Castles & Fields Continued

The next evening, Skynsa – under appointment from Ofleti, for he was strong in the way of words – rode to Hallra. He was found tending to his wheatfield, using a colossal hand to sprinkle some kind of fertilizer over it. Hallra was dirty, ragged, and unkempt, but was pleased enough at the company, and flashed yellow teeth in a smile. “I come from the king, Ofleti,” began Skynsa. “To bargain for your farmland. Tell me, for what reward would you desire in obeying the king?” “I desire nothing,” Hallra spoke in barely a whisper, but to Skynsa it was a massive boom. “But the space to be myself and tend my land.” “The king is inextricably attached to the possibility of owning this land,” said Skynsa. “And is willing to bargain substantially for it. Tell me, great giant, what do you wish, for the king is in his power to grant it to you.” Hallra said nothing for a while. He stared at the distantly setting sun and seemed to be weighing the words. Then he looked at Skynsa in anger. “I am offended the king has not come himself, has mangiant relations gotten so poor?” His face was twisted in disgust. “Go! I will not permit you to come back here.”

Skynsa was wise and knew not to tempt a giant into open conflict. He swiftly headed back for the castle, and by the time he got back, it was the blackest night they’d ever seen. Cautiously, Skynsa relayed the encounter back to Ofleti, who was extremely displeased. “This is not one I will challenge in battle,” muttered Ofleti in a deep rage. “In no contest of strength shall I prevail, nor in one of wits, it seems.” As he said this, he shot Skynsa a hard glare. “There must be some way,” he continued. “to trick the giant. He seems sure of himself, and a contest which he believes he’ll easily win shall be his weakness.”

That night, which proved long and fruitful, the three men devised schemes and drew plans. They clapped each other on the back for being so clever and their trickery, wondering how a simple giant could ever outsmart them.

As the sun rose the next morning, Hallra was interrupted in the tending of his vineyard by a distant cry. Way below him was a man of complete royalty, and despite never seeing the man before, knew exactly who he was. Ofleti rode upon a stallion – broad and utterly black. Hallra tried hard to hide his annoyance, but rarely did someone’s true mood escape Ofleti. “Good morning, Hallra,” Ofleti yelled. “I come to bargain for your land, as you no doubt are aware. What can I – in my infinite power – offer you?” Hallra got down on one knee, peering closely at the uninvited guest. His face was sharp and angular, with a stout, orange beard covering his chin. Complete neutrality rested on his face; this arose suspicion in Hallra. “You have not come to offer anything with infinite power, Ofleti. You will only do what is best for yourself, damning me in the process. This farmland is mine, and mine alone. Not even other giants have permission to it. If I asked you to give up your land in order to expand mine, doubtless you would reject, yes?” “So, there is a price, ha ha!” Ofleti chuckled. “Whilst I have come under a banner of good faith and peace, I do not intend to trade land with you. What I propose is simpler, and I imagine, more fun.” Ofleti dismounted his horse and gently stroked its mane. “This is Vinningshafi, the greatest steed in all the world, without question! I challenge that she can outrun even you, with the greatest stride of any creature. My proposal is thus! We shall race each other, from one end of your farm to the other and back. Whoever wins shall have full entitlement to this land. Better yet, whoever loses will never be seen again by the winning party, now and forever. They will live in total peace.” These words intrigued Hallra, who had forever desired a land all to himself; and this was no mere man promise, but that of the king himself. Before temptation could seize his heart, Hallra had one more comment. He jabbed a trunk-like finger at the king. “I know of Villandi’s stallions, and the speed of none could match me. This is a fool’s errand, Ofleti. But say no more! I will warm by the fire tonight in peaceful content, and perhaps even laugh at the folly of your foolishness! A race it shall be, and a race I shall win.”