Part 1
Chapter 6
The Fight for Food
Bread! Water! Venison! My mouth watered, and I could barely contain myself as I peeked around at the hallway. No one. Chapter 7 The Giant Prisoner
This was it. My last moments. Surprisingly however, the only thing I could think about was my sword. Strange, huh? Well, that and my brother, who always seemed to be throwing mud in my hair. . . Chapter 8 A New Friend
I fell off the man's leg and rolled onto the floor, coming to a halt a few feet later and standing up. I pointed at him, "You're daed Donnelly?" Chapter 9 Figurine
Gritting my teeth and clenching my fists, I eyed Claiborne as he knocked on the oak door twice before beginning a snooty conversation. Chapter 10 Faeries
"Thank you." Gwinna quietly replied, without much feeling. It was evident that she was very depressed.
Scampering to the door right beneath the slot, I began to uncoil the shoe-lace from my belt. I needed food. Again one would be surprised what they would do and face to get food. If there was a terrible criminal on the other side, he would probably be sick and weak, giving me the advantage. He wouldn't miss a little crumb's worth of food and a drip of water.
Tying one end of the rope to an arrow, I set the arrow in the bow and drew it taught. Then I let the arrow fly up and straight into a large crevice in between boards just above the slot.
That finished, I put my bow away and yanked on the rope. It gave some, but it would have to last me long enough to reach the slot.
Clutching the rope composed of horsehair, I walked up the door like it was the flat face of a mountain. I had to do so gently, since the arrow wasn't very strong, and the only thing keeping it in place were the jagged edges of the wood.
Finally reaching the slot, I gave a couple hard tugs. With a few light cracking sounds, the broken arrow shaft fell from the crevice, with the arrow missing and the rope dangling in the air. So much for using that arrow again. Traveling like this would be costly.
Leaning over, I stepped into the thick slot, with my back against the wood.
While on the little ledge, I surveyed the room. If the jailed person saw me I'd have to act fast and know exactly what I was doing.
At the far end of the small room was a window cut into the stone. It was wide in the inside but very small on the outside, allowing some light in, not much out. Nobody from the outside would be able to see who was kept here.
Nailed to the walls were slates, which connected to chains and shackles of various sizes. Most of the shackles were lying dormant on the floor. But four, however, were in use.
On the left side of the dark, damp room sat a man jätte, slumped against the wall. His wrists and ankles were shackled to the wall, as if stone and a thick, wooden door wouldn't be enough to keep him here.
The man had brown and blond hair, and yellowish-orange skin. His features were much the same as Claiborne, but then they were slightly different also.
I didn't contemplate on the man's face, or his stocky build long, as I eyed the food he was tormenting me with. He may not have been doing it purposely, but the mild speed at which he tore the thick, luscious, beautiful, white bread was nearly killing me!
While leaning over, I securely tied the shoe-lace rope to a large splinter sticking up from the wood. Then, sitting on the slot, I crept forward until I could slide easily down the door face. The sound of my boots against the stone floor was mild, and the man ignored me.
Creeping closer, I managed to hug the wall with my back, stepping over the few pieces of straw that littered the floor. They were like large branches, and it was hard not to trip over or get sliced by them.
Coming near the man, I slowed to light glides, as I came closer to his side. He continued to munch. It was a good thing he wasn't a fast eater, else I would've had to move with the agility of a squirrel.
Staying back from his view of vision, I bent over and followed the outside of his monstrous thigh to get closer to the food. He still didn't notice. He must've been really intent on the food, or so tired he didn't care to watch for rodents.
His knee was just above the floor enough for me to slip underneath. It would be a very close fit, and the chances were he'd feel me brush against his clothes. But right on the other side, sitting on the floor, was the pouch of liquid, and a building pile of bread crumbs. The crumbs themselves were large enough to be biscuits to me. Then the venison was beside them, but to make a quick getaway I'd have to carry objects that were light.
Eyeing the pouch closer, I saw that a large drop of water hung from the mouth. Perfect!
Holding my bow with my one hand, I quickly slipped it back over my shoulder and got on all fours. Once comfortable, I took my cloak with one hand and folded the corner to make a large bag.
Now, the true test of bravery.
With one last lick of my lips, and a deep breath, I felt like I was going into battle. Crawling forwards on the hard floor, I felt my body brush the underside of his knee.
My worst fear came true. He moved his leg upwards, blowing my total cover!
Pushing myself up(actually it was more like a frog-leap), I ran to the bread crumbs without hesitation! I stuffed the bread in my cloak, sucked up the drop of water from the pouch, and made a circle, sprinting back towards the slot!
The jätte had other plans.
I was forced to come to a screeching halt as a gigantic hand smacked the ground in front of me, tilted upright like a wall, prompting thunder and the clang of chains.
So I turned to run around it, when my feet suddenly lifted from the ground! I was flying! No. . .wait. . .I felt a strong grip on my cloak, bow, and overcoat on my back. Uh oh.
The ground left quickly, and soon I found myself face to face, or face to body, with the man jätte. I couldn't place exactly what he was planning, but his large, blank face was enough to get my heart pumping. . .that and the height I was from the ground.
"Lat mey gu!" I yelled as loud as possible, yanking my sword from the scabbard with my right hand.
He only obeyed when I swung for his thumb and forefinger with my blade. There was only one small thought that came into my head right after I'd done so. . . What was between me and the ground? Perhaps it was a wrong choice of words.
"Whoooaaahh!" I plummeted from the height, but landed on his thigh instead of the floor. I hit it on my stomach, then slid back off, slipping onto the ground with a light thump. His thigh had been much softer.
I laid on the floor only a moment, waiting for my breath to return. Then I forced myself upright, still clutching my sword and the bread. So far, I was still alive.
Then I heard the jätte move some more around me. He tucked in his legs so that he was in a kneeling position, and leaned over me like a tower. I gulped, turning so I could stare up at him.
A massive hand soon came into my vision. It was his right one, and it came straight towards me.
I swung my sword several times at it, but he always yanked it back in time.
Then he tried the other hand. That didn't work for him either, so he next decided to use both, one on either side of me.
He used his right hand to distract me long enough to grab my broadsword with his other hand. My instinct after this was to break for the door in a last attempt!
Sprinting, I made for the slot in the door, saying a quiet farewell to my beloved sword!
The man caught me before I'd gotten anymore than two feet away from him, however. He cupped his hands around me so fast that all I knew was that everything suddenly went dark, and I couldn't move. One thing I couldn't help but notice while in there was that his hands were soft, which meant he hadn't ever done much physical work, but that didn't keep my interest very long as I felt myself going upwards again.
When the hands began to part above my head, I flinched and waited for a squishing blow. It would all be over soon. I suddenly promised myself that I'd never squish a fly ever again. . .if I lived long enough to get the chance.
"Are you a faerie?"
A voice rumbled from somewhere in the jätte's gullet. He spoke softly though, something I hadn't heard up until this point. I was surprised that it didn't hurt my ears.
Blinking open my eyes, I planned to do so only long enough to look around. With quick observation I found that I was sitting in the man's hands, only a jätte's foot from his face.
"Wot?" I relaxed some and stared up at his humongous face.
"Are you a faerie? I've never seen a person your size before." He answered again softly.
For a person in prison he sure acted nice, let alone acting nice for a jätte! "No." faeries were small, insect-like people that only existed in old stories of distant lands. Then I realized what I was thinking. Jättes were supposedly only in old stories of distant lands also. I eyed him to see what he'd do now.
"Then. . .what are you?"
"Wael Oi'm not a jätte. Oi'm frum Lo'lamond, but caime o' wag frum Cobland. . ." My nervousness and anxiety from the sudden events took me back into deep slang, speed and accent.
"I'm sorry, I can't understand a word you're saying." The man shook his head.
"Oh." I stopped. Perhaps that's why he didn't drop me when I told him to. Hmmm. So I slowed down some and used the more proper words for his language, "Oi'm frum a plice called Lo'lamond. But Oi went ta a land called Cobland."
"But, what about your color? And why are you so small?" He squinted just to add affect.
I glanced down at myself, "Thees es normal fur whaer Oi came frum. An' everywoon es moy size. Thaer you'd be th' woon out o' plice." I pointed at him.
"I've never heard of Lo'lamond, or Cobland. Where are they?" He made himself more comfortable back against the wall.
Did he really think I was that stupid? If I told him where they were, they could go destroy the rikes with one strike.
Folding my arms, I didn't answer. He seemed to get the message.
"If you live there. . .then what are you doing here?"
I gave a weak smile and slight chuckle, "Heh, Oi were baneeshed."
"Baneeshed?" He repeated the word blankly, copying my accent.
"Baneeshed. Baneeshed!" I waved my hands. "You know, Oi can only abide here furever."
"Oh, banished." He nodded understanding. "Banished? Why?"
I sighed, unrolling the bread from my cloak and beginning to munch. "Oi were veesiting Cobland, an' spoke ta a noble, wotever 'at es. So he baneeshed mey here ta Imrove, th' land o' jättes."
"The land of Giants?" The man interpreted. I didn't notice him setting me down on his lower thigh while I stuffed myself with the bread.
I only nodded, finishing off the bread.
"We don't call it Imrove. Here it's known as Praryland. But you'd be surprised, here not all nobles are bad." He began to eat his bread again, pausing to pick a small piece off and set it down on his leg in front of me.
Quickly grasping the bread I ulved it down in a matter of seconds, knowing that leaving anything laying around would become fair game for mice and rats. "Really?"
"Yes. Unfortunately though, a bad one is in rule at the moment." He took my broadsword from the floor beside him and handed it to me with the tips of his thumb and forefinger.
My beloved sword! I quickly took it and sheathed it, happy just to have it back. With my thoughts on my sword, I then faintly remembered my encounters on the bottom floor of the keep. "Oh, 'at Claiborne guy?"
"Yes. Him." His words weren't at all kind at that moment. But he picked up the venison and broke a small piece of it off, handing it to me before he began munching the large part.
Greedily taking the venison from his fingers I ate that too, probably too quickly for good health. I belched lightly, showing that it was good, and lied back against his knee, propping up my head with my hands. "Yeah. Oi heard them doon below when Oi snuck en. Heem an' a guy, Stewart, were gabbin' aboat some pur daed fellow, an' a weddin'."
"Really?" The man leaned forward some, suddenly very interested. He locked his large fingers together and rested his right elbow up on his right knee, while the leg I was on was still stretched out.
"Yeah. Oi think th' fellow were called Donneiiy. Oi couldn't roight hear them though." I waved a hand slightly in the air.
"Don't you mean Donnelly?" He asked peculiarly.
"Yeah. 'At must'ave been it." I paused and sat up. "Hoe'd you know? News dinna travel en a jail like thees."
"Well, because I'm Donnelly."
"I'm Donnelly." He nodded, without making any kind of lunge for me.
"Are you a ghost?" I fingered the hilt of my broadsword.
"No. If I were a ghost I wouldn't be stuck in here." He paused to examine the shackle on his right wrist.
"Oh. Roight." I brought my hand down from my sword, but stayed tense. "But. . .then why are you en here, enstead o' daed?"
"I'm Claiborne's older brother. I was supposed to be marrying Gwinna in three days and become King of the fief. But Claiborne had his ogres bring me here. I could never figure out how they managed to break into the keep unnoticed, but when you just now told me about Stewart, it's all become clear." Donnelly sat back against the wall.
I stepped back over to his leg, listening intently, since I'd have to know who to watch out for while here.
"Stewart is our second cousin, and he knows the in's and out's of the whole castle. I was no match for him and Claiborne's plan. So after I disappeared, they must have spread the rumor that I was dead, covering their tracks."
"But. . .why dinna they jist 'ave you killed?" I slowly climbed onto his thigh and stood up.
"Claiborne is capable of a lot of things, but having his brother murdered isn't one of them, thankfully. . .yet. Other people that get in his way however. . .I don't know how he'd take care of them." Donnelly shook his head. "That's why Gwinna's marrying him. You did say there was to be a wedding?"
I nodded, "En three dags."
"Dags?"
"Dags, dags o' th' veckan." I rolled my hand some, trying to get it across.
He fell silent a moment, then spoke up, "Oh, days."
"'At's wot Oi said. Three dags."
"Only three." Donnelly shook his head with a sigh.
Silence soon filled the room. But I couldn't let this guy, whether he was a jätte or not, just sit there all bewildered. Maybe if I knew more, I could help out, since I would now be a permanent citizen. "So. . .wot happens after th' weddin'?"
"After Claiborne gets married, he's crowned King of Praryland." Donnelly closed his eyes and leaned further back against the wall in a slump.
"An' wot o' you?"
"Me? The only way I'd be able to rule then would be after Claiborne's death, which could be almost impossible considering I'm five years older."
"Will they lat you gu then?"
Donnelly paused and opened his eyes, staring at the opposite wall. "I don't know. Perhaps. By then they'd have nothing to fear from me."
A brainstorm was brewing in my head by now. "Who does th' croonin'?"
"The High Clerk, in front of the whole Council, else it's not official." Donnelly closed his eyes for sleep.
I however, began pacing up and down his large thigh, with my hands clasped behind my back. The food had given me new energy, even though it would now be dark outside.
If I could somehow get Donnelly out of here and seen by the clerk and council, then there would be no way Claiborne's plan would work!
It sure sounded easy in theory, though there was one little problem. How to get him out. "Du you know whaer they keep th' keys?"
Donnelly opened his eyes and sat up. "You can't be thinking what I think you are. That'd be crazy."
Becoming indignant, I sank back into slang while stamping my foot, "Luik, Oi dinna caime here luikin' fur a guid velcaime, but Oi dinna plan ta jist seet aroond while a teerant es crooned. . ."
"Okay, okay, calm down." Donnelly fanned me with one of his hands; it felt more like a strong wind. "Claiborne has the keys in his pocket. He carries them with him everywhere. But you're so small. . .it'd be nearly impossible for you to get him. And who knows what Claiborne would do if he caught you. You know too much." He shook his head.
"Oi'd rather gu an' du somethin' 'an seet up here an' waste awaey like a scared rat." I folded my arms and stood as straight as I could, even though his thigh muscles kept me wobbling. "Oi'll get th' keys. . .but it might be a time afore Oi actually get them up here." I couldn't help but gulp at all those tall stairs.
"Okay then. I'll be counting on you." Donnelly picked me up gently with his one hand and shuffled over to the door on his knees. There, he sat me down in the slot. "Whatever you do, don't get caught. And watch out for Claiborne's hired help. They could be anywhere."
Leaning over, I pulled up the rope and let it down on the outside of the door. "When Oi'm doon, pull th' rope enta th' enside 'til Oi came back. Oi'll whistle when Oi'm back."
"Just be careful." Donnelly whispered as I began climbing down the rope into the hall.
"Dinna fash. Nowoon's noteeced mey yet." I whispered back, dropping onto the stone floor. "Besides, even Elmer thinks Oi'm a mouse."
"Elmer?"
The sound of feet clomping up the left staircase caught my attention, and I quickly threw the rope back up into the slot.
"Don't go near Elmer, he's a. . ." Donnelly didn't have time to finish his hushed sentence as the man rounded the corner at the far end of the room.
Hurrying over to the other end of the hallway, I jumped behind the lip of the other staircase and stood to see who it was.
I grew hot when I saw Claiborne stroll leisurely over to Donnelly's cell with the torch in his hand.
"How're you doing in there, old friend?" Claiborne smirked.
I fingered the hilt of my broadsword, wondering if I could possibly injure a toe or two of his.
When no answer came, Claiborne just continued as if he were having a wonderful two-way conversation, "Don't worry. You won't have to waste away in there much longer." He chuckled as he began walking towards the staircase that I was hiding behind!
Whirling around several times, I got nothing accomplished accept becoming dizzy. Only a long row of steep stairs were in front of me, and no place to hide. I gulped. This rescue mission would be short-lived unless a miracle happened.
His feet pounding the floor just on the other side of the stone, in a last attempt to save my neck, I straightened and stood in a still pose, like a figurine. I held my breath and held absolutely still. Maybe he'd just pass by without noticing. . .
"Hey, what do we have here?"
I braced as I heard Claiborne's voice above me and saw his feet pause beside me.
"I wonder who this belongs to."
I felt his hand close around my body and arms, and my feet left the floor. A moment later he held me in front of his eyes and turned me different ways. I didn't even breathe.
"Can't be Gwinna's." Then he paused to glance back towards Donnelly's cell. Then he took another glance at me, before stuffing me down into his velvet pocket.
Once enveloped by the cloth, I was free to move and breathe again. Relaxing, I leaned against the pocket and pushed out on it with my legs enough to let in fresh air.
But in the blackness, I felt my feet pushing something hard, not soft. Leaning forwards, I felt the object with my hands. It was a giant key! It must be the key to Donnelly's cell!
Several sudden jerks from Claiborne's body prompted me to hug the key so it wouldn't smack me in the face. Then I felt his pocket moving around in different directions. We must've been going down the stairs.
Everything grew silent after that, and he seemed to be asleep. But I soon heard his muffled voice rumble from above, along with someone else's. The voices were too low and deadened to make out, however. This guy had really thick clothing!
Then I felt myself bump something beneath me. It wasn't hard, but soft; cushion soft. Right afterwards I was jerked forwards, then everything stilled again. Claiborne must've sat down.
To confirm my suspicions, I stood up and peeled the top of the pocket apart, just enough to see out.
Looming overhead was a large, brown lip of a table. Above that were napkins, a plate, utensils, and Claiborne stuffing his face. This had to be the dinner he was telling Stewart about. That meant that Stewart had to be here with him, possibly the one speaking with him earlier.
"You know. . .this reminds me, Stewart. I found this little gold and silver trinket up on the third floor."
My eyes widened at the words and I closed up the pocket opening, settling down further into the pocket. I could hear his voice faintly as he continued, "It's rather interesting, and I was wondering if it was yours, or someone else's here at the table."
Straining my body into the straight position again, I felt the inevitable hand of Claiborne's slip into the pocket beside me and feel around. I watched it, while squinting, fingering the key. Then it bumped my legs and finding me, grabbed me around my body again.
I flew from the pocket and the world seemed to go in all directions, before I was set in the middle of the table for all to see.
Sweating severely, I could only stare ahead, trying to count the number of people surrounding me out of the corners of my eyes. I knew Claiborne was there, I saw Stewart in my front, Gwinna to my far left, Paul the cook on my right, Elmer on the far right, and about five other jättes that I didn't recognize.
"Wow. It's expensive-looking." Stewart commented before picking me up with a rough hand and looking me over in his palm. "No. It's not one of mine. And I wouldn't let it lay around if it was."
He passed me to Gwinna, and by that time I was so dizzy that I could hardly see straight. I felt like a salt-shaker.
"It's not mine." I heard Gwinna sigh before passing it on to the next person.
I continued around the table, finding that it was the High Clerk sitting beside Gwinna, and two of the Council at that end. Then I was passed over Claiborne to the three other Council Members, before coming to Elmer.
Elmer turned me upside-down several times, prompting the blood to rush to my head and my face to blush some. What a nitwhit.
And last I was snatched by Paul's fat hands and peered at through squinted eyes, "This would look good on top of the wedding cake."
"No. No figurine dressed like that will be representing my future wife." Claiborne scowled, hurrying around the table and plucking me quickly from the cook's hand. Then he strolled back to his chair, but remained standing. "So, since no one here has claimed it, and it is in my castle-"
The High Clerk cut him off, "You mean will be your castle."
"Yes." Claiborne cleared his throat. "My future castle, I am giving it to Gwinna, as a wedding present." He stood with his chest out before setting me on the table in front of her. By now I needed to blink so badly that my eyes were beginning to water.
"Well," Claiborne clapped his hands together, "I think it's time to turn in for the night. Good night all."
Everyone around the table immediately stood up and bowed, showing respect to him before he left. I watched him walk over to a staircase to head up to his apparent dorm and retire for the night.
Great. I was THAT CLOSE to getting that key! It was practically in my grasp! Now he would go to sleep, and who knew where I'd end up!
"I'm going to retire for the night." I heard Gwinna speaking behind me.
I noticed Elmer hurriedly stand up and pull the chair out for her. And when she was standing, he picked me up pretty hard and handed me to her like a groveling servant.
"Thank you." Gwinna took me in her soft, gentle hand and carried me from the room.
I could hardly breathe! As she climbed the staircase, I couldn't help but momentarily relax my immensely stressed body and lay somewhat limp in her hand. What a night!
When Gwinna came to the end of the stairs, I watched as a huge door loomed in the way. She pushed it open and revealed the earlier room I'd visited while hanging on Paul's shoe. Inside was one lady, instruments, a weaving loom, a dresser, a wooden desk, a large bed, and a huge window.
Her shoes making light clomping sounds, she made her way to the dresser and sat down. There, she set me neatly on the dresser and peered closely at me.
By then my eyes were tearing over from the lack of blinking. It was just enough to be noticed.
"Hmmm. You look as sad as I do." She commented, acting as if she were on the verge of breaking down. I couldn't even imagine how she felt; forced to marry an evil tyrant.
Looking me over one last time, she then got up and walked over to her bed. I watched as her lady-in-waiting helped her into a särk and retire to bed. Then the lady laid down at the foot of the bed, and they both were soon asleep.
Taking a large breath, I stretched and moved my tired and sour muscles. After a forceful yawn, I walked over to the edge of the dresser and peered down at the chair below. Turning around and crawling down, I dropped to the soft chair cushion and then to the hard floor.
Now all I had to do was hurry back down stairs, go back up the stairs to Claiborne's room and get the key, then hurry up the stairs from there to Donnelly's cell.
I realized after thinking it over in my head, that it really did sound very much impossible. Especially as sleepy as I was getting. But then again. . .giving up just really wasn't in my character.
Running to the stairs, I began to climb down them as fast as I could without breaking any limbs.
It took nearly a half hour until I reached the ground floor. By then I was so weary that I nearly fell asleep on my feet.
Trudging with a yawn into the kitchen, I traveled beside the table towards the stairs at the far end of the room.
Hopefully I'd last long enough to at least reach Claiborne's room and snatch the key from him. Then I could hide and sleep until the next day and take it to Donnelly. Uh oh. How would I reach the keyhole high up on Donnelly's cell door?
A sudden, light spinning sound of a bowl on the table above caused me to freeze in my tracks and glare upwards. The sound soon quieted, and nothing shown up in my vision.
So I began walking again. Again I heard something, this time it sounded like a fruit thumping the table. That was it. I had to know what was up there.
Running over to the nearest chair, I grabbed the long tablecloth, which stretched to the floor, and hauled myself up.
With a few grunts, I managed to pull myself to the lip, and roll onto the top of the table from there. Then I stood up, brushed myself off, and held the hilt of my sword, just in case.
Peering around, I saw nothing out of the ordinary. The fruit was set in the middle of the table, small finger-bowls sat around it, and a candle stood in the center.
Relaxing some, I gave the area one last look around before walking to the edge where a chair was.
A sudden giggle prompted me to whirl and clutch my broadsword hilt and scabbard, but I still saw nothing. "Who's thaer?" I whispered, gazing through the darkness. Silence.
Turning around a little slower this time, I peered down at the chair. The giggle came again!
I whirled around several times, "Who's thaer? Whaer are you?" I heard the quiet giggle again, and this time I could tell that it came from behind the fruit bowl. "Show yourself!" I hissed. Could a kid be standing on the other side of the table?
A small head, about the size of mine, peeked out from behind a large orange. A thin body slowly followed. She was dressed in green clothes, which resembled leaves, and her skin was pale red, almost like an apple.
My jaw dropped and I left go of my sword hilt, "Are you frum Cobland tue?"
She bashfully shook her head, her rosy cheeks evident from my spot on the table.
"Then. . .wot are you?" I didn't move. One reason was because the edge of the table was directly behind me.
She giggled, "The same as you."
I blinked confusion.
Seeing that I didn't understand, she stood sideways, showing off a pair of long, clear, dragonfly-like wings. My eyes widened, "You're a. . .a. . ." I pointed.
I heard two more giggles coming from other areas on the table. Two more small people popped out from behind the lip of the table. Then three more on the other side of the table followed, as did five from behind the fruit and one beside the candle. Seven poked out from the cupboards, six from the desk, and many, many others around the room. Soon the whole area was infested by them! Like a horde of flies!
I glanced hurriedly from one to the other. All were smiling, and colored every color imaginable, and all had insect wings of all sorts. I just stood there, dumbfounded.
"Well, aren't you going to tell us from which kingdom you're from?" The original person asked, hovering in the air with her fluttering wings.
"You're. . .you're. . .wot are you?" I blinked and squinted at them, who in turn seemed to all take flight and conjugate right in front of me like one huge mass.
"We're faeries of course." Answered a boy.
