Edna follows slowly behind the giant, but Gargan keeps a fast pace. Cellu’s strong muscular legs keep an easy stride with Gargan at first, but the longer they follow him, the harder it becomes even for Cellu to keep up. Edna breathes hard. Her heart pounds, and she quickly and cautiously digs her cane into the ground, watching her every step to keep from tripping.
From far off, Gargan’s voice booms, “need help catching up?” Edna looks up and the giant is about 50 yards away, and almost as tall. The dragon is huge, too; she’s monstrous.
Gargan reaches down his hand and lays it on the ground beside Cellu and Edna. He uses his other hand to gently usher them on. And, just as Gargan begins to lift his palm, Edna hears what sounds like an exasperated sigh, from somewhere nearby.
The giant is now holding his two companions, who are standing in the palm of his hand, right in front of his face. His pupils, which are now like vertical pools of glistening black water, examine the tiny creatures in his hand. His mouth opens with a bellowing laugh that makes Edna’s stiff white hair blow like a bushy tree in the wind. Edna feels like she should scream, but there is something comforting about being entirely in the grasp of one entity. Good or bad, he is all she needs to fear.
She looks intently at the giant’s features. His lips are like fleshy inner tubes. Edna imagines them separating from his face and drifting off into a swimming pool. There is a black speck of something in his teeth. She had noticed it when they were of similar heights and had assumed it was pepper. Now it is as big as a plum. The crevices between his teeth and gums are full of a white doughy film. He must have recently eaten bread, she thinks, so we should be safe for a while, she humors herself, and then laughs. Cellu looks at her, and Gargan’s eyes focus.
“What are you laughing about,” Gargan asks with a smile.
“You’re a friendly giant, right?”
“I like to think I’m friendly. My wife, though, is always on my case for being too friendly. She says I make friends with too much riff raff. She’ll be curious about you, though.”
“Why would she be curious about me, because I’m old, or because I’m human?”
“Both, and because of your stick there.”
Cellu looks sharply at Gargan, and then at Edna.
“My cane? Why would she be curious about a cane?” Edna asks.
“Don’t you know about the prophecy? A wooden object of such a shape, in the hands of a maiden, is to conquer a dragon and bring peace to Storia. Storia has never been without peace, though. It’s always been an odd prophecy.”
“Well, that’s certainly the first I’ve heard of it,” Edna says, “and I don’t want to discourage your wife, but this is certainly not the object of prophecy. It just helps an old lady to walk, and not fall.”
Gargan is not listening to Edna; his eyes widen while she talks. He stares past her and Cellu and his mouth moves slightly, but to Edna and Cellu, the movements of his mouth are large and obvious.
“Are you saying something?” Edna asks.
Gargan’s eyes focus on Edna again. “I’m trying to remember the details of the prophecy. I’ve never given it much thought, but you fit the description rather well. I noticed earlier that you have blue vines on your calves. According to legend, the dragon slayer has the same carvings on her legs as on the weapon, and the weapon is curved and disguised as a walking tool. You’ll use it to fight a dragon, and after you’ve fought and won, Storia will be saved. I believe you are the maiden of the prophecy. The one who will slay the dragon.”
“Maiden! I’m no maiden. I’m an old divorcee. And these aren’t vines on my legs; they’re veins! Maidens don’t have varicose veins. The very idea—me slaying a dragon.” Edna gives a quick snort of a laugh; an affirmation of the point she is making.
Cellu had been watching Edna and Gargan and listening intently. “Leave my friend alone,” he says, “she has no plans to fight dragons.”
Edna is amused at the idea of thrusting and jabbing at a large ferocious dragon. If she were even able to make contact with all of her strength, that alone would kill her, not a dragon.
“Thanks, Cellu,” Edna says, “but I’m not so sure I mind the idea, slaying a dragon, or attempting to slay one. What a story to tell my kids. What else does the legend say?” She asks Gargan.
“There’s not a lot more to tell. There is treasure involved, from my understanding, but that part of the prophecy hasn’t been discussed as much, so those details have not held up well. There are some who believe it’s mere talk and fantasy since there is peace in Storia. But there are others, like my wife, who believe it will come to pass. I used to be a skeptic, but lately occasions have arisen that have made me re-consider.”
“What occasions?” Edna asks
“Disappearances. And those who disappear seem to turn sour first. I met someone who experienced this himself, with his close friend. It started with her becoming discontented with her belongings. He said she wanted more gold coins, and that gold was all she seemed to care about anymore. He believes she started stealing, because his coins, and those of mutual friends, began to disappear while she seemed to have more than usual. Then she started to lash out at him over the most trivial things as her greed became more obvious. She seemed to go mad with desire for more and more gold, and one day she was gone, just like that. Never seen again. The thing that is so odd is that there is always plenty of work or trade to be found, and kindness if one ever were to find themselves without means. There is simply no need to worry about money.”
“I’ve heard of none of that,” Cellu says, “—friend of a friend says so, oh, well it must be true then.”
“I have,” Edna says quickly, with a slight shake of the head as if Cellu’s words are mosquitoes. “I hadn’t heard about the stealing; just that some creatures turn aggressive, then disappear. I’m certainly familiar with stealing, though. Plenty of humans steal, but it’s not always unreasonable. And far too many have good reason to worry about money. We have a lot of poverty, but not enough kindness.”
Edna thinks again of the legend. “So who wrote the prophecy?”
“It’s not written,” Gargan says, “it’s been passed along orally. And no one knows where or when it started; it’s just always been.”
A thought occurred to Edna. Neither Pixie nor Twynne told her about the legend; they had kept it from her entirely.
“My friends here didn’t tell me anything about the prophecy.” Edna says to Gargan. “Not Pixie, nor Twynne, nor you,” She looks at Cellu.
“I’m a skeptic, Edna, so I felt no need to. It didn’t even cross my mind.”
“Let’s head on?” Edna says, “I’d love to hear your wife’s thoughts about it.”
“We shouldn’t go on into this giant’s world,” Cellu whispers to Edna.” I don’t trust him. He’s up to something.”
“Oh Cellu!” Edna laughs. “I really don’t believe that. Besides, this is a great way to explore more of Storia. But if you don’t feel comfortable, you could wait here for me.”
“No, no, I’ll come along.” Cellu continues to whisper. “I certainly don’t want to leave you alone with someone I don’t trust. Cellu glances sideways at Gargan.
Gargan cups his other hand around Edna and Cellu so they will feel secure while he walks, then gives a sharp whistle. The dragon, who has been rummaging around, sniffing leaves and peeing on the ones she deems appropriate, comes at Gargan’s call. She lifts her body up and hops on her hind legs, trying to get close to Edna and Cellu.
“Down,” Gargan says in a stern voice. The dragon lowers her front legs, but they don’t touch the ground. Her eyes are on Gargan’s, waiting. “Down,” Gargan says again, and keeps a firm stare. A piercing whine comes from the dragon’s throat, and then she lowers to the ground completely. Gargan looks at the two in his hand. “Ready?” He asks.
“Ready,” Edna says. Cellu does not say anything. But he stands ready with his hands crossed over his chest.
Edna sits on the edge of Gargan’s hand. He has it tilted up enough that she can let her legs swing over the edge without fear of toppling forward. Cellu stays standing. Edna sees earth-like scenery below her, with people, horses, ponds, and pastures full of livestock. It is a regular little village that Edna is floating over in the comfort of the giant’s hand. Gargan treads lightly, stepping only on large plains of dried grass. Many of the people are waving.
Gargan’s hand jerks upwards, causing Cellu to lose his balance and rock backwards against the giant’s cupped hand. Edna is sitting with her arms cupped around one of his horizontal fingers, so she finds the sudden movement exhilarating, like a rollercoaster.
“Is he trying to kill us!” Cellu shouts, pushing against Gargan’s hand to get himself grounded on four legs again. Edna thinks that Gargan must have almost waved to the people down below but stopped when he remembered the guests in his hand. She figures that Gargan must be used to waving at everyone he sees, no matter how small.
Overall, the passage is quite comfortable. The giant’s palm is nice and cushy. The ease of his plump skin, and the security it brings, reminds Edna of the mossy island; a veritable time of safety, comfort, and whimsy—and entirely too short.
After being carried over what seems like many miles, and large open spaces of land in between thriving villages—each village like the various villages around the world that Edna has seen in National Geographic, and each seeming to have a different landscape than the one before it—they come to their destination; a gigantic little cottage just beyond a cobbled fence. The dragon had been following quietly behind Gargan and is now given another whistle. She is free to play again and shoots off past the house, to hunt down nothing in particular. Gargan pushes the door open and quietly enters his house.
His wife is in her rocking chair, humming softly with a knitting project. Gargan holds his hands closer to his stomach, his free hand stays where it is, blocking his wife’s view of the creatures he holds.
“Hello, love.” Gargan says.
His wife looks up momentarily. “What’ve you been up to?” She asks.
“Making new friends, and bringing them home, actually. They’re looking forward to meeting you, and you’re really going to be happy to meet them.”
“You brought guests home without telling me first? If I had known, I would’ve made a bigger stew.” Gargan smiles warmly at his wife, which irritates her. “I wish you would have the decency to let me know what your plans are. Look at the house, it’s a mess, and my hair…” Edna looks at the wife through the opening between Gargan’s fingers. She does not look bad, only slightly disheveled. No worse than Edna had ever looked when her own husband had brought guests home unannounced. She does understand the wife’s frustration.
“Now Gargana,” Gargan says, “they won’t mind the house, and you look lovely as always. The food, though, that’s going to be a problem. They’ve brought large appetites.”
“What if there isn’t enough? I wish you wouldn’t have… why are you smiling like that? What’s the joke?”
The wife puts her project on the end table and stands up. Her hands rest upon large hips, elbows out, one knee slightly bent; she waits for an explanation. The giant’s top hand lifts, exposing his explanation. Gargana sees a centaur with a sour face staring at her; arms crossed tightly over his chest. And there is a little old woman who, if she could have, would have patted the large woman on the shoulder and assured her that the house was fine. Gargana looks at them for a moment with widening eyes, and then a scream—which must have been caught in her chest for those few moments of silence—is released. She runs to the corner of the room and warns her husband not to come near her.
“She’s frightened of us?” Edna asks.
Gargan stifles his amusement and answers Edna. “She’s afraid of tiny creatures.” Then to his wife, “come on, love; I wasn’t kidding when I said you’ll want to meet them.”
“How could you do this to me?” Gargana says. “You know how I feel about—” her face twists with disgust, “—those small creatures.”
“They’re not from the villages. The lady is a human, and look: a centaur, too. I brought them both to giant country from beyond the boundaries.”
“Oh, but they’re so small. I can’t handle it; it just gives me goosebumps all over.”
“Honey,” Gargan says, “just come over here and have a look. I promise you that neither of my friends will jump off my hand and attack you.”
Gargana glares at her husband. “Why is this necessary?”
“Gargana.” Gargan’s voice is now serious. “Please be kinder; these creatures are friends that I’ve brought home for you to meet.”
Edna watches the scene mystified by Gargana’s fear. She tries not to look in Cellu’s direction; every time she does, he gives her a look that says, these people are nuts.
“Ma’am,” Edna says, waving her cane in the air, “your husband wants you to see this.”
The wife looks at Edna, “is that little thing trying to talk to me?”
“She’s trying to show you what she’s holding,” Gargan says. Then to Edna, “she can’t hear you, you’re too tiny. I can barely hear you; my wife is too far away.”
Curiosity finally motivates Gargana to move towards her husband, to see what Edna is trying to show her. She stands over Gargan’s hands and Edna observes her face. Gargana’s cheeks look like they’ve been scorched by the sun, but only her cheeks; the rest of her face is a bloodless milky white, and it is cloaked with thick dark brown hair. She has a large and beautifully shaped nose, jutting chin and cheekbones, and a brow that is as solid as she is handsome. She is a very handsome giant. Edna sticks her cane out again in an effort to draw the wife’s attention to it. At the motion, Gargana screams and jumps back.
“Oh, for crying out loud! Is this going to take all day? It’s a cane, lady. You’re the one so interested in canes. Mercy sakes!”
“What did she just say?” Gargana asks Gargan.
“She’s trying to tell you what she’s holding.”
“Well, what is it then?” Gargana comes in closer again.
“A cane!” Edna yells.
Gargana puts her hand on her hip. “It looks like a stick. What’s so important about a stick?”
Gargan gently places the index finger and thumb of his free hand close to the cane and asks Edna, “may I show Gargana more closely?” The caution and earnestness in which the giant asks makes her feel as though he is asking to hold her newborn child. Cellu stares at the cane and at the giant, and glares at the latter.
“Sure, take it,” Edna says, holding it up so Gargan can pinch it gently. He releases the pinch, letting the cane roll into the palm of his hand.
Gargana pulls out a magnifying glass from her desk to examine the cane. “Look at the shape,” Gargan tells her, “and she uses it to walk.”
As Gagana examines the cane her eyes widen. “Are you suggesting…? But, but it, it’s so small. How could she fight a dragon with that thing… and win?”
“It wasn’t so small when I first met her, was it, Edna?” Gargan says with a wink. Then he lets the cane roll gently back into his other hand, next to Edna.
“It can change sizes?” Gargana asks. “Is it magical? That cane must be capable of any number of things if it’s the object of the prophecy.”
“This cane is not magical that I know of,” Edna says. “It was larger to your husband because he met us out where we were the same height.”
“What is that little thing on about?” Gargana asks her husband.
Edna is beginning to genuinely dislike the giant’s wife.
“Gargana,” Gargan says, “get me the sound amplifier.” Gargana leaves the room momentarily and comes back with a horn shaped object. Gargan takes it with his free hand and holds it close to Edna and Cellu, the small end pointing towards his hand, the large end directed outwards.
“She’s telling you that her cane was larger when I met her because we were the same size.”
“Oh, now I see what this is about,” Gargana says, “you brought those creatures here to play a joke on me. The ‘land beyond’ where everyone changes size. Bah, let it go. I’ve told you time and again, I won’t be fooled, and I won’t be made a fool.
“Then just come with me, prove me wrong if you think I’m lying.”
“There’s no way I’ll go with you through those villages, where those little creatures will swarm me.”
“You’ll have to forgive Gargana,” Gargan says, “she does have some reason to be afraid of you two, and the villagers. When she was a child, she and her brother, Greton, were playing near one of the villages. Greton wasn’t watching his steps and accidentally stepped on a villager’s stable. These things happen from time to time, and no living creature has been hurt, but this time it caused a stir in the village because of a mischievous human boy named Jack.
“It’s still quite the story in the village, and they do feel horrible for being taken in by such mischief,” Gargan says as he looks at Gargana. Gargana rolls her eyes. “Jack convinced the village to send a group of young men with him to sneak into Gargana’s house. They crawled up a beanstalk that had grown up the side of the cottage wall and through the window.”
“Jack? Beanstalk?” Edna interrupts; voice flat. “Let me guess, magic beans, too?”
“Yes, Jack. Yes, beanstalk. But magic beans, no.” Gargan says with a puzzled look. Edna’s eyes begin to shine with curiosity.
“Anyway,” Gargan continues, “their plan was to tie Greton up in his sleep. It was meant in good fun. Jack told them it’s called a practical joke. I know practical jokes, and I know that tying children up in their sleep is no practical joke. To a kid who’s not on the receiving end, it might be, because kids don’t always think things through. But the villagers aren’t practical jokesters so they didn’t know what to think through, they just trusted Jack that Greton would find it amusing.
“Greton wasn’t even the one who was traumatized by the joke, in the end. Gargana and Greton shared the same bed, and to get to Greton they had to climb over her. She was awake the whole time, but she was paralyzed with fear as they climbed over her. In the morning, when Greton woke, he thought it was Gargana who tied him up and began to scream for their parents. She told them what happened, but no-one believed her. She didn’t get in trouble. Her parents thought she had tried to play a joke, and didn’t realize how mean it was to do, and they thought her lying was a sign of guilt. So, they let it pass and never talked about it again, until she was a grown-up, and after they learned of the incident from the villagers. And they’ve apologized for not believing her.
“But ever since, she’s had this fear of little creatures. And she doesn’t believe me, or anyone, for that matter, that everyone is similar heights once we are just beyond the borders of the villages. She doesn’t even believe that human children come here, either. All she accepts is that there is some creature called a human who will slay a dragon. But I think this fear will soon be remedied.”
Gargana rolls her eyes. “Bah, lies. I’m tired of it. I was thought a liar my whole life, only to be the one who actually is being lied to. All to be the butt of everyone else’s joke.”
Somehow Edna can understand why Gargana would hold such an illogical belief—the belief that everyone, including her parents, would lie to her for so long just to make her the butt of their joke. Fear can make one maintain the most irrational of beliefs if the belief serves as a shield against what one fears. But deep down, Edna thinks, Gargana must know that she’s not really being lied to. Gargan understands all this as well. And he is positive that, deep down, Gargana knows she is not really being lied to.
Gargan puts Edna and Cellu on a small table near his large armchair and places a few clean handkerchiefs down as a soft cushion for them to sit on. He then places the horn shaped device near them.
“Now when you talk this will amplify your voices and we’ll be able to hear you much better,” Gargan says. He turns to Gargana, “honey, Edna needs to meet her friends by midday. Is the stew ready for an early lunch?”
Gargana sighs and heads into the kitchen.
Renee Rushing 
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