All language subtitles for Outlander.S01E01.BDRip-x264-OSiTV.English-WWW.MY-SUBS.CO

Translated By The Community Of WWW.MY-SUBS.COM

People disappear all the time.

Young girls run away from home.

Children stray from their parents
and are never seen again.

Housewives take the grocery money
and a taxi to the train station.

Most are found, eventually.

Disappearances, after all, have explanations.

Usually.

Strange, the things you remember.

Single images and feelings
that stay with you down through the years.

Like the moment Yd realized,
I'd never owned a vase.

That I'd never lived in any place long enough
to justify having such a simple thing.

And how at that moment,

I wanted nothing so much in all the world
as to have a vase of my very own.

It was a Tuesday afternoon,

six months after the end of the war.

Oh, God!

Hold him.

Hold him right now! You hear me?

Jesus Christ!

You're going home, right?

Here, quickly!

Doctor, doctor!

Oh, God!

I'll have to clamp the femoral artery
before he bleeds out!

It's all right, Jackie boy. You're going
home, mate. You're going home.

Oh, my God!

Jesus!

Move.

We've got him now, nurse.

Scalpel!

Claire! Did you hear? It's over!

It's really, finally over!

Hi!

Ripped By mstoll

Somehow, in my mind, V-E Day,

the end of the bloodiest
and most terrible war in human history,

grows fainter with each passing day.

But I can stiff recall
every detail of the day,

when I saw the life I wanted
sitting in a window.

I sometimes wonder
what would have happened

if I'd bought that vase
and made a home for it.

Would that have changed things?

Would I have been happy?

Who can say?

I do know this.

Even now, after all the pain and death

and heartbreak that followed,

I still would make the same choice.

We were in Scotland
on our second honeymoon.

Or at least that's what Frank called it.

A way to celebrate the end of the war years
and begin our lives anew.

But it was more than that.

I think we both felt a holiday
would be a convenient masquerade

for the real business of getting to know
the people we'd become

after five years apart.

- What do you suppose that is?
- Huh?

Oh, good Lord. Blood.

Are you sure?

I think I should know
the look of blood by now.

There's a stain just like it
on the house next door.

There's two more over there.

We seem to be surrounded
by homes marked with blood.

Perhaps Pharaoh has refused Moses,

and the spirit of death will travel
the streets of Inverness tonight,

sparing only those who mark
their doors with lamb's blood.

You may be closer than you think.

Could well be
some sort of sacrificial ritual,

but I suspect pagan
rather than Hebrew.

I had no idea Inverness was such
a hotbed of contemporary paganism.

Well, my dear, there's no place on earth

with more magic and superstition
mixed into its daily life

than the Scottish Highlands.

Shall we?

Lead on.

The blood you saw
is that of a black cockerel.

It's an old custom at this time of year

to make such a sacrifice
to honor Saint Odhran.

Odhran,
he was sainted in the eighth century?

You know yer history.

I'm afraid my husband is a historian,
Mrs. Baird.

He'd quite happily stand here
holding forth for hours

if you encourage him.

Hardly.

Highland folklore is far from my specially,
but am I right in thinking there's an...

Is there an old saying
associated with Saint Odhran?

Yes. "The Earth went over Odhran's eyes."

He was buried alive voluntarily.

Charming.

Are ye a professor then, Mr. Randall?

I will be soon.

He's accepted a post at Oxford
beginning in two weeks.

Then this is a last holiday

before settling down
to a workaday life again, is it?

Well, you've picked a bonnie time to be here,
just nigh on Samhain.

I take it that's Gaelic for Halloween?

Well, Halloween is derived from Samhain.

The Church often took pagan holidays
and renamed them for their own purposes.

Samhain became Halloween,

Yule became Christmas, and so on...

Well, you're both welcome at the festival,
of course.

Mind you, ghosts are freed on the feast days,

and they'll be wandering about,

free to do good or ill as they please.

Of course. What would Halloween...

Samhain be without a good ghost story?

And we have those for sure.

I'll show you to your room.

Before the war, we were inseparable.

But for the next five years,
we saw each other a grand total of 10 days.

It's not without its charms.

Beats an army tent and a cot in the mud.

Indeed.

When the war ended,

we both thought things would
return to the way they once were,

but they hadn't.

Gosh!

So much for marital privacy.

Do you think the sound carries?

Well, I think it's fair to say

Mrs. Baird will be kept apprised
of any renewed attempt to start a family.

Lazybones.

You'll never manage
the next branch on your family tree

if you don't show more industry than that.

Really?

What are you doing?

- Come on.
- Mrs. Randall,

what am I to do with you?

Right.

What are you doing?
You're gonna break the bed.

You know, one of those things

I used to try and remember lying in my cot,

was the sound of my husband's laugh.

I couldn't conjure it no matter what I did.

I couldn't hear it even though
I'd heard it a million times before.

- It's the strangest thing.
- I know.

I used to...

I used to sketch this.

- My hand?
- Well...

The lines, really.

Why exactly, I'm not sure,

but I had a very clear memory
of this... This pattern.

Made little doodles everywhere.

There was...

A brigadier once dressed me down

because I drew it in the margin
of a report for the minister.

Yeah.

Claire...

Happy?

Yes.

Frank's passion for history

was another reason
for choosing the Highlands.

You see up there?

The top there, that's Cocknammon Rock.

And in the 17th and 18th centuries,

you'd have often found
a British Army patrol up there

lying in wait for Scottish rebels
and brigands.

Can you see how it commands
the high ground in every direction?

It was a perfect position for an ambush.

Not that I minded.

I was raised by my uncle
after the death of my parents.

Uncle Lamb was an archeologist,

so, I'd spent the balance
of my formative years

traipsing through dusty ruins

and various excavations
throughout the world.

I'd learned to dig latrines and boil water,

and to do a number of other things not
suitable for a young lady of gentle birth.

- Uncle?
- Yes.

The very thought.

Frank's new-found passion was genealogy.

His personal genealogy, that is.

Mine was botany.

I'd developed a keen interest

in the use of plants and herbs
for medicinal purposes.

So, from what I can gather,

Castle Leoch was the ancestral home

of the Laird of the MacKenzie clan

until midway through the 19th century.

Here, take a look.

In a way, burying himself in the distant past

gave Frank an ability to escape the recent.

While I was in the army,
Frank had sewed in London.

Intelligence, overseeing spies

and running covert operations.

So, I think this might have been the kitchen.

Really?

I would say that's probably a hearth.

Yeah.

Strange.

I have no evidence
that my ancestor visited this castle,

but it was within his operational sphere.

So, it is just possible
that he walked these very halls.

He'd sent dozens of men
behind the lines on secret missions,

and most never came back.

He didn't talk about it very often,

but I knew it prayed on him.

It won't open.

Come on.

Three, two, one...

What do you think this was used for?

From the lack of proper lighting
and ventilation,

I would say province of the castle hermit.

Or perhaps a troll or two.

I don't think trolls live in pairs.

Solitary creatures, they.

It's a pity.

All this,

and no one to share it with.

You'll get dirty.

You can give me a bath.

Why, Mrs. Randall,

I do believe you've left
your undergarments at home.

Yes! Yes, yes, yes.

- I found him.
- Indeed.

Let us have a look.

Him? Is it Walter?

No, darling, Jonathan.
Jonathan Wolverton Randall. Finally.

Captain of dragoons in the British army,

and your direct ancestor.

Exactly.

Otherwise known as "Black Jack."

A rather dashing nickname

that he probably acquired
while he was stationed here in the 1740s.

The Reverend has found
a series of army dispatches

- that mention the Captain by name.
- How exciting.

It is.

Good to see all your sleuthing
over the past week has paid off.

Yes, I was beginning to wonder.

It appears Black Jack
commanded the garrison

at Fort William for four years or so.

Seems to have spent quite a bit of his time

harassing the Scottish countryside

on behalf of the Crown.

Well, he was hardly alone in that endeavor.

The English were deeply unpopular

throughout the Highlands
in the 18th century.

And well into the 20th, it would seem.

I distinctly heard the barman
at that pub last night

refer to us as "Sassenachs."

I hope you didn't take offense.

It only means "Englishman" after all,

or at worst, "Outlander."

I've brought you a wee bit of refreshment,
gentlemen.

I've brought but the two cups,

for I thought perhaps Mrs. Randall
might care to join me in the kitchen...

Yes. Yes, absolutely. Thank you.

See you later.

This person here...

It's been so long
since I've had a good cup of oolong.

Aye, I couldn't get it during the war.

It's the best for the readings, though.

I had a terrible time with that Earl Grey.

The leaves fall apart so fast,
it's hard to tell anything at all.

So, you read tea leaves, then?

Like my grandmother taught me.

And her grandmother before that.

Drink up your cup.
Let's see what we've got there.

Well, am I going to meet a tall, dark
stranger and take a trip across the sea?

Could be.

Or could not.

Everything in it is contradictory.

There's a curved leaf,
which indicates a journey,

but it's crossed by a broken one,

which means staying put.

And there are strangers there,
to be sure, several of them.

And one of them's your husband,
if I read the leaves all right.

Show me your hand, dear.

Odd.

Most hands have a likeness to them.

There are patterns, you know?

But this is a pattern I've not seen before.

The large thumb, now.

It means that you're strong-minded,
and you have a will not easily crossed.

And this is your Mount of Venus.

In a man, it means he likes the lasses,

but it is a bit different for a woman.

To be polite about it,

your husband is not likely
to stray far from your bed.

The lifeline's interrupted,

all bits and pieces.

The marriage line's divided.
Means two marriages.

But...

Most divided lines are broken.

Yours is...

Forked.

But I suspect your ancestor had a patron.

A prominent and powerful man

who could protect him
from the censure of his superiors.

Possibly, but it would have to
have been someone

very high up in the hierarchy of the day

to exert that kind of influence.

The Duke of Sandringham.

The Duke of Sandringham?

Hold on.

Wasn't Sandringham
a suspected Jacobite himself?

Aye. You know, I believe you're right.

And the duke died
under very suspicious circumstances

just before the battle of...

None of that, none of that!

Stand away before you do
some permanent damage.

I think we're getting somewhere at last.

I'm really glad to hear it,
but I think I shall take my leave.

- So soon?
- Yes.

I feel a bath is in order.

Aye, of course.

Well, I hope you will join us
for Samhain tomorrow night.

What? The pagan festival?

Reverend Wakefield, you do astonish me.

I love a good ghost story
as much as the next fellow.

All right. Take your time, darling.

- Do try to get home before the storm breaks.
- I will.

I'd never put any stock in superstition.

And my Catholicism was nominal at best.

However, I couldn't shake the feeling

that Mrs. Graham's words
had a ring of prophecy.

The war had taught me to cherish the present

because tomorrow might not
ever come to pass.

But what I didn't know at the time

was that tomorrow
would prove less important

than yesterday.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!

Excuse me, can I help you with something?

Frank, I was hoping to have the whole place
lit up by the time you got back.

Darling, what's the matter?

Frank?

You look like you've seen a ghost.

I'm not at all sure that I haven't.

When he pushed past me,
he was close enough

that I should have
felt him brush my sleeve as he passed,

but I... I didn't.

And then I turned around to say something,

and he had gone.

He just vanished.

That's when I

felt a chill down my spine.

Did you have many Scots
in your charge during the wan?

Yes, there was quite a few.

There was one in particular.

He was a piper in the Third Seaforths.

He couldn't stand being stuck with a needle.

It was...

All right.

What is it exactly, that,

you're asking me, Frank?

When I saw that chap staring up at you,

I thought he might be
someone you had nursed.

Someone who might be looking for you now

to reconnect.

To “reconnect?"

It wouldn't be unusual.

I mean, it wouldn't be surprising
if you had sought some...

Comfort, or...

Are you asking me if I've been unfaithful?

Claire.

Is that what you think of me, Frank?

No, darling. No.

No. All I meant was that even if you had,

it will make no difference to me. I love you.

And nothing you could ever do
could stop my loving you.

Forgive me.

Forgive me?

Of course.

Sex was our bridge back to one another.

The one place where we always met.

Whatever obstacles presented
themselves during the day or night,

we could seek out
and find each other again in bed.

As long as we had that,

I had faith everything would work out.

That reminds me, I want to set an alarm.

No.

I thought we weren't
setting alarms on this trip.

I want to see the witches.

Must I ask?

Apparently,
there's a circle of standing stones

on a hill just outside the village,

and there's a local group
who still observe rituals there.

Well, they're not actually witches.

This lot are meant to be druids.

Sadly, I don't think there'll be
a coven of devil-worshippers.

Well, it's a pity.

Cam imagine anything I'd rather do.

Liar.

Where will we be watching this spectacle?

A place called Craigh na Dun.

So, according to local folklore,

these stones were carried here from Africa

by a race of Celtic giants.

I wasn't aware that Celts
made a lot of trips to Africa.

Only the giant ones.

Is that Inverness?

Yes, it must be.

Someone's coming.

Is that Mrs. Graham?

I think ii is.

The Reverend's housekeeper is a witch.

Not a witch. Druid, remember?

They should have been ridiculous,

and perhaps they were.

Parading in circles on top of a hill.

But the hairs on the back of my neck
prickled at the sight,

and some small voice inside warned me

I wasn't supposed to be here.

I was an unwelcome voyeur
to something ancient and powerful.

Wait for me!

I'm caught on something.
I'll be there in a minute.

Claire, someones coming.

We should go.

What have you got there?

I'm looking for that plant.

I think it's a forget-me-not,
but I'm not sure.

Why don't you pop back and get it?

I was considering it.

Would you care to go with me?

Darling, I'd love to,

but I've got an appointment
with the Reverend.

He found a box of materials last night.

Bills of sale from Black Jack's quartermaster.

That sounds terribly exciting.

Are you laughing at me?

Never.

- Shall I meet you for dinner later?
- Yes.

- Love you.
- Love you.

Come here.

Once, traveling at night,

I fell asleep in the passenger seat
of a moving car,

lulled by the noise and the motion
into an illusion of serene weightlessness.

Then the driver took a bridge too fast.

And I woke to see the world
spinning outside the car windows,

and the sickening sensation
of falling at high speed.

That is as close as I can come to
describing what I experienced,

but it falls woefully short.

What?

When confronted with the impossible,

the rational mind will grope for the logical.

Perhaps I had stumbled onto
the set of a cinema company

filming a costume drama of some sort.

But there was no logical reason

for actors to fire live ammunition.

Frank?

What the devil are you doing?

You're not Frank.

No, madam. I am not.

Who the bloody hell are you?

I am Jonathan Randall Esquire,

Captain of His Majesty's Eighth Dragoons.

At your service.

Who are you?

My husband is expecting me.

He'll come looking for me
if I'm not back in 10 minutes.

Your husband? What's his name?

What is his name?

- Frank.
- Frank what?

Frank Beauchamp. He's a teacher.

Well, it's a pleasure to meet you'
Mrs. Frank Beauchamp, a teachers wife.

You must think me the fool.

You'll be well advised
to tell me exactly who you are

and why you're here.

Madam, you'll find
my patience is not infinite.

Get off me, you bastard.

The speech of a lady.

The language of a whore.

I choose the whore.

Druid!

- What?
- Druid!

Who are you?

Where are we going? Where are we go...

Over here!

You men over there! Quickly!

I wanted it to be a dream,

but I knew it wasn't.

If naming else,

my erstwhile savior fairly reeked of odors

too foul to be part of any dream
I was likely to conjure up.

Let's have a look at you then, lass.

I trust you're able to see me now?

What's your name?

I decided to continue using my maiden name.

If they intended to ransom me,
I didn't want to lead them back to Frank.

Claire.

Claire Beauchamp.

Claire Beauchamp.

That's right.
And just what the hell do you think...

You said you found her?

Aye.

She was havin' words
with a certain Captain of dragoons

with whom we are acquainted.

There seemed to be some question

as to whether the lady
was or was not a whore.

And what was the lady's position
in this discussion?

I am not.

We could put her to the test.

I don't hold with rape.

And we've not the time for it, anyway.

Dougal, I've no idea
what she might be or who,

but I'll stake my best shot she's not a whore.

We'll puzzle it out later.

We've got a good distance to go tonight.

And we must do something about Jamie first.

Escape was my chief concern,

but I had no idea where I was.

And trying to find the mad back to Invemess
in the gathering darkness

felt like a fool's errand.

Out o' joint, poor bugger.

You can't ride with it
like that, can you, lad?

Hurts bad enough sitting still.

I couldna manage a horse.

I don't mean to be leaving him behind.

There's no help for it, then.

I'll have to force the joint back.

The wisest course of action
would have been to keep my head down,

my mouth shut,

and wait for the search parties
Frank must have called out by now.

Here, lad.

Hold him.

Don't you dare!

Stand aside at once.

You'll break his arm if you do it like that.

You have to get the bone
of the upper arm in the correct position

before it slips back into joint.

Hold him steady.

This is the worst part.

It doesn't hurt anymore!

It will.

It will be tender for about a week.

You'll need a sling.

You, fetch me a long piece of cloth or a belt.

"Fetch me? she says. Do ye hear that, lads?

Give her yer belt.

- I'm taking a guess you've done this before.
- I'm a nurse.

Not a wet nurse.

You mustn't move the joint
for two or three days.

When you begin to use it again,
go very slowly at first.

Stop at once if it hurts,

and use warm compresses on it daily.

All right, how does that feel?

Better. Thank ye.

Can you ride?

- Aye.
- Good. We're leaving.

Where is it?

Where's the city?
It should be visible from here.

Inverness?

You're looking straight at it.

There were no electric lights
as far as the eye could see.

So, as much as my rational mind
rebelled against the idea,

I knew in my heart
I was no longer in the 20th century.

Get yourself up.

You be sure to stay close to the rest of us.

And should ye try anythin' else,
I shall slit your throat for you.

Do you understand me?

Gimme your foot. Give it to me.

Careful!

What are you trying to do?

I'll get my plaid loose to cover ye.

You're shivering.

Thank you, but I'm fine, really.

You're shaking so hard,
it's making my teeth rattle.

The plaid will keep us both warm,

but I canna do it one-handed.

Can ye reach?

We don't want you to freeze before sun-up.

Sun-up?

You mean we'll be riding all night?

All night,

and the next one, too, I reckon.

Fine time of year for a ride, though.

Druid.

You see up there?

I know this place.

Been through here before, have ye?

Yes.

The 17th and 18th centuries,

you'd have often found
a British Army patrol up there.

I recognize that rock.

The one that looks like a cook's tail.

It has a name.

Cocknammon Rock.

The English, they used it for ambushes!

They could be lying in wait right now.

It's a bonnie place
for an ambush, right enough.

Dougal.

Dougal. Dougal.

Now, you'll be telling me
exactly how and why

you come to know
there's an ambush up ahead.

I don't know,

but I heard the redcoats
use Cocknammon...

Where did you hear?

In the village.

Hide yourself!

Lost yer way?

Hope you haven't been
misusing that shoulder.

You' re hurt!

This lot isn't my blood.

Not much of it anyway.

Dougal and the others
will be waiting further up the stream.

We should go.

- I'm not going with you!
- Yes, you are.

What? Are you going to
cut my throat if I don't?

Why, no?

But...

You don't look that heavy.

Now if ye won't walk,

I shall pick you up
and throw you over my shoulder.

Do ye want me to do that?

No!

Well, then,

I suppose that means you're coming with me.

Serves you right.

Probably torn muscles as well as bruising.

Well, it wasn't much of a choice.

If I'd not moved my shoulder,

I'd never have moved
anything else ever again.

I can handle a single redcoat with one hand,

maybe even two.

But not three.

Besides, ye can fix it for me again

when we get to where we're going.

That's what you think.

You have. Here's to you, lass.

For tipping us to the villains in the rocks
and giving us a wee bit o' fun!

Have a wee nip.

It willna fill your belly,
but it will make ye forget you're hungry.

Stop!

Help! He's going over!

Help me get him up!

Come on.

Take it easy.

Easy now.

Gunshot wound.

The idiot could've said something.

It's a clean exit.

I think the round's gone
straight through the muscle.

I don't think it's serious,
but he's lost a lot of blood.

It'll need to be disinfected
before I can dress it properly.

Disinfect?

Yes, it must be cleaned of dirt

to protect it from germs.

Germs?

Just get me some iodine.

Merthiolate?

Alcohol?

Here you go.

Welcome back.

I'm all right, just a wee bit dizzy.

You are not all right.

Didn't you tell how badly you were bleeding?

You're lucky you're not dead,

brawling and fighting
and throwing yourself off horses.

All right, I need a sterile bandage

and some clean cloth.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

Hold still.

Easy.

Lift him up.

Come on, you goddamn bloody bastard.

I've never heard a woman
use such language in my life.

Your husband should tan your hide
for ye, woman.

St. Paul says, "Let a woman be silent, and..."

You can mind your own bloody
business and so can St. Paul!

And if you move so much as a single muscle

while I'm tying this bandage,

I'll bloody throttle you.

Threats, is it?

And after I shared my drink with ye.

We have 15 miles to go yet.

Five hours, at the least, if not seven.

We'll stay long enough for ye
to stem the bleeding and dress his wound.

No more than that.

He needs rest.

- Did you hear me?
- Randall...

The officer ye encountered,

he won't give up so easily.

He commands the redcoats hereabouts

and he's sent patrols out
in every direction by now.

We canna stay here long.

You know Randall?

Black Jack Randall, that is?

Aye.

I won't risk you or anyone else
being taken prisoner by that man.

If ye canna fix me up well enough to ride,

you'll be leaving me here
with a loaded pistol

so I may determine my own fate.

You might've well told me you were shot

before you fell off the horse.

Didn't hurt much at the time.

Does it hurt now?

Aye.

Good.

That's about all I can do.

The rest is up to you.

Thank you, Sassenach.

Truly.

All right, on your horse, soldier.

Castle Leach.

I'd been here with Frank two days age.

Or was that in the future?

How could I remember
something that hadn't happened yet?

So far, I'd been assaulted,

threatened, kidnapped and nearly raped.

And somehow,
I knew that my journey had only just begun.

Ripped By mstoll