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Story Notes:

I wrote this (under the name Tenken13 on this very site) several years ago on whim after reading the incomparable Rowena by Pixis. I decided to bring it back out, clean it up, and submit it again.

Tags: gentle, giantess, 100ish feet, bewbs, feet, etc

 

Author's Chapter Notes:

Matt, our protagonist, is introduced. Also, the asswipe king is introduced

            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.

 

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          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!"

 

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            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.

 

Chapter End Notes:

I remember Kirbergian and Thorogood were the proper nouns of things that were lying about my parent's den while I was living there. Kirbergian was a book or something and there was a George Thorogood cd lying around.

yeah 18 and rocking the living in the parents den

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