“Do you intend to choke on them? Or is that how all men eat their meals in the wild?” Annallya asked with a chuckle. Andrill, who sat sheltered in the Titan’s palm, swallowed the peach he had been devouring and smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve been able to enjoy a peach.” he told her.

Annallya returned the smile and watched her friend bite into his second peach. She was reclining in the chair by her desk, enjoying some friendly company while she recovered from her day of hard labor. It had been weeks since Andrill was taken by her mother for, what she referred to as ‘obedience training’. Andrill refused to speak of what that meant, or of what he had went through, but he still seemed to be in the same light hearted mood he had been in before being taken away.

“Gaelin told me that he would soon have more fruit jarred for you.” she said. “What does that mean? Jarred?”

“I don’t really know how it’s done, but I’ve seen Gaelin and other people do it before. They seal fruit in glass jars with some kind of juice inside. Keeps the fruit fresh for longer.” Andrill explained.

Annallya grunted. “Likely a task he will have me carry out in his place.”

“He’s been working you hard?”

“Excessively,” she answered. “I arrive to his home early, as he requires, complete every chore he assigns me, work tirelessly throughout the day, and then must race home before anyone becomes suspicious of my absence. I fall asleep every night feeling more tired than any military practice session, and yet I have not been taught one bit of swordplay”

By now her voice had reached near exasperation. “Andrill are you sure that this is the same man who taught you to wield a sword?”

Andrill only chuckled. “Yeah Gaelin’s methods are a bit . . . excessive. But he knows what he’s doing.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Annallya sighed, leaning her head against her fist as she leaned back further in the chair.

“Be patient with him, just like he is with you.” he replied.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’ll see,” was all that the little man said, with a very knowing grin on his face. An answer that was not truly an answer. Annallya had already received enough of those from Gaelin and was beginning to grow weary of them. The titan was about to press Andrill for more information, but stopped as an idea came into her head. An idea that would yield a far more direct answer than she would have likely been given anyway.

“Perhaps,” she purred. “I merely require a demonstration of Gaelin’s ‘methods’.”

Andrill paused in mid bite to cast a cautious glance at the giantess above. The smile she wore must have been devious, as Annallya could have sworn she had heard him swallow a nervous mouthful of fruit. Before Andrill could utter a word, Annallya gently plucked him from her palm, and placed him softly on the wooden surface of her desk.

“What are doing?” he asked her. His voice held no traces of fear, though his body language was unconsciously protective.

Annallya ignored his question and walked over to the far wall on the other side of the room. There her training sword lay in its sheather, leaning against the cabinet that held her clothes, next to her shield. Annallya took the sheath, strapped it onto her belt, and slipped the shield onto her left arm. Then she took a metal poker, used to stir wood and coals in the brazier, and walked back over to her desk. Andrill had not moved from where she had placed him, and was looking up at her now with an unreadable expression. Annallya in turn gave him another mischievous grin, before stepping right onto her chair. The statuesque Titan raised a bare foot above his head for a moment, merely for theatricality, and placed her foot softly on the desk, directly in front of Andrill. Annallya then began to shrink herself down, stepping fully onto the desk with her other foot when she was just small enough to stand firmly on the grainy surface. She continued to shrink until she had reached her limit, the exact size Annallya would stand if she had been born a human. Andrill stood just ten feet from her, they were about the exact same height. He eyed the sword at her hip and the metal poker in her hand, realization dawning on him.

“So I’m to battle against the mighty Titan without even a real sword?” he asked.

Annallya smiled. “If Gaelin truly has trained you in the same manner he is training me, you should be quite comfortable with this.”

She lightly tossed the poker to Andrill, who caught it neatly by the wooden handle. He eyed the rod, not sure of what to make of it. Mere moments ago this thin reed of metal, which weighed no more than any other fireplace poker he had ever held, had been the size of a tree trunk to him. He spun the poker a few times to test its balance and found it to be satisfying in his grip.

“How do you Titans do it?” he marvelled aloud.

Annallya cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“Change things.” he clarified. “Like how your clothes change when you become smaller. How do you do it?”

Annallya sighed with a smile and a shrug. “This is a question all Titans pose when we are but little girls. The truth of the matter is that we do not know how we do what it is that we do. Queen Phelonous once told me that she hopes that we shall one day understand.”

Andrill nodded. “What about this then?” he asked, raising the metal poker. “Can you make other things bigger and smaller?”

“We can take something that is big and make it small, like us.” she affirmed. “And we can take that same object and make it big again. However I cannot take something that was already small, and make it big. No Titan that we know of ever has.”

He nodded again, giving the poker a thoughtful look, before twirling it again. Annallya set her feet apart, in the stance she had been trained by the Titans, and slid her sword free with a quiet SHING sound. The practice sword, while still capable of impaling someone, had dull edges, making it ideal for harmless sparring. Andrill likewise set himself into a stance, one that appeared very strange to Annallya’s eyes. He stepped forward with his left leg, body facing sideways, and raised the handle of the poker slightly above his head, with the tip pointed towards his opponent. He took a deep breath, and when he exhaled, a subtle tension seemed to ease out of his body. He nodded once to Annallya, and she in turn.

With a quick step Annallya struck, point forward, towards his exposed torso, a weak point in his defense. Andrill reacted by softly shifting his left leg back, and brought his sword down in a sweep. Metal clashed against metal and Annallya found her strike being turned aside by Andrill’s poker. With her sword being redirected to the right, Annallya followed up her attack by striking out at her opponent with the round shield on her left arm. Andrill’s weapon was just close enough, though, that he was able to intercept her shield arm with it. The Titan’s shield glanced against the metal poker, and Andrill spun his whole body to the right, pushing her body a few steps forward and past him. Annallya stopped after two surprised steps, and turned completely around to face the human who had just slipped past her. Andrill faced her in a new stance, with his left leg forward, both hands on the hilt, arms low, and his weapon pointed up.

Annallya brought her shield up to protect her left side again. This time she approached her opponent slowly and cautiously. Andrill remained still up until she was just ten feet away. With a quick step to close the distance, he swung his poker above his head in a circle and brought it down to clash against her shield. Annallya retaliated with a straight thrust towards his chest, a foolish move in sparring, as the tip of the sword was still capable of piercing flesh. Her worries were for not it seemed, as Andrill shifted his body to the left as he used his weapon to guide hers away from his torso. His counter strike was quick, an upwards slash from the left, which she barely blocked in time with her shield. Annallya tried to counter as fast as she could, but Andrill seemed to take his time reversing his attack into a block in the opposite direction. Her sword rebounded against his poker and Andrill followed up by spinning his improvised sword overhead in the opposite direction as before, sweeping it down towards her legs as he stepped forward. The Titan was forced to backpedal a few steps to avoid his attack and gain some breathing room. Andrill, however, would not allow her to escape so easily. He followed through with his sweep into another full body swing and stuck again at her right flank, higher this time. Annallya managed to block and strike back, but Andrill merely sidestepped her assault. He stuck again, this time clashing against her shield, only this time he stepped right passed her and, with a simple twist of the wrist, spun his poker completely over head and brought it down against her unguarded back.

The blow was not particularly forceful, but Annallya still staggered forward under the force of the metal poker striking her. She turned around to face him, expecting a smirk similar to one Thoren would wear any time she got the better of Annallya in a match. Andrill’s expression was surprisingly blank though. He stood facing her in another stance, face neutral, and eyes focused entirely upon her. The Titan had never seen another warrior fight as he had, with the exception of Gaelin the first time he had tested her abilities. Titans on the battlefield used sword and shield to engage an enemy head on. Both opponents face each other and never turn away until one has killed the other. Gaelin and Andrill, however, use only their sword.

No, she thought. It is much more than that.

They use their whole bodies. The way they bend, twist, step, and spin with their moves. It was unprecedented in her eyes, but also incredible. The way they put their whole bodies into every move, they almost appeared to be dancing with her. Not a single movement was wasted either, as they seamlessly flowed from one step of the dance into the other. Standing straight and lowering her shield to her side, Annallya raised her sword high in a salute to her opponent, communicating that the sparring match was finished. Andrill appeared surprised for a moment, before he mirrored her gesture and nodded.

“Satisfied?” he asked.

“Very.” she confirmed while she sheathed her sword and dropped her shield to the ground.

Andrill placed the metal poker on the ground next to her shield and walked over to the edge of the desk, where he had placed his final peach on the ground. Annallya joined him and sat on the edge of the desk, letting her legs hang over the edge, her bare feet gently kicking. Andrill held his last peach up, savoring the sight of a fruit that he would not see again for quite some time. He glanced sideways at Annallya who seemed to be staring off into the distant expanse that was her room.

“May I borrow that?” he asked, pointing to the knife at her belt opposite her sword.

She handed him the blade without a curious glance, but did not raise a question. Andrill accepted the knife and proceeded to cut the peach in half. He returned to her the blade, along with half of the fruit. She gratefully accepted the gift with a thank you, and together the two of them gazed off into the distance together.

“Peaches were always my favorite fruit,” her companion said at last. “When I was a young I loved them so much that my mother planted a peach tree in our yard. That way I could one day have fresh peaches whenever I wanted. Or perhaps so that I could have a shady patch of grass to nap on when I didn’t feel like doing my chores.” he added with a chuckle.

Annallya hesitated. Andrill had never been too forthcoming about his home, or the village she had yet to see. Both Gaelin and he seemed very guarded when it came to this place, as if it were sacred to them. Perhaps it was, and if she pried too deep into the subject, Andrill might say no more on the subject. Curiosity got the better of her, though, for she found herself asking “What was your home like? Your village.”

Andrill pondered the question as he bit into his half of the peach. “It was home.” he shrugged. “It wasn’t perfect, in fact it was downright pitiful.”

“Pitiful?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” he said with a reminiscent smile. “Here in Thylara you have huge palaces of stone. Everything inside that I’ve seen looks like it was sculpted by real artists. It’s incredible.”

Andrill leaned back on his hands as he looked up at the ceiling. “You even live in a city. An honest to Stars city!” he exclaimed. “I’ve only ever read about cities in stories. A walled haven with more buildings and people than you can count. It’s unbelievable. But back home, the village where I grew up, it’s tiny compared to Thylara, and I don’t mean because we’re smaller than you Titans. The number of homes and buildings we have would barely make up a piece of your city. And forget about buildings of stone made by artists. Our homes are little better than that hut Gaelin built for himself. In fact, every home in the village had to be built by the family that lives in it.”

He looked out ahead again into the distance, as if he could see it all now. “Our roads are made of dirt, our houses are wood, our lives are little more than work and chores, every winter is a struggle for survival. It’s . . . . . home.”

The red haired Titan gazed at her human friend, words unable to escape her lips for a moment. Everything he had described did sound pitiful, dreadful even. A lifestyle that could hardly be described as living. But when spoken in such a way it, Andrill made it sound natural, as if living in such a way were a part of him, like being small. Annallya shuddered to consider living her whole life at the size she was now. Titans change their size at any time, certainly. Remaining this small, however, was not natural. Titans were immense, as the Stars had willed it from the first day of creation.

Then she thought back to that first day exploring the wonders of the forest, and glimpsing a world hidden to her simply because she had always refused to shrink down and look at it. All her life Annallya had believed that the Titan’s way of living was the only proper way to live. Spending your entire life in the wilderness, even if it was with others of your kind, was savage and cruel. Even after she had befriended Andrill, she had believed that she was doing him a kindness by keeping him with her. Now . . . .

“Andrill,” she whispered at last. “I . . . I can take you away from here. Merely ask it of me, and I can carry you away from Thylara forever. I can take you home.”

Andrill snapped out from his thoughts to look at Annallya, his eyes wide and his mouth open. He looked to be on the verge of saying something, when he hesitated. Before he could give his thoughts voice, the sound of marching feet interrupted their conversation. They both turned to see a dark haired, dark skin Titan enter the room. She wore a white blouse beneath a plated steel breastplate, a short white skirt that came just down to her knees, leather sandals, metal vambraces on each forearm, and a leather belt that held her short sword. In her right hand was the standard halberd all guards carried, and a red cape was draped over her left shoulder and pinned at the right with the palace guard insignia. The Titan scanned the room a few times, eyes eventually falling upon the two diminutive figures lounging on the desk.

“Ms Rhaolin!” she exclaimed. Annallya knew her, her name was Vastra. The woman had an insufferable attitude. “What under Sun and Stars are you doing? Step away from that animal before it attacks you.”

Annallya was about to object to her orders, when Andrill suddenly sprang to his feet. He held both hands in clear sight and stepped away from her in a brisk manner. The action appalled Annallya. Not by what he had done, but by the fact that the guard made her friend feel as if it were necessary for him to act like a surrendering criminal. Despite the weariness in her bones Annallya could feel her temper begin to rise. She lept down from the desk and was fully grown by the time her feet touched the ground.

“That animal is my friend Vastra,” she retorted with a small amount of heat. “I would ask that you remember that before addressing him as anything other than such.”

Vastra gave a suffering sigh. “Your mother spoke of your misguided delusions. Though she failed to properly explain how grand they were.”

“You have spoken with my mother? What has she said of me?” Annallya demanded.

“She informed me that you stole your pet from her room while he is still supposed to be under conditioning training.” the guard answered, which was true. Annallya had gone to her mother’s room to view her mother’s charts again. She had assumed that Andrill would be spending his time with the trainers after her mother had taken him away. Rather she found him in her room in a small cage on her desk. With her mother attending the Queen’s court at the moment, she could not pass up the opportunity to speak with her friend again.

“I merely wished to have a word with my friend,” Annallya answered. “If my mother is displeased with that, then I shall return him to her promptly.”

But Vastra shook her head and started for the desk. “Your mother bid me to fetch the creature  myself.”

Vastra reached the desk and was about to seize Andrill, who stood submissively in place, when her wrist was caught by another hand. Annallya twisted the surprised Titans arm behind her back before she had a moment to comprehend what was happening, grabbed her by the hair, and slammed her head against the sturdy desk. Vastra rebounded from the force of the impact, only to be shoved away by Annallya into a guest chair by the brazier. The palace guard looked up in naked shock and fury at Annallya, who stood before her with Andrill cupped protectively in her hand, as if nothing had occurred.

“Then I shall inform my mother personally why you were unable to return my friend to her care. I am confident she will understand.” she stated matter-of-factly.

Without waiting for a reply from Vastra, Annallya strode from her room. As soon as she was well out of earshot from anyone who might be listening, the Titan lifted Andrill to her face. “I can still return you to the forest, leave you with Gaelin, and you can go home.” she whispered.

“And then they’ll come back for me,” he replied. “It’s better if I stay here for now.”

“How?”

“All I have to do is endure until they’re done conditioning me. Then I can leave without worrying about anyone looking for me.” Andrill said. “It’s the only way I walk out of here a free man.”

Annallya nodded reluctantly. “Very well my friend.”

“Would you promise me something Annallya?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said at once.

“Keep going to see Gaelin. The cold bastard could use some company.”

*****************************************************************************************

Mistress Rhaolin glared down her nose at the pitiful creature in her fist. The little man wisely kept his head bowed, not meeting her eyes. Her daughter had just left, having returned the pet to her possession without any sign of remorse for having disobeyed her.

“Tell me,” her voice shook like thunder to Andrill’s ears, even though she was speaking in a normal tone. “What have you told my daughter of our arrangement?”

“I have told her nothing Mistress.” he answered meekly. “Not even that you have kept me here the entire time. Under Sun and Stars I swear it.”

Very slowly, the giantess brought the tiny man to eye level. “Look me in the eye, and repeat what you have said.”

Andrill reluctantly forced himself to meet the gaze of his captor, and did as he was commanded. When he had repeated himself, Mistress Rhaolin grinned ever so slightly at him. It terrified him to the core.

“Perhaps,” she purred. “You are telling me the truth. You seem to have an honest face, I like that.”

Reaching down with her free hand, Mistress Rhaolin untied the straps of her sandals, and slipped them off. Then she placed Andrill on the floor right next to them. She sat high upon her desk chair as if it were a throne, and indeed she made it appear as one. On the floor not far from her sandals was a dish of water, and a tiny strip of cloth.

“Begin by washing the dirt from my feet, then my sandals. You may rest once you have completed both tasks to my satisfaction.”

*****************************************************************************************

The sun had not even reached the tree tops by the time Annallya arrived at Gaelin’s hut. She had woken up early this morning so that she might have plenty of time to rehearse what she would say to him. She had been rude to Gaelin the other day and had spoken out of turn. He was teaching her, a Titan, how to wield a blade, when he could have instead chosen to put an arrow in her for invading his home. In addition he was the only human, other than Andrill, who would speak openly to her. With the company of Titans growing more distasteful by the day, human companionship was a luxury she could ill afford to give up. So she approached his home with an apology in mind. She set foot in his clearing, and suddenly all words froze at her lips.

There Gaelin stood in the center of the clearing with a wooden practice sword in his hands. Only, this looked much different from the shoddy bundle of sticks Annallya had crafted in her room. This one was of much higher quality craftsmanship and made to resemble a real sword. But that was not what had given the red haired Titan pause. Gaelin’s laced shirt hung on a chair that had been moved away for more space. He stood in the open with his eyes closed and his chest bare. Annallya had never seen a man who was missing a single article of clothing. Every pet man she had seen in Thylara had been properly clothed, so this was a new experience for her. His back was surprisingly well muscled, and his arms were like cord. On his torso, aside from a little more muscle which she hardly took notice of, were a few scars. Scars that came from a blade. He had been in a few fights it had seemed. Gaelin stood motionless in a stance similar to one Andrill had stood in during their sparring match the other day, with his left foot forward, his arms held low, and his sword held up.

Then, very slowly, he stood up straight on his left leg, while his right leg lifted up so that his knee almost touched his chest, and his sword was raised over his head, tip pointed in front of him. From there he flowed to another stance, and another, and another. Each step was deliberate, every movement fluid like silk in the wind. Stepping back and viewing this style from afar, Annallya could see that she had been right in her assessment. He and Andrill did move as if they were dancing. His wrists would spin the sword this way and that way, overhand and underhand. His body would bend with every movement. It was incredible to behold.

“You’re here early.” he suddenly spoke.

Annallya visibly snapped her attention into focus, she had not realized that her mind had wondered. Gaelin stood facing her directly, his left hand leaning on the sword. He had made no move to put his shirt on, which only made it harder to focus. Purely because of the scars, of course.

“I uh . . . .” she managed. “W-what I mean to say is . . . .”

Gaelin quirked an eyebrow at her mannerisms. Annallya closed her eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the fluttering sensation in her stomach.

“I wish to apologise for my behavior yesterday, Gaelin.” she said. “It was u-”

“Ok,” he stated, before turning away and walking towards his hut.

But Annallya remained where she stood, her mind still a few steps behind what was happening. “Uh . . . ok?” she asked.

“Ok,” he repeated. “Apology accepted. Now if we could skip the flowery words, there’s a lot of work ahead of us both.”

Ever so slowly her brain began to catch up with his words. “U-us both?”

Despite the questions, Gaelin’s voice remained at ease and patient. “Yes. I’m going to help you through these next few tasks.”

Over by the side of his hut was a small box of assorted tools, and a large saw made for two people. Gaelin left the wooden sword by the tools and hefted the saw. He led her over to the tree Annallya had felled yesterday and stood on the side opposite of her.

“I already measured out how big the pieces will be. Just follow my lead and keep in rhythm. Hum a tune if it helps.” he instructed.

So it was that they worked throughout the whole day. First cutting the tree trunk into even segments about four feet each. Then one of these segments was chosen again and cut in half several times, until they were left with thin reeds of wood. Four of these pieces were selected by Gaelin and separated from the rest. Using a different tool to shave off excess wood, and sandpaper to smooth the edges, he shaped to wood more to his liking. These lengths were then touched up with a balmy substance that would adhere them together, and strapped tightly. Then more excess wood was removed from one end of the piece. This end was tightly wrapped in bandages which were sealed to the wood with more of that balm. Both ends of the piece were capped, and more straps added to the length of wood. After hours of hard work and careful crafting, Annallya held her own practice sword in her hands. Not just any wooden sword, though, one that she herself had made. Gaelin had instructed her in every step, and guided her hand through many of them, her hands had still crafted this wonder. It made the weapon appear all the more beautiful in her eyes.

“What do you think?” Gaelin asked?

“It is incredible,” she breathed. “I had not believed that I was capable of crafting anything such as this.”

He grunted. “Feels good, don’t it?”

She nodded.

“That’s cause making something like that’s difficult.” he explained offhandedly. “Anyone can swing a sword and destroy something. But creating something, that’s hard. It’s what makes it special.”

His observation hit Annallya in a personal area as she thought back on Titan’s and their history of war. Their endless, fruitless battles that bring about nothing but destruction, and very little gain. For what? To satisfy their insatiable need for conflict? The more she thought of it, the more it made her feel empty inside.

“Yes,” she half said to Gaelin, half said to herself. “We Titans seem to do little else but bring about destruction.”

Gaelin, who had finally put his shirt back on paused and turned sternly back towards her. “Now wait a minute, I never sai-”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice matching his in sternness. “You did not say that. I did.”

The sun had long since reached it’s peak in the sky, and was beginning it’s timely descent. Gaelin took note of this as he grabbed a bottle of some kind of drink from beside the tool box. “Probably not enough time to show you anything else now.” he mused while uncorking the bottle. “Best if you head home now.”

Annallya was about to agree, when she remembered what Andrill had said to her. Something about a cold bastard who needed some company. Looking at Gaelin as he was now, he did not seem as though he needed any companionship. In fact the man seemed to do fairly well alone in his hut. If anything it was Annallya who needed some company now. Her world was falling apart at the seams in light of all of these new discoveries. Titans, in all of their grandeur and might, did nothing more than war with each other and kill. Whereas humans, who barely scrape out a living among the trees and animals, spend their days completing work and creating wonders. On top of all of that she was convinced now that Titans kidnap humans from their families. Whether they do so intentionally, or under the belief that they are rescuing them from the wild she did not know. She intended to find out, but for now she wished to remain away from Titans for a little while longer.

“Actually I do not have to return to Thylara for a little while yet.” she explained. “Today is a free day for me, and they will not grow suspicious if I do not arrive home until dusk.”

Gaelin paused with the bottle midway to his lips. He lowered it without having taken a sip and considered her.

It took effort not to blush under his appraising gaze. Her mind racing, she tried to think of a reason to stay. “Would you please show me the dance you were performing earlier.” she blurted out. “I mean . . . not dance, bu-”