Valour and Blood || 1.17

When she woke, the darkness in the room was impenetrable. She couldn’t remember having a nightmare, but when she reached up a hand to wipe her eyes, she felt a layer of cold sweat on her forehead, and tear tracks on her cheeks. Though she settled back down in anticipation of further sleep, she found that she was perfectly wide awake now, adrenalin buzzing in her system. The giants had been kind to her. And yet she still had the creeping paranoia that they might have simply been trying to lull her into a false sense of security. She suddenly felt vulnerable lying there on the floor.

A dull tremor proved her suspicion correct. Someone was coming! It took a few moments of laboured breathing inside the rag before she realized the person was already in the room with her. The blackness of the room gave way to a faint flickering of candlelight, somewhere over her head. The faint illumination cast an outline over a positively titanic silhouette, a giant hunched over the larger of the tables. 

Erica slowly relaxed her grip on the towel when she realized that the only tremors affecting her came from the giant shifting in his seat, boots scraping against the ground.  No one was coming for her. In fact, he didn't even seem to be aware she was watching him. Erica considered going back to sleep. Whatever he was working on demanded his entire attention, it would be easy enough… if she wasn't wide awake. Her heart was still racing beyond control. Besides, she doubted she'd be able to fall asleep with him sitting right there, shifting in his seat and tinkering away at God only knew what. 

Erica glanced around and immediately perked up in surprise: her clothes had already been laid out for her, sloppily folded on the cobblestone floor. It was too convenient to pass up. Mind made up, she pulled her tunic and trousers into the covers, squirming to pull them on. The cold stone floor stung her bare feet as she stepped out of bed, but she ignored the discomfort. She padded out to the centre of the room, which loomed large as a stadium around her, and craned her neck up to look at what the candlelight illuminated.

There were shelves upon shelves furnishing the wall Aaron was sat facing, each almost packed with a multitude of strange sundries that Erica couldn’t make out. The corner chest was yawning open now and, as the human watched, Aaron leaned his weight to the side to plunge his arm into the dark cabinet. Erica tiptoed forward as the giant furtled through the contents noisily and withdrew something, holding it in the light for only a moment before setting it down on the table. She was still reeling as she crept closer, dazed. She had been positive she'd just seen him holding the entire steeple of a chapel in his hand. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. 

The house was quiet enough that one could hear a pin drop. Erica supposed she must have been even smaller than a pin to these giants, for standing right beside the table, Aaron was no more aware of her than he had been before. The candlelight cast an odd glow on his face, making the angles of his face look more severe and alien. His loose shirt hung open, a smattering of dark gold hairs catching the light against fair skin. His boots shifted again, soles scraping against the floor. For now, Erica was still a safe distance, but she had no intention of chancing an accident. 

She moved backwards and round in a small circle, trying to get a view of the tabletop in the candlelight. There was a hideous noise as Aaron lowered what he was holding on the table, making Erica grit her teeth. She was surprised he wasn’t waking the household with the sound of his work. She gave a start as he leaned sharply over the table, grabbing up some tool or other and redirecting his attention to the steeple. His feet had stopped moving as he settled into a state of concentration, but Erica still wasn’t going to risk getting close. Squaring her shoulders, she took in a breath and closed her eyes. “Ahem.”

She clenched her fists and cracked open one eye. He hadn’t heard her. She was too small. No, she snapped inwardly. He’s too damned big. “Excuse me? Aaron?” she tried again, hearing the quaver in her own voice.

She nearly regretted speaking when he jerked his head up. His chair scraped against the floor as he turned sharply. It took him a moment, squinting at the flickering shadows on the floor, before Erica found herself the new subject of those ice-coloured eyes. He had spotted her. "Miss Sage," he gasped. All at once, he dropped his tools on the table with a deafening clatter and twisted around to face her fully. He looked guilty as anyone she'd ever seen. He cleared his throat, trying his best to resume the stoic expression she was so accustomed to. This time, it didn't quite work. "Did I disturb you?" 

Seeing that he wasn’t angered, Erica felt confident enough to walk closer to him, though still keeping a wary distance. Her tiny feet pattered on the cobblestones but the rain easily drowned out the noise. “No, no. At least, I don’t think so,” Erica assured him. “I just… I was having trouble sleeping.” She faltered under his scrutiny. Even though there was no malice there, his eyes were still a stunning sight to behold in the flickering light. “What are you doing up there?” she asked, curiosity making her bold.

"Ah… Just a hobby." Aaron glanced over at his work. He rubbed the back of his neck, exhaustion apparently winning out over his guarded nature. "Would you care to see?"

Tentatively, she gave consent. But her boldness drained away in the next instant as Aaron reached right down and plucked her off the ground. She staggered out of his hand as he set her down on the table. 

"Storm woke me." His booming voice was a quiet rumble now. Aaron watched attentively as Erica gathered her bearings, taking a few steps across the mess of remnants on the table. "I find this helps pass the time during sleepless hours."

Erica felt like she’d been plopped into some very strange dream. Surrounding her on all sides, and lining the dimly illuminated shelves above her, was an assortment of seemingly random objects that all appeared to have one thing in common.

They were human-made.

Her suspicion about the object Aaron had pulled from the chest was confirmed. Across from her lay a slate church tower, on its side as if it had collapsed under a great wind. Her blood chilled all over again at the sight of the defeated building, so easily breakable in the hands of a giant. The crushed remains of a small schooner rested to the other side of her, its elaborate figurehead staring in the light. Next to this, a tidy line of enormous tools that looked very similar to those used by human mechanics. 

The first shelf held instruments of warfare. Rusted cannons, broken catapults, cavalry tack - everything she could think of lay in neat rows like well-loved ornaments. And though Erica craned her neck as far as she could, she couldn’t see what lay above without backing right into the giant hovering behind her. “What…” she began, her voice little more than a squeak. She cleared her throat. “What is all this?”

Aaron pulled a face, like he couldn't decide whether to be proud or embarrassed. "It's my… collections of sorts," he said. "Things I've plucked from the wreckage of battles and surrenders across the land."

Erica approached the steeple, running her hand over the stone. It was still cold to the touch, despite sitting closest to the candles. The carved stones were ancient, but looked like they had been thoroughly cleaned at one point, revealing intricate grooves and patterns that moss had once concealed. "How long have you been doing this?" she asked, vaguely breathless. 

"Few years longer than I've been been in the king's employ." 

Erica finally turned to face him again, trailing a hand along a window that was remarkably intact. From this angle, the flickering light was actually rather flattering on him. "This is why they really call you the Collector, isn't it?"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head. "No, not in the slightest. It would ruin my name if anyone knew about this."

“But this is incredible,” she said earnestly, now scurrying across the wide wooden battleground of misfit inventions towards a row of gleaming metal suits of armour. “You’ve been reconstructing all this stuff? How on God’s green earth did you get some of this?”

On one of the wooden stands, there was even, if Erica was not mistaken, a venom-axe - a rare kind of battle-axe that one dipped poison in to quickly dispatch an opponent. Erica found herself missing her own. It had no doubt already been sold off if Davies’ pilfering associates (or indeed, Amos’ guard themselves) had done the rounds on her abandoned home.

Aaron propped his head in his hand, his eyes bright as he watched Erica roam between the steeple of the chapel, and the figurehead of a seaworthy vessel. She was the perfect size to make his collection seem alive. "It's fairly common in a Handoff for the kingdom to provide additional tribute to show their repentance," Aaron explained patiently. "Phillip wants no part in it. Protocol is to burn anything that can't be melted down to make coin… but I can't burn something like this."

His other hand soared right over her, seizing a jeweled box the size of his thumbnail from the shelf. Erica's gasp of alarm went unnoticed as he turned the box this way and that, watching the gilded metal glint. "I don't even know what the hell it is, but it's not refuse. You may be an ignorant race, but you've made some beautiful things, as a whole." 

“I guess so,” she agreed, with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Hey, why don’t you let me take a look if… if you wouldn’t mind?” She reached up her hands and, after a second’s pause, the little box was thrust into her arms. She took an uneasy step back as Aaron lowered his head down on thick crossed forearms to watch.

“There’s a lock on that thing that I just can’t quite manoeuvre,” he rumbled. 

Erica scrutinised the little bolt, before sticking her fingers under it and clicking a tiny mechanism that sent the lid springing open. The box revealed an assortment of gold jewellery - pendants and lockets and thick bejeweled bracelets - a tinny looking pocket watch and a dented compass.

“You know… some of this could be worth a fortune,” Erica said, eyes gleaming. Her thoughts immediately went to Davies’ lot and she pursed her lips, setting the open chest down for Aaron’s scrutiny. “What are you working on tonight?”

Even the tip of his finger was too large to rummage inside the box. Aaron instead pinched its sides as he had done before and gave it a gentle shake to sift through the jewels. "Polishing," he answered, finally setting down the little box. Aaron nodded at the ship and the crumbled steeple behind her. "Keeping the wood in good condition until I can find pieces that fit them."

Erica turned, taking a wider look to the right. A bottle she had mistaken to be an inkwell had a rough-bristled brush balanced on top. She could see the fresh shine on one side of the ship now that she looked, though it appeared as though the steeple had yet to receive his touch. She found herself grinning. In less than twelve hours, she'd gone from fleeing for her life to waltzing around in this wonderland of human junk - the first human scaled things she'd seen in over a month. 

Aaron caught the smile, but not the reasoning. "Are you laughing at me?" His voice jumped a little. 

“No, no, I swear I’m not!” she insisted, turning her smile onto him. “It’s just… if I don’t laugh, I think I may cry. There’s been a part of me thinking I’d never see anything normal-sized again.”

She heaved a sigh, pacing across his line of sight towards the sailing ship. She trailed her fingers along the unvarnished wood, crouching down to see the years-old crust of barnacles and other battered debris near the underbelly. The ship was enormous, and yet its final resting place was on a simple wooden table. “I’ve been on a battle fleet once,” she declared proudly. “One of the best times of my career.” She smiled at the memory. “Will she ever be seaworthy?” she asked after another moment’s inspection. 

"Doubtful," he sighed. "I tried carving the other half myself but it's no good. Our wood's too dense, and I've got a greater chance of finding the Eternal Waters than finding another half of a vessel to match it." A sudden smile spread on his face. Before Erica could ask why, the giant had her in his grip once again - just a few fingers and a thumb around her middle this time. Her feet left the table, replaced by sea-rotted wood as Aaron plunked her down on the sloped deck of the ship. He looked unreasonably entertained to see someone actually upon his prized possession. "Maybe you can give it proper inspection for me." He settled back down on folded arms. 

“Maybe you can remember that I’m a free woman, not a creature to be manhandled.”

She glared pointedly back into his expectant eyes before ultimately losing the battle to remain annoyed. She was just as excited about being on the dilapidated schooner as Aaron was to finally see it captained. She skipped nimbly up towards the bow, smoothing a reverent hand over the cloudy brass railing that separated the figurehead from the deck. Looking back, she could see the remnants of a trapdoor leading below deck, which had been smashed away where the boat’s tail had been snapped off. Avoiding the splintering wood, Erica wrenched back the door and hopped down into the space, squinting in the new darkness.

“Wow…”

Aaron raised his head in prompt surprise as she vanished below deck. He wasted no time. Carefully setting the steeple back into the trunk, Aaron used the extra space to flatten himself down by the broken ship. The already dim interior of the lower deck grew a shade darker as a large blue eye filled once of the shattered portholes. "Nothing but kelp down there. I checked," his voice resonated in the hollow. 

“I can’t see anything either.”

That wasn’t strictly true. A torn hammock hung from a hook on the ceiling, and there was a doorway to a second chamber that Erica had to assume would have been the captain’s quarters. But the wood was so swollen and warped with brine that the effort she made to push it open proved to be fruitless. Dried out green tendrils of vegetation draped over everything, like the tentacles of some foul sea monster. Erica peered out of the porthole that Aaron was currently staring into, her little hands clutching the rim as she stretched up on tiptoes to see. “What’s the story behind this old beastie, then?” she asked.

The blue entity blinked, creating a soft rush of air. He didn't dare move while she had positioned herself so close. "I don't know." Though his reply was quieter, it still resonated like a force of nature. "Though I've wondered myself on more than one occasion. This one wasn't a gift of war. Found it half frozen in Irching Bay… Fools probably ran ashore on the shallow rocks and met their fate."

“I’d believe it,” Erica muttered, ducking out of view to examine the torn up end of the vessel. The whole ship looked like it had been bitten in half by the jaws of a great creature. Or cracked in two by a giant’s powerful arms. Curiosity sated, she jumped down from the gaping hole and rounded the entire ship before coming to a halt on its other side. She scratched her cheek self-consciously, rocking backwards on her heels as she regarded the giant. “What else have you got in your collection worth a look-see?”

Aaron glanced at something she couldn't see and sat up. "You might appreciate these…" He made to grab her again. Erica stumbled backwards this time, ramming her back into the barnacle crusted ship to avoid those giant fingers. To her surprise, he paused this time. A conflicted look crossed his face, a new focus. 

"Careful," Erica blurted as fingertips brushed at her shoulders and wound their way around her legs as well. Slowly, this time. 

"You can't get there on your own." Aaron said, sounding rather like a parent with tried patience. He set her on the first shelf hanging above the table, where lines of armour sat on their handmade stands. "I'm afraid none of these pieces will replace the one you lost," Aaron said, pulling his hand away. "Do you recognise any of these symbols?" He tapped a gilded arm, etched with deliberate black marks down to the wrist. 

Erica frowned, leaning in close where his finger had been. The finger as long as if not longer than her whole body. She quashed this realisation and concentrated on the symbols. Some of them appeared scratched, and others were faded under the duress of time and conflict. “My kingdom doesn't use these. But we guardsmen studied some in our training. I think…” 

She raised a hand, following the pattern with delicate precision. Still, she could almost feel Aaron shifting anxiously behind her. These things were important to him. Quickly, she took her hand back. “I think it's verse. A poem, or maybe even a song, is denoted in these lines.” She smiled, poring over one particular sigil she recognised. “I believe this one means bravery. Or maybe tyranny. It’s not a human language,” she added thoughtfully. 

When she glanced up, she found she had Aaron's undivided attention. There was nothing false about his interest. In fact, she suspected it was this great interest in his guilty pleasure that kept that reserved demeanour at bay. She fought the urge to smile at the incredulity of it all, having lengthy conversations with the man who'd dropped her into this land in the first place. 

His brow furrowed. "Well, it’s not giant either. What else would it be?"

Erica shrugged. "There are races of people smaller than humans. Wiser too, some say."

Aaron chuckled, turning Erica's knees to jelly. "Surely, you're not counting the fae folk?" he asked, arching a brow. "They're too small to be intelligent creatures."

This made her indignant enough to step forward on the shelf. “You were quite ready to believe I was a killer without the evidence of your own eyes,” Erica argued, now folding her arms. “Why shouldn't the fairies be as wise and thoughtful as us, just because they're too small for your big eyes to make out?"

Something stern flickered over his face when he faltered for a moment. She continued to prove a boldness worthy of the suits of armour behind her. "There were enough witnesses to incriminate you," he persisted. "Have you ever seen a fairy for yourself?"

“A few. But I can believe what others have seen, too," Erica sniffed. “There are dozens of tales. As a child I was taught all about them. And an associate of mine claims to know a hunter of these creatures. Sells them to giants and humans alike. A captured faerie is worth more than you can imagine.” She wrinkled her nose. “It's not something I believe to be very honourable.” She'd gained a great empathy for the victims of these anecdotes when she herself had been shut up like a firefly in a lantern.

“Although,” here she smirked at him, “since anything in human shape that isn't human is classed as part of the faerie realm… I could be labelled a hypocrite. I've battled more giants than you've had hot dinners.”

"Really?" Aaron fought back a smile. "You think you would be more familiar with the territory, if that's the case," he said. With that same spark of interest still leading him on, he stretched out his hand again like she was just another piece in his collection to be examined. Erica had nowhere to back up without colliding with the armour. Aaron was far too fast for the biggest being she'd ever seen. In seconds, her forearm was clasped between a finger and thumb. He pulled it out to her side, then up to felt how skinny the limb was. "Remarkable," he muttered. 

Erica’s cheeks grew pink. With a grunt, she yanked her hand out of the giant’s grip. “Don't look at me like that,” she protested weakly.

His eyebrows rose, then dipped in confusion. “Like what?”

“Like that.” She tried and failed to glower formidably back into his wide eyes, pacing along the shelf. “Like I'm some… I don't know.” Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled, coming to perch with her legs over the edge of the wooden plank. 

Aaron dropped his hand to the side with a little thump. Though he curbed his intrigue, his gaze never strayed from the tiny girl occupying his shelf. "You're strong for your size," he said, giving her a once-over. "But you're not really in any condition to travel onward, are you?"

Erica lifted her head, green eyes narrowed warily. "What does that mean?"

"You're weak." She immediately bristled, and Aaron shook his head dismissively. He tapped a finger gently above her heart. "Not in here… your body. You can barely push away a single finger."  He let his finger drop instead of proving his point. He raised his eyebrows. "Am I wrong?"

Erica’s scowl didn't let up, but she let her gaze fall to her hands. For the first time, she noticed how they were faintly trembling - had been, for who knows how long. She balled them into fists, dipping her head with a guttural sigh. “All that running. And after everything, I was so damned tired. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I was almost over the border. That the worst of the danger had been and gone. But now…” She looked up again, and her eyes were swimming. “I've still got miles to go. And I think my fortune might be running out.”

For a long time, Aaron was absolutely silent. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. She jumped a little when he finally moved. Aaron inhaled wearily, dragging a hand down his face. Erica felt her hair flutter around her face as those massive lungs filled with air, heard the scratch of gold stubble against his nails. "I assume no one else knows you're here?" 

Erica shook her head. 

"Good. I don't want any complications if you stay on longer." 

She went very still when she caught sight of the his set expression, his mind made up. She could scarcely find words as she ran through what he'd just said. "You don't mean… I-I mean, I'm-"

"I know what you are. You're a human. A criminal. I'm not providing charity for a saint." The giant looked her over, something softening in his normally stoic face. "You've suffered your full sentence for your crimes, and I… God help me. I don't think you deserve to die like a monster." The last bit was blurted, like if he hadn't spat it out it that second he would be forever incapable of admitting it. 

The warm rush of relief and shock in Erica’s veins made her dizzy. She scrabbled backwards on the shelf, hurrying to her feet before him. “You want to keep a roof over my head? Your roof?”

Aaron was starting to look flustered. He cleared his throat and shrugged his wide shoulders. “Of course you're free to leave whenever you desire,” he rumbled. “You're not a prisoner any more. But sending you out there now would be sending you straight to your death.”

“But…” she started, still incredulous. “I mean… all you have to do is drop me off at the border and I'll be out of your hair for good.”

“The nearest human kingdom that isn't Greendale is a four day journey through uncharted wilderness - and that being the swiftest route,” Aaron explained ruefully. “I'd be missed were I to make the venture; and if I came back alive, I'd be questioned for deviating from my post.”

Erica was quiet for a moment. She'd have to make the voyage alone in time. And Ross was still on the prowl. There was every chance she'd run into him again, and this time come out for the worse. She let out a shaky sigh. “If my intrusion definitely won't be a problem for you… then I'll stay. And if there's anything at all I can do for you or your family, I swear to you now, all you need do is ask.”

"I'll take that into consideration." Glancing around at the miniatures surrounding him, he smirked. "Maybe you can help me figure out what the hell some of this is."

Erica watched with a bit of dumbstruck awe as the giant casually lifted the entire helm of the ship and pushed it back so it was propped up securely against the wall. 

"For now though… I’d best head to bed. My wife will be giving me an earful, come morning." He shook his head half-heartedly at this thought, rising from his seat. One hand lifted, tentative. "Er… Would you like me to put you on the floor again?"

“Oh, please. I mean- no!” she yelped, as his hand began to curl around her. He drew back, alarmed. 

“What-”

“Please… not like that.” She gave him an uneasy smile. “If you would just present me your palm instead. I’d prefer to climb on of my own accord.”

Though he looked very much like he might argue the point of such inefficiency, Aaron reached out once more; this time, his hand flattened out, palm facing the ceiling. Erica's shoulders slumped in relief when he allowed to her pad aboard, only losing her balance twice in the dips and grooves of his hand. He did not laugh. He pulled his hand away with more care this time. He plucked up the tallest candle with his free hand and blew out the others. With that small ring of illumination, he paced over to Erica's makeshift quarters and took a knee. 

"Thank you," Erica breathed, stepping down onto the cool stone as his hand lowered down. 

Aaron flexed his hand when she was free, giving it a strange look. He could still feel the ghostly sensation of her lithe legs and tiny feet shifting on his skin. "Rest well," he grunted in reply. 

She pattered across the chilly floor as swiftly as possible and jumped in among the cosy nest of fabric. She was almost silhouetted in the cosy darkness when she turned again to smile at Aaron. This one much more genuine. “I shall,” she replied quietly. “Goodnight.”

She gathered the blankets up to her collarbone as Aaron rose out of view, only his pillar-like legs to be seen as he left the room, taking the candle with him. Only when she heard the heavy creak of the giant’s bedroom door did she relax onto her back and close her tired eyes.

Erica succumbed to sleep within five minutes.