The book of friendly giants

by Eunice Fuller

Ever since the beginning of things there have been giants. But the first ones of all we know little about. For, oddly enough, they were so big that no one ever really saw them.

Back in Adam and Eve’s time, and even for many years after, there were very few people; and instead of being all over the earth as people are now, they lived quite close together in a very small country. Among them lived the giants, tremendous fellows, bigger than the highest mountains, and so tall that if you leaned back until your neck ached you could not see to the top of one of them. Half the time, at any rate, their heads were hidden above the clouds, so it would have done you but little good to look. It was almost never that you could see the whole of a giant at once.

But even if one of Adam’s grandchildren had seen all of a giant, it would have caused him little surprise. For everything was new in those days, and one thing seemed no stranger than another. As it was, people scrambled about over the giants’ feet every day and thought only that they were climbing some new kind of hill. As for the giants themselves, going about with their heads above the clouds, and their eyes fixed on the stars and sun, they had not the slightest idea of the little people crawling about at their feet. Even when unknowingly they stepped on a whole house, they were none the wiser.

And so it might have gone on, the people knowing nothing of the giants, and the giants knowing nothing of the people until this day, had it not been for the Flood.

The first giant, and the biggest of all, was called Chalbroth. Mountains were but hummocks to him. When he was thirsty he stooped and drank from the clouds. When he was hungry he caught a whale and held it up before the sun to toast. And he strode about the world three thousand years without so much as dreaming of the tiny race of men. No more did his son or grandson. That was left for his great-grandson, Hurtali.

People thought they were climbing some new kind of hill

Hurtali was not so tall as his great-grandfather, but he was a fairly good-sized giant, a mile or so high, and quite big enough to take care of himself. And that was fortunate, for Hurtali was an orphan, without brothers or sisters. However, he did not mind that much, for there were plenty of good games he could play alone. In the morning, when he got up, he would take a little run across country, playing leapfrog with the smaller mountains on the way. Then he would wade out into the middle of the ocean till he found a place deep enough for him, and swim a few thousand miles before breakfast. When he wanted a quicker bath, all he had to do was to step into a thick cloud, and out into the dry sunlight on the other side. There was endless fun to be had with the clouds, anyhow: blowing the little ones about, and cutting up the thin ones with his fingers into all kinds of shapes,—whales and mountains and trees and giants. Then when he got tired of them, he would run and wave his arms and blow, and scatter the whole lot of them helter-skelter.

The nice part was, that no matter how thick the clouds got, Hurtali was always able to climb a mountain and stick his head through into the pleasant weather above. But every position has its disadvantages, and it must be confessed that when a sizeable thunderstorm came snapping about his ears, he was quite as glad to lie down in a valley and go to sleep. As for the rain, he seldom felt it at all, although sometimes when it came down in sheets it would seem to him that there was a heavy mist.

And that was why, when the Flood came, it lasted for a week or so before Hurtali took the slightest notice of it. It had rained for days and days. The rivers rose and rose until finally in one great torrent they went sweeping over all the land, and drowned every man and woman and child and bird and beast in the whole world, except those that were lucky enough to be with Noah in his Ark. Even the eagles came dropping through the air last of all, beaten down by the rain, and fell like sparrows about Hurtali’s feet. But Hurtali regarded it not at all. He sat on a high mountain, head and shoulders in the bright sunlight above the clouds, and whistled serenely.