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The Scrumping Giant
🕑 Added 2022-01-23 11:34:26 +0000 UTCOphelia sat up in her bed, startled awake by the distant snap of branches in the orchard. The sound was faint, but the distinct noise set her heart-rate aflutter once more.
“He’s back.” She breathed, shooting a furtive glance at the crack beneath her door as she rose from her mattress as slowly as possible, hoping to avoid any squeak of coiled springs. Silent as the wind whispering through her open window, Ophelia shed her night gown and set about donning the bare minimum clothes required to look at least somewhat presentable.
Fabric rustled about her shoulders as she clasped her favourite travelling cloak into place. The Blackwood family crest glinted in the moonlight streaming down through the gaps in the rolling clouds above. Bending over to scoop up her travelling bag, she caught a glimpse of herself in her mirror in that moment, the sight causing her resolve to slip.
As much as Ophelia longed to make a good first impression, she simply couldn’t reconcile the idea with the snowy-skinned woman staring back at her. It wasn’t simply the blue tinge of the lunar glare that gave her such a deathly pallor; she had always been that way. Perhaps one could overlook the jet black curtain of hair that contrasted so sharply with her impossibly white skin. Perhaps she could pass off the perpetual shade of deep, almost midnight blue of her lips as some sort of cosmetic choice, maybe.
But there was no passing off the bloody rings of deep crimson that served as her eyes. It was a monstrous visage, unbecoming of the daughter of such a prestigious household – unbecoming of any young woman with even a faint hope of finding a respectable suitor to wed and call her own. Not that it prevented noblemen from calling to court her; the wealth and status of the Blackwood name was too great a prize to let such aesthetic faults stand in the way.
And perhaps if a single one of them had done anything to make Ophelia feel like she wasn’t an abhorrent creature that belonged in horrifying children’s folk-tales, she may well have accepted them.
Clunk.
Ophelia’s heart froze as she pulled the window open a few precious inches, sending the candle she had forgotten to remove tumbling onto its side. Her gaze snapped around to the door, the pair of shadows standing guard moving in response to the sound.
Casting herself swiftly under the covers of her bed, Ophelia pulled her blankets up to her nose and clamped her eyes tight shut. She could feel the gaze of the knight upon her, see the polished steel of his face-plate in her mind’s eye floating as an inky black silhouette framed by the torchlight beyond.
The door slid shut.
Ophelia returned to the window, setting the candle aside this time as she opened it fully. One all-too-familiar descent down the cobblestones of the manor walls and she was off towards the orchards. Above, she could see the shapes of birds circling nervously in the sky.
He was still there.
Sounds of heavy, careful breathing reached Ophelia’s ears as she picked her way through the orchard, cautious all the while to watch where she set her feet. One slip of an apple, one snap of a twig underfoot, and he would flee once more; Ophelia didn’t know how many more chances she would have after this.
Her heart jumped into her throat as she saw him through the gaps of the trees ahead, his silhouette unmistakable amidst the looming apple trees. A hand almost the size of a grown man reached into the branches of the tree above, moving with astounding care between the twigs and leaves to pluck a single apple from its stem. Ophelia clung to the trunk of the nearest tree, pressed up to its bark like a lizard as she watched him move with far more care than one would expect of something so large.
He was flat on his back, nestled in the gaps of the trees; one hand held open a crudely woven basket, whilst the other picked apples one at a time as swiftly and carefully as possible. Ophelia’s lips parted in awe. The giant was so, so much bigger than she had imagined. She had believed that he could be no taller than the trees of the orchard itself, when in reality he would be twice their size if he stood at his full height.
There was nothing especially handsome or rakish about his face, though he was certainly not an ugly creature; Ophelia had seen boys working the farms who may well have been some distant relation. In the absence of any known observation his expression was nothing short of comical. A single eye squinted while the other gauged distance in the darkness, his nose wrinkled in concentration while his tongue protruded from between his lips, flitting about seemingly at random in response to his focus.
High above, the churning clouds split apart long enough for moonlight to stream into the orchard, lighting up the scene in wintery clarity. The giant’s focus shifted from the apples as he glanced about himself, his gaze falling at last on Ophelia. Her heart pounded against her rib-cage with a lurch as she realized she had stepped right out from behind her tree, one hand clutched to her chest with the other trembling at her side.
A sharp intake of breath from the giant preceded a sudden jerking motion as he lurched onto his side, colliding with one of the trees in a shaking rattle that sent several dozen apples tumbling down onto his head. Stuffing as many of the fruits as he could into his basket, the giant rose to a crouch as he shuffled awkwardly backwards.
“Wait! Wait!” Ophelia said, thrusting out a beseeching hand and speaking with apologetic desperation. “Please don’t go!”
The giant halted in his tracks, peering warily at her from the shadows beneath one of the apple trees. His free hand was hanging at his side, fingers the thickness of a soldier’s arm sat partially flexed. Ophelia was acutely aware that if the inclination took him, he could have crushed her in a single squeeze, snapped her like a toothpick or plucked the head clean off her shoulders if he so desired.
Dispelling such notions from her mind, Ophelia took another tentative step forwards, keeping her hands clearly visible.
“My name is Ophelia, I mean you no harm; in fact, I have something for you.” She spoke, sinking to her knees peaceably and setting her bag down before her. The giant watched silently, his expression invisible in the darkness.
From the folds of her bag, Ophelia produced what had originally been an apple pie. Though it had been large and hot on its creation, two days spent wrapped up in a travel bag had rendered it rather cracked and cold, not to mention partially squashed. If Ophelia had been capable of blushing, she would be.
“I’m… sorry, it’s not very good, b-but I’m sure it will taste delicious!” She held up the pie in both hands, trying not to shake with raw nerves as she watched the looming shadow with baited breath.
For a time the giant remained still, glancing between Ophelia and the pie.
“That’s for me?” Ophelia nearly jumped out of her skin as the low, rumbling voice rang in her ears. The giant clearly intended it as a whisper, but even his quietest tone was still enough for Ophelia to feel it in her chest.
“Yes, yes! It is an apple pie, I baked it myself. You always come to the orchards you see, so I thought you must really like apples; I thought it would be a nice surprise. Though,” she added, her confidence taking a slight blow as she looked more closely at the pie, “it might, in retrospect, be a little small for you.”
The lumbering figure shuffled back towards Ophelia, walking at a low crouch so that his head did not rise above the tops of the trees. His expression as he entered the light of the moon was curious, if a little wary.
“Ophelia?” He asked for clarification as he stood crouched before her. “I am Lump.” He too knelt down, settling onto his heels as he cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Yes indeed; it is a pleasure to meet you, Lump.” Ophelia replied, relief in her tone. This was going well already, much better than she’d expected. Sitting up a little further, Ophelia leaned forward to bring the pie a little closer to Lump.
The giant accepted it carefully, clearly trying his best to be polite as Ophelia set her gift down in the rough palm of his hand. Once she was back in place, Lump lifted the little article of food to his mouth, sniffing it warily before he set it on his tongue. Ophelia watched in anticipation as his lips closed around it, chewing and munching experimentally.
His eyes lit up.
“Thank you, Ophelia.” He rumbled, his voice stilted as though he was not overly familiar with speaking. “I have never tasted apples this good; what tree do they fall from?”
Ophelia had to stifle a laugh as she grinned joyfully.
“It is more than just apples; it has cinnamon and pastry and all sorts of things. If you like, I can bake more for you. Will you come back again tomorrow?”
Lump considered the question.
“Why does Ophelia bake for me?”
Ophelia’s heart skittered as she thought about how to answer him.
“Because I would like to get to know you, Lump. I would like to spend more time with you, and learn more about you.”
A low hum escaped the giant’s throat as he thought about it.
“You are strange.” He decided, though there wasn’t a trace of judgement in his voice. “Most humans are afraid I will eat them. Humans do not normally want to get close to me.”
“I understand, honestly, I do.” Ophelia replied, her tone rueful. “Not so much the ‘eating’ part, but… wait…” She paused, looking up at Lump cautiously as though she were concerned about potentially offending him. “…do you eat people?”
“Most giants eat humans; I do not. I am not fond of apples, but apples do not make me sad to eat.”
Ophelia’s very spirit yearned to throw her arms about Lump’s shoulders and hug him, but she was doing her best to be proper. All the same, she rose slowly to her feet and offered her hand to Lump.
“Then, will you come back again tomorrow?”
Lump’s nose wrinkled in concentration as he looked at Ophelia, the beginnings of a smile on his face as he let the idea sink in.
“I-“
Thunk.
An arrow stuck itself in the giant’s bicep. It was barely the size of a thorn to the enormous figure, but he winced in pain all the same as he threw himself backwards, crashing into one of the trees. Ophelia’s mouth dropped open in dismay, dread in her stomach.
“The watchman was right; that scrumping monster is back!”
“Yes, he’s over here! I found him! He has Lady Blackwood!”
“LEAVE YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER YOU BRUTE!”
A swarm of the estate guards hurtled through the orchard, weapons gleaming in the lunar rays as Lump’s expression twisted to fearful horror. He lurched to his full height, the ground quaking beneath him as he turned to run.
“NO!” Ophelia cried, her voice cracking as she stood, throwing her hands out pleadingly at the knights. “Leave him alone! He’s not-” They ignored her, the front-most knight taking her outstretched hand and pulling her protectively behind him.
Branches snapped amidst thundering footsteps as the giant lumbered away, arrows peppering his back to mark his retreat.
Ophelia’s red eyes brimmed with tears as she wept, the knights vanishing into the darkness after Lump, leaving in their wake nothing but the smeared and spoiled remains of squashed apples.
