Matt dismounted his horse, Arod. He had ridden long and hard, for two days now, but he still had the strength of a lion in him. His leather boots landed simultaneously on the ground with a hard thump, puffing a cloud of dust up. Matthew, or Matt, as his close but dead friends had called him, was no big man, but he did have muscle. Not the bulky, brute muscle upon muscle kind, but fit, and inconspicuous.

             He bent down at a nearby puddle, cupped his hand, and took a drink. He saw his reflection in the rippling water, an ever-moving mirror. Matt never considered himself handsome, but some comments have been made by the stable girls and whores at local taverns. Whether or not this was just a ploy for sex or not eluded him, but he had taken the comments with a sincere smile and a wave of his hand. "Long brown hair," "Ruggedly handsome face" and "wood brown eyes" were among more of the common that he received. "Look at the cock on THAT one!" once yelled a very mead-drowned male. Matt had been wearing his pants at the time, some he dismissed the exclamation.

            He lifted his eyes from the puddle to see a broken branch. It followed to tussled grass, leading to missing tree bark. Leading to a broken oak tree. His prey left a myriad of clues to his presence. Good. The beastie had neither qualms nor pity for the flowers, ground, greenery or trees in its path. Of course, his prey didn't have much to say about anything, nor did it even care: What Matt hunted was the most dangerous creature on earth; a giant.

            He returned to his horse, and grabbed his long bow and quiver, full of heavy steel arrows. Not much damage to giants, but from afar, if one were lucky enough, you could take out and eye or shoot a poisoned arrow into a yawning giant's mouth. On that thought, Matt then sifted through his poke sack, looking for any potential solutions or poisons. Finding none, he went for his main weapon.

            His spear, long, white ash wood with a slender steel blade, sat in its scabbard upon the side of Arod. Crafted by the dwarves, it was one of the finest lances in the land. The thought amused him. A midget making a long spear. Ha, like an ant to a blade of grass. He smiled at the image. No, only the spearhead had been forged by the mountain dwellers. The shaft was made by his people, the Ilicans, who lived above ground. It was a beautiful land, Ilica. Full of trees, lush greenery, wide, ice blue rivers…

            It made him home sick. And who governed such a paradisiacal land? None other than King Noah Ilicain, the twenty second of the bloodline. Noble kings, all of them... except the last. He tied Arod to a tree. He patted the horse's red mane, produced an apple from a tree, and feed it to her. "Good girl." He started to walk in the direction of the carnage, turning back only to yell, "Don't go anywhere!" to his trusty ride.

            While the kings have ample resources and soldiers for defense, sometimes they require a bit of freelance help, in case a dragon, ogre, or giant attacks. In this case, they call a specialist, and the lucky duck this time was he. It was only two days ago, when Matt had visited the king for an audience.

 

--------------------------------------------------------------

          Unblessedly cold in the royal chamber. Not exactly the royal chamber, more like the colonnade, a waiting room. There was a fire on the other side, but frankly, Matt didn't feel like walking over to it. He was, after all, a stubborn son of a bitch. The royal chamber doors opened in a glamorous manner, trumpets and whatnot. There was no one else in the room save Matt and maybe two visible Royal Guard, but still, some no-name in a puffy shirt and grey locks came out of the door before everyone, jogged his way over to Matt, and blew his trumpet in his ear as loud as his lungs would allow.

            Matt stuck his small finger in his ear and twisted it.

"Thank you." He said without emotion.

            Unfazed by Matt's cleverly disguised sarcasm, he continued his dissertation on the Noble King, twenty-first (twenty-second, Matt corrected), er, twenty-second in the noble line of Ilica, Savior of the People, Destroyer of Evil, Law-bringer of the Land, and Personal Envoy to the Gods Themselves.

            Again, but emotionally, "The King is here?" As if on cue, a short stubby man waddled out of the doors and into the enormous white lighted colonnade. It took him a full minute to reach Matt. Either the king was slow, or this room really WAS that huge.

Judging by the king's looks and pot belly, however, chances are that the former was the more likely.

"Welcome, Matthew!" The fat king bellowed. "Welcome to my humble abode."

            Matt bowed, as was customary. He turned his head up, still bowing.

"My dear King, it is an honor." He reached over and kissed the overly flashy ring upon his sausage hands. It almost made him puke. For a King who bathed daily, he still smelled like the hounds.

"Rise, my fellow Ilican. We are friends here." He flashed a toothy, fake smile.

            Matt rose. He only looked at the king, who awaited something. Neither knew what. The king looked like he was thinking hard for a moment, then cheerfully,

"Would you like a drink?" He motioned over to fireplace, where two chairs and a table had materialized. Matt smiled.

"As your Lordship wishes."

            They walked across the cold stone tile together, talking.

"You know, Sir Matthew, I have heard much about your exploits in our land. Fighting all sorts of unimaginable, evil creatures. The guards tell me stories of you wrestling a grizzly brown bear with your bare hands! Is this true?"

            Matt shrugged.

"Well, your Highness, half-true." Matt closed his eyes. "It was a black bear, not a grizzly, and black bears are considerably smaller than their lighter brothers. Yes, I did fight it with my bare hands, however, most people omit the part of my stomach ripping open and…"

            Matt grimaced. He felt like he was back in the hospital, cradling his very innards in his hands. Matt never had a problem with blood, but my Gods, he would live a full and happy life never having to see that again. Many called that day glorious, but of all the people who saw it, the only one who didn’t see the glory was Matt. He sighed. 

"Well, your Majesty, let's leave it at that I had to be bedded at the doctor's for many weeks, sir."

"Gruesome! No doubt you have earned your reputation."

            They arrived at the table setting, and before anyone even moved, the King was allowed to sit. He slumped down heavily into his chair, muttering 'uh-yump' as he sat. Matt sat himself. A butler with a tray of fine wines and ales came out, and set them down. He turned to the king.

"What do you desire my liege?"

            The king sat a moment, thinking.

"Hmmm, what is the finest wine, here today?"

            The oenologist lovingly picked up a very blue bottle, labeled 'Kirbergian 1392.'

"The Kirbergian 1392, My Lord. Laid down two hundred years ago by the wine makers Kirgberg and Sons. A fine vintage, my Lord."

            The king smiled.

"Then by all means, please share."

            He poured a glass for the king, and set it on the table next to him, and in turn the king picked up. The butler then turned to Matt.

"And for you, honored guest? The same?"

            Matt smiled softly and motioned 'no.'

"A glass of ale will do fine, thank you."

            The butler smiled, and grabbed a less fancy bottle, half-full.

"Of course, sir. This is the Thorogood vintage, made only a few weeks ago, but very tasty."

"Sounds great." Matt smiled.

            The butler took out another wine glass, and poured it near the brim, and handed it to Matt. He nodded 'thank you,' and took it. The butler left.

            Matt held up his glass.

"A toast, good king. To you and your reign, may it be fair and just, and may others see you as the prime example."

"Here, here!" They tapped they're glasses, and some of the golden wine spilt, but not the ale.

            The king gulped down the wine, leaving only a little left. He burped rather loudly.

Matt took a sip of the ale, and let it sit in his mouth for a moment.

            It tasted horrible.

            He gulped it down hard, trying not to make a face. Both he and the king sighed.

"Well, my friend!" He said cheerfully. "Let us start our business, shall we?" He set the glass down clumsily, and it fell to the floor, but only Matt's eyes followed it. Some no-name servant came to clean it up.

"You, Sir Matthew, are a choice candidate for the job I am about to give you." He was smug. Matt had the urge to honk his nose for some reason. "According to much of the information I have gathered, you have to date slain nine giants, twelve dragons, seventeen trolls, and several dozen vigilantes. And, to top it off, you have an outstanding military record. You took part in the Crusade of the Gods, did you not? In the far eastern lands?"

"Yes, your majesty, I did."

            He remembered the cries of children being stabbed, the screams of women and men being burned at the stake alive. As signs of their devotion to the Gods, some of the soldiers ate the hearts of the roasted. To this day he hears the screams and cries in his dreams. He took another sip of his ale.

            It tasted of blood.

"Tell me about your most recent giant slaying."

            Matt took a breath.

"The last time I slew a giant was about a month ago. I was on a contract for the village in the Ordenia province in southern Ilica. A giant had been terrorizing them lately; stealing cattle, pigs, sometimes women and small children."

"How much did they pay you for this contract?"

"About two hundred gold, my Lord."

"Two hundred gold?!" The King gasped dramatically. "Why so little? Was it a small giant? Surely they could have given you more…"

"The taxmen in the area had been over-fining them, as they put it, sir."

"Nonsense!" He huffed. The wine droplets on his brown curly beard shivered. "Our taxmen are the fairest that have ever been in the land…"

"Yes, my Lord..." He thought about his mother, who a taxman had once struck his mother in the face because she had no money.

"Fair indeed, my Lord…"

"Anyhow, tell me how you slew the beast."

"Based on the tips from the villagers, I tracked the giant to a cave nearby. I entered it, and worked slowly in. There the giant was, roasting skewered cattle on a spit. There were not sign of the women of the children."

"And how did you slay him? Tell me more!"

            Matt sighed, and played with a lock of his brown hair.

"By the time the giant noticed me, I was already firing arrows at it, but it wasn't working. As it tired to crush me, I stabbed at his ankles with my spear. Once there was enough pain, he tripped, and fell on his own spit. While he was down, I ran to his head and speared him in the temple. He died shortly thereafter, my Lord."

            The king was fascinated.

"Amazing!" He marveled. "You are truly a hero, worth of songs and ballads!"

            Matt shook his head.

"That giant died on accident-

"Nonsense!" The king cried. "You are a fine hero, and now I am as sure as the Earth that I want you to eradicate my problem."

            Matt held his own hands between his legs and bowed his head down low.

"What would you have me do?"

            The king smiled again, smugly, like a serpent.

"A giant has been spotted near our city borders. I want you to track it down and eliminate it."

"What has it attacked?"

"Nothing."

            Matt looked up.

"Nothing, sir?"

"Yes. It seems pre-emptive, however, I want it nipped in the bud before anything happens."

"But, my liege, giants attack exclusively those weaker than them. If he sees that you have a grand army, he is surely not to attack, otherwise he would have. He is threatened, my Lord; afraid of your power. There's no need to kill a non-hostile…"

"I said 'I want him dead.'" His smile was gone. "You will do this. This is not a contract, sir Matthew; this is recruitment. You will do this, or you will die."

            Matthew sighed. He should have known. He'd been around royalty long enough to know that they offer you ale and close the gates behind you. Godsdammed nobles…

"And if I complete the job?"

            The smile returned to the Kings fat face.

"You will be rewarded handsomely."

            It looked like he didn’t have much of a choice. Kill or die. After a moment:

"Alright, I'll do it." He sighed.

            The king clapped his hands.

"Excellent! You will be provided with information by my guard."

            On cue, a guard in silver armor took Matt by the arm, and yanked him up hard. As he was led away, the King called out,

"Goodbye, my friend! And good hunting!"

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

            Matt stopped walking. He heard a roar. Like a lion, but constant, everlasting. A waterfall. Maybe the giant stopped for a drink? Soon he'd find out. Tightening the grip on his spear, he sneak-jogged over to a bush to move in on the beast.

 

            Rocky Falls. A circular pool, nearly one hundred feet in diameter and fifty feet deep. A choice resting spot for many a traveler, but an ever better drinking fountain for a monster. Matt peeked out from under the bushes, but saw nothing. A groove of trees was in the way of a clear view of the waterfall. Inch by inch, he crawled. Until finally, he saw something: cloth.

                        Lots of it. A monstrous pile. At first Matthew had no idea. Until it dawned on him like falling out of a cot: this giant was naked. Bathing, probably. Matt pondered about just how many stolen bed sheets it took clothe such a beast. No matter. Decent or not, the monster was going to die. But here was the million gold piece question: How? One lone spearman versus a being a hundred feet tall? No, not good chances, even for a 'hero' like Matthew.

            He peered around. The area was mostly thick trees and branches, but a small trail led up to, wouldn't you know it, a small hill, about fifty feet tall. Here, when the giant would try and grab for him, he would stab his hand. From there, the giant would anger, making his movements predictable. Then, he'd make a mistake, and an opportunity would arise, letting Matthew go in for the kill. Works every time. Matthew mused.

            But how to lure the giant to the hill? An arrow would do. Wouldn’t kill him, but it would certainly piss him off. Matt crawled towards the waterfall's roar, and then, he saw him.

            A HUGE figure, bare-skinned and moist, bathed in the water. He could only see the back, but that was enough. It doesn't matter how they look, they all died the same way for Matt. This one had long red hair, long enough to be ten or fifteen paces if laid upon the ground. A slender hand ran through the monstrous mop, releasing excess water, splashing on the ground noisily. It reminded Matt of the whores who cooed and coddled him for a night in bed, for a small sum of gold of course. For a giant, he had nice hair.

            Matt drew an arrow, and nocked it on the string. His fingers brushed through the feather vanes, a rough sparrow top feather. He needed to get a feel for the arrow, like most archers did. He drew the string back. Not a long shot; about fifty yards. Wind was blowing slightly from the north, so he aimed the arrow an inch to the left. He eased his grip every so slightly…

            Fwip. Zing. Thwang. Guuuung. Or whatever onomatopoeia you'd like to use, the arrow flew, and found its mark.

            Matthew didn’t have time to hear the scream and curses that followed; by the time the arrow had hit, was already on his feet and sprinting to the hill. He didn’t have much time; giant strides covered, well, a giant distance. If he wasn't careful, he could end up crushed.

            He heard the monster's footsteps behind him. Not good. He was quicker than usual. He had only a few more sec- his foot caught a rock, and he fell with the same speed of his sprint. The last thing he saw was a hideously large rock dominate his view and then his forehead smack said rock.

            Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled, and lightning struck his leg…

            Matt finally came to. How many hours had he been out? He had no idea. He tried to move his leg, but to no avail. Opening his eyes, he saw a boulder on top of his leg. Horror struck him in the gut: where was the giant? He didn't recall this happening, must have crushed him while he was out. He sat up, grunting and gnashing his teeth in pain. He looked around for his weapons: the quiver was still on him, but some of the arrows had strewn about. The bow was crushed under the rock. Dammit! He cursed the Gods. Took me days to make that thing.  His spear, however, was twenty feet away from him. He felt naked; this was the furthest he'd been from it in a while. But, first thing was first: he needed to get out from under the large rock.

            First he tried to pull his leg out from under it: painful, and he heard some of the skin ripping. He couldn’t risk losing it; if he did, he might as well have killed himself. Next, he tried to actually push the boulder off. The boulder was nearly 3 times his size. He pushed as hard as his body would allow, screaming as he did. It budged only a fraction of an inch.

            Dammit! He had no idea what to do. Was this the end for him? To fight one glorious battle after another only to succumb to the greatest yet most passive enemy of all: the Earth herself? He was astounded, but only for a moment, until he heard a low growl. He jerked his head to the side, ignoring the pain. A large brown bear was approaching, hungry and eager for an easy snack. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance.

            Oh, shit. Matthew scrambled for something, anything that he could use as a weapon. The arrows! He still had some in his quiver. They wouldn’t kill the bear, but they might scare him off after a stab or two in the face. The thunder continued. Must be a storm coming. The bear continued approach. Tilting his head back and forth and foaming at the mouth. 'Food' it seemed to roar. Matt readied the arrows. "Come and get it, beast!" He snarled. The bear raised himself onto his hind legs.

            Lightning struck, and the earth shook like it was on a string in a wind storm. The bear disintegrated in a flash of red, and something warm and wet hit Matthew, and he shielded his face.

            When the ground did stop shaking, he lowered his hand and saw… a foot?

Around the foot was a puddle of red and fur, some clinging to the sides of it, and splashes of red. Between the monstrous toes each the size of a large anvil, some of the gore had seeped up. "Disgusting…" Matthew said in awe. Then it dawn on him.

            His eyes shot up, from the feet, to the knees, to the thighs where they merged into… something he did not expect. This is no giant… he thought. Against his will, the eyes continued, up the stomach to hut-sized….

            Yes, breasts.

I didn’t think they existed! Matt's heart raced: a new discovery! He would be hailed as the hunter who found a female giant… a giantess.

            His thoughts stopped as he heard a booming voice:

"Aww, dammit! I just bathed too!"

Matt's eyes rose once more to a young looking face of a beautiful girl, with long red hair. Was this the same giant he had shot an arrow at the Rocky Falls? He a short pang of guilt-

            Wait. He stopped. She's still a giant. A terrorizer of Ilica. She still a monster. Matt's face once more returned to the stern killer that he always was. He looked back up to her face, this time with disgust. He was about to yell when he felt sleepy.

Oh no.

            He looked to his leg, and saw blood pouring out. No. Anymore and I'll…

Too late. He passed out. The last thing he heard was a melodic, feminine thunder,

"My gods, is that a…"

 

            It smelled. But like what? Matt didn't know. He groaned. What happened? What a nightmare.

Okay, let's start with moving.

            He moved his arms, so they were ok. Next was his left leg… yup, that checked out too. Next his right leg… right leg… right leg, where are you… right leg?

            Matt cursed the Gods.

This can't be happening.

            Against all natural instinct he had to just lay there and die, he slowly opened his eyes, in what felt like the toughest motion he had ever had to make. Brown was what he saw. Just brown. He positioned his arms to piston himself up, like a push up, and leveled his head with the ground. He didn't see much, just a large fire in the distance. The room was almost like a strobe light, until he realized that trees were all around him… wait, not trees. Wooden bars. The strength in his arms gave, and he fell with a splat onto his face.

He was in a birdcage.

            Was this what it amounted to? Years of contracted killing of giants and beasts of all kinds…. To end up in a cage, helpless with a broken leg?  Wonderful. How cruel the Gods could be. To a woman no less! The fact that she was thirty times his height didn't dilute the pain. Shame!

            Matt was about to bite his own tongue when he heard a soft humming. He looked up, and saw the giantess walk into the room. She had something in her hand, something that wriggled. She walked over to the fire that Matt had seen when he first woke up, and he realized it was a stove: a giant, mud-built stove. Maybe giants weren't such mindless brutes after all…

Yeah, right.

            How sophisticated were they when they ate his village? Crushed his family? Took the village girls to their caves and did Gods know what to them? Truth was, they were killers; it didn't matter if one was lucky enough to figure out how to cook Ilicans more effectively. They would die just the same.

            As if right on cue, the red-headed giantess pulled a knife from the countertop and a squeal was heard when the knife came back down.

Not human… then what?

            Again, on cue, a wyvern head was discarded to the ground. Its tongue poked out in protest. Wyvern stew, he guessed.

            He tried to get up. Once more, he pistoned his arms, and pushed the rest of him up with his left leg, trying not to move his right. Ever so lightly, he began to shift his weight to his right leg. But at first pressure, an unholy pang shot up it and he fell over with a thud and (tried as he might to muffle it) a 'Gah!'

            The giantess looked over. She smiled in delight.

"You're awake! Great. Didn't think you'd make it there for a second, little one."

            She sauntered over, her footsteps shaking the cage slightly. In height, it stood about to her stomach, so she had to lean over a bit. Her enormous face filled Matt's vision.

"I'm so glad you're awake! You slept for days. You lost lots of blood. You Ilicans have no blood volume, you know that? Jeez, poke a hole in you and you bleed out in five minutes!"

            She laughed, and Matt had to cover his ears, and she saw this.

"Oops! Sorry," she said overly quiet. "I keep forgetting that my voice is like thunder to you."

            She stood there for a moment, like she was thinking. Matthew finally got a long look on the face of this monster:

            Her face was nice, for a monster. Somewhat thin face, short nose with a tip that descended her nostrils, and green eyes that were the size of two of Matt's heads. When she smiled, a perfectly aligned, white set of teeth were borne. Her cheeks folded, and curved lines appeared on either side of her mouth, like a set of lips inside a set of parenthesis. Her lips were full, supple looking, and pink. They were… well, Matt thought they looked nice. A part of his heart (and another part) throbbed for them.

Nonsense! Not for a monster, a beast!

            He returned to his killer's eyes. He scowled like wolf. Completely emotionless.

She noticed.

"What's wrong, little'un? You okay?"

            She moved her head in closer for a look. Matt shuffled back.

"Stay away! I don’t need your help." He scowled.

            She seemed to ponder this, then laughed.

"Come on, really. I'm not like that…"

            Her hand began towards the cage, and Matt stood up, fighting the pain.

"I said stay away! I'm not going to be your prisoner. Just release me or kill me already."

            He clenched his fists, gritted his teeth. He was never more scared in his life. The giantess sighed.

"Gods, you're all the same."

            The smile left her face, and something like disappointment took its place. She got up, and looked down with her hands on her hips.

"Has it ever occurred in your feeble mind that some of us are actually not killers?"

            Matt laughed.

"Please. If there was any kind bone in any giant's body, I wouldn't be paid gold to kill them, would I?" He smirked/scowled.

            She rolled her eyes, turned her back and walked back to the stove. She waved a hand in the air and sighed once again. She'd give up, for the moment. Matthew wondered what the hitch was. Maybe she'd crush him in his sleep. If I even sleep. Or maybe he was a side dish for that stew. Either way, this was probably the end.

            He sat down; nothing to do now but wait. If something did happen, he'd want all his strength for when it came. He had to sleep. He backed up to the side of the cage and drooped his head down. His last thought before reaching into the confines of sleep (and soon enough, he'd be entering the domain of Sleep's sister, Death) was

That soup smells nice.

 

 

            Matthew awoke with a start: the cage was moving, rumbling. It took only a second to get his bearings, and a conclusion followed not a second after: She was going to kill him.

            He opened his eyes to a swinging world, back and forth. Behind, he was a wall of cloth. She was carrying him. He started to feel something in his stomach…

            Matt had always liked sailing on ships, but his stomach preferred not to agree with him. Every time he traveled by merchant vessel, he could always be seen at the side, head below his arms.

            The giantess set the cage on the table, and went off to the stove. In the cabinet, she fetched crude versions of a bowl, a plate, and a spoon. She came back, set them on the table, and went off into another room.

This is it. Matt thought.

This is where I meet my fate… at the dinner table of a really tall girl...

            But he couldn't give up hope. Not yet, he wouldn't die without at least trying to escape.

            She had to release him for a short time, right? Between the cage and her mouth, there must be time to make a break for it. Matthew thought about it… Yes… it could work. Unlikely, but somehow feasible. It would hurt like hell to run with a broken leg, but he endured worse. He once fought for three days with an arrow head stuck in his back.

            The giantess returned, and she was carrying a pitcher with what could only be assumed was mead and a small box.

Carving kit, probably.

            She set them down, and began to unlock the cage's top. This was it. A huge, slender hand descended upon him, and… nothing. The hand set beside Matthew, palm up, like a platform. Matt's mouth opened slightly.

            A moment passed.

"Well?" Her feminine voice boomed. "Aren’t you going to climb on? Again, I'm not going to hurt you… unless you want me to." She smiled.

            Matt looked up at her. Reluctantly, he stepped onto the enormous hand. Gently, it rose, until it was out of the cage. Then, the descent was a bit quicker, until she brought him next to the box. Slowly, she turned her hand over and Matt slide down onto his bum.

            She smiled again.

"Not too hard, I suppose? See? You CAN trust me. Besides… you humans taste terrible… er, so I hear."

            She turned her attention to the small box, and then Matt knew it was time: He made a break for the edge of the table. With all his might, he jumped up, and began to curl himself up into a ball, so he would roll on the ground. It was a steep fall, but just maybe he wou-

            A hand caught him. He was lifted up very quickly that his stomach jerked, and the hand closed tightly around him. She brought him up to her face.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

            She huffed. Matt was reminded of the women back home.

"What's your problem? Do you have a death wish or something? What in the name of the Gods possessed you to do that?!"

            She set him on the table, slightly harder this time. She folded her arms and gazed at him, demanding an answer.

            Matthew stood up, brushed the dust off, hands on his hips and said,

"Death is better company than a monster, monster."

            She made a face, something between disgust and surprise.

"Oh, come OFF of it! Gods, you actually believe that load of fodder that they shovel into you head about giants, don’t you? That we’re 'such killers and that the Gods need us dead,' right?" She flailed her arms in the air, emphasis of the quotation. "Gods…"

            She got up from her chair, shuffled her feet a bit, folded her arms, and then looked back down at him.

"Gods, I show you hospitality in my own home, and you throw it in my face just because I'm different than you… Why are you Ilicans such masochistic pigs?! Are ALL of you like this, or do I just get the special treatment? My Gods…"

Matt was tired. So the next sentence didn’t have as much ferocity, but he still needed to establish who was boss.

"Listen, giant, I don’t need your hospitality, witchcraft or your other-"

Two giant hands slammed on the table, knocking him down. He looked up and saw a enormous face not two feet away from his own. Hot yet sweet breath filled his nostrils.

"My name is NOT 'Giant,' 'Beast,' or 'Monster,' you tiny bug of a twit!! It's AMELIA! GOT IT?! AMELIA!!"

             She bared her white teeth. She was breathing heavily now; her red hair was in disarray and some came down past her face. Matthew could have grabbed on and climbed up, had he not been on the ground. Tears started to fill her eyes. The scowl turned into disappointment, and then into sadness. She slumped back into her chair, and put her eyes in her hands. Then she did something that Matthew never expected from anyone her size: She began to sob.

            Matthew usually never had pity for anyone, especially giants. He had ended many of their males with a terror in their eyes that no one should ever have to see. Up until now, Matt had always assumed it was… well, the pain of defeat. But this time, it was different.

            His heart ached. First he thought it was fatigue, but no, it was an honest-to-gods feeling, to which he knew was true: He felt sorry for his actions he had made against this giant girl. He made her cry… a giant, cry! He never thought he'd see it.

            He did something he never should have done, but it seemed right in his heart.

"Gi… Amelia…I… I'm sorry."

            She looked up. Her face was red like her hair and her eyes were water logged.

"Wuh-what?" She stammered.

            Matthew shifted. It was harder saying it the second time. A bit louder,

"I… I'm sorry, Ms. Amelia."

            They both sat there, looking at each other's eyes for a moment.

 

Matt's leg was broken. Well, to be more specific, his right tibia was broken, fractured partially. Not a horrible life threatening wound, but it wouldn't grow back properly if one didn't put a cast on it.
"Amelia."
"…Yes?"
"Do you have any rope… er, well, I suppose it would be string to you…"
Amelia was sitting at the table with her chin in her arms. She watched Matthew wrap two wooden rods and cloth around his leg with a bored, mildly neglectful interest, like one watches a soup or water boil. Marks and tear stains were still present below her eyes, a testament to sorrow. Every now and then, she would sniffle. This wouldn’t have been a problem, but to Matt, it seemed like a vacuum of air. Every time it happened, he would look up sharply wide-eyed, and drop his hand down to the ground near him, grabbing for a spear that wasn't there. "Sorry" Amelia would say when she did.
"Oh, string? Ummm. Yes, I do…"
She got up and rummaged through the box that she had brought out earlier. After a second, she a-ha'd softly, and handed the spool of sting to Matt. It was pink.
"Thanks."
She returned to her spot, chin in arms. After finding a sufficient amount to wrap around the stint, he tried to rip the string apart, to no avail. He looked to Amelia again.
"Amelia…?"
"…Yes?"
"Do you… have…"
He held up the string. Amelia looked puzzled. After a second,
"Oh… yes."
She plucked both the spool and the allotted amount away from Matt, and brought it up to her face. Finding a suitable spot, she put it in her mouth, and with nibble, she cut the string apart. He bit his own lip. Wow. Matt realized that could have easily been him, and decided it was best that it was not. She handed the cut string to Matthew.
"Here ya go." She gave a wry smile.
Matt took it. He just stared back up.
"Thanks… Amelia."
He returned to his work. The string was wrapped around the make-shift cast a few times, then tied off tightly. He brushed his hands on one another, folded them, then sat down. After a few seconds of idle looking around, he turned his eyes to his giantess host.
While he did prefer human, normal sized girls (he actually preferred ones that were slightly smaller than him), looking at Amelia, she was kind of… well, pretty. For a giant, anyways.
Fully dried and combed, her hair came down to about her shoulders. It was long and silky-looking; you could probably weave shirts out of it. Her face was fair-skinned. A tad lighter than some of the farmer girls he met, but that was probably from living in a cave. She had a nicely-shaped face, not too oval, but not too round, either. Her nose was shapely; slender, kind of long, and the tip of it was a bit lower than her wide nostrils. Below was her mouth. About the width from corner to corner was from the center of each eye. Then there were her lips. Puffy and bee-stung came to mind. Above even her nose were her eyes: lighter green, and almond shaped. There was something about her eyes that Matt couldn't place. Something… decent. Something… pure, maybe.
Not a killer's eyes…
Or maybe she was hiding it well.
Then again, do killers sob and cry?
Maybe.
"What are you looking at?" She asked. The question caught Matt off-guard. He blinked, like coming out of a trance.
"Oh…um…"
He looked down, then up.
"Nothing."
She smiled and blushed.
"Right…" She said. "Whatever you say.
Then she giggled. Matt cocked his eyebrow then his head.
"So…" She began. She set her chin in her arms again and set both of her head-sized eyes on Matt.
"What's your name?"
"What?"
"Your name. All humans have one, don’t they?"
"Well, yeah, but…"
"Then what is it?" She raised her brow.
"It's… Matthew. Or Matt, for short."
"I see." She considered this. "Well then, little Matt, let me be the first to welcome you to my humble abode." She raised her arms and looked around. "It's not much, but it’s home for me." She gave another wry smile. "Must look like trash to you humans, huh? I've seen some of the mansions you guys live in." She set her chin back in her arms. "Mmm… must be nice."
She looked at her with a cocked eyebrow.
"Mansions? Hahahaha…." He laughed softly. "Truth is, most of us Ilicans do not live in mansions. In fact, most of us live in small cottages, smaller then the cage."
His face turned grave.
"The nobility and royalty of the kingdom collect a lot of taxes. Most of us eek out a living farming, or if we're lucky, selling wares. My father, he…"
He stopped, and sighed. "Well, what do you care. Or anyone, for that matter."
"I'm sorry, Matt." Amelia gave sympathy eyes, and a chord in Matt's heart snapped. Gods, the eyes.
"It's fine." He got up, and started to pace… well, limp pace.
"You know, you're unlike any giant I've met."
"Izzat so…?" She smirked, then shrugged. "Well, I do take pride in myself. But how am I different?"
"Well…" Matthew started. He shuffled his feet for a second. "You haven't eaten or crushed me yet." He seemed to look uneasy, like he just reminded her that that's what giants do.
But instead, she smiled.
"That's right, I thought you'd notice soon enough…"
She set her head down on her hands, propped by her elbows.
"I can definitely understand that, little Matt… we giants do have a reputation for not being the cleanest of eaters." She laid her hand down beside Matt, prompting him to get on, and he did. She brought him up to her face, still smiling.
"You know, I guess I really just don’t have an appetite for you guys. Besides you taste horrible..." She thought about that last phrase. "Or, so my friends tell me." She gave a smile like she was sorry. "Besides, you never ever bathe! That's really gross. Would you eat a dog that was dirty?"
Matt did a double take at that.
"Amelia, we don't eat dogs." He smiled.
"Really?! I didn’t know that… guess I have a lot more to learn." She giggled, and Matt laughed. Not a short or breath, but an honest-to-Gods laugh.
"A-ha! So you can laugh…"
"What?"
"You laughed. Honestly this time."
"What do you mean?"
The smile left her face, and she looked concerned.
"Well, you always look so serious. Like you're never happy. You look like… well…"
"A killer?" Matt finished, and Amelia gasped lightly in surprise.
"Um.. n-no…"
"Yes, I do."
"No you're not!"
"Yes, Amelia, I'm a killer. I kill for a living… I have killed lots of giants… so please don’t deny me of the only thing that I am." The voice was as cold as ice, and it made Amelia shiver.
Matt sighed, and looked away. Maybe that was too harsh, he thought. Matt was never much of the caring type. Seeing your friends and family die will do that to someone.
They stood there in a moment of silence, Amelia holding him, and Matt sitting down in her desk-sized palm.
"Amelia… do you have plans for me? Or…"
"Do you want to leave?"
"Well, I need to. I need to go back and tell the king of the… situation."
"What then?"
He took a moment to respond. He then looked up at her, with something that was a little less then solemn eyes.
"I don't know."
Again, horrid silence. Then,
"Where's my spear?"

"Here it is!"

Matt beheld the box.

"Here's what?"

            She looked down at him for split-second, then,

"Oh!" She hurriedly took off the top of the box, and set it aside carefully. "You see, little Matt, I collect Ilican things. I think I have a pretty big collection so far…"

She dug her hands in, and pulled out a smaller box that was labeled in ink 'weapons.'

She set it before Matt, and opened it. Inside were meticulously labeled tools of combat: swords, knives, bows, axes, spears…. And even some weapons Matt didn't even recognize.

"Ah. Here it is…" He jumped up into the box, careful to avoid cutting his feet, and grabbed a white ashen polearm; his spear.

"It's a nice spear… I put it in here as soon as I found it. Truthfully, I didn’t think you were going to make it, soooo… hahaha…" She gave an even wryer smile than any other before. "Guess I was wrong."

Matt smiled and gave a single laugh.

"Yeah, I suppose so. I'm just glad you found it."

            He jumped back down, and inspected it… just as he left it. He went into a fighting pose, spear pointed out. For an entire minute, he went into a trained routine of thrusts and parries, using the spear more as a bo staff than an actually spear. The, he tossed the spear up, caught it spearhead down, and threw it. It whistled as it flew, and struck the box with a thud, sticking and vibrating slightly. Amelia clapped, softly.

"Wow... that's amazing! I've never seen someone that good with human weapon… you could easily beat the royal guard…"

            Matt laughed in his mind. You have no idea, Amelia. On the outside smiled and shrugged, arms up.

"The royal guards are brave and skilled men in their own realm." Amelia laughed at that. She was pretty sharp…. For a giant. He turned back to his hostess.

"So. What else have you 'acquired' in that box of yours?"

            She smiled at him.

"Well…" She said drawn out as she rummaged through the box.

"Clothes… furniture… toys… money… aaaaaand… miscellaneous."

            He cocked an eyebrow.

"Miscellaneous? What's in there?" He walked over to yank out the spear.

            She put a finger to her chin, eyes to the roof.

"You know, I'm not sure." She took out the box labeled (you guessed it) miscellaneous, and set it down. Matt opened it up, eyes taking in the glorious treasures of a packrat.

"So?" Amelia inquired. "What's inside? It's been ages since I looked…"

            Matt began to rummage inside, taking out what he found interesting.

"Hmm… spoons…cups… some hay… some old manuscripts… a flattening iron… a compass… and… hey, a stringscop."

"A stingstop?" She looked puzzled. "What's a stingstop? Some kind of leaf?"
            She involuntarily scratched her neck. Matt was utterly amused by this.

"No, a stringscop. It's a musical instrument." He held it up at arms length. The body was leaf shaped box, with a hole in the center. Protruding of the smaller end of the leaf-box, a sectioned stalk, and at the end, a place where the strings would be held. Across the entire instrument, seven strings were stretched over the hole and the stalk.

"Ooooh… so, what's it do?" She was sitting now, arms folded with intent.

"Well," Said Matt, "It's used for entertainment. You could usually see one with a singer in a tavern or mead hall. Some of them are pretty good, but other times, they get kicked out."

"Harsh."

"Yeah. We Ilicans are raggedy bastards."

            Amelia laughed, but tried to cover it up, not trying to be rude. Matt started to tune the thing.

"So, um… do you play, Matt?"

            He continued for a second, then glanced up, then, "Oh, uh… yeah, I do. Just a bit

though."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Can you play something right now?"

            He hesitated.

"I dunno… I'm pretty rusty."

"Oh please…"

"No, really. Hahaha…"

"Ok, then, I demand it, as your hostess."
"Hostess? More like prison warden." Laughter.

"Ok, then…"

            She lowered her hand, and made a cage over Matt.

"Play a song, or I'll squish ya!"

"Ah, you wouldn’t." Matt still kept his cool demeanor, and didn't stop tuning.

            After a second,

"Yeah… I'm too nice I guess." She smiled at him, and he retracted her hand.

            He sat there a moment, still tuning.

"Alright, then."

            He sat down, and put the stringscop on its side in his lap. Positioning his hands, he looked up at her.

"I heard this in a tavern once, played by four wandering bards."

"A group of bards? Did they have a name?"

            He thought for a moment.

"I forget. The Deaf Guards or something. They were really good, anyways."

            His hands started to pick the first strings, lightly.

"Oh! This tale is called 'Skalds and Shadows.'"

            He began to play. A beautiful melody accompanied by a warm voice came into her ears, one that soothed her and for once in a long time, her heart was calm.

 

            Would you believe
            In a night like this?
            A night like this,
            When visions come true?
            Would you believe
            In a tale like this?
            A lay of bliss,
            We're praising the old lore…
            Come to the blazing fire, and
            See me in the Shadows!
            See me in the Shadows!

            Songs I will sing,
            Of runes and rings;
            Just hand me my harp:
            This night
            Turns into myth!
            Nothing seems real;
            You soon will feel,
            The World we live in
            Is another skald's
            Dream in the shadows!
            Dream in the shadows!

            Do you believe
            There is sense in it?
            Is it truth or myth?
            They're one in my rhymes.
            Nobody knows
            The meaning behind
            The weaver's line
            Well, nobody else;
            But the Norns can
            See through
            The blazing fires of time, and
            All things will proceed as the
            Child of the hallowed
            Will speak to you now…
            See me in the Shadows!
            See me in the Shadows!

            Songs I will sing,
            Of tribes and kings;
            The carrion bird,
            And the hall of the slain.
            Nothing seems real,
            You soon will feel:
            The World we live in
            Is another skald's
            Dream in the shadows!
            Dream in the shadows!

            Do not fear for my reason,
            There's nothing to hide:
            How bitter your treason,
            How bitter the lie.
            Remember the runes,
            And remember the light…
            All I ever want
            Is to be at you side!
            We'll  gladden the raven,
            Now I will
            Run through the blazing fires,
            That's my choice!
            'Cause things
            Shall proceed as foreseen!

 

            Matt set down the stringscop, and looked back up at Amelia. A look of pure serenity was on her face. She was sitting with one hand under her head, smiling.

            He snapped his fingers,

"Blind Guardian! That's who wrote the tale…"

            It was then, she realized, after the heavenly and mystical bard song, that she was in love with Matt, the tiny Ilican.

 

Matt's Tale: Return to Rocky Falls

"Are you sure you need to go alone?" Amelia held her hands in a way that looked to Matt like a concerned wife or mother. The look on her face pained Matt, but he knew he couldn’t be seen with her, it was too risky. What happened if they came across a scouting party? With her pacifist nature, and Matt's bum leg, he couldn't risk getting her hurt.

            He repeated that sentence to himself. Why did it sound so wrong, but oh-so-right at the same time? He pushed the thought aside, determined to resolve it later.

"Yes, Amelia, I'm sorry." He gave a half smile/frown.

"But what about bears or wolves? You could get hurt!"

            Matt stopped and gave her a look like Are you soft in the head? It passed, luckily, along with the smartalec comment that would have made her cry. She was a pretty sensitive girl, Matt had to admit…

"Don't worry." He held up his spear. "My walking stick happens to be very deadly." He smirked.

            She hesitated for a moment, then,

"Ok, fine… just come back unharmed, ok?"

            He smiled.

"Of course, my lady." He gave a small bow, then off he walked.

 

 

 

            Eight hours into the journey, Matt's leg was shaking in pain. Dammit! Didn’t think the wound was this bad… He suddenly regretted that he wasn't in Amelia's palm, taking the sights in as she walked in giant strides through the forest.

            But alas, here he was: at the edge of Rocky Falls. He paused a moment to take a sip of the cool water, and his fatigue faded, but only a little. It was a twenty minute pace from here to where he had left Arod, but with the leg it would probably take at least thirty. For the last of his trip, he wanted all his strength, so he sat for a moment.

            Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know why he didn’t see the signs in the first place: when he first laid eyes on her, she was huge, but now looking back, she did have a slender figure. And her hands, too. When she stroked her hair in the water, he didn't see any bulging muscles, which giants usually have… hey, it's like strength training, lifting up castles and trees. He thought about the arrow. It struck a nerve, thinking about it; he'd never harmed a woman before, except for that one incident, with the beer and the crazy lady who decided she was in love with him and fell on his spear, pointy-side first. Matt had to clean up the remains in the bar, messy messy. Matt wondered if Amelia had bled much… he hoped not.

            He got up, and resumed his journey. Following the still destroyed path, he found the spot where he tied his horse down… but no horse. The rope was there, but no horse, and the rope would be harder to mount and ride back to Amelia's abode. (Ba-dum-pish)

            He bent over to inspect the rope: it was still whole, no ripping, cutting, or biting was notable, so that meant one thing: thievery.

"Dammit!" Matt yelled aloud. He kicked a rock with his right foot, and then cradled it, cursing the Gods.

"Dammit… that's five years of obedience training down the drain."

            He picked up the rope, wrapped it up around his arms, and started back, when he heard leaves crunch.

Human. He didn't think it at first: when he had originally heard it, he thought it was a rabbit or something. Whoever this person was, he was experienced, and didn't want to be heard.

"What do you want?" Matt called without looking backwards.

            The man stopped walking.

"O-ho! So, you are very sharp… the rumors of your hunting abilities are true, then…"

            Matt turned around, seeing a man in silver-colored armor, a royal guard, maybe a captain. His face was surrounded by long, wavy black hair, and at the bottom was a black goatee and pointy mustache. His eyes were not pure.

            He's killed many…

"Mister… Matthew, is it not?" He took a step forward, arms upturned to show no mal intent. The sword at his side had a gold hilt, and was considerable long.

"I am." Matthew said in a business kind of tone. "And you are, traveler?"

"I am Sir Richard Sturgis, or Sir Rich for short. I am a captain of the royal guard, and envoy of the illustrious King Ilicain."

            Matthew bowed.

"I am pleased to make thy acquaintance, Sir Richard." He said in formalized but fake tone.  "What brings you to my humble wood?"

Sir Richard raised his hand, motioned Matt to rise. "Well, Mr. Matthew, the calling that brings me to the wild is yourself, in truth."

"What would you have of me?"

He started to circle Matt.

"It has come to the King's attention that… well, that you have not been doing your job."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Matthew," His voice tensed in anger, like one explaining something to a stupid child. "that the monster, for which you were given a large sum of gold, has not yet been slain."

            Matt turned to him.

"But my lord, it's only been a few days!" He shifted nervously, but just a bit.

"These things take time. If I rushed things, I wouldn't alive now."

"Hmm."

"I've been researching he- him." Matt almost let that one slip.

"Reconnaissance takes time, and this giant is cunning."

            Richard came over to him, and bent over to his right leg.

"Sir Matthew, I have been on plenty of reconnaissance jobs myself, and I can tell you with absolute certainty; I have never heard of anyone breaking their leg during watching something."

            He had Matt cornered. The only thing left was to tell the truth.

"The giant: I was traveling at his heels when he shifted, and started to walk back towards me. I came to a rock wall, and sought to take cover, but the giant's footfalls where so great that a stone fell down and landed on my leg. I am blessed with luck that the giant didn't see me."

            Sir Richard eyed him wearily, almost knowingly.

"Really. Hmm. And I supposed after you bandaged up your leg, you took pink rope out and tied it around…?"

            Matt flinched, but barely.

"My blood stained the rope."

            Sir Richard half smiled. His mustache moved with it. It took a lot of self-control not for Matt to reach over and tear it off. A moment passed, Sir Richard just staring.

"Very well… I will report this to the King. He will not be pleased, but I will slake his bloodlust with tales of your heroic injury of progress. Fare thee well."

            He started to walk away. Matt bowed once more.

"And Matthew! The King does not tolerate failure. Fail again, and I'll draw and quarter you myself." He shot Matt the evil eye. He snarled.

 "I hate your kind. A peasant doing a knight's job. Your kind shouldn't even be able to hold a weapon."

            Matt returned the looked, somewhat softened.

"Your word is law… Sir Dick."

"What did you say?!"

"Your - word - is - law - Sir - Rich!"

            For a second, Richard looked at him, then "Hmm!" He started to walk away, when he called,

"Squire! Bring the beast!"

            Out of nowhere, a small blonde boy with two ropes guiding horses came out of the woodwork. One of them was Arod.

"Your monster tried to rape my pure animal," Said Sir Richard. "Take your whore of an animal and go."

            The boy released Arod, and she trotted over Matt, nudging him. Sir Richard mounted his own horse, and rode off into the forest, young boy trailing behind. Once they were both out of sight,

"Atta girl, Arod! You really showed that noble pony whose boss, huh?"

            He patted her nose, and she whined in approval. He slowly readied himself to mount his horse, when Arod herself knelt. She had never done that. Surprised, but thankful, he tossed his good leg over her.

"You are a magnificent beast, girl. Come on, let’s go meet Amelia."

            They rode off into the opposite forest.

 

 

 

Amelia's Tale: Meads and Dreams

 

            Amelia sat at the table, doing nothing. Every once in a while she would rap her fingers upon the table noisily. Rap. Rap. Rap.

This isn't helping.

            So she got up, and went to the kitchen.

"I wonder…" She said to no one in particular. She walked over to the pantry, the stone cold on her bare feet as she walked. Opened, the pantry didn't have much of a dining selection: mostly spices, herbs, some wheat meal, and… success! A bottle of honey mead.

            She picked it up and inspected it. Stepphenbrandy, 1429. A good year…. Or so her parents had said. Her parents… She suddenly felt homesick. She sighed.

            Taking a large pewter mug, she sat back down, uncorked the bottle, and poured herself a generous amount. Gulp; it went down fizzy and somehow sour. Half of it splashed into her fit tummy. She wasn't much of a drinker, but by the Gods, she could have drank an entire tavern dry… a giant one, let alone an Ilican one.

            There was something she couldn't get off her mind… something like a nagging in her stomach; and it wasn't the sour mead. What if… she thought, with much dismay, he doesn't come back?

            Why would he? She was, in fact, a giant, and not many Ilicans gave second thoughts about her kind other than the natural instinct to run for the hills.

But Matt's different! She pleaded to herself. He showed no fear, none at all when he was in my company. She remembered the way he smiled, the honest smile, not the practiced smile she saw when something was on his mind. She herself smiled.

            Another, darker voice:

Yes, but did you also see his eyes? Those eyes were filled with something, something altogether not natural: intense, pure hate. That man has a dark past… The smile left her face. What makes you think that hate will ever dissipate? Even with your pure love, do you ever think he'll open himself to you, fully?

            Her heart sank.

And what makes you even think he'll come back? You're living in a dream…
            She had had enough. She drank the rest of her mead, and then, unceremoniously, the entire bottle.

            Furiously, she half-stomped/walked to her bed, and flung herself on it. She started to cry, pleading for the comforts and silence of Master Sleep.

            For two minutes, she lay there, crying, until finally, the fermented honey and yeast worked its way into her brain, and the spell of drunkenness cast her off into Sleep's domain…

 

 

            Back at her parent's house, in the land far, far to the east. The smell of soup was on the air, and it was comforting. She loved her mother's cooking: She, like Amelia, was not a human-eater, the blessed woman. It wasn't to hard to be anyway; not many of them lived here. They were actually seen more as a delicatessen rather than common sustenance. If anybody wanted any, they had to go and find some themselves.

            She was startled by a gruff voice; her father's.

"I'm only going to say this once, Amelia, the answer is no!"

"But father, please! I'm nearly of age now, and it's time for me to leave the nest…"

"I know that, dear, but why Ilica? Why that place, teeming with evil and hunters of our kind?"

"You know how I like them, father, their ways, their mannerisms… remember the pet we had when I was a child? Fascinating!"

"Gods…"

            She walked across the room and sat next to him. She put her delicate hand on her father's, rough and calloused, a worker's hand.

            She surprised her dream's self: I bet this is what Matt's hands feel like…

"Please, dad… There's so much to learn between our cultures! They see us as brutes, yes, but they don’t know our real nature! They have only seen the far western berserkers; if they see a refined lady like myself, they're sure to reconsider their views of us. Think of it, dad, an alliance of the largest people on Earth and the most advanced!"

            The father took her hand, and looked into her eyes. They're were tears in his own, as he said,

"Your mind is set?"

"Yes, father."

"And you wish to go to Ilica?"

"Yes, father…"

            He rubbed his eyes with a single hand, clenching his daughter's own tightly.

"Very well. But promise me one thing, Amelia…"

"Yes father?"

"Just…"

            He sighed.

"Just stay away from the hunters. They're more animal than man."

 

 

            A white hot blankness filled her head. Father was all she could think of.

After an eternity in the white limbo, color once again began to take its place among the nothingness.

 

 

            A green field, greener than anything she had ever seen. At her feet were flowers of every kind. Yellow, pink, blue, red, purple… like a rainbow embedded on the Earth. The warm sunlight shined on her face, and seemed to fill her soul with happiness.

            There was a figure in the sunlight; tall, built, and with long hair. The figure approached, and as the features in the sunlight were revealed, she recognized him…

            Matthew. The warmest, sincerest smile was on his face.

            She embraced him with everything she had. Tears spilled out of her eyes, tears of the happiest kind. She let go, and looked at him.
"Matthew! You're my size! Or, am I your size? Oh, who cares about that magic… You're home, Matthew…" She embraced him again, for the longest time. She never wanted it to end.

            Matthew slowly wrapped his own arms around her. It was the safest she had ever felt in her life…

"Amelia…"

"Matthew…"

"I…"

            Something warm was on her stomach. She lifted her head from his shoulder, and looked at his face. His eyes were closed. She looked down. A knife hilt was sticking out of her stomach. The warmth was her own blood. She looked back up.

"Matthew!!"

            He opened his eyes. Blackness.

            No longer was he holding her; he was holding his spear by the handle, its blade sticking into her stomach.

"Matt… no…" The tears of joy turned into sorrow.

            He scowled, his eyes a burning red.

"Burn in Hell, witch!"

            And with that, he kicked Amelia in the chest. The spear blade came out, and the wound spewed torrents of blood. As she fell, Matt got smaller, smaller, and smaller… until…

            She landed with a thud on the hard stone. She couldn’t get up. All around her, hundreds of tiny Ilicans gathered around her, their torches and pitchforks, screaming "Witch! Giant! Kill her!!" They started to crawl onto her, stabbing her. She desperately tried to free herself; he hands smacked them away, her fists pounded some at her sides into bloody mush, and some she grabbed and crushed in her hand like grapes.

"No!!" She screamed, but it was too late. They were all upon her, and she blacked out…

            Only to awaken to the sound of chanting.

"Kill her! Kill her!"

            Two people were on her chest. It was Matt… and someone she didn’t recognize. He wore a crown, but above that were the horns of a demon.

            The Demon said something to Matthew, who nodded. Then, the demon produced a bag of something, and tossed it to Matt. Matt opened it and poured the contents into his hand.

            Gold coins.

            Her eyes again filled with renewed tears.

"Matt… you'd kill me… for gold?"

            The king nodded to Matt, and he back.

            Matt took his spear in hand.

"Matt… Please."

            He started to walk to her face.

"It's me… Amelia…"

            He stopped, tossed his spear up, and caught it.

"Please, Matt, don’t do this…"

            He raised his spear. Among the thousands of voices cheering and chanting, Matt said two words that spoke louder than a million ten fold could scream:

            "Die, Amelia."

The spear came down.

 

 

            Amelia awoke screaming, terrified.

"Amelia!!"

            She looked down at her bedside. There, a tiny figure and a guided horse stood. Matt looked thoroughly alarmed, eyes widened and teeth clenched.

"Matthew!"

            She jumped down from the bed, her feet landing not ten feet from him. Her massive figure descended from the sky and scooped Matthew up in her hands.

            She held him up at her face's height, and started to cry. Her brown eyes filled up and looked milky with pain. She held him to her bosom, crying, head down and her hair silhouetting him like a forest of red vines…

"Don’t you ever… ever…" She stammered among sobs, "Don’t you ever do that to me again, Matthew!"

            Matthew just stood there, being near crushed in the giantess's breasts, face aghast.

            After a moment of sobbing, he wrapped his arms as best he could on her chest.

"Ok," he began.

"I won't do that ever again, Amelia…"

 

            Matthew sat there solemnly on the table, arms folded, looking at the cup of mead provided for him. He had been sitting there a good two minutes now, just deep in thought. He gently took the cup, procured from Amelia's collection of Ilican things, and took a small sip. It was very…. Sweet, yet somehow filled with sorrow.

            He sighed.

"So… that's your dream, huh?"

            Amelia sniffled, and this time Matt didn’t flinch. She wiped her eyes once more, some vigilante tears still coming out.

"Yeah. Unsettling, huh?"

            He set down the mead cup.

"Yes,"

            He folded his legs and leaned his head on his fist.

"Very unsettling."

            He still just sat there. Just a dream, right? Amelia set her head's side on the table. It hurt her ear, but she really didn't care. The second helping of mead was taking its euphoric effect already, now that she was already primed. Her eyes slowly fluttered closed.

"Mattie…"

"Yeah, Amelia?" He never heard that one before.

"You'd… never actually… do that to me…" Her gigantic eyes opened, and fixed themselves on Matt. They seem to pierce his soul, and he felt naked somehow.

Gods, the eyes.

"Would you?"

            He looked straight back at her. His voice was solemn, yet quiet, but it spoke volumes.

"No. Never."

            Simple. Yet, the simple truth. He knew it to be strange- not only a few days ago he had been trying to kill this woman; a giant, marked for death. But when he saw her cry, something inside of him had been touched like never before. He hardly knew what it was- it felt good, though.

            She smiled, and closed her eyes.

"Gooood. 'Cause I dun wanna see… yuuu… "

            Her voice slurred, and a bit of rattle could be heard. Matt lifted a corner of his mouth.

"You're drunk. I thought you giants could hold your alcohol…"

            She raised and waved an arm in protest.

"Whaaat? I'm not drunk… Just a li'l…. buzz'd…."

"Riiiight." He laughed, and cocked an eyebrow. "And you're not a hundred feet tall, as long as we're lying to ourselves."

            She made a face…. sort of, and stuck out her tongue.

"Ooooo, little tiny Matt, talks so biiig, but is so smaaaaall… loser."

            He held up his arms.

"Well, Amelia, Iiiiiii am not the one laying my head on a table drooling, am I?"

            Her eyes still closed, she shook her head in disgust, raspberried her tongue, and slammed her fist down on the table, not three feet from Matt. He jumped back.

"Woah… Amelia. Be careful… Maybe you should stop drinking so much… yeah?"

            Again, she waved it off.

"Pleeeeeease ….. Listen, you little man bug you, would I be sooooo drunk that I could'n kiss you on the lips…?"

            Matt stopped breathing for a second.

"…Amelia, don't you dare."

            A table-sized hand lunged for him. Tried as he might, he wasn't quick enough to dodge it, thanks to his bum leg. Five log-sized yet somehow still slim fingers wrapped around with a little more than a comfortable grip.

"C'mere, you…."

            She brought him to his face, puckering her lips.

"No, wait, Amelia!"

            Too late. The last thing he was a circle of wrinkled pink, and a hole into an abyss in the middle. Sweet hot breath filled his nostrils, along with more than enough smell to knock out any Ilican drunkard. The air near his head started to vacuum, and his hair along was sucked in.

            "Mmmmmmfff" he said, in protest.

            Saliva started to drip on his face, wetting his hair and eyes, and he swore to the Gods that he felt something soft and wet brush his face…

            She pulled him back, wet hair and all. She looked at him and smiled.

"You, my little morsel Matthew…. Are very tasty… See…? I'm not sooooo druuu…"

            Her head drooped onto the table with a thud. Her hand (luckily) rolled onto the table, and her fingers released Matthew, who rolled on the ground, knocking over his mead.

            He got up, almost tiredly. Who wouldn't, after that ordeal? When he did, he brushed off his clothes, and wiped his face onto his shirt. There was a lot of saliva.

            He turned to her.

"….Wow. That was…" He smiled.

 

 

            A dark figure knelt before the King or Ilica, Noah Ilicain. Dressed in black, he would have never known he was there.
"My Lord."

"Report, soldier."

"My liege, we followed Matthew back to a cave to the north, just above the Rocky Falls."

"A cave? What's so interesting, even to an idiot, about a cave?"

"Well, sir…"

"What is it? Spit it out!"

"The entrance to the cave, sir. It was… enormous, sir. At least one hundred feet tall."

            The king nodded.

"So. Matt did find the giant's lair, did he..." He stroked his grey beard. "And what then? Did you hear fighting?"

            The man in black shook his head.

"No, your majesty. There were no cries of rage, no stomping, nothing sir."

"Then it's empty, then?"

            He shook his head again.

"No sir… we heard…"

            The king leaned in.

"A cry from within, sir."

"Matthew? So he was killed."

'No sir, the cry was… not human sir."

            The king cocked an eyebrow.

"The giant then."

"Yes sir. After this cry however, I thought I heard them speaking- one softly, far away, and the other louder. I think they were talking to each other.”

"I see. So Matt has decided to form an alliance with the giant…? I suppose only monsters can commune with other monsters… Sturgis!"

            Sir Sturgis materialized out of the dark and into the torchlight, his armor a mirror in the soft blackness.

"Yes, my Lord?"

            The king pointed a finger to him.

"Sturgis, you will lead an attack on the cave. Take Henrick here and have him guide you there. Take a full compliment of troops, if you need it."

            Sturgis smiled.

"Sir, if I'm there, I won't need ten men with me."

"Very well…" He grinned.

"Just do what had to be done. Matthew the Giant Hunter is now a fugitive and a traitor to Ilica: kill him on site."

"As you command, my king."

            He vanished away.

"One more thing, my Lord." The man in black said.

"What is it, boy?"

            He breathed out deeply.

"The cry we heard, sir…" He looked up at the king.

"It wasn't a male, sir."

            A wicked and evil grin spread across the king's face.

 

 

 

            Matt sat there in the silver moonlight. It was a perfect summer night: warm, yet cool, dark, but bright. The wind was blowing on his face, tickling him. But no warm wind blew in his heart tonight.

Am I really a monster…?

            The question burned his heart and mind. Not much plagued Matt, least of all nagging thoughts: He usually shoved them off, determined to 'cross the bridge when he got there.' But somehow, like some parasite, it only grew in his mind. He wished he knew how to get rid of it. Alas, he couldn't. He knew, that somewhere, somewhere inside this fit shell of a human dwelt the heart of a monster.

            What he didn't know… What he desperately needed to know…

…is how to switch it off.

            He remembered the most horrid part.

Die… Amelia.

            He compiled the image in his head: Burning fields, the king at his side, spear in hand… No. It was too painful to think about. But again… it felt so right. Logically, he knew that his hatred for giants probably seeped into it, but at times, he pushed his cursed logic aside.

            He wanted to believe with every fiber of his soul that he would never hurt Amelia, no matter what she was, no matter how 'incorrect' their friendship was.

            He remembered a lesson his mother had taught him once: She put two apples in front of him, and told him that he could choose one for lunch. One looked just right, but the other was misshapen and kind of ripe. Naturally, Matthew chose the red one. It tasted horrible, and Matt thought he tasted a worm. After a bit of a laughter, his mother cut the ugly apple open: It looked (and probably tasted) better than the red one. She smiled, and explained, "Matthew, you can't always judge by appearances; it's always the insides of something that counts in the world." She gave Matt the good apple, and sent him away.

            He smiled. And laughed aloud.

            If his parents knew what he was doing, they'd never forgive him. They probably already knew, in their graves. In comparison some other things in his life,

 

Like killing unarmed, screaming women…

 

            befriending a giant probably wasn't that bad. In his opinion, anyhow.

            What did he care? Honestly…

"My son, do the noble thing..." 

            His mother's voice echoed in his head.

"It’s not how long you live; it's what your morals say."

            He got up, and looked at the stars, sighing.

"Do the noble thing, huh?"

            He about-faced, set his hands in his pockets, and walked back to the cave.

Maybe they wouldn't be so mad…

 

 

            Amelia was still there, passed-out drunk on the table. Matt suppressed a smile… unsuccessfully.

            He climbed up the make-shift rope he hung down onto the table. Arrived, he looked at her. A beautiful girl. Long red hair, honest green eyes, a pretty face… huge brea-

            He felt a smack on his head and whirled around. No one. Then, a scream:

"Do the NOBLE thing…"

"…Yes, mother…" He muttered weakly.

            He walked over to her. She was breathing softly, the smell of honey mead still prevalent. He set a hand on her nose. She slightly shivered. He leaned over…

            And gave a small kiss on her lip.

Sweet-tasting he thought.

            He started to walk away. He turned, once more:

"For a sweet girl." He smiled.

            She shifted, smiled, and purred, still sleeping. That night, she dreamed of cold winter nights at a roaring fire… holding her Matt in her arms.

 

            The next morning was quite groggy for the both of them. Athough it was safe to say, Amelia concluded, that her headache was far larger than Matt's, both in actual mass and intensity.

"That is the last time," Amelia said while wincing at the tiny war hammer that was trying to escape from her head, "I will drink that much mead in one sitting…"

"Here, here." Matt toasted while drinking a glass of cold water. They both set their heads down in a collective sigh.

"You know, Matt…" She opened her eyes weakly. He lifted his head and his neck screamed. "I've been thinking."

            Matt pushed himself up and set his head on his hands, like water in a chalice.

"Really."  He said unemotionally. She nearly took offense to this, but she realized, was Matt ever really emotional about anything? No her mind said. Too bad… even if he had the emotional range of a rock, she still did love him…

            Love him…

            The words echoed. They were warm, nice.

"What are we going to do next?"

            He cocked an eyebrow.

"Do next?" He thought about it. "I really don’t know…"

"Well, you were contracted to… do me in, right?" She gulped. The image flashed in her mind again. Horrible dream; she wished she could forget it forever.

            He sighed. "Yeah." He looked up. "I was."

"Well, assuming you're not going to fulfill this contract, they'll probably brand you a traitor. Well, I suppose that depends on the contracters, huh? So who contracted you? Farmers? The local shop merchants? They probably didn’t want me to threaten their profits. Greedy bastards…"

"The king."

"What?! Are you kidding? You're kidding, right? My gods, Matt you better be kidding, or so help me, I will squish you like a bug…" She slapped her hands on her face, and pulled them down slowly, pulling her skin and making her look like some kind of skeleton.

"I'm not. I was contracted for around ten thousand gold."

            Her jaw dropped.

"My gods…" But then she knew it. It had  to be so…

"Only something very strong would probably drive you to null an agreement like that… Matt?"

"Yes?"

"Do you…" She sighed, and averted her eyes to the ground. Her toes wiggled and curled into each other. Her heart palpitated rapidly, and she was suddenly cold. She shook her head. "Do you love me, Matthew?"

"Never mind." She smiled.

            Only one thing was strong enough to break love for gold:

            Real love. The kind that makes your stomach flutter and bosom warm. The kind that only bards write about, the kind that makes your brain seem to dance. She wanted nothing more, at that moment, than to press him against her chest.

            They looked at each other for a moment, both smiling.

            Then, a horn.

            Matt looked to the door.

"A Royal Guard horn..."

            A sudden cry, small and distant:

"Come out giant! And bring your pet with you!"

            Amelia sighed.

"So they know." Her smile was gone, killed by the prospect of losing privacy.

"Yes." He looked up at her. "Amelia… my spear."

 

 

 

            A huge cave. It's a wonder why no one noticed it before. Then again, Sturgis thought, these idiot peasants don’t know much of anything, do they? The cave was part of a small mountain range, called Amon Ursba. "Bear mountains." While he hadn't seen any bears near him, he knew they were around, probably intimidated by the company of ten men he had with him. They were nervous, itchy. And who wouldn’t be... Not many men who went to face giant would return alive.

            He gave wave of his hand, and a horn blew once more. A flat, loud bellow, or sorts, smaller than the ones used in the frequent wars, but large enough to get your attention. All the men seemed to tense up. Some tightened their grip of their swords and spears, some nocked arrows already, anticipating the bloodshed to come.

            Footsteps. Like boulders, each produced a miniature earth quake; some of the men's legs tremble, other's horses ran amuck. Closer… closer.

            There she came, glorious as any giant would be. A pretty sight, no doubt. There stood the menace that was to be killed; a tall, red-haired, green-eyed beauty. She stood in the doorway of the cave, leaning on the side, like a wife or lover tempting, yet no love was to be made by the eleven soldiers and one very tall bare-footed girl in a cotton dress.

            Sturgis stepped forward.

"Ah…. Ahem… Madame. We understand we have someone in your…. Custody, and we… ah, are sent by the King himself, Noah Ilicain, Envoy to the Gods, to retrieve him. Cooperate with us, and uh…ahh, we may let you live."

            His words were to her, but his eyes wandered to the females' 'secondary' eyes, where males always seem to be interested in talking to.

            Amelia shifted, and her toes dug into the ground.

"I have no idea what you speak of, Master Knight." She flashed him a coy smile, blushing. She bent over, hands on her knees… revealing her cleavage. "I harbor no prisoner, sir." She cocked her head slightly, and smiled.

            Sturgis' heart fluttered. Gods, for a giant she sure is…. Beautiful… He wished that he could just jump in and…He felt something stir in his greaves. WAIT! No, nooooo, no…

            The smile left his face.

"Ah, milady….er, um, we require that you cooperate, and umm…" His eyes were wandering again. She blushed, and bit her lip. He'd had enough.

"Oh, Gods, forget it; just kill her!"

            The archers fired instantly, seemingly unaffected by the giantess'…assets. A group of arrows flew toward her face. She yelped, and fell down behind, with arrows in her face and arm.

            A roar grew from the cave, and the others thought it was an actual giant. But nay, here rideth Matthew, on his steed, Arod.

            He threw his spear into the air. It arced, whistled, and struck an archer right in the chest, piercing all the way through. The archer fell of his horse, dead instantly. Forward he came, at full speed, giving the archers no chance to reload. He rode to the nearest one, and with a swing, punched another ground-bound archer in the face. A spray of blood permeated the air, and when he hit the ground, the nose had been driven in the brain. Matt rode on, blood on his fist and face. By the time he got to his spear and yanked it out of the corpse, the archers had a draw on him. Sturgis was livid.

"For the Gods' sakes, KILL HIM! Do NOT let him live!"

            Six arrows flew, all vectors fixed on Matt's head. He ducked, missing them by millimeters. Air vacuumed above his head, and a few long strands of brown hair fell. Instantly, he was on to the next archer. The young boy, not even eighteen, attempted to draw his sword. It was only halfway out of the sheath when the spearhead entered his left eye and into his brain.

            Amelia watched in horror. This was her Matt: her tiny Matt, cold and ending life with Godly efficiency. She wanted to scream, but the air in her lungs was frozen with fear.

            The brain matter was not even off the broad spearhead when it entered another man's chest. It passed into the chest cavity, cut the right sides of the heart, right lung, split the esophagus in half, and severed the spinal cord. The man wanted to scream, but he couldn't move.

            Matt was off his horse, and ran about. He grabbed the young boy's sword, a long, double-edged blade. He swung it around. One man had ran forward, screaming, battle axe in hand. He brought it down with force, and it cut into stone an entire inch. Matt dodged left, and severed the man's arms. He ran around wildly, screaming, blood pouring out of the arteries wildly. Another one had an arrow nocked, and aimed it at him. Matt started to bolt to him. It was about twenty yards to him. The arrow fired, and entered Matt's left shoulder. By the time the archer grabbed another arrow, Matt was upon him, and the blade entered his liver. Black blood spilt out the exit wound.

            Sturgis was beside himself. He finally drew his sword, and charged at Matt. Matt parried, parried again, and finally had a chance to strike. The sword tried to strike his chest, but Sturgis stabbed back, only to cut Matt's right arm. He winced and yelped in pain. His eyes flamed with rage, and teeth gritted in hate. The next strike of Sturgis was caught, and directed to the ground. Matt stomped on the flat edge of the blade, driving it in the soft soil patch.

            He jumped up, and landed one of his feet near the hilt of the blade, forcing it out of Sturgis' hands. Sturgis looked up, and the hilt of Matt's procured sword cracked his nose. He was on the ground, followed by Matt on top of him. Matt's left hand found Sturgis' neck, choking, and the right held the blade to his face.

            The other five soldiers were on the ground-bound pair with nock arrows and readied swords.

            Sturgis smiled. He held his hands up shortly as if to show no harm or surrender.

"We both live, Matthew…" Blood dripped from his crooked nose.

"We both die, Matthew." He gave a shrug. "Your choice, friend."

            Slowly, Matt lifted the blade, but the grip on his neck did not loosen.

"You tell your king something." He said with fierce anger.

"Listen well: You tell your pig of a king that I void his contract. You tell him he can rub it on his royal jewels."

            He brought the blade back up to his face.

"Tell him to leave us alone." His eyes flashed in fire.

"Leave us alone, or I will pierce the man's heart with my spear.

            Sturgis smiled softly.

"Of course, Master Matthew."

            Matt released him, but the swords and arrows did not release him.

            Sturgis motioned to the guard.

"Collect the dead. We're leaving."

            Reluctantly, one by one, strings untauted, and swords were sheathed. Matt walked back to Amelia, still on the ground, still horror struck.

            A call back: "Master Matthew! Your spear that will 'pierce the king's heart.' Hahahaha…" A whistle later, his own white spear covered in blood stuck into the ground next to him.

            Slowly, like light in mist, they faded away. They went back into the cave, wordlessly.

            The last of the arrows in Amelia's arm and face were pulled out. They sat in a miniscule pan of water, only slightly tinged with blood. Only one arrow had penetrated past her dermis, and pierced a small blood vessel on her arm. To Matt, it was like a hosepipe when he took it out.

"Matthew, I…"

            He pulled the arrow from his shoulder. It stung like no other, and a short stream of blood that had welled up behind the arrow splattered onto the ground. He winced.

"Matthew, I -"

"You what Amelia?" His voice stopped her cold. He looked up at her, eyes full of hate. Not at her, but… just hate. The hate she knew.

"Spit it out."

            She averted her eyes downward.

"Nevermind."

 

            Sturgis hit the ground, splashing warm red blood not only from his nose, but now his mouth.

 

            He could, had he wanted to, crushed this puny man… but, the ten soldiers around him dissuaded him from doing so.

"Idiot!" The king spat. Saliva flew out from his fat lips. "It was one man!" He paced around impatiently, like awaiting the results of something important enough to beat someone.

            Sturgis slowly rose, bowing his head still in fake humility. Stupid boy. Gods damned peasant. He'd wring his neck. In front of that blasted giantess, his enormous whore. How did he know she was his whore? He just knew. Call it hate intuition.

 

"ONE MAN, STURGIS!" The king walloped his fist into Sturgis' head again. The king shook his hand, apparently hurt by Sturgis' hard head. Sturgis wiped the blood from his mouth again, and glared at Ilicain, like a dog stares at an abusive owner. Only the pain in his eyes was not fear, no, something far more dangerous… hate.

            The king looked back. He had no idea…

"I will accompany you this time… and we will kill the both of them."

            He started to walk out of the room, but stopped: a flash of evil.

"No… we will make him pay… dearly." He turned to an assistant. "Bring me the apothecary. We have a big problem to eliminate."

 

 

"So.... Matthew...."

            Amelia still fixed her eyes on her cup of water.

"What's next?"

            Matt sipped his own water. He felt a pang in his left shoulder; a bit of blood came out of the wound. Not fully closed.  He had removed the arrow and bandaged it, but somehow the blood kept coming. It had been a full week since the battle with Sturgis, and the wound kept opening. That was bad news. The good news, however, was that his leg was now about healed: he could run at least. He might have to return back to a close by town for treatment.

"I really don’t know."  He lowered the cup. "I suppose we should leave this place. Sturgis probably went back to his king and told him what happened… my treason." He spat on the side. "Dammit! I shouldn't have let him live." He gulped down the rest of the beverage.

"…Gross, Matt."

He caught himself, and wiped up the spit.

"Oops. Sorry." He didn’t look up.

            Amelia had seen death before: she'd seen plenty of humans killed; stomped, eaten and what not. While there was some degree of terror in the eyes of the victims, she always understood that it was food for them. Natural, right? Like a deer to a human… right? But the way Matt killed those soldiers… the image of spear entering the boy's head. He seemed to drop to the ground instantly. But the look on his face…. It cried 'mother' to Amelia. Scared and fearful… was that how the humans in her homeland went? She didn't want to see anymore of that…

"I'm kind of glad… that…" The last part was mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm kind of glad… that you didn't kill him."

            Matt's eyes widened. "What? Why? They were trying to hurt us. Trying to hurt you, Amelia… I couldn't let that happen."

            She looked at him for a second, almost like she was evaluating him.

"Matt…" She folded her hands over her heart, and closed her eyes. It looked to Matt like she was praying. "You turn into something so… different… when you fight."

            She looked back at him, tears starting to form in her eyes. "I don’t like it. Not one bit… You're not you, Matt, when you fight." Tears started, and her voice quavered. "I don’t want to see you like that again… ever!"

"Amelia… I have to fight. It's my nature." His voice was natural, calm… ice. Such nonchalance, the way he said it. Like, 'I'm a blacksmith,' or, 'I'm a farmer.' 

            Amelia started to sob, no matter how hard she tried not to. "B-but… you don't have to! We could face them; negotiate with them… please…. I just don't want to see you hurt…"

"Amelia-"

"No, Matt; listen to me: I-"

"No, you listen TO ME!" Matt's voice thundered, like evil. Amelia stopped breathing for a moment.

"You think the world is just some kind of fairytale, don’t you? That all the people in the godsdammed world are friendly and reasonable, and that they can be persuaded? It's insane! Especially from a giant! No one my size in their right mind would even listen to you! They'd as soon call the guard to come and take your head! And they would Amelia, they would. Why do I know this? Because I am one of them."

            Amelia sighed, trying to hide her sobs.

"Have you even tried talking instead of fighting, Matt? Someone intelligent like you could do well with words! You're so intent on fighting, like it's the only thing you know how to do!"

            Matt looked back up, eyes only.

"So what if that’s the truth? I do kill for a living… Had I not known you, you would have ended up the same."

            Amelia's felt her a heart, it was like someone kicked it, or punched it. Like someone had cut the cords within it, and the cold poison of reality iced through her veins. So… cold… She shivered.

"Matt… you can’t… I know you-"

"NO YOU DON'T, AMELIA!" He was standing up now. His voice rivaled that of any loud giant. Maybe it was the acoustics in the rock cave. "You don’t know me, nor my mind. You want to know something?" He clenched his fists, looked down. Blood came out of his hands… he started laughing. "You have no idea what I've done. If you knew, even a pure soul like yours would hate me like the Devil. I've killed, Amelia…. many… men, women…. Even children…"

            Matt's eyes flashed back to the Crusades in the East. He remembered the look of the boy, not five years of age, stuck on his sword. He wished he could die. Anything rather than living with that sad, sad, painful face staring at him.

            Matt suppressed a tear, and looked back up at Amelia.

"You have no idea."

            Amelia herself was crying a bit now.

"Why… why do you have to do that, Matt?" She wiped her tears with her hands; it reminded him of the way children cry. "Can't you just lay down your spear and live? Please… I'll even talk for you… please. Just be at peace… with me, Mattie…"

            Matt held his hands up and laughed.

"Still intent on your dreams, huh?" He stopped, and a grave look crossed his face.

"I guess you haven't learned a thing about the world, or me for that matter."

            Amelia looked like she'd seen a ghost. She glared her teeth, and slammed her fists on the table. Her red hair came down on her face.

"Matthew, you ass! It is not a dream; it's truth! How dare you look me in the eye and rebuke my life goal! You think it's easy to live like this? To hold onto such a noble idea in this hard life, where my kind is hunted for sport and gold? Where lives are treated like trash, and thrown away so easily? You don’t know, Matt. You think all life is about is to kill or be killed. That disgusts me! If you think sticking a spear in someone's head solves problems, then be my guest! Just keep on killing, killing, killing, then die!"

            Matt looked at her, still grave. He turned around, and walked to the edge of the table, then slide down the rope.

"Matt, where do you think you're going?" He didn’t answer.

            He grabbed his spear, untied Arod from the table post, and mounted on.

"Matt…" She started crying again. He reached the door, and turned around.

"I obviously can't handle your purity. Thank you for your kindness. It's good to see there's still some good in the world… albeit very little. Stay away from this place; Sturgis will come back. He wants me, the traitor."

            His grave look left, replaced by a sadness that Amelia had never seen.

"Go home, Amelia. There's no future for you here."

            And with that, he left the only woman he ever loved, weeping at the table.

 

"So…. This is the potion, eh?"
            The king beheld the glowing green goo. It bubbled furiously and fumed twice as.

"Yes, my king. Inject this bloodstream, and… down she goes."

"Forever?" The king's eye cocked.

"Yes, my liege. Forever."

"Wonderful… now…Michael! Come forward."

            A short young man with a baby face came forward. The king gave him the green bottle. The boy embraced it in his chest.

"Dip your arrow into this," the king's apothecary started. "and let the arrow fly into her mouth. Make sure your aim is true."

"Indeed," the king interrupted. "Aim true or your family dies."

            Michael gulped. "Y-yes, sire…" The king waved him away.

"Dismissed."

            He turned back to the apothecary.

"This had better work…"

            The chemist flushed.

"It shall my Lord… I guarantee it."

            The king started to walk away… and looked back.

"Then no need to worry, good doctor…"

 

 

            It had already been a day since Matt left Amelia. At a slow walk, Arod made about twenty miles out without stopping.

            His wound didn't close. As he rode, his blood slowly leaked out. Before he knew what had happened, his left shoulder started to throb, and he blacked out.

            Arod stopped and beheld her master on the ground, unconscious.

 

 

"My Gods, it's a giant!"

"Where are my children?!"

"Gods help us!"

            These were only a few of the things heard as Amelia entered the castle town. She had tried very hard not to step on anyone, but so far, one fruit stand (but thankfully not its owner) met its fate under her foot. She had almost slipped on the smashed fruit, and would have crushed a dozen people if she had. She was glad that she had worn sandals; she didn't want her toes to be sticky.

            Amelia set her hands on her hips and squinted. The King had to be around their somewhere, right? She needed to talk to him, and possibly… 'give him a talking to,' if need be. Well, as far as 'giving a talking to' as giants were concerned. She wanted to talk to him, and hopefully, convince him that Matt was not at all a traitor, but an ambassador: No other man has communicated with a beast without being killed or letting himself go.       Surely, the king must be reasonable to see this… why else wouldn't he be king? She thought to herself.

             Minutes upon entering the city, the entire royal army was on her: spears, arrows, ballistae, everything. She stopped and surveyed the army. She could have very well crushed all of them, had she wanted to. She closed her legs and tightened her dress-skirt; she didn’t want any young boys (or old men for that matter) looking up places their eyes didn’t belong.

            She cleared her voice.

"Ahem… I want to speak to your king!"

            The army's jaw dropped.

"She can talk! Bugger me…"

"Wow, a talking giant! That's a new one."

"Damn, she's pretty cute!"

"Shut up, idiot, she'd eat you as soon as look at you!"

            They were ignoring her. She stamped her foot; and a few soldiers close to her feet stumbled back. At least it got their attention…

"Your king! I want to talk to him. You have a king, don't you?" She motioned above her head, flailing her hands, hoping they'd understand a simple sign such as 'crown.' "Damn monkies."

            A horn called from the castle. Not a minute later, the king himself came out; entourage and all. Even a small boy accompanied the king. Must be his son, She thought.

            The king was given a horn of some sort; rather large for a battle horn. Then through it came the king's voice:

"Greetings, my young, large friend. Welcome to the Kingdom of Ilica."

            Amelia curtseyed. She heard a few of the soldiers snicker. She eyed the soldiers directly, and growled. The snickering stopped immediately.

"I… I am Amelia, my King. I request an audience."

            The king bowed his head, never taking his eyes off her.

"Granted."

            She sighed. "About a week past, your men attacked me and my friend, Matthew. You knew him, I think. You contracted him to kill me, correct?"

            The King nodded.

"Well… I have a request. Please, with your blessing, please let Matthew go free… he is a traitor… but I love him deeply. Surely a man like you can understand… Mercy, please."

            The king stroked his beard. And, shortly,

"No."

            The ballistae at her sides clicked. Bow strings stretched, arrows nocked. Amelia took a step back. Nothing crunched (Whew!).

"W-wait… please..."

            She looked at her feet. The boy who had accompanied the king was at her feet, admiring and hitting the toes that were twice as big as him. In desperation, she grabbed him, but softly. She brought him up to her mouth…

"Let Matthew go, King, or I'll end your son." She opened her mouth and slowly moved the boy in. He went berserk, and started crying.

"N-nooooo!!" He screamed.

            The King just laughed. Wide eyed and jaw dropping, Amelia was amazed.

"Do you think I care about that rat? He's a mistake: I bore him with a servant of mine. Trash. The only reason I don't kill him is because the Queen likes him… So go ahead; you'd do me a favor, actually…" He continued laughing.

            The boy continued crying.

"Nooo, daddeeeeeeeee…."

            She couldn't handle it. Tears formed in her eyes… She put the boy down… he ran off to somewhere.

            She rose back up, tears in her own eyes. What had she done? She had been bluffing, but it was just…. Too damn close. She pointed a mighty finger at the miniscule king.

"You… King, are an evil, evil devil… You will never find Matt! You-gaack!"

            Something stung in her throat, like a needle.

"Bastard!" She croaked. She felt a falling sensation. She saw the sky as she fell back, and a hard thud as she hit the hard stone road. Nothing went crunch… Whew… She closed her eyes. Every part of her body burned. First her throat, then her chest then her legs and arms… She felt like she was melting away… the buildings at her side got taller and taller…. Right when she was about to black out, and when the world was like a foggy dream, a group of soldiers clouded her vision…

"Gods, even at this size… look at those-"

"It really worked…. It actually worked! I thought we were doomed!"

"Idiot, of course it worked! We've got the best chemists in the world."

"Move aside! Move aside for the King!"

            The soldiers parted, and the king filled her vision. He smiled.

"How does it feel, Amelia…. to be a bug like us?"

            The last thing she heard was laughter…

 

 

 

 

"Get up, pathetic worm." Matt opened his eyes. Black. Soil? Maybe.

"…What?"

"I said, 'get up!' How lazy are you? And you call that a wound? Seriously. Pathetic. I expect more, even from a dog like you."

            Matt was finally able to look up. Like staring into an abyss… blackness. A figure stood in the center of it all. He couldn't tell, but it almost seemed as the black, unholy light emanated from the creature himself.

"Who the hell are you?" was all Matt could half mutter. He put his arms under himself, and started to push up.

"That's it… keep pushing." He casually folded his arms, adorned by black leather bracers, much like Matt's own.

            In fact, he was dressed exactly like Matt.

"Stand, and I'll even tell you my name."

            Inch by inch, hand by hand, knee by knee, he rose. Finally, standing, he looked at the figure. Slowly, like a face out of still water, an image appeared. The man was about Matt's height, medium build. He had long sinister black hair and a small goatee of the same night. His clothes were slightly less black. Only slightly.  Centered were his eyes…. evil. Pure and unsullied. Definitely a killer's…

 

            "Good. Now was that so hard, maggot?" He lifted his hands up, shrugging. In one hand was a bottle of tan liquid. He wasn't sure, but Matt thought it said 'Jack Daniels.' Must be a drink.

"Now that you're awake, we can talk. It's been a long time since you've spoken to me… an entire week! You know how bored I've been?" He shot Matt a disappointed look.

            Matt flashed a wary eye.

"Who… are you?" The figure went from disappointed to angry-looking.

"Are you serious? Jeez, idiot."

            He struck a pose, a rather effeminate one, Matt thought.

 

"I am War, I am Pain, I am all you've ever slain!" He smiled devilishly and approached Matt slowly.

"I am tears in your eyes; I am Greed, I am Lies!" He continued.

"I am Pure, I am True; I am all over you!"

"I am Laugh, I am Smiles, I am the Earth defiled!"

"I am the cosmic storms, I am the tiny worms!" His eyes opened unevenly and teeth gritted.

"I am Fear in the Night, I am Bringer of the Blight!"

            He finished with a rather evil smile and clawed hands. Matthew would have been delighted in the idiocy of the dance, or the maybe even the power of the lyrics (he really did like them) had he not been so tired. He clapped. The figure smiled genuinely and bowed.

"Nice. Do you have a shorter name?"

            Mr. Blight took a swig of the bottle.

"I, my monster of a friend, am Sagreth."

Matt cocked an eyebrow.

"…Sagreth."

"Yes."

"Ok. But who are you?"

            Sagreth sat down and took another drink.

"I am a physical manifestation of all of your choices, and I whisper in your ear whenever you stab someone, think dirty thoughts, or get up at night for nature's call."

            Matt sat next to him.

"Sooo…. My conscience?" Sagreth handed him the bottle.

"Eeeeeexactly."

            Matt drank. Tasted strange.

"What is this stuff, by the way?" Sagreth looked back at him with mild interest.

"This? Oh, it's a whiskey. Kind of like the mead you drink, except it’s made of malt."

"What’s malt?”

“A grain.”

“Ah.”

"Yes."

            A silent moment passed. Both looked at the trees, each passing the bottle of booze back and forth.

"So," Sagreth began. "Aren't you going to go after her?"

Matt looked away.

"No."

"I see."

            Another couple moments of silence. Pass. Pass. Pass. Empty bottle, thrown against a tree by Matt. I shattered in a storm of ice in the failing light.

"Guess you're still upset about it."

"…Very."

"Why not go make amends? I mean, you loved her, didn’t you?"

"Yes, I did."

"So why did you leave?"

"Conflict of interest. Why live with someone who lives in a dream world?"

"Then again, why live with someone who kills for a living, Matt? Honestly; did you think she didn't see the reality of things? She knew what you were. Hell, you even said that you were going to kill her. Smooth move, by the way, asshole. Any other girl would have cut you down long ago."

"What does that mean?"

            Sagreth was livid. He stood up; his eyes flashed, and Matt swore he saw fire in them. Sagreth then slapped Matt upcross the head.

"It means she loves you, jackass! Despite your obvious shortcomings as a complete dumbf**k and your dog's intelligence, she honest to Gods loved you! Are you just going to throw that away?!"

            Matt sighed. Was he really that insensitive? Now that he thought about it, he had said some pretty mean things. Was he so blind he couldn't see the intent of so large a heart? It sickened him. He sickened himself.

            He put his head down between his legs.

"I don't deserve her."

"You sure as hell don’t."

            Matt brought his head back up, and smiled softly.

"Guess I should apologize, huh?"

He flashed Sagreth, who was standing over him, a wry smile.

"Yeah, you should." He held his hand out. Matt grasped it…

"Get up and go get her. She's in danger…"

            Matt was pulled up…

 

            …And then hit the ground. He heard a horse whine. It was Arod. He opened his eyes again… soil. But at least his shoulder didn’t hurt. He got up…

            And mounted Arod, spear in hand.

"Come on, girl… back to Amelia's place."

            Arod whined and nodded in approval just before bolting forward. 

 

"Ride, Arod… Ride! Show me the wind's jealousy!"

            And she did. Whether or not Arod sensed the danger, or maybe she was hiding her potential up until now, Matt didn't know, but it didn’t matter to him. Arod had never gone this speed. The sunlight peering through the forest canopy seemed like a strobe light to him. The rock fifty feet in front of him was gone not five seconds later. Like the wind…

"Come on, Arod…. Just a few more miles."

 

 

"Hey, Janos, get the wine, will you?"

            Janos got up, walked over to the captain, and handed the red bottle to him. The captain grabbed it rudely from him, and gulped it down greedily. Finished, he threw it down, breaking it on the stone ground. "Great. No go get me some food will you?"

            Janos obeyed, head down. Turning around, he sighed inward. All those years of training, down the drain. As a boy, Janos had dreamed of becoming a soldier in the royal army. His own father, as well as his two older brothers, had been in the royal army as well… but this was nothing like he'd expected when he heard the stories. It was only a few months after he'd finished basic training, at the ripe age of seventeen. He wasn’t a phenomenal fighter, or a cunning strategist, but he was pure in heart, and had, what he thought, astounding determination. He'd hoped to get a position guarding the castle, or, if he was lucky, assigned protection of one of the nobles, but it seemed like a dream now: here he was, standing in a female giant's cave home, fetching chicken and drink for someone who one won his position by bribery. What would his father say, were he alive? Or his brothers, if they saw him like this? The mockery would never end. Both of his brothers where members of the royal guard.

            Maaaan… this sucks. I wish I were home, with… her.

            'Her' happened to be a young lady he recently asked to marry. She was a rather wealthy farmer's daughter; she wasn't the prettiest in the land, but to Janos, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes upon. Janos prided himself (with what little pride he had) on the fact that he was extremely non-face value. While yes, the girl was attractive, he deeply admired her qualities: Her kindness, her sincerity, her voice… Gods, her voice. He first heard her at the well. They shot glances, and the next thing they knew, they were walking and talking… Handholds followed soon after, then by their first kiss…            Everyone knows the story.

            He sighed. Soon, after this whole giantess business was finished, all he wanted to do was go home, wrap his arms around her, and then-

            He stopped in his tracks, and dropped the chicken on the floor. He saw the knife cut across the captain's fat throat, and heard his girlish scream.

            The knife bearer moved his eyes slowly to Janos, who could only stare in fear.

The man uttered three words:

            "Where. Is. Amelia."

 

 

 

            She finally awoke. Her wrists hurt. She tried to move, but couldn't. Something restrained her… Her wrists. Cold… cold iron. She opened her eyes… She was in a room… a rather nicely decorated one, at that. She hadn't seen such nice cloth since she left her home.

Where am I?

            She looked around: laying supine, and to her left, she saw a table of various bottles and tools... scalpels and tongs. To her right, she saw a door, guarded by two very nervous-looking guards. They were her size.

"Hey!" They jumped.

"Come untie me. Please?" They jumped, but didn't move.

            One of them fidgeted. "Um, we can't Miss giantess. King's orders. Sorry." She laughed. Even at her present size, she was still intimidating as hell. Nothing she could do now… She tossed her head back, only to find a pillow; she was on a bed. Wow. Royal treatment for prisoners…

            The door opened. A tall, old lady came through, followed by a small boy. The old lady bent over, and the boy whispered into her ear. The lady nodded, and the boy started towards her.

            Amelia stared wide-eyed: it was the same boy she put into her mouth that same day…

            The boy stepped forward, and looked at her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, innocent face… Oh, he's so cute. How could I have ever done that to him? Guilt shot through her heart, and she averted her eyes when he drew near. She couldn’t stand it; the guilt was too much.

            The boy touched her forehead with one hand. Warm she thought. She looked back at him, somehow the touch drew all the cold away.

"I… I'm sorry…" She managed to say. Her throat still itched like fire.

            The boy retracted his hand slowly. He looked at her for a moment, then smiled.

"You don’t seem that mean..." he spoke, a soft and boyish voice. Amelia was overjoyed. She caused this boy so much fear, yet he was still able to forgive a beast such as herself… amazing. Tears almost started in her eyes, but held them back and she smiled instead.

"What's your name? The boy asked.

"Me? My name's Amelia, young lad. What's yours?" Her eyes blinked hard, trying to wrestle tears away so she could get a better look.

"William." He smiled again.

"Well, William, I am very happy to meet you!" She tried to articulate it as much as possible, along with not sobbing. It's been a while since I've talked to such a small child. Small being the operative word.

"I am happy to meet you, Lady Amelia." He bowed like a noble… or at least tried to.

            Amelia laughed.
"Ooh, you're so cute, Will! I could just eat… er, nevermind." She laughed it off. Soooo close…

            William didn’t seem to notice, however. Good.

"How old are you, Miss Amelia?"

"Me? I'm twenty three years old. How old are you?"

"I'm six!" He held out his hand, sticking out five fingers.

            Amelia laughed, and her throat hurt. She pulled on the shackles, testing their strength. Strong.

I'm going to die here, aren't I…?

            The thought saddened her. It made her cry inside, but William couldn't tell.

"Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Amelia?"

            This made her flinch.

Matthew… She closed her eyes and waited for her to be in his arms again. Why did she miss him so? That jerk, throwing her ideals in her face like a child, and then outright walking out? She had every right to hate him, and by all means should have… but why did she not?

"No… I don’t, William." She said after a moment of thought. "Do you have a girlfriend?" She could barely stop from sobbing.

            He fiddled around.

"N-no…. but… do you want to be my girlfriend, Miss Amelia?"

            For once, the idea of crying stopped, and she laughed, purely and simply.

"Hahaha…. Well, William…. While I do like younger men (This was truth, in fact, and she wondered many times about Matt's age), I don’t think your mother would approve… I'm sorry."

            Will looked very dejected.

"Aww… ok…" Amelia's heart sank: she wished she could just embrace Will in her arms, like Matt did once (In my dreams… only in my dreams…). Short-lived: William came and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

"Bye, Miss Amelia. I gotta go and do my numbers class." He started to scamper off. He called back, "I'll see you later, ok? I hope you find a boyfriend soon!"

            After he left the room, Amelia cried hard, sobbing all the hour.

 

 

            Janos stumbled back. Again:

"Where is Amelia?!" The spear came down, but Janos was able to dodge it. He ran to get his sword and shield: Once unsheathed, he faced Matt, blade in hand.

            The sword shook in his hand like a leaf in a winter wind. Matthew grabbed spear again, and pierced his eyes into Janos’. He shook his head.

"It's no use, boy. Tell me where she is."

            Janos took a screaming lunge for Matt. He managed to get a swing in, a powerful swing, Matt thought, but was deflected by the spear's oaken wood. Another vertical swing, which Matt dodged easily, was countered by swinging the bottom of the staff into Janos' head. On the floor, bleeding, Janos found the spear head pointing directly at his right eye.

"Oh Gods, please, no…" The spear spoke to him, calling him to the Black River, the barrier between worlds. He saw Death in the shining steel of the spear blade, offering Her hand and guidance to the other side.

"Where is she?!" Matt spoke loudly, and brought Janos out of his trance.

"I… I don't know who 'she' is!" She started crying. He didn't want to die here. He thought of Julia, his fiancée, the one with the beautiful voice. Matt knelt down, grabbed Janos by the hair, and slammed his head into the ground.

"Where is she, dammit?! The giant! Where the hell is she?!" Matt was screaming now.       He'd never been so angry in his life.

"Please no…" He sobbed. "Please… Julia…"

            Matt's eyes widened. Julia… Wife maybe… no, too young. Fiancée?

            What was he doing? He'd been in this position many times, far too many times than he'd like to count. It was second nature to him; to take those in his way and send them to the Black River… but why did this boy repel his spear so?

"Julia…"

            This… the voice screamed in his mind, is how everyone felt. All those felled by your hand, and screamed the names of those left behind. Do it, Matt. Ease his pain. What's one more soul in the Dark Fortress? Inside the halls of Dimmu Borgir? You are a killer, Matthew. It's what you were born to do. Do it. The voice echoed louder in his head. It was Sagreth, he remembered. Do it…!

 

            Matt raised his spear…

                                                            …and let it fall to the ground.

I refuse…

 

            Who was he to end another life… especially one so young?

 

Just a boy…

"…Get up." He said finally, calmly.

"What's your name?" Matt stood up and cleaned his knife.

"J-j-j-j-Janos, sir…" He was still crying.

"You've seen a giantess here… right?" Matt eyed him, emphasizing the ‘right.’ If he was going to lie, he'd know.

"No sir…" He stammered. "But I hear they captured one at the Castle city of Ilica…"

            Matt dropped the knife, wide eyed, and grabbed Janos by the arm. Janos flinched horribly. Matt's eyes locked with him, and Janos knew, not even from the moment he sliced off his captain's head, that this man meant business.

"Tell me everything. Everything you know, Janos, for the Gods’ sakes."

            And told him Janos did. Not everything, however. Yes, Janos did tell him everything he knew, but he knew nothing of Amelia’s predicament. All he knew was the story of the man and beast team the very cave they stood at, and how one hundred soldiers were dispatched there. Finding nothing, all but two were called back to defend the city. Not a few hours after, a dispatch bird was sent, telling tall tales of a tall lass rampaging the city. And that was the end of all Janos knew.

 

 

            Matt sheathed the extra sword. It was a good one, solid and hefty.

"Thank you for your sword and information, Janos." He mounted Arod again.

He was almost out of the cave when he stopped and turned around.

"And… sorry about your captain."

Janos laughed at this.

"It's ok…"

Matt cocked an eyebrow. Not many would take the death of their captain so lightly…  He shook his head. It wasn't his business. He started to trot off again.

"Oh, and Janos: Go home. Take Julia and flee the city; forsake the army, there's nothing noble about it."

            Janos ran to him, but he was almost gone.
"Why? Why flee the city?"

            Matt stopped and called back:

"It's about to have a change in leadership."

 

            The king stepped into the room. Before him lay a bed chamber: plush curtains that blocked the outside world, carpet from foreign lands, bedding that even a king was envious of… and, all this complete with a miniature giant lying in the bed, half naked. His footsteps were loud enough to awaken Amelia, not to mention his snorts.

            Even next to her, Amelia did not open her eyes. She didn't want to give Ilicain the pleasure of her pain. Don’t open.

            The king leaned over at her stomach, touched his nose, and inhaled a whiff. All the while, he moved up her body… stomach… to breasts… to neck… to her face. His stench was revolting; she tried her hardest not to vomit. He rose back up, a smile spread across his fat face.

"It's funny," he started, and began to pace back and forth, "you smell exactly like a normal human girl. You look like a normal human girl… and…" He descended upon her, tongue out, hands ready; he groped her breasts, massaging them roughly.

            Amelia, almost in tears, was relieved he finally stopped. He rose, licked his lips....

"You even feel like a human girl." He stepped back.

"But all this is of no matter… giant." The sinister smile left his face.

"But what to do with you?" He started to pace again. "Sacrifice you? To the Gods whom so desperately want giants cleansed from the earth?" Tip. Tip. Tip. Tip. The clack of his boots.

"Burn you at the stake? Make an example for all the world to see that Ilica is the one true nation of the world?" Tip. Tip. Tip. Ti- He stopped, intrigued, like a child who figures out the solution to a puzzle. He meshed his fingers together, forming a fat fence, and smiled, wide-eyed.

"Well, giant…" He turned to her, smug eyes scanning her body. Amelia did not see. She refused to fear. "My scouts tell me that your lover boy… what was his name… Matt? Is on his way here, right now…. To fetch you, no doubt."

            Amelia's eyes shot open, her lips parting slightly. Matt… she thought. Coming… here… But how could he? After the argument? He and she both knew what had happened: the wolf cannot lie with the raven… The killer and the mind in the sky… They had that much established... but the pounding in her heart… the butterflies swarming her stomach… could it be real?

            He knelt down, at the side of the bed, laying his elbows on the cushion, and holding his head up. "I bet he means a lot to you. And you to him, most likely."

            He drew closer. Amelia could taste his breath. The alcohol lined his breath. Not enough to get him drunk, though. She smiled in her mind. Lightweight. His eyes locked into hers… Nothing like Mattie's… So…. Evil… When she looked into Matt's eyes… she saw evil… but she also saw pain. Pain and the deepest sadness one could ever know… but with the king… just evil. Black and pure.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to him? Do you?" He started to laugh, eyes closed.

"I am going to murder you… right. In. Front of him."

            The butterflies in her stomach turned into an infinite foul…

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty…" Some no-name servant came through the door. The king whirled around.

"What is it?!"

            The knave bowed.

"My liege…" He spoke, out of breathe.

"He's here, my Lord…"

            Amelia's eyes widened. No… please…

"So…. Are you ready for death…" The king turned back to Amelia.

"Giant?"

 

            Matt surveyed the city. He had been to the city many, many times, yet he never really looked at it. Beautiful, really. No wonder he loved the city so much. Lush trees, the smell of warm bread baking in the air, roaring fires… one could really call it home. He yawned, put his arms up and stretched.

"Ah… wonderful."

He looked back down, to the some fifty soldiers pointing spears right at his chest and head.

            He poked the tip of one with his finger.
"Youch. That's sharp." He scratched the back of his head. "Hey guys… any chance I could speak to the King?"

            No one moved. Scowls remained…

"Damn."

On cue, a horn blew its call. At the sound, the castle doors opened wide, revealing a fat king on his white (and flustered-looking) horse. Following closely was a maiden on a stake, but Matt took no notice. It was night, and all Matt really saw was the gleam of armor, blades, jewels… Just the things that mattered. All he could think about was how he was going to interrogate (and for Matt that usually means stab first ask questions later) the king into telling him where Amelia was. He smiled. Lots of fun ahead…. For Matt, anyway. A knight rode in front of them, towards Matt and the fifty spears. He called out, "Let the boy pass! The King commands it."

            Like a way for a king, the soldiers parted. Matt started through. Only a few short hundred feet away from his target.

 

            Sturgis' hand found its way to his nose. Not fully healed, it was still tender to the touch, and occasionally a drop of blood would escape. The blood spoke volumes: Hate, regret, pain, hate, humiliation, hate, hate, hate. Oh, Gods, how it sang songs of such revenge to Sturgis. How he longed to rip the beating heart from his chest… soon.

 

            The king called out to Matt.

"And so, here we are, boy…" He clasped his hands together, and the sound pierced the cool summer's night air. "You are a slippery one to kill, my friend. You killed my soldiers, and that doesn’t sit well with me…"

            Matt smiled, and dismounted Arod.

"Well, king, it's very hard to believe that you care so deeply or soldiers that you don't even know, nor care about." He looked at him for half a second.

“Ilicain… “He closed his eyes, and stared at the ground. “We have much to speak of…”

            He raised his head and looked straight to the King’s eyes.

“King… what do you know about regicide?”

            The king took a step back.

"W…what did you say?"

            Matt continued walking towards him.

"Where is she?" His face was emotionless, but his voice was as dark as the devil's.

“Tell me… and I promise, your fate will be nothing in comparison to that if you didn’t tell me. There are so many things worse than death, my Lord.” He smiled… insanely.

            The king laughed once, smiled softly, smirking. Gods, he could have wet his pants right there.

"Insolent dog." He kept smiling, nervously. "Bad dogs must be punished… kill him."

            He snapped his fingers, and numerous soldiers enclosed upon him: the front guard, the side flanks, and even the fifty behind him locked their shields and spears together, ready for a one-sided, one-victim massacre. Matt sighed.

            "Are you sure about this?" He asked the king with a cocked eyebrow.

"Can't we just…" he searched for the word, snapped his own fingers, "talk about it?"

            To no avail. He sighed once more.

            He walked through the group of soldiers, their spears aimed, nervously shaking. Matt put his hand on his sword, calmly, methodically, like a samurai. He breathed slowly, eyes to the ground, but closed.

"Your king wants you to kill me. But I will tell you here and now…" His eyes opened, staring straight ahead. The soldiers quaked; never had they felt such power from eyes. Many of them trembled.

"…that not a one of you will not take me down." He crouched, one foot in front, other in back, and floating gently above the sword's hilt.

"Anyone who wishes to die, please step forward. Otherwise, go home now…"

            Grips tightened. Teeth gnashed. Eyes twitched.

            One soldier lost his nerve… and charged forward. Only a foot away, Matt's sword flashed from its hilt; the blade found its mark, cutting horizontally across the knight's chest. He stumbled back, only to meet Matt's sword again, cutting from the above. The knight fell, his blood splattered on the ground.

 

            Amelia, the scantily-clad maiden on the stake (in her defense, she did not pick the outfit), could only watch. This was her Matt… Such cruelty… but something was… different. She tried to place her finger on it, but only one thing came to her mind: reserve. His blade was not covered in blood… Nor was the white spear on his back. He's… changed…

            The tears in her eyes had been the happiest in months.

 

            The rest of the soldiers could only stare in awe. Grossly outnumbered (Matt counted about one fifty, maybe more), Matt could only pray that this would defer the others from fighting. He could handle twenty, maybe thirty, but no more. Even Matt the monster would die like a human.

            They closed in around him…

"Hold!" The voice was familiar. Parting, the soldier's canyon revealed a man with long black wavy hair, a goatee and noble's moustache.

"Matthew."

            The noble drew his gold-hilted sword.

"Long time no see, Sturgis… how's the nose?"

"Ha ha. Funny. Drop the sword and draw your spear."

            Matt cocked his eyebrow.

"You want me to win this fight?"

"Just do it."

            Matt dropped the sword, clang.

"…Ok…"

            Reaching behind him, Matt drew his white ashen pole. He readied himself, stancing himself for close combat.

"Attack, peasant."

            With a great warcry, Matt thrust forward.

 

            Amelia did not see much of the battle; the soldiers guarding her gathered round and obscured her view. But she did hear a lot of it. Clang, twang, and the like. Mostly parries and thrusts, and the occasional yelp of pain. The fighting continued for nigh ten minutes, when she heard the most terrifying sound of all: silence. A body fell to the ground. Her heart sank. She cried, for who knows what warrior…

"ILICAIN!"

            Matthew! Her tears intensified. The soldiers around her parted, to reveal a truly sordid sight: There he stood, with cuts numerous, bleeding out, and a spear behind him, sticking up into the noble's stomach. The warrior looked like Hell.

 

            Matt leaned down, and took Sturgis' gold-hilted sword in hand. He climbed up the hill, hardly breathing.

"Ilicain…" he could hardly croak out.

"Where…. Where is she?"

            The king could only stare in awe… awe and anger. He stepped back.

"G-guards! Kill this dog!"

            Nobody moved. The king looked around. Was it really happening to him? He looked to each and everyone of them, sending a silent cry for help to each one of them. They only looked back.

            The fire of change burned in every one of them.

            Matt was on the king, sword at his throat.

"No man is subject to abuse, Ilicain. No one. Not the baker, not the blacksmith, not the farmer, not the noble… not even the killer. No one here will ever raise a sword for you again.” With a smug satisfaction, Matt tightened his grip on the throat he could barely wrap his hand around, and uttered,

“Where’s your crown, King Nothing?”

            Ilicain gulped.
            And Matt smiled.

"Now…. Tell me: Where… is… Amelia?"

            The king started to breath heavily.

"The… the giant? She's over there… just… just take her!" He motioned to the stake. Matt looked… and couldn’t believe his eyes.

            Yet there she was: In next to no clothing, tied to a wooden stake… was his red-headed princess, Amelia.

            For a moment he could only stare, mouth agape: eyes locked with her… tiny, brown eyes. She smiled at him. Tiny.

            He dropped the sword, falling with a clank on the hard stone ground.

Matthew walked painfully slow to her, and gently touched her delicately small arms.

"Amelia… is this… you?" Tears started to form in his eyes.

            Her tears renewed, nodded her head furiously.

"Yes, Matt… it's me."

 

            Embracing each her tightly, they never felt so alive… Matt produced his knife, and cut the ropes which bound her. She fell into his arms.

"I'm… so… sorry, Amelia… I deserve to die, leaving you like that."

            Amelia put her head on his, and her warm tears ran down and washed his head.

"No, Matt… I'm sorry…. I shouldn’t have let you leave… please, forgive me…"

            For an entire minute, they kissed, they hugged, and they apologized for a full minute. But after, they just held each other, watched by a crowd of hundreds as their witnesses.

"Matthew… you've changed…"

            He looked down on her face, eyes still streaming.
"Yeah…? I guess…. I don’t have to kill to live… do I?"

            She shook her head.

"No, Matt… you don’t have to kill anymore." She put her head on his bosom, and closed her eyes, soaking in every last ray of the failing light.

 

            From the back:

"Oh, save me the theatrics."

            Matt whirled around, and pushed Amelia behind him: the King, clutching the gold-hilted sword in hand, was standing over them.

"Just get over it… and DIE!"

            He screamed, raised the sword over his head…

 

            Matt felt the warm blood on his face.

A spear had pierced its way through the King's stomach. The king, surprised, looked down to his chest. He dropped the sword onto the ground, and brought his hands down to the spear's head. Touching it, "This… is my blood?"

            He fell over, dead, eyes wide in disbelief. Behind him… was Sturgis. In his hands was Matt's white ashen spear… bloodied.

            Matt and Sturgis, that traitor knight, locked eyes. What was he planning?

"Well, Matthew…" He smiled. "Looks like your spear really did pierce the king's heart."

            Matt still held onto the shrunken Amelia... but he let go. He drew his knife out, and spread his legs apart, ready for one more fight-

            Sturgis’ face dropped. He rolled his eyes.

"Gods, Matthew, just quit it, will you?" Sturgis said. "Haven't you had enough fighting for one day?" He let the spear rest at his side.

He nodded to the side gate.

"Just go home. Take the girl and leave." He pointed a finger at them. "But don’t let me see either of you ever again… or Gods help me, I will finish the job…" He snarled.

            Matt stood still for a second, then nodded. He turned back to Amelia. She looked cold. He rubbed her arms. On the ground was a blanket. How or why it was there, no one knew. It was rough and made of wool. Matt wrapped it around Amelia, who was now shivering and chatting her teeth.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

 He started to walk slowly away with Amelia, embracing her close to him. The silence in the town was deafening, and to be honest, it made both of them uncomfortable. Amelia did what she always did with silence: avert her eyes. Matt, on the other hand, eyed everyone warily. He half-expected an arrow to shoot out at them from nowhere, and by Gods, he was going to catch it.

 Some of the guards still pointed there spears: "Let them go." Sturgis called out. Followed by hundreds of eyes, they were ushered out of the gate.

Behind them, it closed with a loud thump. They looked back, looks unsure of what to think of it. Without another word, and hands clasped together tightly, they started walking towards Amelia's now very large abode.

 

After an hour:

"Matt?" She looked at nothing.

"Yeah, Amelia?"

"How… old are you?"

            Matt squinted, not looking at anything in particular, either.

"I'm twenty one. Why?"

            She smiled, and laid her head down on his shoulder as they walked.
"Nothing. I'm just… glad."

            And forward they walked through the eastern forests, Arod trotting delicately behind.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

The rain fell in timed intervals, almost. Every now and then, the sky would let loose her fury, and the rainfall on the stone ground would resonate louder than the actually thunder. Compounded with the wind blowing over the massive cave opening like breath over a bottle mouth, it made quite the wail.

            All just white noise.

"Mmmmmm," Amelia would moan as she shifted. She was quite warm, and every once in a while would shift in her rough wool blanket, trying to take in every bit of heat she could get. She shivered, and moved closer to Matt.

            Matt just sat there, starring at nothing, letting the beautiful redhead lay her head down on his chest. Her hair was smooth, flat…soft. He could tell, even when his tunic was on. He ran two fingers through it… like silk. Just like when she was bigger.

            Matt never told her this, but he once at her pillow, playing with her hair. He liked the way it felt. But, he would never say that to her…

"I like your hair." He blurted out, rather calmly.

            She shifted again, turning her head towards him. She didn't open her thinnly, then,
"Mmmhuh…?" She turned again.

"…Weirdo….mmm."

            Matt smiled. It was pretty odd, he agreed. He started thinking about what people inevitably think about when ever they're cast out of a village and living in a cave formerly inhabited by a red-headed, mountain-tall girl.

            Now what?

It burned in his mind. He honestly didn’t know the answer. So, he decided to sleep on it- but he wasn't tired.

            Sighing, and realizing that he couldn't get up, fearing that he would disturb his freshly miniaturized girlfriend, he reached to for a familiar object: His (Well, it was Amelia's, and technically it was stolen from it's original owner) stringscop.

            He brushed his fingers lightly against it, hearing the delicate hums of reverberating strings over acoustics.

            He started out with a simple quarter note melody… and his voice softly began to echo:

 

Father I have killed many angels,
I think
I will now walk to the sea.
I hope I will someday forgive me
Please moor
my empty boat on a pier
I can blame for the blue blood that runs in my veins.
But I seem to forget that we are all the same.

In your own blaze of hate you've spawned the fear in many lives
You've taken action thinking it was all said on the signs.
You cannot heal the feeling burning deep inside this mind
You now collapse, cave-in revealing scabby marks of life
Mother I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.
Forgot every word you told me, stubborn little child, (angel of your life)
I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.

But the pain will remain.
No power to gain.
Now I have time to dwell on, self awareness, dreadful crime.
I saw the colors too bright, not knowing that I was blind.
I slayed a man who took a chance and drank the forbidden wine.
The map I draw reveals that I have been complete, machine, in team.

Father I've seen too much, I hate to live my life.
Forgot every word you told me. Stubborn little child, (angel of your life)
I have to find my Eden now, the gates I left behind.
The pain will remain.
No power to gain. No!

Mother where's your son.
When has this begun?
Who has been the fool?
No one was born to be a servant or a slave.
Who can tell me the color of the rain?
In the world that we live in, the things said and done
They can well overrun
The power of one!

No one was born to be a servant or a slave.
Can you tell me the color of the rain?
In the world that we live in, the things said and done
They can well overrun
The power of one.

To live and let die
To give hope and take life
Is that what you're here for?
To think that you are right
To make sure it won't fly
Is the making of a hate crime
In the lands of the brave,
In the homes of the land slaves,
We are all the same
I need to believe.
There's more than the eye can see
All colors of rainbow.
No one was born to be a slave
Seek the past and place the blame
Tell me the color of the rain
No one was born to be a master

In the land we live, we die
praise the oneness, praise the lie
To bind a web around the faker
We will need a true
Rainmaker

 

            As the last chord rang out in the hollow cave, the rain finally began to reclaim the sound it had lost to the magical tune.

            Matt sighed, one last time, and set the stringscop down. He wrapped his arms around tightly around Amelia, and set his head to hers. Softly, he spoke,

"Amelia."

"...Matt…"

"I think….

            … I think I found my Eden."