Giants Walking

In the Third Age there was a nation of giants.  They were called the Ht’uum and they were not a great or expansive nation but they were respected for their wisdom and their understanding.

Two men of the Ht’uum, two great explorers, were hunting knowledge, expanding the boundaries of their people’s knowledge of the great world around them, and atop a mountain, bridging the yawning gap between two sheer ridges high in the rocky ranges, they found two bridges, older than them, older than their long-lived nation of Ht’uum, and, curiosity piqued, they set foot on these ancient structures, one apiece, and, side by side, they walked.

Some way between the four great stone plinths than marked the twinned endings of their passage the bridges rumbled.  Great slats fell from them and the twisted metal cables binding the two halves of the mountain together shook and vibrated and ground in torment at the feel of the first footsteps to step across its span in so many years.

The two giants held fast, and looked at each other as the terrible sound of distressed architecture momentarily subsided.

“Brother-of-stone,” said one in the way of the giants of Ht’uum, “brother, I am fearful.  This bridge will collapse if we do not leap ahead and make our way to the other side as swiftly as the passing of mortal men.”

“Brother-of-stone,” the other replied, “brother, I am fearful.  This bridge will collapse if we do not take great care in each step, place each foot deliberately, patient as the stones from which we are born.”

“Brother,” said the first, after some moment of deliberation, “brother, the longer we stress this decaying edifice the more that stress will bring on its downfall, and ours.”

“Brother,” said the other, after some moment considering this, “brother, the quicker we step the more chance there is we will step wrong, and bring about this crossing’s downfall, and ours.”

The two men of Ht’uum stood, silent, immobile as only giants can, and thought.

“Brother-of-stone,” said one, “brother, we cannot know.”

“No, we cannot know,” the other agreed.

The two men of Ht’uum looked to each other with the understanding of mortality that all explorers share, and, without a word of goodbye - for men of stone do not say goodbye - they advanced, one leaping quickly, the other stepping carefully, both making for the great stone plinths that marked one end of their crossing.

~~~

“… and?” asked Killingsworth, wiping out a mug with a rag as Agamemnon talked.

“And nothing,” said the priest, swigging from his nearly empty tankard.

“So … who was right?”

“That’s a good question,” said Agamemnon, smiling enigmatically.

“That’s bullshit is what it is,” said Killingsworth, stowing the mug and reaching for another.

“It is a Thu’manat, a giant tale of knowing.  ‘Au manat thi t’vinit mal’ - the wisdom is in the question, not the answer.”  Seeing his friend was not impressed Agamemnon continued.  “It’s a philosophical idea, an idea intended to pose a question, and to provoke thought.  You see -“

“Yeah yeah, slow and steady wins the race but if you snooze you lose.  I get it.”

Agamemnon blinked.  “I … I guess … that’s more or less the point, I suppose.”

“What I don’t get,” said the magus, bored with cleaning and trying to dig still-edible nuts from the bottom of a crate, “is why the giants needed a fucking story to tell them something so obvious.  ‘Sometimes fast it good, but sometimes careful is good, and you can’t always tell’.  Well done giants, glad you could join us in Thinkington, capital city of the nation of Thinksalot, where everyone else already lives.”  Killingsworth finally found some nuts and tossed them in the air, catching about half of them in his mouth as the other half landed all over the place.  “No wonder they’re all dead.”

“I think maybe the subtlety of the story is something that can be appreciated with more study of the context in which it was written.”

“Subtlety?  Please.  I fart with more subtlety.  And more depth.”  Killingsworth thought for a moment.  “I’m not entirely sure what that means.  But you said this had something to do with Laniss?”

“I said it relates to how we proceed with the information with which Laniss has become acquainted,” clarified the cleric, drawing a line of beer suds across the otherwise fairly clean counter top.  “We can either leap ahead towards our goal, unsure of the ground on which we walk, or we can proceed with caution, more slowly but more sure of our footing.”

“Right.  Is that it?”

Agamemnon looked at him.  “Maybe I’ll go tell Shades.  The nuances of the tale might appeal a little more to his sensibilities.”

“You do that,” said Killingsworth as he stomped on any of the fallen nuts he could find.

As he left the bar Agamemnon head his compatriot call out to him: “Next time you want to turn my bar into Story Time with Aggy, make it a story about boobs.”

“Or giant fish monsters!” he heard through the window as he walked down the street outside the bar.

“Giant fish monsters … with boobs!”

“And a kraken!”

~~~

"So the giants were walking ..."

Shades sat as Agamemnon paused.  And waited.  "So ..."

Agamemnon started again.  "So yes, the giants, who were explorers ..."  And paused again.

"Are you okay Aggy?"

"Fucking Kills."

"What?"  Shades was confused.

"He's right.  This story is bullshit."

"Oh.  Right."

Agamemnon took a swig of liquor.  "Fucking Kills."