoisted myself up to lean on the wall.
She smiled at me and sat down on the stool. Taking a spoon, she looked as though she were going to try and feed me. I shrunk back, and then held my hands out to her and said in very rudimentary sounding Latin, “Could I?”
She sat for a moment, and then smiled and handed me the bowl and then began talking. She spoke very quickly and I couldn’t keep up with it. Then she laughed and called into the other room.
The two men came in. The woman said something to them and motioned to me. One of them was looking from her to me and then back again. The other simply looked at me. I felt puny under his grey gaze.
When she had finished, the one who had been looking at me looked closely at me, and said something so quickly I didn’t understand, but I caught the word “Olympus.”
“Olympus?” I managed weakly, and then thinking maybe I knew what he had meant said, “Chicago.”
They all looked at each other. The one spoke to the woman and the other was saying, “Chicago…Chicago,” over and over again to no one in particular.
I wracked my brain for something to say in Latin so that they might understand me. “Uh…I…err…do not speak…Latin…well.”
They all turned on me. The woman said something very slowly to me, “You…Olympus.”
I gave her a blank stare and took a bite of the soup. It was delicious. She tried again, and this time I could tell she was really trying. “You are not from Olympus?”
I smiled, and this seemed to reassure them. “No, Chicago.” Why on earth would they think I was from Olympus? Perhaps because I had fallen out of the sky, but this was the twenty first century, it would be more logical to think I had somehow fallen out of a helicopter or airplane. Although that was not likely.
It was her turn to give me a blank stare.
“Uh…Chicago, USA?”
Nothing.
“US of A?”
Nothing.
“The Cubs?”
Nothing.
I had been speaking in English, but I didn’t know the words I should be looking for.
“America?”
There was a faint glimmer, but it soon died to nothing.
One of the men said something slowly to me, but I didn’t understand him. He tried again when the woman said something else to him. I watched the conversation the same way I might watch a foreign film with no subtitles, trying to pick out the mean through the actions.
“Roman?"
I shook my head. “No.”
They seemed to understand that. I licked my lip where a little soup had fallen. “My…uh…name is Damaris.”
“Damaris,” The woman repeated. “Good. My name is Julia. This is Demetrius and Phaedrus.”
The men tilted their heads toward me.
The one called Demetrius was a big, barrel-chested man with blond hair. His eyes were pale, but in the dim light I couldn’t tell what colour they were. He had a long, bridgless nose that slanted to the side as if it had been broken a few times. His neck was large, and his biceps which showed under his dress were enormous.
The other man, Phaedrus, was of the same build, but a little shorter, for Demetrius was very tall, his hair was a brownish. He had a well trimmed beard, and dark eyes. His nose had a large bridge in it.
Julia was blonde with darker eyes. Her hair was long, and she had tied it back with a piece of leather or something like that. Her nose was long, narrow and very straight, like a Grecian portrayal. She was wearing a grayish coloured shift and a belt.
The light coming through was getting dimmer, and I was finishing up the soup which tasted so good I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to be finished. It was full of delicious vegetable and some kind of meat I couldn’t identify all in a rather thin but very tasty broth.
Julia took the bowl from me and said something to the two men who subsequently left. She then put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You…sleep…now.”
I nodded and wasn’t sure what to say in response. She helped me keep my leg airborne as I scooted forward to lie down.
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