#NaNoWriMo : Story for the Day: Word of a Giant P3

The giant remained in his mediations for some time, murmuring the words of his people’s passages for added consolation, unmoving until the afternoon snows had passed. With the advent of evening, the winds at last subsided, the clouds drew back to reveal a grey sky and subdued sun, leaving behind a few flakes flittering down from the skies and added to the glistening coat of snow encasing the giant. His white locks were adorned with a damp mantle of snow, his furs lining with icicles, and the only place within his confinement that was not encrusted in the remnants of the storm was the small space he created within the shelter of his pelts, between his arms and his folded knees. That he had been left outside during such an unpleasant gale did not recommended Frewyn’s abundance of hospitality, and that he shivered even through his ruminations did not suggest the nation’s winter as something he should like to suffer again. It seemed a frigid wasteland all around, devoid of the brilliant hues and lush verdancy the north could supply, devoid of pleasant hymns and continuous music, but then these were times of war for Frewyn, and he must own that they had treated him better than a prison would have been treated elsewhere. A cage outside must have been more tolerable than a dank cell in a citadel, but here were snows and storms unconscionable- how could anyone bear to live in such a place? To add to his rapidly disparaging cogitations was the sudden feeling that something was poking him. He endeavoured to ignore it, thinking that there could be nothing outside in such horrid weather to disturb him, but the more he disregarded it, the more prominent it became. He lifted his face from beneath his trappings and opened his left eye to find someone stabbing him with a very long stick. At the end of this stick was a small boy: his pale features tinged with the blush of coldness, his green eyes wide and his mouth agape. He was a thin child and seemed hardly dressed for the weather, sitting beside the giant’s cage with only a scarf, a knitted sweater, linen tunic, woolen leggings, and soft leather boots to clothe him. His ashen hair seemed white under the grey light of the late afternoon.

                The stick continually stabbing his leg was annoyance enough, but the presence of anyone was even more vexatious to one who would be fleeing his imprisonment the moment the sun should set. He hoped that the boy would soon grow tired of his game and return to his caretakers, but the boy was to rapt with the sight of a fur-clad giant to leave so soon. A glare and a growl might make him stop. The giant made a rumbling sound and narrowed his gaze at the boy.

                The stabbing soon ceased, but the child’s fascination with the creature was only heightened by the attention. He tossed the stick aside and awed at the wondrous creature, his eyes sparkling in delight. Never had he seen a beast such as this, one of mauve-grey skin, enormous build, and scowling aspect. The trinkets ornamenting his hair and strange pelts were enough to guide his interest, but he wished to see the whole of him, standing out of the cage and displaying the fullness of his might. He could not free him, thought he might have wished to do so, but he could discover everything there was to know about him if only the giant would speak. The boy determined that by the bellowing groans made at him the giant must be capable of speech, but whether his words were in a language he would be able to understand was to be conjectured. He would have him speak, even if it should be only a protestation of how antagonized he was by his company, and once the giant had shifted away from him, resolved to ignore the boy now that the poking had ceased, the boy thus began attacking him with inquiries.

Enjoy the story? Enjoy the first book in the series and the new standalone novel: