Klek

The nightingale sings K*L*E*K

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For Arven

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iants usually keep themselves to themselves, and are rarely interfered with – neither by Gods nor Mortals.

But then along came Klek, a hero if ever there was one in the Ogulin mountains.

As everyone knows, Klek was admired by all the gods ; all except Volos that is, who disliked him enormously.

Anyhow, the Feast of the Giants was given by Boss God Perun.

And what a Feast !

The Giants hunted the feast food themselves. Enough to feed all of Ogulin for a whole year and more.

Venison, stallion, dragon fish, monster snake, boar and bear, still on the hoof and slithering, were flown in by the Giant Condors of Cres.

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As you can imagine, the sky was speckled black and orange as they circled Ogulin, landed then flew off to fetch more. This went on for many days, with the Ogulins busily collecting the beasts and making them ready for roasting.

Yes, party time could not wait.

Hurry as hurry was, a flat mountain between a trickling stream and Ogulin was cleared of forest.

Ancient oak stubs and rocks, roughly tossed into place by passing giants, served as stools, and huge piles prepared from the felled beech trees, criss-crossed and ready to be lit, would make tasty the food as never before !

Klek was Ogulin’s very own giant, and he had protected them well during the unspeakable wars, but this didn’t lessen their surprise when Perun’s swan flew into the

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castle and read aloud the invitation, after which the Mayor called for the grand preparations for the feast to begin.

That summer brought the Ogulins together. Fueding & fussing neighbours stopped fighting, and there was less mumbling and grumbling.

Eg, the Gypsy Giant, who could read an enemy’s thoughts before they had even thought them, would also be there. Runes were removed from gate posts, hexes were lifted, and everyone joined in to make the feast the finest ever seen.

Jen the Giant of Cres was the first to arrive with a squadron of condors, slicing through the clouds as they flew.

The sky gods, usually a moody bunch, grumbled their thunder a bit, but where at other times they would have

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sent a storm after them, they now, in the spirit of the feast, allowed the intrusion.

A mist of viento dust trailed through the sky, then swirling high above the clouds it melted into the sun, which shone even more golden than before, because, if a day is to be remembered, it may as well be a sunny one.

Morc, the giant from Rijeka, wearing his best dragon wing cloak and pearl-studded turban, came with Big Joe of Istria.

Big Joe was almost blind but he could smell out most things wherever they might be.

As a matter of fact, it was he who had smelled the difference between friend and foe during the wars, and saved three garissons of Mortals this way. And as their journey to Ogulin progressed his smile grew in equal measure to his appetite.

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“Roast boar,” he said happily, “And with plenty of plums.

Ah, how I love plums !

Morc couldn’t smell roast boar, much less plums. And he didn’t enjoy fighting much either, as so many of the others did.

Some say he used to be a half-god, and was made a Giant as punishment for speaking against Volos at council when Volos had stirred the Mortals to war.

Others say he was found washed up on a beach near a fishing village, and in return for their looking after him, had built a city for the fishermen who lived there.

Of course, both stories might be true, half true or untrue. The only thing we know to be most certainly true is that he is the only Giant who can melt into the shadows and become invisible ; a trick usually reserved for the gods.

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The twin Giants of Zagreb straddled the hills. They had often tricked the enemy by one pretending to be the other. Enemies were flabberghasted. They could not understand how one giant could be in two places at the same time. Their preferred weapon was spider web, big enough to net whole garrisons of Mortals.

Then, with the enemy trapped, they tied the net and left it hanging from a gorge.

“Even the crows must eat,” they would say, and the thought of this had led many an enemy to surrender in just a couple o’ tick-tocks o’ the clock.

Klek, you see, had earned his fame at the end of the last war of the Wars, which was the war that had ended all of them.

When the lands were almost lost, and many Giants and Mortals had been killed, the enemy sent their serpents to the islands from the depths of the ocean where they

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capsized vessels, swallowed sailors, and ravaged the coast.

Og, the most ferocious octopus in the ocean was sent to seal the fate of the land. He was to steal the islands, and throw every Giant and Mortal into the sea where they could be eaten for a thousand years and become lost in legend forever.

Og was already wrapping his tentacles around Krk and Cres when Klek jumped from the mainland and began hacking off his tentacles. As each tentacle was separated from Og’s body, Klek threw it into the sea where gluttonous serpents fought amongst themselves for the juiciest bits.

Blood shot into the air and snowflakes fell like red pancakes amidst Og’s gurgled screams, but as quickly as Klek hacked off one tentacle another would break the surface and wrap itself around Unija, then Susak,

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Silba, Pag and Rab, until Og had hooked all the islands as far south as Mljet and Shipan.

Klek battled on.

Thin tentacles lashed down on him, one after another, whipping his arms and slashing at his legs. One slapped into his face and wrapped itself around his head, covering his eyes so that he couldn’t see.

Still he hacked and hacked, at first blindly, then pulling the tentacle away he drew it closer, and slicing it lengthways he slit it in two. Og lurched back into the ocean, his screams clashing like symbols in the winter air, and finally Krk was released.

Klek leapt onto Unija where he hacked some more. Og’s screams grew louder, and blood gushed into the sky.

Then Ven sent lightning into Og’s head.

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Yellow flashes flickered in the clouds and the octopus ballooned and swelled. Og’s eyes bulged. His tentacles flailed wildly, and one lifted a ship from the sea and smashed it down onto the rocks.

Klek snapped off its mast and rammed it into one of Og’s eyes which erupted like a volcano.

Unija was released, and Klek jumped onto Susak where a new battle began.

And so it went on. The sea, bloody red, was angry with the thrashing tails of greedy serpents. And bit by bit by bit, as Og grew smaller, and his screams grew even louder, his cries grew more gurgled, until at last, more than a bit bloody and broken, he loosened his grip and the islands were freed.

And Klek watched in triumph as the octopus sank lifelessly down into the darkest canyons of the ocean.

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The serpents overate their fill of him, and it was not so very long before the circling Condors of Cres, bit by bit, bit into the bits looking more than a bit juicy, and lip-smacked the bones clean.

It was for this victory that Klek was being rewarded with the Feast of the Giants.

And one by one they came, and two by two from all of Croatia, from the coast, and from the mountains, from the cities and from the border lands. Hero Giants meeting friends and adding to their stories already famous. And to eat, eat and then eat some more.

There was peace for the first time since only the Gods know when. Gods, Giants and Mortals, all joined in celebration ; that is, all except Volos, God of War, Yes, Volos was a trouble maker. He enjoyed particular power when death was in the air, and when Mortals

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were afraid. The same Mortals who are so easily persuaded to fight when danger is at hand.

And with every death in battle Volos became more powerful than anyone had ever imagined.

Volos, you see, liked power. He liked sitting on his special chair at the God council, and wasn’t so pleased when peace came and it had been removed ; for once again he would have to sit with the other Gods, his ambitions to take the place of Perun as Boss God in tatters.

“And it’s all Klek’s fault,” he sulked.

But not aloud ; alone and sulking, and all to himself in his fortress. At council he was silent. He was silent when the enemy fled across the ocean, and he was silent when the killing had stopped. He was silent too when his seat was removed, and he was silent when peace

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came. Volos was even silent when Perun had sent his swan to the castle in Ogulin. And so his anger was white, silent, and as yet, a secret.

In Ogulin the castle bell rang, and the Giants and Mortals fell quiet. All eyes turned to Klek, who, being more of a doing Giant than a talking one, said.

“Friends ! – Welcome ! – Eat !”

Then he sat down, and the first stallion and boar were lifted from the fires and sucked from their spits.

Everyone was pleased with Klek’s speech. It was a good one they agreed. Hungry bellies made tempers quick, and the smell of food made long speeches unbearable.

They were often cut short by a fight breaking out, and they all knew Morc would say something at some time anyway. But by that time their bellies would be full, and their ears more in the mood to listen.

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They ate.

And so it was. Morc made his speech and was superpleased with himself. It was a lo-o-o-o-ong one, but everyone heard a little bit of it, mostly the parts where they played a role themselves, and with each tale the Giants added a bit, re-living their victories with those closest to them. By the end of Morc’s speech they had all been reminded of their heroism, and nobody was listening anymore. All the Giants were talking at the same time.

Scribes were lifted onto the table, and busily wrote down what they were told. It didn’t matter that the stories weren’t completely true, as long as they were told by the Giants themselves. Morc’s speech trailed off when he realized this, but he thought that it had been a good one. The giants occasionally glanced at him and raised their tankards in thanks for reminding everyone of their heroic deeds.

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