Who Says `No' to the Earthquake?
by Scott Grildrig
A beautiful maiden becomes an unstoppable giantess 
Update: 23/10/1997 to giantess

 Author's Note:
  This is not the Grildrig's usual fare (i.e. gratuitous giantess sex
  and giantess violence).  It is, in fact, something of a romantic
  faerie tale kind of a thingy, featuring a giantess, along with a fair
  amount of humor, action and, of course, sex.  I have reason to believe
  that most gigantaphiles will enjoy the story.  I hope that folks who
  do not consider themselves gigantaphiles will also read it, and perhaps
  find that they too enjoy it...
  Comments, criticisms and castigations on my character for too many
  thee's, thou's, thy's and a couple of improperly used ye's, may be
  forwarded to: grildrig@anon.penet.fi  I like hearing from folks, and
  using my anon address means nobody has to know anyone's name, place
  or gender.  (A few hosannas in the general direction of Finland are
  warrented)
  This story is being delivered in three sections, to get it through
  the 48K limit of the above-mentioned anonymous server.
                                                     SG
  
  06-Feb-1995
    Dragons are a nasty lot.
    They are ill-tempered, ill-mannered, ill-willed, easily irked and
  inevitably ill-intentioned.  Their hunger is deep and inassuagable.  Their
  tastes are vile and deplorable.  They prefer to dine on young virgins,
  for reasons never adequately explained, but which fits in nicely with the
  ever expanding list of `ills' and the whole bad taste thing.  Every
  kingdom ever founded seems to be plagued by a dragon (they have a
  strong union), which is why the Knight Rental Service ("You pay by the
  Knight, not by the day") has posted a handsome profit for the past five
  harvests.
    The Kingdom of Prattle had a dragon problem.
    Because of his ferocious appetites the roll of available virgins was
  swiftly dwindling, (a fact noted in the minutes by the sole remaining
  member of the Virgin Union).  Dues were down, eligible bachelors were
  flocking to the Less-Than-Virgin shop (run by a man named Hymen, but
  that's a tale for another time), and the people were beginning to
  worry what new culinary direction the draconic appetite would take
  when the virgin supply ran dry.
    It didn't help when the King was caught making plans with the Duke
  of Poxbury to turn the Last Remaining Virgin's bed chamber into a
  game room, (snooker and parcheesi, with an open bar).  The Princess
  Tasgeni's reaction was, itself, described in draconian terms, and the
  King wisely opted to depart upon a protracted hunting trip.  All of
  which serves to explain why there was a shortage of knights, heroes,
  sidekicks and such when the dragon Bitumen showed up in a peckish mood.
    The morning watch spotted the worm soaring down from the cloudless
  heights, a long black plume of smoke trailing back from its nostrils.
  The watchman sounded the invasion bells, but the wild clamor, far from
  inspiring people to hide, instead served to bring most of the castle's
  inhabitants out to see what all the fuss was about.  The Princess
  Tasgeni, against the piteous cries of her old nurse, stepped out onto
  her high tower balcony to see for herself the cause of the commotion.
  Her curiosity was quickly satisfied.  The dragon, anticipating such
  an opportunity, plummeted like a meteor and snatched up the luckless
  Princess in his claws.  His beating wings swiftly lifted him upwards
  from the stunned people, and the wailing cries of Tasgeni faded into
  the azure sky.
    After that morals dipped a bit as the employees of the Less-Than-Virgin
  shop competed for the now coveted title of Most-Least-Like-A-Virgin.
                                % % % % %
    Tasgeni screamed her fool head off.  Not that she expected it to
  improve her situation, but her arms were pinned, and she was at a loss
  for anything else to do.  The dragon reeked of brimstone and burnt iron.
  The strength of its grasp was savage.  The howling down draft from its
  vast bat-like pinions dislodged her peaked hat and sent it and her long
  golden hair snapping and curling about her face.  No amount of struggling
  promised to free her, and the glimpses of farmland far below deterred her
  from trying very hard.
    Tasgeni was a tough young woman, though.  It never occurred to her to
  faint.
    So it was that she spotted the dragon's lair almost at the same moment
  that the beast began its spiraling descent.  A great black mountain,
  dome topped, scoured clean of green things, loomed up from the rocky
  plain.  Bitumen arrowed down like a hunting falcon, curling his wings
  in against his long body.  For a moment Tasgeni thought they would
  smash against the stone strewn slope, but at the last moment, she saw
  a cavern opening dart before them.  The dragon twisted and swooped into
  the orifice; darkness swept away the daytime light, subterranean cold
  snatched away the daytime warmth.  Tasgeni closed her eyes, there was
  nothing to see.
    Suddenly, the claws released her.
    With a startled shout she tumbled to the rocky floor.
    Her noising turned into a long "Eeeeeeeewwwwwwwww," as she realized
  what had cushioned her fall.  The dragon's lair was, much like any
  bachelor's, a place of ruin, devastation, and unfinished meals.
    "Thou art displeased with thy state?"  The dragon's voice rumbled
  like summer thunder, and drooled thick with evil.
    "Swine!" shouted Tasgeni.
    "Swine?" queried the dragon, and he lifted a six foot long finger, and
  regarded the two foot long claw that topped it.  "I hight reptile,
  a scion of the entrails of Ymir."
    "Nay!  Thou'st the demeanor of a farting rodent!" yelled the Princess.
    The dragon frowned, "Certes, thou wast tutored with an unusual bestiary.
  No matter, the thoughts of the prey, howsoever addled, little affect the
  succulence of the brain.  Hast thou an animal with which to answer that?"
    Tasgeni just glared at the worm.  It's hard to toss back an appropriate,
  much less an effective retort at someone (or something) that has just
  revealed to you your special seat at the supper board.
    "Speechless, little morsel?" simpered Bitumen, and he chuckled evilly.
  "More's the pity, for only though words can thee hope to fend off the
  moment when we are joined."  He reached out with his claws towards the
  Princess, who yelped and dove aside.  Time and again he dabbed at her,
  playing her as the mouse, and laughing darkly at his sport.  And every
  time he struck he missed by a diminished distance, leaving Tasgeni
  no doubt about the nature of his play.  But her spirit refused to despair,
  and she leapt like a hunted doe, evading the dragon's reach.  Yet she
  knew the end was nigh, and she steeled herself for death, when suddenly
  the dragon was distracted from her.
    His great head rose up and up, and held still for a moment, as if
  harkening to a distance voice.  "Behold, little morsel," he growled,
  "the sun, my mother, descends now into night.  I must rise and pray
  for her return before I may feast."  And his arm uncoiled like a
  striking snake, and caught Tasgeni within his fingers.
    She wailed and fought, but the dragon paid her no heed, instead he
  carried her to an iron door wrought into the wall of his cave, and
  wrenched it open with a hideous squalling of hinges.  "Thou mayest dwell
  in her for a time, until I return from my duty.  Then shall we renew
  our game, or mayhaps I shall just appease my hunger, and be done."  And
  he tossed the Princess into the room, and slammed shut the huge door
  with a thunderous clang!.
                                % % % % %
    It was very dark in the cave.  Very, very dark.
    A periodic splash of water echoed in the distance.  The cave was
  large.  Very, very large.  The Princess mulled over her predicament
  for a moment.  Screaming, while satisfying and emotionally cleansing,
  was not going to get her out of here.  Still...
    She clenched her hands into fists, took a deep breath, and then she
  screamed, long, loud and lustily.  The echoes slammed from wall to wall,
  reverberating and crossing into a cacophony of shill panicky noise.
  She screamed herself breathless.  Then, adjusting her clothes and
  straightening her hat, she went about the more productive task of
  finding something to help; her dignity in no way reduced by her heavy
  panting from her exertion.  The floor was dusty, and the smell of age
  had accumulated everywhere.  Occasionally she heard the tinkling of
  coins or gems scattered by her feet.  She climbed shifting piles of
  loot, and bumped into barrels and chests, but most of those were sealed
  or locked, and it was long before she found a container that opened.
    It was an ancient chest.  Its lid creaked ominously as she lifted it,
  then fell backwards with a loud bang!  But the Princess' attention was
  captivated by the golden contents kept within.  Each coin, each goblet,
  each delicate chain gave off a rich radiance that spilled out of the
  chest and into the cavern.  Things were illuminated well enough for her
  to see something of the size of her prison.  The walls were distant
  glittering veils, the ceiling was lost in murky darkness, and everywhere
  were scattered the spoils of the dragon.  It was a vast hoard, and a
  precious one, but she was bent on leaving.  Let a knight take the wealth.
    Off to one side she saw what appeared to be a door, but the light
  barely grazed it, it was too far away.  Kneeling, she ran her fingers
  through the gold, lifting out some coins in the hope that she could
  use them to guide her way.  But each object she removed guttered and
  faded, and she soon realized that something, the chest itself or some
  prize within was responsible for the magical light.
    It did not take long for her to locate the charmed object.  It was a
  short piece of braided gold, crafted into the form of a snake, with ruby
  eyes and emerald teeth.  It's belly was scaled in silver, and it bent
  easily within her fingers.  The contents of the chest flickered and
  faded when she removed the talisman, but only gold amplified its light,
  her hand did not shine of its own accord.  Yet the snake, itself, was
  bright enough to guide her.  Holding it overhead like a torch, she
  began to wend her way to the distant door.  Now at first the charm was
  cold within her grasp, but it quickly warmed from her touch.  She didn't
  make any note of it -- until it wriggled.  With a startled yelp she
  tried to hurl the dreadful thing away, but the shining snake curled down
  around her hand and began winding its way up her arm.  Prying at it with
  her left hand proved useless, and she cast about for something to leverage
  against it.  The magical charm ignored all her efforts to dislodge it,
  but climbed up past her elbow and curled itself snugly around her upper
  arm.  Once settled into place it stiffened into a kind of a bracelet,
  and its eerie radiance faded, seeping deep into her arm before disappearing.
                                % % % % %
    He rose up into the sky, biting and roaring at the winds that vied
  with him, spreading flame across the clouds to answer the red hues of
  the settling sun.  Far away eyes, briefly glancing at the grand spectacle,
  commented on the beauty of the sky, but without ever knowing how it truly
  came to be.
                                % % % % %
    Something was wrong.
    Of course, when one is trapped blind within the cave of a dragon that
  means to return shortly and eat you, this observation loses some of
  its value.  The snake charm wrapped about her arm was a dratted nuisance,
  but seemed finished with its mischief.  Yet she felt sure that something
  worse was in store for her.
    The noise of dripping water had shifted.  It seemed lower, though she
  was sure she had not ascended higher within the cave.  Nor was that the
  only mystery, for it seemed that the contents of the cave were themselves
  changing in some strange way.
    Her need for light was great.  And though it proved difficult to find,
  she cast about relentlessly until she found what felt to be a drinking
  vessel with a soft metal rim.  She muttered a silent prayer, and
  pressed the thing against the snake bracelet.
    Blessed light flooded the cave again, and Tasgeni began to worry anew.
    Everything was smaller.  But whether she was expanding, or the cave
  was shrinking she could not tell.  The touch of gold seemed to feed
  the process, and as she watched the walls closed in upon her, and all
  the treasure dwindled into trinkets.  She was at war within herself;
  part of her was appalled by the change, but to separate the gold from the
  snake would rob her of light.  On the other hand, provided that it was
  she that was expanded and not the room diminishing, she realized that she
  would soon be able to treat with the worm on its own vast terms.  It was
  not until her head brushed the ceiling of the chamber that it occurred to
  her that there might be another complication.  By now she was a giantess
  without parallel.  The mighty door that the dragon had opened was reduced
  to mere ankle-height.  The expansive chamber was swiftly becoming a
  cramped cubbyhole.  She sighed with resignation, the darkness would have
  to be endured, and she discarded the goblet, itself grown to more than
  heroic proportions.  But her growth, though abated, was not ended, and
  she was forced down onto her knees under the descending weight of the
  stony roof.
    What had seemed a solution to her dilemma was turning into a crisis
  all its own.  Tasgeni crouched down as far as she could, and her
  colossal body filled all the corners of the cave.  But still she
  grew, and there was no place now for her to go.  Mulling over the
  matter she decided upon the only practical course of action left to
  her.  If it worked, fine and well.  If it did not work, well, time
  enough to dwell upon that in its own turn.
    Tasgeni stood up.
    The weight of the mountain rested upon her shoulders, but she was grown
  now to a size sufficient to such loads.  Shifting her weight she managed
  to get one leg beneath herself.  Slowly she pressed upward, causing the
  stone to lift and compress.  She felt the rock groan and buckle, she felt
  a surge of strength brought about by the clear realization of a power
  able to break the very hills, yet she was barely exerting herself.
  Laughing deeply the giant Princess unloosed her full strength.  The top
  of the mountain cracked like thunder and erupted violently, casting huge
  fragments of shattered stone in every direction.  Rising from the ruin like
  some goddess reborn, Tasgeni lifted her arms over her head and crowed with
  delight.  Stretching and bending, she dismissed the horror of the cave,
  drawing in huge draughts of the sweet twilight air.  She was free.
                                % % % % %
    Bitumen completed his dance.
    The sun was gone, swallowed up into another night.  His dark heart laughed
  with glee, and he turned back for his mountain.  The bright light of the
  full moon did not challenge him like the sun, for it was cold, cold as
  ice.  Bending back his head he let trail a long jet of hell-fire, spitting
  at the stars, scarring the night with his wild display.  But hunger gnawed
  at his belly, and evil re-awoke within his heart.  His victim, lost in
  darkness, pursued by fear would now be ripe for the taking.  Eager to have
  her he ceased his play, and flew straight and swift to his lair.
    He knew something was wrong as soon as he saw his mountain.
    The dome was higher, irregular, and there was something strangely
  familiar about its altered contours.
    Tasgeni knew the dragon was back, for he let loose a howl of rage that
  lit the night.  The mountain still held her in a tight grip from her
  hips down, and she did not have the leverage to break free.  So she
  twisted to face him.
    Bitumen seethed with anger.  The more so as his draconic sight spotted
  the magical talisman wrapped around the giantess' arm.  Angling down
  he beat his wings, driving himself faster and faster.  He drew breath,
  his slitted eyes drawn to the great golden snake.  He drew a last long
  gasp of air and...
    Tasgeni swatted him like a mosquito.
    His breath blew out in a ball of flame, too tenuous to sear the hand of
  the Princess.  Lights danced in the dragon's eyes as he arced backwards,
  falling dangerously close to the ground before regaining his sense and
  rising back into the sky.  His eyes glowed lava red.  His tail whipped and
  snapped as he arrowed at the face of the Princess.
    Wham!
    Tasgeni gave the dragon the back of her hand, sending him spinning
  ass over tea-kettle.  His fiery discharge made him look like a runaway
  pinwheel.  But dragons are tough as stone, and about as quick to take
  a hint.  Bitumen recovered his wits and soared upwards, slamming his
  mighty wings against the air, driving himself higher and higher.  He
  climbed for a full minute, then turned, tucked his wings in tight
  against his scaly body, and fell straight at the Princess.  The wind
  ripped at his slitted eyes, pulled at his stiffly held pinions.
  Faster and faster he fell.  Opening his jaws ever so slightly, he let
  the wind pour into his body, fanning his fires, filling him with
  searing flame.  Faster and faster.  He saw the land rising up, saw his
  mountain, saw the giant Princess.  He watched her raise a hand nearly
  the size of a quarter-acre field.  Too late he tried to pull out, to
  turn aside or slow his descent.
    Tasgeni batted him clear over the horizon.
                                % % % % %
    Bitumen awoke several hours later.
    Now, dragons may be slow to recognize a superior opponent, but those
  who do not rarely grow to Bitumen's size.  On the other claw, dragons
  are sore losers, and when strength fails they never hesitate to resort
  to base cunning.  Bitumen was not sure how he was going to do it, but
  he was going to get that Princess out of his mountain.
                                % % % % %
    Symfrall was a big man.
    He stood just under two ells tall, and weighed about twenty-five
  stone.  His shoulders were as broad as most people were tall.  His
  muscles were like gnarled tree roots.  When angry he was terrifying.
  When friendly he was terrifying.  He was prime knight material.  His
  horse was equally monstrous, a chestnut stallion named Domhona.  When
  armored and mounted Symfrall was unstoppable, unbeatable, invulnerable.
  In other words a guaranteed 1:1 odds at the local fete.  And to be
  honest, Symfrall became bored with it all: the countless jousting victories,
  the melee victories, the dueling victories.  So, seeking a challenge
  more suitable to his mettle, he took to being a Knight Wanderer,
  questing for adventure wheresoever it might be cowering.
    Bitumen spotted Symfrall from the air, and immediately discerned within
  him a resolution to his princess problem.  Knights tend towards lawful
  attributes, which makes them predictable in everything save battle.  And
  any knight with a princess becomes in itself its own story.  Right now
  Bitumen wanted the giantess out of his lair.  Retribution for her thwarting
  of his hunger would come in its own time.  Besides, he was suffering from
  a splitting headache from his boxing at her hands, and all he really wanted
  to do was curl up in some gold and sleep for a week.
    Still, evil deeds awaited, and the dragon glided down to confront the
  knight.
                                % % % % %
    "Greetings, thou armored can of soup," jeered the dragon.
    The knight's horse reared up, pawing wildly at the air, its voice a
  shriek of defiance.  There was a metallic ringing, and the knight's
  sword glittered brightly in the moonlight.
    "Get thee gone," snarled the champion.  "Thou wilt find no sport
  here, only death."
    "Prithee," simpered Bitumen.  "The can wields its own dire opener.
  Mercy, what ever shall become of me."  And he spat a ball of fiery
  vitriol at Symfrall, who struck it aside with his blade.
    "Damn thee to hades," cursed Symfrall.  "Either fight or flee,
  not this coward's dance."
    "Egad, look at the time," said the dragon, glancing at his empty
  wrist.  "Guess I'll have to skip the beer run, and just have my
  meal with a glass of milk.  How do you like your princess?  Well done
  or medium rare?"
    "Thou fiend," sputtered Symfrall.  "What damsel suffers from thy
  benighted devilry?"
    "A blonde I think," mused Bitumen.  "Ah, but they all look the same
  when they come off the barbee.  Must dash.  Drop by sometime, and I'll
  have you for lunch."  And with a wicked chortle the dragon spun about
  and flew off.
  
    The taunts struck home.
    With a fierce cry Symfrall snapped the reigns of Domhona, and the
  war-stead answered in kind and sped off after the fleeing dragon.
    Bitumen had been concerned that he might have to dawdle in a
  convincing manner, to give the outraged knight opportunity to keep
  him in sight.  But Domhona was a lightening bolt with legs, leaping
  every ravine, crashing unhindered through bush and sapling.  So all
  it took was a little more verbal abuse, and a lot of guiding, and
  within two hours the dragon had brought his unknowing helper within
  sight of the mountains where the Princess still stood.
    Shrieking flame laden curses, the dragon warned the knight away
  from the upcoming range, then lifted into the sky to let pride and
  anger do their work.
    Symfrall stared at the dwindling dragon, confused by his sudden
  departure.  Waving his sword a little he glanced around as if
  seeking something to chop, then, calming a little, decided instead
  to sheath the glittering blade.  
    The moon shone down brightly upon the blasted wasteland that was
  the keep about the dragon's mountainous abode.  Symfrall held the
  reigns loosely, letting Domhona carefully pick his way amongst the
  jagged rocks.  A slight movement in the vicinity of the nearest
  peak caused him to believe that the dragon was now seeking refuge
  within its dark lair.  So, satisfied that things were working out
  about normal, Symfrall guided his stallion closer towards the nearby
  mountain.
    Moonlight and darkness mocked his sight, so that the landscape, or
  more particularly the mountain, seemed to waver of its own accord.
  And once he heard the wind sigh with what sounded like a woman's voice.
  Deeming it some witchcraft of the dragon's devising, he averted his gaze,
  and pressed onward, until he came within sight of what seemed to be an
  opening into the side of the mountain.
    Symfrall had a prepared speech that he had learned by rote.  Raising
  his sword on high (which tried valiantly to lend majesty to the
  occasion by humming something by the minstrel Manilow), Symfrall
  shouted with a great voice:  "Here is Symfrall, Knight Wanderer, slayer
  of beasts, who comes to this foul lair to rescue innocence from the
  haggard clutches of evil.  Come forth dread demon.  Come forth and meet
  thy doom.  Come forth damned dragon.  Come forth and...
                                "Eeeeek!"
    That last word was not a part of Symfrall's speech.  But the Princess,
  hearing the proud words of challenge spoken by her rescuer (or to be
  more accurate, having discerned a kind of squeaky hauteur going on behind
  her back) had turned around to better see him.  And Symfrall, upon
  beholding a portion of the mountain move and resolve itself into a
  beautiful, if colossal woman, had selected "Eeeek" as the best way to
  express his alarm.  Alas, the Princess might not have been smiling so
  prettily, if she had known that her knight in shining armor was entertaining
  thoughts of galloping away.  In the meantime Valorja was humming a ditty
  Rod Serling would have approved of, and Symfrall finally had to sheath his
  sword to shut the dratted thing up.
    "Sir knight, hast thou come to rescue me?"
    Symfrall's jaw gaped, for though the giantess' voice was feminine in
  timber, yet it was vast as the sky, and echoed from the very hills
  like summer thunder.
    "Ummmmm...yes...yes I have," he replied.
    "Sorry?" said the giantess, cocking her head.  "Could thou speak a
  little louder?"
    "Yes." yelled Symfrall.  The giantess thought a moment, then raised
  a hand palm up and pulled in her fingers, asking for more volume.
  "Yes." yelled Symfrall.  "Yes! Yes! YES!"  The giantess smiled and
  nodded her head.
    "I am Symfrall," shrieked Symfrall.  "Knight wanderer and...gak."
  he held his throat with both hands, as if trying to keep it from
  exploding.
    The giantess waited a moment, to be sure the knight was done with
  his introduction, and seeing he was in no condition to question her
  answered in turn.
    "Greetings, Sir Symfrall.  I hight Princess Tasgeni, Nodwood's
  daughter of Kingdom Prattle.  Thou hast my eternal gratitude for thy
  arrival in my moment of need.  My father, the King, will surely shower
  thee with wealth for this days work."
    Symfrall tried to show his own thanks with some gestures, made
  awkward by his insistence of keeping one hand always on his aching
  throat.
    "Pray, good sir knight?  Wouldst our words together be made easier
  if I were to descend to thy level?"
    Symfrall thought about this, and tried to indicate his uncertainty
  by raising his hand and scratching his head.  Unfortunately, to Tasgeni
  it looked like he was waving for her to come down.
    "Bide a moment," she answered, and reaching out laid her hands upon
  the slopes of the nearby hills.  Then, with the strength and grace
  of youth, augmented by her gigantic stature, she vaulted herself up from
  out of the confining maw of the mountain.  Symfrall looked up and up and
  up as his damsel-in-distress floated skyward like some magical tower,
  her long dark shadow dropping over him blotting out the sky.  Her descent
  was no less spectacular, and when she landed three things happened: the
  earth shook as though a thing gone mad, the stars, moon and landscape
  vanished behind a cliff of fabric, and Domhona, Symfrall's horse, fainted
  away deader than dirt.
                                % % % % %
    Tasgeni had a fretful moment when she realized that her rescuer was
  nowhere to be seen.  Visions of his body turned into something flatter
  than a kipper made her lip tremble and her eyes begin to tear.  But
  then she heard a faint sound, as of a woman screaming, and it occurred
  to her that her hero was not only alive, but perhaps not quite so much
  of a hero.  Bundling up her dress in her fingers, she bent forward a
  little, enough to peer down between her feet.  There she saw her knight
  in shining armor trying to quell the yipping shrieks of his magnificent
  stallion.  All attempts to shush the beast did naught but to wind him
  up even further, and when Symfrall realized that the Princess held
  him under her scrutiny, he threw his mighty fist, and sent Domhona
  back to kissing dirt.
    Never taking her eyes off her hero, Tasgeni shuffled backwards until
  horse and man emerged from beneath the voluminous swells of her dress.
  Then, curling her legs beneath herself, she sat down and considered more
  closely her diminutive champion.
    "Who should be rescuing who here?"  Tasgeni finally asked.
    "What?" yelped Symfrall with indignation.  "I came here in pursuit of
  that thrice damned worm, expecting to come to the aid of some royal
  maiden, not some...some...aaaaa"  Tasgeni's countenance was bland, but
  her fingers were drumming incessantly upon her knee.  "Aaaaaaaa...soooo,
  what evil magic brought thee to this plight?"  He finished quickly.
    Tasgeni frowned and harumphed.  "Yon dragon cast me within his
  treasure vault.  There I chanced upon this potent talisman," and
  she touched the snake with her fingers.  "It has been a mixed blessing.
  Without this change I would now be bloating the belly of the worm.
  But these are not the proportions of a lady of the court.  I would
  return to my original size."
    "Hast thou attempted the removal of the charm?" asked Symfrall.
    "Of course," snapped Tasgeni.
    "I could hack at it with Valorja," suggested Symfrall.
    "I would like to consider other options first."
    "Are thee up to some travelling?"
    "To where?" asked Tasgeni.
    "Nogcunmanodin's vale," said Symfrall.
    "Gesundheit."
    "What?  Nonononono.  The wizard, Nogcunmanodin.  He who forged my sword
  Valorja.  My mentor.  The wisest man west of the Kallera Mountains."
    "You know," mused the Princess.  "At my current size the Kallera
  really aren't that far..."
    It was a measure of Symfrall's doughtiness that he was able to
  silence the giantess with a glare and a frown.  An effect that was
  quickly demolished, however, as Tasgeni giggled at her little knight.
    "Apologies, sir champion," she sighed.  "Let us test the knowledge
  of thy teacher.  I'll not malign him again.  When shall we start?"
    "Now would be best," said Symfrall.  "Lest the dragon return
  with a more dire mode of attack."  He glanced at the brown lump that
  was his magnificent war stallion.  "There is a problem, though."
    "Nay," answered Tasgeni.  "Not if pride can bend to the moment."
                                % % % % %
    Bitumen plotted.
    This is something that dragons are really, really good at.  They own
  the cunning, the evil and the patience to pull together some supremely
  inspired ideas.  Unfortunately for the cause of darkness, Bitumen's
  head was still ringing from being thwacked! over the horizon, and
  he wasn't able to dream up anything more wicked than to try and get
  a rival kingdom to wage war against the Princess' realm.
    A quick reference to his political map listed Draxis as the neighboring
  power with the resources and the mettle to carry out such a plan.  And
  the lord of the land, Hablrod, was listed in the Naddle Yark Times' Top
  Ten most evil monarchs.  Such a man would be capable of anything.  It
  was a better piece of luck than such scanty and disingenuous planning
  deserved.  But dragons are also opportunists.  Bitumen filled an old
  canvas bag with ice, strapped it to his throbbing head, and launched
  himself in the general direction of Draxis.
                                % % % % %
    It was an unusual mode of travel.
    Tasgeni cradled the unconscious Domhona in her arm, whilst Symfrall
  rode upon her bare shoulder with a strand of her golden hair wrapped
  twice around his waist.  This position was doubly fortuitous since it
  offered Symfrall an unparalleled view of the land, and removed the
  necessity of prolonged bouts of shouting.
    By his reckoning, the Princess at a comfortable stride made speed
  at nearly three times the haste of a horse at full gallop.  Nor was
  she defeated by rivers, chasms or dense thickets.  Symfrall was more
  than a little daunted by such a casual display of prowess, but to
  his surprise, he found himself enjoying the lesson; certainly no one
  else had ever been able to overtop him as did this gentle giantess.
    For her part, Tasgeni's attention was divided between watching
  where she was going, and trying not to dislodge her passengers with
  any sudden shifts or movements.  When Symfrall was very still she
  could barely detect him upon her shoulder, but denied herself the
  luxury of a glance, lest her chin send the knight tumbling from his
  perch.  Instead she contented herself with questions about the path,
  and if Symfrall wondered at the frequency of her inquiries, he never
  mentioned it.
    All in all it was a swift and uneventful journey, with only two
  exceptions of any note.  The first came when they passed through the
  borough of Eltavera.  The county's village was nestled between the
  steep ridges of the southern most extent of the Kallera, and Symfrall
  was insistent that they take this route.  Thus the good citizens were
  the first in Prattle to see the giant Princess, and they dealt with
  the visit like they might any invasion or plague.
    "Where are my people?" asked Tasgeni.
    "Likely in their wine cellars," chuckled Symfrall.  "And if they be
  as normal as they are kind-hearted, may they at least grant us one
  blessing amidst their comforts.  Now, hasten as ye may, but not in
  leu of caution."
    Then Tasgeni moved through the streets of the tiny burg, stepping as
  carefully as she might, her skirts raised so that she might better
  follow the motions of her feet.  It took several minutes to navigate
  the winding carriage-ways, and once she had to step over a row of homes
  to avoid a long detour, but the town escaped any more serious damage
  than a single flattened wain to mark her passage.
    Still, for long the people sat in their cellars and tested the
  wines, and waited until the earth ceased to rumble, and the dust stopped
  sifting from the ceiling, before they emerged to gossip over the
  amazing visitation.
    The second event was not nearly as perilous, but quite a shock
  none-the-less; for a few miles later Domhona woke up.  Tasgeni felt the
  stallion stir and twitch, and she began to say something to Symfrall
  when the horse went berserk.  Stooping down she let the animal tumble
  down her skirts to the ground, and tried to corral him within the
  expanse of her arms.
    Symfrall didn't realize there was trouble until Tasgeni's shoulder
  dropped out from under him like the hangman's trap.  He quickly saw
  the problem, though, and unsheathing Valorja liberated himself from
  Tasgeni's single strand of hair.  Resheathing the humming sword he
  dove forward, intending to clear the Princess' bodice and follow his
  stallion's path to the ground.  Misfortune seized the moment, his aim
  proved inadequate to the task, and he disappeared feet first into
  Tasgeni's ample cleavage with a muffled oath.
    The Princess, for her part, squeaked in surprise, and nearly lost
  track of Domhona.  She debated grabbing the horse and then fishing out
  her champion turned peeping Tom, but she distrusted her strength, and
  instead leaned forward, thinking that a wise Symfrall would not linger
  in his current predicament.
    In fact, Symfrall was at a momentary loss, for until she bowed down
  Tasgeni's breasts held him in an exceedingly warm, soft and inescapable
  prison.  And he, with his arms raised over his head, had no way to
  gain purchase or wriggle free.  But when she bent her body he was able
  to slide to the material of her dress, and using his fingers crawled
  up and out of that intimate embrace.  With a final pull Symfrall
  tumbled down Tasgeni's dress into the ring made of her arms.  A quick
  glance at her lovely face convinced him that he should marshal his best
  answer whilst attending to calming Domhona.
    It was his good luck that Domhona took a great deal of cajoling and
  soothing before he suffered to stand still.  It was better luck that
  Tasgeni was herself permitted to calm a little, being perhaps somewhat
  mollified by Symfrall's obvious concern for his steed.  Being a Princess,
  however, means never having to forgive anyone, and when Domhona was
  quiescent enough to graze, she drew away a little and motioned to her
  champion to follow.
    "Now, sirrah," she whispered.  "Your horse I can pardon, but what of
  thy own misadventures?"
    "Your forgiveness, Princess," said Symfrall.  "In my haste to see to
  the needs of my charger I mistook my fall and dishonored thee.  There
  is nothing for it but for thou to take whatever punishment thee deem
  fitting.  But I would beg of thee that ye postpone thy judgement until
  I can absolve my prior duty to thee, and deliver thee to the wisdom of
  wizard Nogcunmanodin."
    Tasgeni's eyes glittered, and she stifled a smile, for the words were
  proper in form, though maybe a bit too proud.  Still, there was within
  her no intention of harming Symfrall.  But the promise of his absolution
  offered in words near to an oath, intrigued her, and she thought a
  moment.
    "Very well, sir Champion.  I will restrain my judgment, but thy
  penitence is in my hands, and we will speak of this at some later
  time of my own choosing."
    "So be it," said Symfrall.  And for that time nothing more was said
  of it.
                                % % % % %
    Nogcunmanodin cast the bones.  They rattled and tumbled and fell into
  a pile, and he stared at them long.
    "'Big things'," he mumbled.  "Dratted things," he said gathering them
  up into his hand.  "Can't be any more specific, huh?  Why do you think
  scrying's so damned popular.  None of these half answers.  Now, deliver,
  or I'll get a goat."  And he tossed the bones.
    "Lessee, lessee," muttered the wizard.  "`Don't look now, but there is
  a giant princes'...huh?"  For at that very moment a shadow passed over
  the sun, as though blocked by a cloud of prodigious depth.
    Nogcunmanodin held out a hand and looked up.  Straight into the
  inquiring face of Tasgeni.  "Whoa," said the wizard.  "Look at this, look
  at this,"  He cried, pointing from the bones to the giantess.  "A
  mountain shows up on my doorstep and all you can say are `big things'?
  Fah! dratted dragon bones have a mind of their own."  And he tossed them
  away.  A moment later, as if remembering his company, his pointed up an
  accusing finger and yelled, "I hope you're not standing on my azaleas!"
    Tasgeni glanced down, started a bit guiltily, and moved a step to the
  left.  She hesitated a moment, as though listening to some voice, raised
  her hands to her shoulder, then lowered them to a space a few yards
  in front of the wizard.  Opening them she released Symfrall, who stumbled
  off her fingers, and stopped to brush the dust from his armor.
    "Symfrall Sanderson," growled Nogcunmanodin.  "Don't you know it's
  dangerous to lead an interesting life?"
    "Teacher, the interesting things seek me out, not I them."
    "Yah, `tis always been like that with you.  Well, come on, come on,
  spin this tale for me, only make it quick, I haven't had breakfast yet."
                                % % % % %
    Nogcunmanodin stared up at Tasgeni, mulling over the things that had
  been told to him.  "Alright, lass," he finally called.  "Boost me up so
  that I may more closely examine this charm about you."
    Tasgeni frowned at the familiarity, but lowered her hand for the
  wizard to embark upon, and lifted him up next to her arm.  Nogcunmanodin
  stepped forward and tapped the magical snake with his fist.  Pulling out
  a short wand he muttered something over it and pressed it against the
  golden scales.  Nothing happened.  Examining the wand the wizard invoked
  a stronger spell, his voice rising in volume and authority, and this time
  he struck the snake with all his might.  The gold shimmered a moment, then
  faded.
    "Strong stuff," said Nogcunmanodin, and stepping off Tasgeni's open
  palm he drifted back down to the entrance of his cave.  "Bide a moment
  while I muster more potent artillery," he called, and vanished into the
  darkness.
    Tasgeni glanced down at Symfrall.  "Are thou sure he can help?" she asked.
    Symfrall held out his hands in a gesture of resignation.  "I know of
  none better," he answered.  "And even if he cannot loose the spell of his
  own power, I would be amazed if he could not at least instruct us in some
  other way to dislodge it."
    At that moment the wizard emerged from his cave, dragging a silver staff
  of grand proportions.  "Holla!  Princess, could you grant me another lift
  to yonder conundrum?"  A moment later he was puffing from exertion as he
  tried to lift the staff into an upright posture.  Stopping to regain his
  composure, Nogcunmanodin began to chant, and as he chanted the staff grew
  lighter or he stronger, and he raised it high with one hand.  The golden
  snake began to glow, pulsing in rhythm with the voice of the wizard, its
  emanations throbbing faster and faster, until with a terrific whack! he
  brought the staff down upon the snake.  Thunder sounded in the distance
  and the head of the snake rose from its place and hissed venomously at
  Nogcunmanodin.  He struck it several times, but the charm stayed put, its
  jewel encrusted tongue stabbing at the air.  Finally the wizard dropped
  his arm, his chant guttered away into silence, but the snake was still
  enlivened, and still hissed softly, now and again.
    "`Tis no use," proclaimed the wizard.  "This spell was cast in ernest
  and nothing may dissuade it, but to see it to fruition.  Giant's of the
  north wrought this charm in the ancient past, and imbued it with the
  strength of Midgard's serpent.  Now, though their days be long passed,
  still this magic has potency beyond the manna I can command."
    "What then," asked Tasgeni softly, "is needed to complete the spell?"
    "Let us find out," said Nogcunmanodin, and pointing the staff at the
  head of the snake, he spoke a word of command.  For a moment the snake
  paused, then slowly it began to reach its head towards the wizard.  For
  a moment Tasgeni was of a mind to catch the snake within her fingers
  and try to unravel it.  But Nogcunmanodin, reading her intentions, raised
  a hand of warning against her, and waited while the mouth of the snake
  came near to the side of his head.
    For a long moment the snake and the wizard stood thus, the forked
  tongue flickering into view as the snake spoke words of instruction
  into the ear of the wizard.  Nogcunmanodin stiffened, and his face grew
  strained as he took in the words.  Finally, the snake withdrew, and
  returned to its abode about the arm of the Princess, and all semblance of
  life departed from it.
    But the wizard seemed in some kind of shock, and at a loss for words
  gestured his will be returned to the ground.  Tasgeni complied, and
  she and Symfrall watched the wizard walk stiff-legged into his cave.
  A moment later unrestrained laughter roared from the entrance, loud
  and wild.  Tasgeni turned a frown of displeasure upon Symfrall, who
  shrugged in confusion, but wisely said nothing.  And after a long while
  the peal of merriment diminished into silence, and Nogcunmanodin stepped
  back into the sunshine.
    "I've learned how to break the spell," he declared.  "But you may not
  like it."
    Nogcunmanodin spoke quickly, detailing the instructions of the snake,
  outlining the course of the spell, and the only way that it could be
  broken.
    "There's no hope for it," said the wizard.  "The afflicted must couple
  in love for the spell to unwind to completion."
    "Surely, thou jest," said Symfrall.
    "Nay, student, I am in deadly ernest."
    "What of my oath of celibacy?"
    "Did you swear thus before a holy man?"
    "Nay, I was alone, under the stars."
    "Then though it be a thing of worth, it pales before the greater demands
  of your duty to this lady.  If she asks it of you, you must set it aside."
    "But the size of her.  `Twould be like attending to the desires of an
  earthquake."
    "Aye," said Nogcunmanodin.  "But what I have seen she already holds
  you in more esteem than you deserve, and thoughts that you deem un-maidenly
  already occur to her."
    "Is it the affect of the charm?"
    "I could not tell you," said the wizard.  "But Tasgeni means to have
  you, and who says `no' to the earthquake when she decides to dance?  Not
  thee, I think."
    "Are you enjoying this?" asked Symfrall.
    The wizard's face broke into a wide grin and he nodded, "Quite."
    Tasgeni listened carefully to the explanations of the wizard, and
  showed neither surprise, nor concern, nor abhorrence.  Instead, she turned
  her considerable attention upon Symfrall.
    "I claim the price of judgment for thy earlier uninvited visitation upon
  my person," Tasgeni commanded.  "Thou shall set aside this lesser oath of
  thy celibacy and lay with me, so that I may rid myself of this irksome size."
    "But what of thy father's wishes?"
    "The king is not, himself, larger than a castle."
    "Is there no Prince for you?"
    "None now court me, I am uninitiated in the motions of love."
    "What?  Am I expected to carry battle to your maidenhead?  For of a
  certainty, naught less than a battering ram could suffice against thy
  current proportions."
    "Nay," said Tasgeni, her eyes glittering dangerously.  "My proof was
  broken of its own accord a number of years ago.  I'll not trouble thee
  will the details.  But thou shall find no impediment betwixt me and thee."
    "Drat," muttered Symfrall.  "I mean: fine, fine, upon what earth
  shall the, uh, happy event transpire?"
    Tasgeni's reached down and caught up her little lover-to-be, "I know
  of just the place."