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Kor's Tale:

I was born under trying circumstances, and my first memory was of my weeping father.... but let's back up for a moment.

My father, Jormahd, was a young man when he married my mother, Thea.  His father was a shepherd, and so, as tradition had long dictated, he chose to assume responsibility of the herds.  Leading them far East of the mountain clan holdings and villages, and taking his strong wife with him, he began to let his flocks graze the plains where Men seldom tread.  It is Men who changed everything for him.

One warm night, with Thea sleeping sound in his roughly built shack, full of child from the marriage-night months and months before.  Jormahd sat on a close-by hill, watching the herd that was nearest graze in the moonlight.  Soon he would be a father, and his son would follow him, and he his, and he his.  So said tradition.  Only in a war would he be forced to lead a violent life, and giants seldom fought the wars of Men.  He watched the heard, smiling at the future.

He spied a small fire-light creeping towards the far-side of the herd, and watched with concern.  He had never dealt with sheep-thieves before, and his father had only encountered it once; a wandering, hungry giant who apologized profusely and was forgiven.  Giants did not steal without need, tradition dictated, and to approach another's herd so openly must mean great need.  Jormahd decided to wander down quietly and see how he could help.

As he approached the light from one side, moving as quietly as his large feet could manage, he discovered there were no giants there.  Men worked their way among the sheep with knives and rope, half a dozen, with two standing watch for the other four.  One spotted my father, large as he was, and called out for the others to retreat.  Men had faced giants before in battle, and did not learn enough of their ways to know that herds are herded by one giant alone.  The men withdrew quickly, and my father, enraged that his lively hood was stolen so, crept after them, staying a good distance away from the torch-light.  If there were more, he should find out, and inform the Elders of the closest hold.  Men were dangerous in numbers, and they seldom traveled alone.

After a short while of the most arduous creeping of his life (giants, of course, not being given to stealthy pursuit) he came to the small camp these Men had made.  A copse of trees shielded their small fires from a full view on the plain, and my father silently cursed himself at his lack of planning for the terrain.  It had changed much in the 100 years his father had gathered sheep.  He spied four fires, with a dozen men in view, and likely more in the tents scattered haphazardly about the camp.  The Elders would be very concerned about this.  Not because the Men could not be killed, but because they would have to be.  Theft is not taken lightly among giants, and if these men can walk undetected so far into the plains of grazing unnoticed, how many more might be lurking?  Waiting at the edges of the villages to carry off stomplings in the night, to be traded as workhorses on a slave ship.  The stories were horrible, and all giantesses used them to keep their stomplings in doors and out of harm's way at night.

This must be reported.  Now.  As he picked his way back among the trees a dry branch cracked and groaned beneath his foot, and he whipped his head around to make sure no one had heard.  They had indeed heard.  Several men had drawn steel and were calling out for Jormahd to show himself.  My father did the only sensible thing when confronted by many Men waving metal and shouting after him.  He ran.

Having long legs, he outdistanced them a ways before they began a real pursuit.  A quick glance over his shoulder showed their torches behind him distantly, unable to keep up for now.  They would not give up though.  He raced through the herd, all but oblivious to the frightened sounds coming from the sheep, heading for Thea and his shack.

Opening the door and scaring my mother into consciousness, he grabbed her and told her to leave all behind, taking nothing but a little food so they could make it to safety in the nearest hold, fifty miles westwards.  A day’s slow stroll, but he would be hounded the entire way, he believed and there would be no strolling.  The large mule that carried day-supplies for my father was stripped quickly and loaded with food and water bags.  He then dug out the only weapon he owned; a rusty greatsword corroded almost to weakness and encrusted in the aged leather scabbard it called home.  Belting it around his waist, he pushed my mother ahead of him and hauled the mule behind, trying desperately to leave before the men got anywhere near.

Not five miles of jogging later, he heard the shouts behind him, and the call of hounds.  They were hunting him!  Like an animal!  He spotted a stand of trees off to the north and led my mother to it, telling her to hide and keep silent while he led them away.  If he did not return by morning she should listen for Men and then hike to the hold.  Face grim, she fished a gutting knife from her own things and told him he had best come back.  Smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on the cheek he rushed off and away from her, yelling and hooting at the top of his lungs.

Half of the pursuing men, six in total, broke off from the main party and chased him.  The dogs stayed with the other group, still whiffing the mule's scent and howling to run forward.  Once he was behind a small hillock he spun to face his pursuers, eyes bulging in anger.  The six were surprised to find him ready, and one lost his arm and a good deal of his shoulder before the other five caught on and surrounded him.  They poked and prodded Jormahd, not being professional soldiers, but brigands and thieves, and attacking singly for the most part.  Four men fell under my father's blade, and as the fifth met his end, he managed to stab clean through Jormahd's leg.  Bellowing in rage, he half-limped, half-ran back to where my mother was hiding.  Not seeing the other Menfolk he believed them to have given up.  The sight my father saw when he found my mother will forever stain his memories.

Four men lay dead at the foot a large tree; a tree they had backed my mother into.  The hounds too lay dead, kicked and trampled by a fearful mule, but not before they had bitten at my mother's legs and hamstringed the poor beast.  Mujrl would haul no more supplies.  As my father ran to the tree, the remaining two Men surged forward, one making it past my mother's sharp knife and hacking her leg above the knee.  She fell, screaming and my father relieved the last two of their heads before rushing to my mother's side.  She had defended herself and me in her belly, but she could lose no more blood without dying.

Jormahd vainly tried to help, but he was no healer, and the nearest village much much too far away.  He would lose his beloved tonight, and his son with her.  His future was gone, for giants seldom marry twice, and he would never think of such a thing.  She cried out, the stress of battle having brought on labor.  My father was frightened, but did his best to bring me into the world in gentle hands.  Thea's eyes glazed over as she looked at her child, and she saw no more.

My father cut the life-cord, separating me from my mother, and held me up in his arms.  "You will be a great herdsman, my son.  Kor... yes, my grandfather's name.  A strong giant with a long beard.  You will lead many sheep, Kor."

He gathered what supplies he could and made the journey in the night to the nearest hold.  Handing me to a midwife for nursing, he gave his story to the Holders there, and they dispatched a troop of warriors to make sure there were no more Menfolk nearby.  They came back with four heads, and a map of the plains.  They let another one go, a young Man by his looks, to warn the others not to come back onto the plains.  Men crept closer to our dwellings every year, and every summer there were more and more of them.

The Holders, having heard of the manner of my birth, implored my father to let them train me as a warrior.  Such a birth, they said, should be a sign of a strong spirit, passed from the mother.  Spirit is the strength of a warrior, and they succeeded in pulling me from my future as a shepherd.

My father conceded me, and stayed in the Hold throughout my young life, giving me the benefit of his wisdom, and telling me about my mother.  My days were spent with lessons in weapons of all sort, on survival, how to defend this, how to attack that.  Giants dislike wars, but they are still fought, and whoever does not defend themselves is run over.  Giants dislike that thought even more.

The popular thoughts among Menfolk were that giants spent their days in bloody combat, bashing mates on the head and dragging them off to caves, sacrificing their children to strange gods, and laying waste to anything they didn't understand.  Men often draw hasty conclusions, but this ideology aided us in keeping Men off our lands, away from our holds and villages.  If they thought us savages, so be it, as long as we were left alone.

At the age of twenty-five, I left the hold in search of travel, as many young giants do.  Having earned my status as a young adult, I wished to enter the world and prove my gianthood by bringing back tales and souvenirs from strange places.  It is tradition that at or around the twenty-fifth year of birth, a young giant leaves home and come back an adult, and I followed the ancient ways strictly.

I found my way to Athens eventually, after a rather eventful summer spying on Man-towns.  I had seldom heard my father talk about that night in on the plains, but his hatred of Men was clear.  This then, was the object of his anger.  I had never seen any Men until now... such small and quick little things.  They were not ugly, just smaller.  I wondered how they spoke.  I hid from most of them until I reached the city of Athens .  There, I saw other giants, most young and passing through.  Here then, Men walked peacefully with Giants.  I saw fights and brawls between Men, but giants do the same from time to time, and this seemed oddly familiar.  Maybe they were not so horrible.  I had been taught by the Holders that I have no enemy, and to make incautiousness my enemy.  I followed that wisdom and kept my eyes ever open.

I met and was married to a human after living in the city of Athens for ten years.  I was amazed to hear that they lived so many fewer years than my kind, not even half as long!  These thoughts didn't enter the mind of a young thirty-something giant, and blinded by boyish ideals, I walked down the field of marriage following human traditions.  I do not regret it, but I have learned from it.  My life was happy and simple then, but then all things must end.

I was walking along an embankment one day, east of the city, when suddenly the soft soil underfoot crumbled and I fell hard and far.  My last sight was of the sky tumbling.... then all was dark....

I awoke at the base of the cliff, my head in horrible pain.  Nothing had broken on the fall, thankfully, and I stared up at where I had fallen from.  It was sheer, not a handhold on the entire surface, and impossibly high.  How I survived is a mystery.  I groaned as I got to my feet and surveyed my surroundings; the cliff ran on for as far as my eyes could see, like a giant step in the earth, only so large I could never possibly hope to traverse it.  I growled in anger.  I had a wife on the other side... and friends.  My life lay twenty feet away and a thousand feet up.  Determined to find a way over, I chose a direction and began walking steadily, if a little painfully.  It was a full day before I came to the village.

It was inhabited by people I had never seen before, all speaking a different tongue than that of Athens .  These people were also smaller, and slighter; I spied not a round one among them.  They were surprised at my approach, but not fearful.  So, they had met giants before.  I showed them I meant no harm and sat down for them to look me over.  As they did so, I examined one of them.... a male.  His eyes were almond shaped, and squinted, but there was a look of wisdom on his gnarled face.  Creases and wrinkles covered it, and it had taken on the tint of yellowed leather, but for all that he was a handsome Elder.  I reminded myself that he was probably only thirty or so years my senior, and once again marveled at how quickly humans seem to gain new knowledge.  I understood none of the halting words they spoke to me, but they seemed friendly.  The men wore simple robes, belted with a soft cloth, and their dark hair was cut short; no one possessed long hair, save for the women who often wore it tied back with sharp sticks shoved through it and peeking above their heads.

They saw that I carried no weapons, and bid me to follow with a gesture.  I was led to a small site not far out of the village where a large tent was brought and placed before me.  Several women came forward and put down baskets of fish at my feet.  Smiling, I sat down and began to eat.  The fall and walk had depleted my strength.  Having set up the tent (which was quite wide, but not very tall) I crawled inside and rested in the cool evening.  I fell asleep missing those I had left behind and wondering how I could ask these people for help.

The next week was confusing, and busy.  I learned through observation that they were doing a lot of stonework, and quarrying the needed rocks out of the cliff I had fallen over.  I hiked to the site to view it, and they had indeed cleared a long section, with steps being built up the cliff.  The rocks were immense, and each level after the first required more than one large boulder.  It was immense project, and required great strength.  A full thousand Men were hauling stones almost day and night, with brief rests when the shift changed.  I decided that I should help.  Not only would it be in thanks for feeding and sheltering me, but it may be my quickest way home.

The work took eight years.  I missed everyone terribly during all these days, and seeing me saddened on the hours I rested (they would not let me work on a certain day of a week) I was approached by one of their older men who carried a sword.  He had another, larger and apparently made for me by their smiths placed in my hands, complete with a larger scabbard.

I began to learn the sword from a Man.   My father, I'm sure, would have been disgusted, but the sword work cleared my mind and made my body so tired that all I could think about afterwards was sleep.  I dreamed very little and found contentment in this simple existence.  Their way of fighting was very smooth and clean, and I learned as much as I could in the time I was there.  I have a feeling only a lifetime spent in training could have given me any true insight into that deceptively simple form.  I was apparently a quick study, for the Man smiled at me often as I moved quickly across the space cleared for the study of war.  He talked constantly, and I did gain a basic understanding of what he said, but the details were lost on me.  He never stopped gibbering at me though... and met my confusion with amazing patience.  He possessed the spirit of a giant Elder, I thought.  Old and wise, benevolent and patient.

As the final boulders were placed alongside the cliff, a large group of the villagers had gathered in celebration.  Everyone feasted and danced and music played as the workers dropped the last stone into place.  I stared at the huge, rocky staircase calmly.  This was what I had been waiting for for years, and it was finally mine.  My old life.  My life had changed though, and in many ways for the better.... but I resolved myself to going back, this is what I had worked towards for years.

I bid my teacher goodbye, and his family gave me flowers and well wishes in their odd tongue.  I smiled one last time at the gathered people before taking my steps up the staircase.... out of this calm, simple life and back into the bustle of Athens .

Everything had changed.  I found that my wife was no longer my wife.  Faces were gone that I had known, new ones had replaced them.  But I was remembered.  People still knew my face, and my name.  I made new friends, new allies, and approached life in a new and interesting way.  Chief among the friends I made was Ashmael.  Always at my side in battle, and there when I need an ear to hear my troubles.  With a friend like that, how could a giant go wrong?

My life is simple again.  I seemed to have brought a small piece of that tranquil life with me.  May it never be disturbed.