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Description
2

A sharp pain running down the length of my spine jerked me awake. Opening my eyes I was greeting by a hard stone floor acting as a bland, coverless bed. It took me a few seconds, with my wits still frazzled, to realize I wasn't on the plane anymore. Holding off a wave of panic, I went through a few stupid scenarios in my head as to how I could have gotten here, wherever here was; one being that the plane crashed in England or Ireland and my body rolled through the front door of an old castle. That one was the first to be dismissed. There was a serge in my panic as I realized Trucker wasn't with me before remembering he hadn't come at all and I was able to calm my breathing considerably. Pinching myself hurt. I was flying or standing in a crowded room with no clothes on. No dream. Still, one question ran through my mind: Where the heck am I?
Looking around in the dim light I saw my backpack a few feet away. And near the brightly colored pack was a huge knife. It was somewhere around ten feet long, wider than a car, and the blade looked somewhat rusted. Another suggestion turned in my head: a movie set. With my legs tingling lightly I stood, letting curiosity get the better of me, and moved toward it. Thinking I could prop it against the wall for a better view, and maybe even a stage number or manufacture name, I found out how heavy it really was. To be honest, I probably sounded like an old man grunting trying to lift it off the ground. Bandages, torn and with holes, had been wrapped around the hilt and something engraved in to the blade in weird writing. The calligraphy was as if someone had spilled ink and not done such a good job getting it out of the cracks in the floor. It was… interesting.
Searching for cameras, I glanced up at a stonework ceiling that could stand above a small skyscraper. Or even a medium sized skyscraper - higher than the ceiling of any castle I knew that had been built. Down the hall arched a door, a mere few feet shorter than the ceiling itself, shut and sealed by a heavy latch. This was a really good movie set.
"Where around the Saroon did you leave that thing?" The sudden voice bounced around the corridor, nearly causing me to shriek with surprise.
"If I knew then I would not be looking for it!"
A door slammed some distance away, out of sight around the turn in the hall, rattling the floor and echoing off the stone walls. That abnormally loud sound was followed by one voice yelling and another's laughter. I heard footsteps coming from the next hall. Not just heard, I felt the rhythmic pulse through my body. My legs began to numb as the fear finally kicked in and I could not move no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that the voices belonged to stage crew. A nauseous lump piled up in my throat. The whole movie idea had completely abandoned me.
Two large figures came around the corner. Both close to sixty-five or seventy feet high. Giants? The word spun. Not real did not compute. Panic, freeze, stare like a deer in headlights did. In hindsight RUN would have done pretty good as the first turned toward me.
With raging green eyes and brown skin surrounding them a giant male strolled toward me. Long tan colored hair, and two rows of curved ram horns protruding right over his ears. Horns with sharp, dangerous points. The outfit he wore looked liked a sweat suit; all white and the top had a hood – casual in a vintage kind of way, but noting to distract from the skewers on his head. Slowly he approached, bare feet padding softly on the cold floor. Not that it seemed to bother him at all or halt the quivering floor as he moved. He stopped right before me and knelt down. He muttered something.
"Perfect." his whispered tone hung in the air for a brief moment. His hand reached toward me, or should I say passed me. He plucked up the knife as if a sack of gold had just doubled in size right before his eyes. Straightening up, not sparing me even a mindless glance or triumphant smile, he left. Just like that.
Maybe he can't see me? I thought. Maybe this is some kind of weird dream. Or I'm having an out of body experience. I exhaled, then let go of a few horrible thoughts that had been running though my head before looking at the other figure.
This one had pale skin, with almost a strange glow to it in the unattractive light. His hair was blond, braided, and went down close to the small of his back. His brown eyes held almost as much shock as mine. Apparently he expected the encounter as much as I had. The boots he had on were old, a worn light brown. He had on green pants, obvious cut stitches in the knees, and a brown vest that was too conservative to expos any skin. There was a low cut, chain necklace, nearly identical to the one I got on the plane only a lot bigger around his neck. The worse part was he was staring dead at me, no mistake this time.
A few horrific thoughts flooded back to me and I almost fell to my knees from the rush of them. Giants were not supposed to be real! They were not supposed to be outside the pages of a book or TV screen. And they defiantly were not supposed to point and speak.
"You there!" He stuttered "What…what are you -?"
It seemed like he was about to make a move when my feet suddenly took me running in the opposite direction. With my heart racing I sprinted down the hallway and around a corner. White hot fear fueled my sprint. Down a second hall, another corner, then a third and fourth. The whole place looked to be made of stone with really no distinguishing features. Bland to anyone who was just sightseeing and not running for their lives. But at the time that seemed pretty moot. Around the next corner I noticed a small indent in the base of the wall, just big enough for me to hide in if I curled in to a ball. Getting into it would be a one shot deal and I knew if I missed that chance the monster would catch me.
As I came to the indentation I tripped over something sharp causing a gasping pain up my leg. A sword was lying on the ground… with the same giant that I assumed had been chasing me standing next to it. I looked down. The sword was lying flat on the ground and I was lying on the flat of the blade. It was a wonder I wasn't seriously injured.
With his own look of apprehension he slowly lifted the sword, being careful to keep it straight. Then he tilted it. Vertigo struck leaving me slightly disoriented, unable to really comprehend what he was doing until hitting a soft surface. When I slid into his hand he closed it. I was being crushed in on myself, though not really that painfully. His hand was warm if not a bit suffocating, the palm quickly growing hot. The lump of fear in my gut grew worse at the prison began to sway and tremble in time with his steps. That seasick motion only paused briefly, the hand flexing around me like a spasm.
After he started to walk again I tried to build up the nerve to say something, anything, to get him to let me go or open his airtight grip.
I took a deep breath, making sure that I had my voice and yelled. "Who gave you the right to just snatch people off the ground and carry them away, huh? One day you'll pick up the wrong person. Then what?"
He stopped. I could feel his hand rising causing my stomach to twist in knots. Before it even stopped moving he opened his hand and a huge regret fell over me.
I'm going to die. I thought. I never should have said anything.
I closed my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip until the skin cracked. All he made was an amused grunting sound deep within his throat. I pried open my eyes to look at him. My heart was pounding louder then his footsteps but to him the sound went unnoticed. He was standing in front of a large door, about a hundred feet tall, halfway open to let out the dim light. He had a book in his other hand but I couldn't see it very well from where I was. Not that I was too interested in the book at the moment. But, then again, neither was he - he focus was glued intently down the hall.
"I will have to talk to his Majesty tomorrow morning." he sighed looking down at me. "For now it is late. Everyone is resting."
My head snapped around when I realized that the room must have been his bedroom. "No way am I staying in a room with you. Teenage girls get-" I stopped. What was the use? Even though at this point I would have said just about anything to keep him from taking me in to any room there was no reason to open my mouth and possibly get myself killed. Besides, if I had completed what was going to come out of my mouth I would have felt foolish.
Ignoring me, the giant went inside closing the door behind him. The room was small even by giant standards. There was a small window on the far side of the room with a low legged table seated beneath it. On the tabletop were a small stack of books with strange calligraphy written on the spines, a glass half filled with red liquid, and across from the glass sat a small, wooden birdcage. A bed sat up against the wall next to the table. Somehow the light colored bed covers made the space cheery. The only seating was a chair in the corner by the door. An armoire sat close to the chair.
The giant made his way for the table where the book was rudely dropped down on top of the pile. Then he moved the cage to the bed, flipping the latch open, and shoved me into it, knocking me into the far bars. The wooden prison wobbled. Using one hand to steady it he clicked the lock into place and plopped down on the bed causing my cell to nearly tip over. His massive chest heaved with deep breaths. His body relaxed noticeably. I did all I could to suppress the need to yell and release the fear and frustration that continued to build within me. The quiet helped. With the giant making no movement or sound I was able to get my heart rate to slow down. It was enough to hold off the screaming tantrum that would have shamed my child. I held on to the quiet. Used it like a blanket of calmness, praying it would last long enough to think of… anything.
A few minutes later the silence was broken by a loud thump from above.
The giant growled. "Abon, you fool, why do you have to do this now?" he stood up, shaking the bed. He took a moment to steady himself before stepping away, muttering. "Better get something to eat, too." He left, not sparing me another glance.
I made a heartless grunting sound. Even with the massive man gone I wasn't feeling too much better. Trapped in a cage, worn out from running. All of that kept the 'feeling better' scale out of balance. Then again, I was feeling pessimistic. Without him the room felt much bigger. After about twenty or thirty minutes of brooding against the bars a thought struck me; there might be something in my backpack that I could use! I smoothed my hand along my back and felt nothing.
"I don't have it. I left it behind." I sighed, slumping back against the bars. "Now what?"
"Now we can eat."
I jerked my head around at the door. The blond was leaning against the doorframe struggling with his sword. The hilt was pushing up against his neck and cheek from trying to hold the rest of it under his arm. He had a small, shabby pull string bag and a green, white spotted piece of fruit in the other hand. He came in with looping big strides, hurrying to not drop his load before reaching the bed. A strange mix of smells had followed him into the room, and crowded his person. I turned my head towards the books on the table, pretending to take an interest the colorful lettering.
"Can you read them?" his tone sounded distracted.
I turned around responding instinctively. "What?"
"Can you read kice-rene?" He rubbed his eyes. "I wanted to know what you were…."
"No, I can't read it." I said dryly. I blinked and he was at the table, which for someone his size I shouldn't have missed him move. "H- How'd you do that?" It freaked me out enough that I momentarily forgot to be afraid.
"Kamender." The answer was short. "Now here's dinner." He started to sound like he was talking more to himself then to me becoming even more distracted than he'd been a second ago. "I have a peace of fruit and Deiman's baden nuts. I don't think those are needed now."
"I'm not hungry." I was scared.
He frowned at me. "You might be useless, disposable. In fact, I'm perfectly certain you are, but that cannot be determined if you've starved to death and I can't show you to his Majesty and see what you're worth."
I dropped against the bars of the cage, fear turning in my stomach. Was he just going to kill me when he was done with me? I didn't know what he wanted in the first place, but I hadn't imagined it'd be made clear so quickly. Maybe I should have seen the dismal fate coming.
He broke off a small piece of fruit opening the cage door and shoving the piece into my chest coating my shirt in a sticky glaze. At almost half my size, the inside of it was bright yellow and smelled like honey. His glare alone was enough to make me eat, though with little appetite. It tasted good, too, like a sweet peach with a tangy zest. He had already started eating the rest of it. There was no talk for the rest of the night, which for me was an honest relief. When he had finished eating he lay on the bed next to the cage. The wind tapped at the window and that seemed to lull him in to a dead sleep.
Let him sleep.
I needed to get out of there.

Description
2

A sharp pain running down the length of my spine jerked me awake. Opening my eyes I was greeting by a hard stone floor acting as a bland, coverless bed. It took me a few seconds, with my wits still frazzled, to realize I wasn't on the plane anymore. Holding off a wave of panic, I went through a few stupid scenarios in my head as to how I could have gotten here, wherever here was; one being that the plane crashed in England or Ireland and my body rolled through the front door of an old castle. That one was the first to be dismissed. There was a serge in my panic as I realized Trucker wasn't with me before remembering he hadn't come at all and I was able to calm my breathing considerably. Pinching myself hurt. I was flying or standing in a crowded room with no clothes on. No dream. Still, one question ran through my mind: Where the heck am I?
Looking around in the dim light I saw my backpack a few feet away. And near the brightly colored pack was a huge knife. It was somewhere around ten feet long, wider than a car, and the blade looked somewhat rusted. Another suggestion turned in my head: a movie set. With my legs tingling lightly I stood, letting curiosity get the better of me, and moved toward it. Thinking I could prop it against the wall for a better view, and maybe even a stage number or manufacture name, I found out how heavy it really was. To be honest, I probably sounded like an old man grunting trying to lift it off the ground. Bandages, torn and with holes, had been wrapped around the hilt and something engraved in to the blade in weird writing. The calligraphy was as if someone had spilled ink and not done such a good job getting it out of the cracks in the floor. It was… interesting.
Searching for cameras, I glanced up at a stonework ceiling that could stand above a small skyscraper. Or even a medium sized skyscraper - higher than the ceiling of any castle I knew that had been built. Down the hall arched a door, a mere few feet shorter than the ceiling itself, shut and sealed by a heavy latch. This was a really good movie set.
"Where around the Saroon did you leave that thing?" The sudden voice bounced around the corridor, nearly causing me to shriek with surprise.
"If I knew then I would not be looking for it!"
A door slammed some distance away, out of sight around the turn in the hall, rattling the floor and echoing off the stone walls. That abnormally loud sound was followed by one voice yelling and another's laughter. I heard footsteps coming from the next hall. Not just heard, I felt the rhythmic pulse through my body. My legs began to numb as the fear finally kicked in and I could not move no matter how hard I tried to convince myself that the voices belonged to stage crew. A nauseous lump piled up in my throat. The whole movie idea had completely abandoned me.
Two large figures came around the corner. Both close to sixty-five or seventy feet high. Giants? The word spun. Not real did not compute. Panic, freeze, stare like a deer in headlights did. In hindsight RUN would have done pretty good as the first turned toward me.
With raging green eyes and brown skin surrounding them a giant male strolled toward me. Long tan colored hair, and two rows of curved ram horns protruding right over his ears. Horns with sharp, dangerous points. The outfit he wore looked liked a sweat suit; all white and the top had a hood – casual in a vintage kind of way, but noting to distract from the skewers on his head. Slowly he approached, bare feet padding softly on the cold floor. Not that it seemed to bother him at all or halt the quivering floor as he moved. He stopped right before me and knelt down. He muttered something.
"Perfect." his whispered tone hung in the air for a brief moment. His hand reached toward me, or should I say passed me. He plucked up the knife as if a sack of gold had just doubled in size right before his eyes. Straightening up, not sparing me even a mindless glance or triumphant smile, he left. Just like that.
Maybe he can't see me? I thought. Maybe this is some kind of weird dream. Or I'm having an out of body experience. I exhaled, then let go of a few horrible thoughts that had been running though my head before looking at the other figure.
This one had pale skin, with almost a strange glow to it in the unattractive light. His hair was blond, braided, and went down close to the small of his back. His brown eyes held almost as much shock as mine. Apparently he expected the encounter as much as I had. The boots he had on were old, a worn light brown. He had on green pants, obvious cut stitches in the knees, and a brown vest that was too conservative to expos any skin. There was a low cut, chain necklace, nearly identical to the one I got on the plane only a lot bigger around his neck. The worse part was he was staring dead at me, no mistake this time.
A few horrific thoughts flooded back to me and I almost fell to my knees from the rush of them. Giants were not supposed to be real! They were not supposed to be outside the pages of a book or TV screen. And they defiantly were not supposed to point and speak.
"You there!" He stuttered "What…what are you -?"
It seemed like he was about to make a move when my feet suddenly took me running in the opposite direction. With my heart racing I sprinted down the hallway and around a corner. White hot fear fueled my sprint. Down a second hall, another corner, then a third and fourth. The whole place looked to be made of stone with really no distinguishing features. Bland to anyone who was just sightseeing and not running for their lives. But at the time that seemed pretty moot. Around the next corner I noticed a small indent in the base of the wall, just big enough for me to hide in if I curled in to a ball. Getting into it would be a one shot deal and I knew if I missed that chance the monster would catch me.
As I came to the indentation I tripped over something sharp causing a gasping pain up my leg. A sword was lying on the ground… with the same giant that I assumed had been chasing me standing next to it. I looked down. The sword was lying flat on the ground and I was lying on the flat of the blade. It was a wonder I wasn't seriously injured.
With his own look of apprehension he slowly lifted the sword, being careful to keep it straight. Then he tilted it. Vertigo struck leaving me slightly disoriented, unable to really comprehend what he was doing until hitting a soft surface. When I slid into his hand he closed it. I was being crushed in on myself, though not really that painfully. His hand was warm if not a bit suffocating, the palm quickly growing hot. The lump of fear in my gut grew worse at the prison began to sway and tremble in time with his steps. That seasick motion only paused briefly, the hand flexing around me like a spasm.
After he started to walk again I tried to build up the nerve to say something, anything, to get him to let me go or open his airtight grip.
I took a deep breath, making sure that I had my voice and yelled. "Who gave you the right to just snatch people off the ground and carry them away, huh? One day you'll pick up the wrong person. Then what?"
He stopped. I could feel his hand rising causing my stomach to twist in knots. Before it even stopped moving he opened his hand and a huge regret fell over me.
I'm going to die. I thought. I never should have said anything.
I closed my eyes, biting down on my bottom lip until the skin cracked. All he made was an amused grunting sound deep within his throat. I pried open my eyes to look at him. My heart was pounding louder then his footsteps but to him the sound went unnoticed. He was standing in front of a large door, about a hundred feet tall, halfway open to let out the dim light. He had a book in his other hand but I couldn't see it very well from where I was. Not that I was too interested in the book at the moment. But, then again, neither was he - he focus was glued intently down the hall.
"I will have to talk to his Majesty tomorrow morning." he sighed looking down at me. "For now it is late. Everyone is resting."
My head snapped around when I realized that the room must have been his bedroom. "No way am I staying in a room with you. Teenage girls get-" I stopped. What was the use? Even though at this point I would have said just about anything to keep him from taking me in to any room there was no reason to open my mouth and possibly get myself killed. Besides, if I had completed what was going to come out of my mouth I would have felt foolish.
Ignoring me, the giant went inside closing the door behind him. The room was small even by giant standards. There was a small window on the far side of the room with a low legged table seated beneath it. On the tabletop were a small stack of books with strange calligraphy written on the spines, a glass half filled with red liquid, and across from the glass sat a small, wooden birdcage. A bed sat up against the wall next to the table. Somehow the light colored bed covers made the space cheery. The only seating was a chair in the corner by the door. An armoire sat close to the chair.
The giant made his way for the table where the book was rudely dropped down on top of the pile. Then he moved the cage to the bed, flipping the latch open, and shoved me into it, knocking me into the far bars. The wooden prison wobbled. Using one hand to steady it he clicked the lock into place and plopped down on the bed causing my cell to nearly tip over. His massive chest heaved with deep breaths. His body relaxed noticeably. I did all I could to suppress the need to yell and release the fear and frustration that continued to build within me. The quiet helped. With the giant making no movement or sound I was able to get my heart rate to slow down. It was enough to hold off the screaming tantrum that would have shamed my child. I held on to the quiet. Used it like a blanket of calmness, praying it would last long enough to think of… anything.
A few minutes later the silence was broken by a loud thump from above.
The giant growled. "Abon, you fool, why do you have to do this now?" he stood up, shaking the bed. He took a moment to steady himself before stepping away, muttering. "Better get something to eat, too." He left, not sparing me another glance.
I made a heartless grunting sound. Even with the massive man gone I wasn't feeling too much better. Trapped in a cage, worn out from running. All of that kept the 'feeling better' scale out of balance. Then again, I was feeling pessimistic. Without him the room felt much bigger. After about twenty or thirty minutes of brooding against the bars a thought struck me; there might be something in my backpack that I could use! I smoothed my hand along my back and felt nothing.
"I don't have it. I left it behind." I sighed, slumping back against the bars. "Now what?"
"Now we can eat."
I jerked my head around at the door. The blond was leaning against the doorframe struggling with his sword. The hilt was pushing up against his neck and cheek from trying to hold the rest of it under his arm. He had a small, shabby pull string bag and a green, white spotted piece of fruit in the other hand. He came in with looping big strides, hurrying to not drop his load before reaching the bed. A strange mix of smells had followed him into the room, and crowded his person. I turned my head towards the books on the table, pretending to take an interest the colorful lettering.
"Can you read them?" his tone sounded distracted.
I turned around responding instinctively. "What?"
"Can you read kice-rene?" He rubbed his eyes. "I wanted to know what you were…."
"No, I can't read it." I said dryly. I blinked and he was at the table, which for someone his size I shouldn't have missed him move. "H- How'd you do that?" It freaked me out enough that I momentarily forgot to be afraid.
"Kamender." The answer was short. "Now here's dinner." He started to sound like he was talking more to himself then to me becoming even more distracted than he'd been a second ago. "I have a peace of fruit and Deiman's baden nuts. I don't think those are needed now."
"I'm not hungry." I was scared.
He frowned at me. "You might be useless, disposable. In fact, I'm perfectly certain you are, but that cannot be determined if you've starved to death and I can't show you to his Majesty and see what you're worth."
I dropped against the bars of the cage, fear turning in my stomach. Was he just going to kill me when he was done with me? I didn't know what he wanted in the first place, but I hadn't imagined it'd be made clear so quickly. Maybe I should have seen the dismal fate coming.
He broke off a small piece of fruit opening the cage door and shoving the piece into my chest coating my shirt in a sticky glaze. At almost half my size, the inside of it was bright yellow and smelled like honey. His glare alone was enough to make me eat, though with little appetite. It tasted good, too, like a sweet peach with a tangy zest. He had already started eating the rest of it. There was no talk for the rest of the night, which for me was an honest relief. When he had finished eating he lay on the bed next to the cage. The wind tapped at the window and that seemed to lull him in to a dead sleep.
Let him sleep.
I needed to get out of there.