Chapter Text
Giants usually don’t make it so far into the forest, not with all the traps and rings carefully placed by her elders, and they certainly don’t make it far enough to reach her spot. She didn’t own the river, she didn’t own anything truth be told, but this was her favorite hide when she was upset, so after enduring the entire morning collecting flower buds with her older sisters and their relentless mocking, Penelope wasn’t particularly thrilled about an intruder coming to disturb her one moment of tranquility. Especially someone so loud as, she assumes, him .
Not initially, at least.
The creature was larger than most giants she had seen before. Admittedly few, but none as colossal and restless. His heavy steps and deafening laugh startled her as soon as she heard them, making her forget the fungus she was gathering for Mrs. Varley, the witch that lived on the other side of the river. Her first thought at the sight of the giant was to flee immediately to the old woman’s cottage, the crone often indulged her mother and her sisters with anything they desired, as well as herself, she would no doubt protect her from this beast if needed. For whatever reason the old woman preferred her family over the other fairies around, she would not ask for any payment in a situation like this.
Yet, instead of fleeting to safety she hid herself behind an overgrown mushroom.
She wasn’t sure what made her take that decision, she blamed it on his eyes. They distracted her, rooting her on her spot, unable to leave unless she determined if they were black or a really dark blue.
So she stayed, her entire noon wasted in observing the peculiar sighting.
She was amazed by his ample appetite, watching him contentedly sit down on the grass –a little too close from where she was– and devour all the food he brought himself in one of his bags. She wondered if giants had any need for air, since she hadn’t caught a single pause other than for chewing as he pushed sandwiched after sandwiches, berries, cheeses and other dishes she’s never seen Mrs. Varley eat, into his mouth. Maybe he breathed when he chugged down the content of his canteen.
After a while he slowed down his feasting, reaching inside his other bag with one hand and pulling out a journal, smaller than the ones Mrs. Varley. Or perhaps it simply looked small compared to his size, she wasn’t sure. His large hand procured a quill and ink from the same bag. They were prettier that Mrs. Varley’s.
Penelope chewed on her little finger then, wondering if he would miss them if they went missing. Surely, if he has enough coin to buy himself that large a feast, he can replace them just as easily. He probably doesn’t need them that much. And she does! Mrs. Varley had run out of ink a few days ago and her quills… well she just didn’t like how they felt on the paper. And without the proper instrument, how is she to write stories for Felicity?
I’ll just wait until he’s done using them, she reasoned, though guilt churned on her stomach she pushed it down. Unlike her peers, she usually avoided stealing and simply picked whatever trinkets were left behind and forgotten to take to the old witch as payments. But while she liked looking at birds, she hated getting near them, she lacked her younger sister’s sense of adventure and animosity with animals. And she had no idea where Mrs. Varley got her ink from, so how else was she meant to get them if not like this?
So she stayed…
Her little heart couldn’t stay still as she kept observing him, it quickened with each one of his movements, his expressions. Whatever it was that he was writing down, he was immersed on it, tongue peeking out to lick his lips in concentration. Her eyes followed it before it disappeared back into his mouth.
They’re not so scary up close, she thought as he chucked, seeming to find his own words amusing. They’re quite pretty.
It occurred to her that his height wasn’t the only difference to the other giants she has seen, he also looked cleaner, still sweaty and a bit stinky, but no mud marred his clothes and handsome face. There was a gentleness to him that made her fear diminish, but not the beating of her heart. She looked him up and down, suddenly curious; where did he come from? How did he manage to avoid every single trap on his way there? What did he sound like when he spoke? Was his hair as soft as it looked? And dammit, what was his eye’s true color?
So distracted she was by her question she was startled again when he got up straightened, carelessly tossing the journal beside him and putting the quill and ink back on his bag. He got up, stretching his long limb and letting out a loud groan.
Good, he might take a nap, perhaps then I can- Oh!
She glowed red with embarrassment as he made quick work of his clothes, taking first his coat and throwing it over the bag with the quill, then went his vest and shirt, baring his hairy chest to her eyes. She hid further into the mushroom when his hands reached for his breeches, deciding she had seen enough. She only went back to her previous position when she felt more than heard his heavy steps pass by on his way to the water.
As quick as her wings allowed it, she flew all the way to his picnic, getting under his cloak. Penelope stood there, unsure of her next move. She poked her head out, to see if he was coming back.
He was not. The titan was waist deep in the water, too busy rinsing the sweat out of his arms and broad, furry chest to pay attention to his bearings. Why does he need clothes if he has hair to protect him from the cold? she wondered, nervously playing with the edges of the cloak. The temptation to stay and admire the man's form proved too much, even for a sensible mind. She might never have the chance to observe another creature this close. Her wings flittered uncontrollably, she felt jitted all of a sudden.
Taking a deep breath, she forced her eyes to strand from the man in the river, turning around and flying to the opening of the bag. Her natural glow allowed her to view inside despite the dark. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, this one was used to carry food as well at some point, for there were crumbs everywhere! What's more, he had not closed the lid of the ink properly and it had spilled some of its content, staining the inside of the satchel and the border of a large piece of cloth fitted on the opposite side. The quill has been spared, somehow.
Huffing, she quickly remedied his mistake, flying on top of the lid and jumping on it until she heard the satisfying ‘pop’. Getting down Penelope came across another problem. She had not thought out how she was going to carry the ink. The quill was easy enough, she could fit it under her arm as she flew away, but the small bottle seemed a bit too big for her hands. Looking around for something useful, she found a smaller piece of cloth laying around. It had a ‘C’ and ‘B’ embroidered in blue. When she grasped it, she marveled at its softness and its pleasant fragrance.
“I will use it for my bed,” she declared contently, bringing it to her face to smell it better. It felt even softer on her cheek. She would give it to Felicity if she asked, of course, but she hoped her little sister wouldn’t. She could already imagine herself being lulled to sleep, surrounded by its warmth.
An abrupt movement knocked her on her arse, everything around her shaking as the large cloth was removed by a colossal hand.
“Oh, no,” she said, heart dropping. She hugged herself to the quill, hoping it might serve as a weapon of sorts in case she needed it.
Now her heart was truly racing out of fear. Her mother had tirelessly warned her and her sisters about the danger approaching these creatures, what they did to sweet unsuspecting fairies. She did not wish to be this beast’s snack and have her lovely little bones used to pick his teeth. It made her shudder just to imagine, has she been foolish to perceive any gentleness on him? She felt her eyes fill with tears, her mama was right, she should have stayed away.
Portia wasn’t the most loving of mothers, but she did not deserve to find the remains of her third daughter just because of a whim.
Penelope allowed herself a little whimper before she straightened herself, swallowing down a sob with a sniff. She needed to get out, she would count to three, no, five, and then she would fly as fast as she could, away from the monster, and from then on, she would unfailingly heed her mama’s admonitions.
“One…” she started, standing on her feet. “Two…” he wings flitted, reading themselves.
But she didn’t even make it to three. The large piece of cloth, now wet, was shoved back into the bag, covering her exit and roughly leaving her buried at the bottom of the satchel. With much effort, she turned around to lie on her stomach, a sharp pain striking her as she did. She crawled to the corner as carefully as she could, the now heavier material was pressing her down and it dragged her wings with every movement, causing a dull pain on her back. When she finally made it to the empty space between the fabric and the nook of the bag she sat against the leather wall and examined the damage: her left wing was bent in an awkward way. Not broken, thankfully, but she would not be able to fly until it healed. She knew because Phillipa bumped into a tree while chasing after Prudence and hers looked exactly the same. Her sister was incapacitated for two weeks before she could join them again on the air.
Was this her punishment for having laughed then?
Penelope looked up, trying to find a glint of sunlight unveiling an exit. But the only light came from her, and every exit was covered by the wet cloth. A few pushes with her hands revealed it was too much weight for her to push aside. It grew heavier and she could only assume more things were being placed on top. She hugged her knees when the floor beneath her and the layer of leather disappeared, a lightness similar to flying. Everything swayed for a moment before it settled again. Then it swayed again
The giant was leaving, and he was taking her with him.