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This story features a nasty type of giant that is helpful to portray. It is the classic story of King Arthur and the Giant of Mont Saint Michel. There are many versions you can find online. Some good. Some not so good. This particular one is meant for the ear, which might make it less pleasing to the eye, so I’ve added some illustrations from my sketchbook. –Zach
Prologue: The Threat on King Arthur’s Kingdom
A giant walked with mighty legs into a town on England’s coast. He used his mighty arms to crush the men who challenged him. And with his mighty hand he stole the Duke of Hoel’s daughter, then turned his mighty back upon the broken, ruined town. This giant who brought death and doom lived high on Mont Saint Michel. His cave sat in that island like a socket in a skull, and since that time we know this monster by that island’s name.
Some noble knights set sail to fetch the damsel from her captor, but these poor knights sank quickly when the giant struck their boats with great enormous hunks of stone. Steel Armor is a poor protector from the ocean’s mighty grip, and on that day all goodness seemed to vanish from the earth.
Poor, heavy-hearted Hoel asked the King to war on his behalf. The good King’s name was Arthur, and he dared to take the task. Later under fog of night, he sailed with two companions to the deadly island’s shore. Before them in the darkness burned two fires, east and west. They took a chance and headed west to see what fate would bring.
While creeping toward the blaze, they heard an older woman’s wail. So sorrowful was she they could not help but ask, “What’s wrong?”
“Sweet Helena is dead,” she said, “and I her nurse have lived to see it. When the monster seized her flesh, her spirit fled away. And now her dainty, cold remains lie buried under stones and grief. I have escaped the giant’s wrath because he likes to hear my sobs. Beware, he wields the devil’s strength in every muscle in his frame, and if you love your life you will depart this very night. For if you stay, he’ll crush your bones and grind your hopes to ash.”
A burning indignation swelled throughout King Arthur’s chest. He swore that he would kill the giant or be killed in turn. And with a renewed purpose, brave King Arthur marched eastward. He set his gaze upon that fire’s distant, sputtering light. It burned the yellow color of a demon’s hungry eyes.
They smelled the giant long before they saw his massive form. He was the foul embodiment of might and appetite. King Arthur fell upon him, but the giant leapt away. The only damage to the monster was a leaking scratch above his eye. The giant’s hand snatched up a club of oak; its end was smeared with gore. It swung in arcs that blew the wind, and knocked King Arthur from his feet. It looked as if the giant’s strength would make short work of England’s King, but on the giant’s brow the once small cut began to grow, and from it poured the giant’s blood so that it dripped into his eyes, and he began to swat at shadows. Stumbling over rocks and trees, the giant could not see a thing, and then good Arthur struck! He thrust his sword precisely in the giant’s massive heart. At once the creature toppled like a splintering, ancient tree and shook the earth and woke some birds a mile off the shore.
King Arthur and his friend Sir Kay cut off the giant’s head and took it back to England’s coast to let the people know, that though a giant might cause pain and war against what’s right, a giant’s ways don’t last forever. Good wins in the end.