GIANT - A Kind Heart

Chapter 1: The Shadow on the Hill

The village of Dunmere sat nestled between rolling green hills and a dense forest, its people bound by old traditions and even older fears. They lived simple lives—bakers who rose with the dawn, blacksmiths whose hammers rang like thunder, children who played in the meadows.

But on the outskirts, where the forest met the misty cliffs, lived Eldrin, the giant.

He was a relic of a time long past, when creatures of legend still roamed the earth.  His hands, though massive, were as careful as a sculptor’s. His eyes held no malice, only longing. Longing to belong.

Every morning, Eldrin would watch the village from afar. He helped without them knowing—leaving bundles of firewood near homes in the winter, guiding lost livestock back to their pastures, clearing fallen trees from the road after storms. But no matter what he did, the villagers still whispered:

"Stay away from the giant."

"A creature that large cannot be trusted."

"One day, he will bring ruin upon us."

And no one believed this more than Harwin, the village’s leader.

Harwin had lived through war, had seen beasts tear through men as if they were nothing. To him, power—especially the kind Eldrin possessed—could never be harmless. He feared what Eldrin could do, not what he had done.

His daughter, Lyra, however, was different. Unlike the others, she wasn’t afraid. At fifteen, she had the heart of a dreamer, always wandering the fields, sketching birds, and writing poetry under the oak trees. She often saw Eldrin from a distance, a silent shadow against the sky, watching over them.

One evening, as the sky burned with sunset, she left a small loaf of bread on the edge of the forest. A quiet offering. A thank you.

Eldrin found it that night.

And for the first time in years, he smiled.

Chapter 2: A Village on Fire

The days passed uneventfully—until the night of the great fire.

It began in the windmill, where a lantern tipped over, setting dry grain ablaze. The flames spread with terrifying speed, leaping from rooftops, devouring the wooden beams that held the village together.

Panicked screams filled the air as villagers scrambled to put it out.

Lyra had been inside the windmill when the fire started, helping the miller’s wife with the evening grind. The moment she realized the flames had surrounded them, her chest tightened with fear. The door was blocked. Smoke burned her throat. She banged against the walls, but no one could hear her.

Outside, the villagers tried desperately to douse the fire, but it was too strong. The windmill began to creak, its wooden supports blackened and failing. Harwin’s heart nearly stopped—his daughter was inside, and there was nothing he could do.

Then the ground shook.

A deep, thundering footstep.

And then another.

The villagers turned to see Eldrin striding into the fire, his massive form casting shadows against the flames. The heat burned his skin, but he didn't stop. With a single sweep of his hand, he tore the collapsed door from its hinges.

Inside, Lyra coughed weakly, struggling to move.

With the gentleness of a father cradling his child, Eldrin scooped her up. His fingers, rough as bark, shielded her from the fire as he turned and leapt from the collapsing structure.

The windmill gave way behind them, crashing into a cloud of smoke and embers.

Eldrin landed hard on one knee, clutching Lyra close, his own skin scorched but his grip steady.

The villagers stood frozen, staring at the giant who had just saved one of their own.

Chapter 3: The Weight of Fear

Harwin ran to Lyra as she coughed, her face covered in soot. She was alive. His hands trembled as he pulled her into his arms, but his eyes flickered to Eldrin, still kneeling in the dirt, burns marking his arms.

The giant had saved her.

And yet, as the first whispers rose, Harwin felt something ugly in his chest—shame.

One man muttered, “What if this was his plan all along? To gain our trust?”

Another added, “He’s still a danger. We can’t forget that.”

Even after all this, they still feared him.

Eldrin heard it all.

His heart, so full just moments ago, sank. He had risked everything for them, and still, it was not enough.

But before Harwin could say anything, Lyra stood up.

She wiped the soot from her face and turned to the villagers, anger burning in her eyes.

“Are you blind?” she said, her voice cutting through the murmurs. “He saved me! He didn’t have to, but he did. And you still treat him like a monster?”

The villagers fell silent.

Harwin looked at his daughter, at the fire in her gaze, and then at Eldrin. He thought of all the times the village had mysteriously been helped—the firewood in the winter, the livestock found, the fallen trees cleared.

It had always been him.

Harwin took a step forward, standing before Eldrin, the giant’s eyes heavy with unspoken words.

“You saved my daughter,” Harwin said at last, his voice quiet. “And my village.”

Eldrin said nothing. He had never needed words.

Harwin hesitated—then extended his hand.

For the first time, someone from Dunmere reached out to Eldrin.

And for the first time, the giant was seen not as a beast, but as a man.

Epilogue: The Bridge Between

The fear did not vanish overnight. Some villagers still kept their distance, but something had changed.

Lyra often visited Eldrin, bringing him books, sketching him as he worked in the fields. The children, braver than their parents, began playing near his feet, daring each other to touch his massive hands.

And Harwin, in time, learned to trust him.

One evening, as the sun set over the hills, Eldrin sat outside the village’s newly rebuilt windmill, watching the golden fields sway in the breeze. Beside him, Lyra sat cross-legged, writing in her notebook.

“You know,” she said, glancing up, “there’s a word for people like you.”

Eldrin raised an eyebrow.

She smiled. “A guardian.”

For the first time in a long while, Eldrin felt something he had almost forgotten.

Hope.

And this time, it was not just for the village.

It was for himself.