seaborne breeze cooly kissing
the sweat on his chest and neck.
Gulls cawing,
complaining even as they feast
on thousands of floating dead.
The steady breathing
of the 300 at his back.
Ready to die for him,
without a moment's pause.
Every one of them
ready to die.
His helmet is stifling.
His shield is heavy.
Your spear.
You there.
Ephialtes.
May you live forever.
Leonidas, your spear.
Stelios !
Slaughter them !
His helmet was stifling.
It narrowed his vision.
And he must see far.
His shield was heavy.
It threw him off balance.
And his target is far away.
The old ones say we Spartans
have descended from Hercules himself.
Bold Leonidas gives testament
to our bloodline.
His roar is long and loud.
My king.
It's an honor to die at your side.
It's an honor to have lived
at yours.
My queen.
My wife.
My love.
Remember us.
As simple an order
as a king can give.
Remember why we died.
For he did not wish tribute
or song.
No monuments, no poems
of war and valor.
His wish was simple.
Remember us.
He said to me.
That was his hope.
Should any free soul
come across that place
in all the countless
centuries yet to be,
may all our voices whisper to you
from the ageless stones.
Go tell the Spartans,
passerby,
that here, by Spartan law,
we lie.
So my king died...
And my brothers died.
Barely a year ago.
Long I pondered my king's
cryptic talk of victory
and the time has proven
him wise.
For from Greek to free Greek
the word was spread that bold
Leonidas and his 300,
so far from home,
laid down their lives,
not just for Sparta,
but for all Greece and the promise
this country holds.
And now, here on this ragged
patch of earth called Platea,
Xerxes' hordes face obliteration.
Just there, the barbarians huddle.
Sheer terror gripping tight
their hearts with icy fingers.
knowing full well what merciless
horrors they suffered
at the swords and spears
of three hundred.
Yet they stare now,
across the plain,
at 10.000 Spartans,
commanding 30.000 free Greeks.
The enemy outnumbers us
a paltry three to one.
Good odds for any Greek.
This day we rescue a world
from mysticism and tyranny
and usher in a future brighter
that anything we can imagine.
Give thanks, men...
to Leonidas and the
brave three hundred.
To victory !
Subtitled by Mihai