All language subtitles for Highlander s04e01 Homeland.eng

I don't even know why
we're digging here, Brian.

This isn't even a real grave.
It's a battle site, you fool.

How does he know that?
That's his business.

Now put your back into it. I
can smell the silver from here.

What the hell's
the matter?

Dogs-- something's
spookin' them.

You bloody old woman. The only
one spooked around here is you.

Mary and Joseph, it's you! Why
do you have to sneak up like that?

What have you found? Only this
dagger. Not what you're looking for.

Maybe I should hire someone
who'd be more successful.

And maybe if we find it,
we'll sell it to someone else.

That would be
a grave mistake.

Don't threaten us. Or folks might
hear who's behind this grave robbing.

Not from you.

Please don't kill me.

I have something else
in mind for you, Kevin.

Uh, Kevin,
bring him along.

He is Duncan MacLeod,

the Highlander.

Born in 1592, in the
Highlands of Scotland,

and he is still alive.

He is immortal.

For 400 years,
he's been a warrior,

a lover,

a wanderer,

constantly facing other
Immortals in combat to the death.

The winner takes
his enemy's head...

and with it, his power.

I am a Watcher,

part of a secret society
of men and women...

who observe and record,
but never interfere.

We know the truth
about Immortals.

In the end, there
can be only one.

May it be Duncan
MacLeod, the Highlander.

Here we are

Born to be kings

We're the princes
of the universe

I am immortal

I have inside
me blood of kings

I have no rival

No man can be my equal

Take me to the
future of your world

I don't know, George.
15,000 francs seems steep,

even if the print really
is from the period.

Look at the
brushwork. Yes.

Well, at least we agree
that it is a good copy.

You sure about that,
James? Oh, MacLeod--

Lalonde here has convinced me
to take this copy off his hands.

You got lucky, James.
That's an original Utamaro.

I'm sure you're mistaken.
15,000 it is, George.

There's Utamaro's
mark right there.

15,000 seems
hardly fair, but--

20,000 would
seem more fair.

20,000. It's not even your
style, MacLeod. Mmm. Well--

25,000. There's a
companion piece in Kyoto.

I know. I bought
it three days ago.

Thirty, for an
original Utamaro.

Very well. Thirty.

Ah, monsieur?

Oh, no.

Eh, bien. C'est un Monsieur
Bailey for 30,000 francs.

You know what, James?

You're right. It
wasn't really my style.

Wrap this for
Monsieur Bailey.

Where did you get that?

A fine example of jeweled silver work
from the late Celtic period in Scotland.

- I'll take it.
- 10,000 francs.

That seems hardly
fair. Twelve. Fifteen.

- Fifteen. Monsieur Bailey?
- Twenty.

Just returning the favor.

- Fifty.
- Fifty?

Fifty-five. How much
do you really want it?

One hundred.

May I package it for you?

Au revoir, Monsieur Bailey.
A pleasure as always.

Congratulations, Mr.
MacLeod. An excellent piece.

I asked you how it
got here. Wh-Who knows?

These things have
a way of turning up.

Gambling debt.
Death in the family.

You didn't buy this at an estate show.
I asked you how you got it here, Lalonde.

A bulk shipment from England.
I cannot check every piece.

All I know is that it's
from somewhere in Scotland.

U-Uh, in the Highlands.

Glenfinnan, on the
shores of Loch Shiel.

Ah. You know it.

I was born there.

O Bonny Portmore

I am sorry to see

Such a woeful destruction

Of your ornament tree

For it stood on your shore

For many's the long day

Till the longboats

From Antrim

Came to float it away

All the birds
in the forest

They bitterly weep

Saying "Where
shall we shelter

Where shall we sleep"

Mother,
Father--

It's been a long time.

It's good to be home.

Excuse me.

The campground's
further down the road.

It's better sightseeing,

not to mention
more lively.

Well, I hadn't
planned on camping.

Good. Because it so happens
you're on a family plot.

I'm Rachel MacLeod.

And those are my ancestors
you're standin' on.

Mine too. I'm
Duncan MacLeod.

Another one.

Let me guess.

You're here to find
your Highland roots.

I didn't know
I'd lost 'em.

You don't sound like
a local yourself.

I've had 10 years of American
schools to thank for that.

Would you mind telling me what you're
doing here? I'm afraid that's private.

Is that so?

We're burying one
of our own today.

And we don't need
any outsiders.

"Hi. Welcome home."

Rachel, I've been waiting
for you. Sorry, Father Laird.

There was someone on the family plot. And
I don't like strangers skulking around.

The Good Book tells us
there's good in every heart.

If that were true, we
wouldn't be here today.

Hello there. And to you.

Hi, guys. How's it going?

Ach. If it isn't
the clansman.

What can I get you?
Haggis? Maybe a kilt?

An ale will do just fine.

- Are the people of Glenfinnan always this friendly?
- We're friendly enough.

Just careful of
strangers. Really?

Since when is a MacLeod
a stranger in Glenfinnan?

I was told down the road you
might have a room available.

We might.

Fill it out.

Then it's second
floor, on the left.

Number four. Next
to the other one.

What other one? MacLeod,

what took you so long?

What the hell are you doing
here? I'm havin' a wee dram, lad.

You know, they produce
this stuff locally.

They cut the peat
right down the road.

Answer the question. How the
hell did you know I was comin'?

I'm your Watcher.
I'm supposed to know.

And especially when you
come home after 250 years.

It doesn't concern you.
Everything you do concerns me.

What you are. What you were. You think
I'm gonna let you come home to Scotland...

without seeing
what you're up to?

Come on. What gives, man?

Brian Campbell is a fool,
and a stubborn one too.

- You did all you could, Father.
- I would have liked to have done more.

Aye, you're a good lad.

Duncan.

You spoke to my
father. What did he say?

Aye, we spoke.

Oh, Duncan, no.

We love each other. Aye,
but he nay moved, Debra.

You're to marry my cousin
Robert. That's the end of it.

You're the
chieftain's son.

There has to be something you can
do. You don't think I've tried?

This is a joining of the clans,
the Campbells and the MacLeods.

Our clans will be joined when I
marryyou. You're pledged to him.

We cannot be.

When you look at this,

think of me.

What are you
saying? I'm leaving.

Then take me with you.

We'll go together,
start over somewhere.

I'll nay dishonor you,
Debra, nor shame my family.

I will marry him
if I must, Duncan,

but, please,
do not leave me.

I have to see you-- even if
it's only across the village.

You're the love of my
life, Debra Campbell.

But it's too hard a thing to
see that which I cannot have.

You'll give it back! Please,
Robert, don't ask me to.

I'll not have you marked
with another man's gift.

I've tried to love you. I
can only feel what I feel.

It's me that you'll marry.

Because I must. Is
that what you want?

You'll share my bed
and bear my children.

And I'm damned if
I'll set you free!

Then dwell on this,
Robert MacLeod.

When I lie with you, it's
him I'll be thinking of.

She's not yours, Robert.

-Not yet.
- Damn you, Duncan.

You've turned her
heart against me!

She cannie help her heart!
No more than I can help mine.

You have what you want, but, so help
me God, you'll not lay a hand on her.

You'll not make
me a cuckold.

Draw your blade.

On a clansman--
Let me pass.

Not before you give
me satisfaction.

Robert, we've been
friends all our lives.

I cannie fight you.

Coward.

If you were not kin, you'd
be dead where you're standing.

You'll not walk away on
this! Not while I live.

A challenge is made-- no MacLeod
can turn his back on such words.

- But, Father, he's kin.
- And you're a chieftain's son!

Nay! He's also my son, husband.
Ian, dunna make him do it.

Pick it up! Or dishonor your
name and all who wear it!

Do you nay know the difference
between honor and pride?

Be silent, woman!

Robert, withdraw the challenge.
I dinna want your blood.

Oh, aye.

But I want yours!

He's drawn blood He's cut.

You have your
satisfaction.

You damn fool.

Robert. Robert!

Duncan.

You can't die, Robert.

It is finished.
Honor is satisfied.

The men will
deal with this.

It is no place for ya.

Come on.

It is a hard
thing to face.

I raised you to
lead this clan,

and to bear this
sword after me,

no matter the cost.

There's nothing
we can do now.

That was supposed
to be mine.

And?

It never happened.

Where'd you get your hands on that?
Do you know something about it?

I know it belongs here, like all the
rest that's been stolen from this country.

I didn't steal this.
I bought it in Paris.

You think you can
buy your roots?

You're no better than
the grave robbers.

There were graves robbed? Where?
Rachel, I need to know where.

So you can get your
hands on more souvenirs?

Please, I've done nothing.

We've all done
something, Kevin.

Now, your miserable
soul will have a use.

Your blood will feed him.

It's a great honor.

Do you believe in God,
Kevin? Yes. Oh, yes.

So do
I--mygod.

His name is Odin.

Almighty Odin,

take his blood...

and return to
me what is mine.

No. No!

No. Nooo!

No!

Did you hear how Kevin
McSwain was murdered?

I heard the police
talking. Closed casket--

It's all supposed to be kept quiet
so as not to scare the tourists.

Well, let ye keep it. Scare
the tourists all you like.

- They found him hanging
by the neck on the moor.

Split frae gullet to stern
like a butchered sheep.

Jesus. It's a
bloody maniac.

No maniac cuts like
that. That's his mark.

The blood eagle.

- Kanwulf is back.

Am I missing something?
Who is Kanwulf?

A Viking raider who cut a trail of
death through this land for 800 years.

One of our more
colorful legends.

Loch Ness gets the
monster. We get Kanwulf.

But he's real. Like the
ghosts on the moor, Angus.

Ah, that's different.
Hold, McDougal.

All we need is for a MacLeod
to come back from the dead...

and finish him off, huh?

Well, Kevin McSwain's
not laughing, is he?

Quiet little village
you have here.

Like I
said--

It's a legend.

Ah, Rachel, thank
you for coming.

The parish burial records--
can any of them be missing?

None I know of. Father McQuarry
was very careful to keep them up.

With these grave
desecrations...

I fear we're losing
sight of who lies where.

Sorry. I wish
I could help.

Well, we'll just have to
rely on faith then, won't we?

I can sense that
something is troubling you.

I believe that there's
someone in the village...

who is not who
he says he is.

Really?

And I think he's the
one lootin' the graves.

And why would
you think that?

Because I saw him at the
inn... with a Celtic bracelet.

Have you told anyone
else of this? Not yet.

What's his name? Calls
himself Duncan MacLeod.

Duncan MacLeod?

Perhaps he's just
another dedicated tourist.

Then why is he snoopin' around the
cemeteries and other grave sites?

I think I should
call the police.

Why don't we wait,

see what happens, before
we alert the authorities?

We don't want
to be premature.

After all, he
is a MacLeod.

What are you lookin' at?

They say solitude's a
precious thing, Dawson.

Hey, I didn't drag my heinie
up this goat path for the view.

Sheep path, Joe.

And I hope those
aren't your best shoes.

Not anymore.

You know, you picked a hell of
a time to come home, MacLeod.

They found
another guy gutted.

I'm sure the
police are on it.

- So, how long are we staying?
- I'm staying until I find what I came for.

And that is?

Hey, come on, Mac,
help me out here.

A grave.

You don't mean
this. You can't.

We grew up like brothers,
learned to fight together.

There was no evil in his heart. I
know, but he brought this on himself.

You're not to blame. 'Twas
my blade that killed him.

Duncan, you had no
choice. Do you not see?

I see I took his life. Well,
then, we'll give it back.

We'll name our
firstborn after him.

Not with Robert's
blood on my hands.

I thought you loved me.

Debra, you're my life.

But I've slain a kinsman,
a friend, to wed you now--

Can you not understand? No,
I understand that I love you!

And that I canna
live without you!

Debra.

Debra, come back.

Debra, stop!

Debra, stop!

No! I love you.

Debra!

I came here as a child.

It was my secret place.

I know. Now come back.

I used to dream of
having you even then.

I never dreamed this.

Please, Debra, you still
have a life to live.

I have nothing.

No!

I swear I'll marry you...

and love you till
the end of my days.

Do you mean it? With
Robert's death on your head?

I can live with his ghost,

but I cannie
live with yours.

No! Debra!

Debra!

I thought the
pain would kill me.

What did you do
with the bracelet?

I laid it in her grave, so part
of me would be with her forever.

The church ruled it a suicide, and I
had to bury her on unconsecrated ground.

So you don't know
where the grave is.

It's been 400 years, Joe.
Everything's different.

Even the
landmarks are gone.

Hope you find her, Mac.

Thanks, Joe.

All the birds
in the forest

They bitterly weep

Saying "Where
shall we shelter

Where shall we sleep"

And he calls
himself a MacLeod.

Mr. MacLeod, you
do get around.

I like to get off
the beaten path.

So I see. There seems
to be dirt on your hands.

Did you fall off?

I guess I'm a little
out of practice.

Maybe you should stick
to the main roads.

This far from town, I
thought you might be lost.

Not anymore.

Hey, what gives?
You're not packed.

I'm stayin'
on for a while.

But you did what
you came for.

You know, it's funny
what you remember.

The heather blooming,
the smell of burning peat.

The feast after the harvest
when the whole clan gathered,

and you thought the
whole world was there.

I thought you were gonna
let the police handle this.

This land came under
the MacLeods once.

These are my
people, my clan.

Mac, that was
400 years ago.

These people are not under
your protection anymore.

Yeah, but I won't let
them get slaughtered, Joe.

You know what I think?

I think this place
is gettin' to you.

Yeah. We have a warrant
to search these premises.

Over against
the wall, sir.

Highland hospitality seems
to have gone downhill.

Maybe it's the guests.

- Look, this is not my room, okay?
- Over against the wall, sir.

Remind me. Next time,
separate vacations.

- Someone mind explaining what this is about.
- It's about grave robbing.

I was wrong.
It's about murder.

Thank you for coming,
Father. How could I not?

When a Christian soul
has been disturbed,

one of God's own
should be on hand.

Desecration of a holy
spot is a terrible thing.

- You found something.

Duncan MacLeod didn't
come to rob the grave.

He came to put this back.

The man has the
heart of a poet.

And a sense of
clan loyalty.

Put this back.

He went to a lot of trouble
finding the grave of Debra Campbell.

That name isn't mentioned
in the burial records.

It wouldn't be.
400 years ago...

Debra Campbell committed suicide
for the love of a MacLeod.

At least that's
the legend.

And you take your
legends seriously here.

How does the
rest of it go?

That Duncan MacLeod came
back from the dead...

to avenge his father and
kill Kanwulf the Viking.

Excuse me, Father.
I've got to go.

I think I'd like to
meet this Duncan MacLeod.

Then come along
to the inn.

I must pray. Ask him
to come to the church.

All right.

Beat that.

When do you, uh,
get your sword back?

A day or two.

They took it to
Edinburgh for testing.

You worried?

Eh, this Norse guy--
you know, the legend.

- What legend?
- Kanwulf the Viking.

What about him?

The bodies.
The blood eagle.

It's Kanwulf's
trademark. It can't be K--

Oh, of course.

It was after I
died the first time.

After they cast me out.

I hadn't met Connor
or taken my first head.

I still had no idea what had
happened to me-- or what I was.

I'd been gone two years.

I thought nothing
could bring me home.

Then I learned our
village had been attacked,

and my father was
gravely wounded.

Donal, who did this? No.

It can't be you. Damn
it, man! Who did this?

You're dead! Dead!

I saw it with my own eyes.
Damn you! Who did this?

Kanwulf the Destroyer!

Kanwulf's a legend.
He's not real!

Neither are you!

Father?

Mother.

Duncan, is it really you?

I'm here. My beautiful
son's come back.

They tried to tell me you were
evil. I knew it wasn't true.

It dinna matter now.

His sword--
claim it.

I cannot. He banished me.

I have no right. I have no
clan. I'm not even your son.

No. It matters not who
bore ya. You are my son.

And it is yours.

Take it.

Take it, I say!

Let no man tell
you different.

You are Duncan MacLeod
of the Clan MacLeod.

So I left to
avenge my father--

in search of Kanwulf.

I knew he was inhuman.

I just didn't know
he was immortal.

I found Kanwulf's men.

A bunch of
thieving butchers...

celebrating the
death of my village.

Look.

It's him. The ghost. The
ghost of Duncan MacLeod!

Aye. Back from the dead
to seek my vengeance.

Come on! Fight me!

Come on!

Then I felt it
for the first time.

Another Immortal.

It seemed in me and
around me at the same time.

But I had no
idea what it was.

You're Kanwulf.

I killed the one who held that.
He fought well for an old man.

I'll do better.
I'm his son.

His son? You don't even
know what you are, do you--

or what I am?

I am Duncan MacLeod
of the Clan MacLeod.

And you're dead. That's
all I need to know!

Strike. Send
me to Valhalla.

I'll send you to hell!

For you, Father.

I left him for dead
and buried his ax.

If there was a Valhalla,
I wanted him weaponless.

But I didn't
take his head.

If he was immortal, you'd
have known it. Would I?

Would I have
recognized that feeling?

Joe, I had no idea
why I was still alive.

I didn't know about
other Immortals,

or that the only way you could
kill one was by taking his head.

And you left the sword.

In my mother's heart,
I was a MacLeod.

But to the clan,
I was banished.

Father Laird asked if you wouldn't
mind stopping by the church.

Fine.

I'm sorry.

That's all right.
No, it's not.

Travelin' all that way...

to honor one of ours.

I had no right
to suspect you.

You were
protecting your own.

I made a fool out
of myself doin' it.

Not to me.

Father Laird?

For now.

Kanwulf.

The hair's different.
The clothes--

But you're still inside
there, aren't you?

I see you're a little
better dressed yourself.

Since when does a
Viking take the cloth?

Ah, the good father.

I met him
coming into town.

No one had seen him yet.

I'd hoped the burial
records would give me a clue.

- For what?
- You ought to know, MacLeod.

It was you who
took it from me.

- All this for an ax?
- An ax.

An ax made by
the gods, MacLeod,

used by Loki and
Thor themselves.

- You can't still believe that.
- As much as they believe in their pale Christ.

I thought I'd
lost it forever...

until this turned
up in Norway.

I traced it here.

That ax was given to me
the day I became a warrior.

And, by God, I was ready to
dig up the whole country for it.

- You're really insane.
- Am I?

Why did you bury the bracelet
with the girl, MacLeod?

We all have our rituals.
Like the blood eagle?

An offering to the
gods of thunder and war.

It's no coincidence
that the one man...

who knows where the
ax is came to me.

And I want it! Or the
offerings will continue.

I'll kill you first.

We're on holy
ground, MacLeod.

You can't kill me here.

And my parishioners
have arrived...

to pray.

And I'll be
waiting for you.

Good day,
Father. Good day.

Bless you, my son.

This is crazy. Human sacrifice,
Norse gods, Odin's ax--

There ain't no
such animal, Mac.

He believes it.
And there is an ax.

You know where it
is? I've always known.

It's in my father's
grave where I buried it.

So you think you give him the ax,
he disappears? That's all he wants.

So, if you believe that,
you don't have to fight him.

Hey, how about this time, you live,
he lives, and we just walk away.

There are some things
you can't walk away from.

Oh, come on, Mac.
He killed my father!

He came back
from the dead,

claimed his
father's sword,

killed the Viking and
stopped the slaughter.

That's a legend, Rachel.

The bracelet? Now this?

If I asked you to explain,

would it make any sense?

Duncan MacLeod,

maybe some
legends are true.

Maybe.

For centuries
you were lost.

Now an enemy
brings you to me.

You kept your word.
Run away while you can.

It's one thing having the
ax. It's another to keep it.

- I'm ready.
- So am I.

Now it's finished, Father.

Now it's finished.

It's over.

I knew you'd be back.

The legend.

That seems to
belong in your hand.

No.

It belongs in Glenfinnan.

This is its home.

Yours too, Duncan MacLeod.

Hey, Mac.

The Highlander. Hmm.

Think they had you in
mind when they put it up?

Probably not.

Look, why don't
you stay, MacLeod?

There are too many
questions left unanswered.

It's better just
to disappear.

Yeah. I guess that's what
legends are supposed to do.

Saying "Where
shall we shelter

Where shall we sleep"

And here we are

We're the princes
of the universe

Here we belong
fighting for survival

We've come to be the
rulers of your world

I am immortal

I have inside
me blood of kings

I have no rival

No man can be my equal

Take me to the
future of your world

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