Read Online Igraine the Brave by Cornelia Funke - Free Book Online
Authors: Cornelia Funke
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Igraine was beginning to think he’d forgotten all about her. But finally the giant looked back at her.
“I don’t often help human beings,” he said, scratching his ear. Igraine could have taken a seat in it quite comfortably. “I don’t really understand them, if you see what I mean. All that chasing about, all that fuss and bother — and your squeaky little voices. They make me all nervous and edgy. Luckily humans don’t often venture here. But your father did cure me of my rash. It itched horribly — it even spoiled my pleasure in the stars — and giants never forget a good deed, or a bad one, either. So you shall have my hairs.” Gently, he picked Igraine up between his thumb and forefinger and put her on his head. “Help yourself, Igraine, Lamorak’s daughter.”
Each of Garleff’s hairs was as thick as the quill of a goose’s feather, and Igraine sank up to her chin in them. Taking out her sword, she cut off a bunch as long as her arm, rolled it up, and carefully put it in the bag she wore at her belt.
“Ready!” she called, and the giant picked her out of his hair and put her on the palm of his hand.
He looked thoughtfully at her, as if she were a butterfly who had fluttered down to settle on him. “That story you told me,” he growled, rubbing his mighty nose, “I don’t like the sound of it. And I don’t like to think of you riding through these hills all on your own. You’re rather small, you know, not much larger than my big toe. And there are some really bad people between the hills and the Whispering Woods. I can’t come with you myself. I never leave these hills. It’s only too easy for us giants to tread on the people we want to help and squash them flat. But I know someone who could go with you and perhaps even help you against this man — what was his name again?”
“Osmund,” replied Igraine.
“Exactly.” Garleff nodded thoughtfully and lapsed into silence.
“Yes,” he murmured much later. “I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask him.”
“Ask who?” inquired Igraine.
“You’ll soon see,” replied Garleff. He took Igraine in one hand and Lancelot (who didn’t like it at all) in the other, and stood up. Then he marched away with mighty strides over the hills into the dark night, going east.
13
G arleff carried Igraine to the foot of a mountain that rose bleak and rocky into the starry sky. Even Garleff looked small beside it. A long, long flight of steps carved in the rock led up to a tower that clung to the gray side of the mountain like a swallow’s nest.
Garleff carefully deposited Igraine and Lancelot on the wet grass, bent down, and put his finger to his lips. “Hear that?” he asked softly.
Igraine listened, and heard a sigh, a deep sigh carried down to her from the tower by the wind.
“It’s like that day and night,” the giant whispered. “Sad and sorrowful, he’s always sad and sorrowful. Yet he was once a great knight. He chased off two giant hunters for me, and he’s often saved the unicorns from hunting parties. He won countless fights. He unhorsed dozens of knights at the King’s tournaments, and he won the whole tournament six times and was rewarded with a kiss from the Princess. But one day he returned to these hills with the most sorrowful countenance in the world. He didn’t go back to his own castle, which is only one valley away, and he asked me to let him build this poor tower instead. He cut the steps out of the rock himself, working until his hands were bleeding. And ever since then, he’s been sighing night and day. He says he’s lost his honor and he can never show his face among men and women again. But I’m sure he’d keep you company on the way home if you asked for his help. If his eternal sighing doesn’t drive you mad, that is.”
Igraine looked up at the lonely tower.
“I always wanted to meet a knight who’d won one of the royal tournaments,” she said softly. “Do you really think he’d come
“I don’t often help human beings,” he said, scratching his ear. Igraine could have taken a seat in it quite comfortably. “I don’t really understand them, if you see what I mean. All that chasing about, all that fuss and bother — and your squeaky little voices. They make me all nervous and edgy. Luckily humans don’t often venture here. But your father did cure me of my rash. It itched horribly — it even spoiled my pleasure in the stars — and giants never forget a good deed, or a bad one, either. So you shall have my hairs.” Gently, he picked Igraine up between his thumb and forefinger and put her on his head. “Help yourself, Igraine, Lamorak’s daughter.”
Each of Garleff’s hairs was as thick as the quill of a goose’s feather, and Igraine sank up to her chin in them. Taking out her sword, she cut off a bunch as long as her arm, rolled it up, and carefully put it in the bag she wore at her belt.
“Ready!” she called, and the giant picked her out of his hair and put her on the palm of his hand.
He looked thoughtfully at her, as if she were a butterfly who had fluttered down to settle on him. “That story you told me,” he growled, rubbing his mighty nose, “I don’t like the sound of it. And I don’t like to think of you riding through these hills all on your own. You’re rather small, you know, not much larger than my big toe. And there are some really bad people between the hills and the Whispering Woods. I can’t come with you myself. I never leave these hills. It’s only too easy for us giants to tread on the people we want to help and squash them flat. But I know someone who could go with you and perhaps even help you against this man — what was his name again?”
“Osmund,” replied Igraine.
“Exactly.” Garleff nodded thoughtfully and lapsed into silence.
“Yes,” he murmured much later. “I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to ask him.”
“Ask who?” inquired Igraine.
“You’ll soon see,” replied Garleff. He took Igraine in one hand and Lancelot (who didn’t like it at all) in the other, and stood up. Then he marched away with mighty strides over the hills into the dark night, going east.
13
G arleff carried Igraine to the foot of a mountain that rose bleak and rocky into the starry sky. Even Garleff looked small beside it. A long, long flight of steps carved in the rock led up to a tower that clung to the gray side of the mountain like a swallow’s nest.
Garleff carefully deposited Igraine and Lancelot on the wet grass, bent down, and put his finger to his lips. “Hear that?” he asked softly.
Igraine listened, and heard a sigh, a deep sigh carried down to her from the tower by the wind.
“It’s like that day and night,” the giant whispered. “Sad and sorrowful, he’s always sad and sorrowful. Yet he was once a great knight. He chased off two giant hunters for me, and he’s often saved the unicorns from hunting parties. He won countless fights. He unhorsed dozens of knights at the King’s tournaments, and he won the whole tournament six times and was rewarded with a kiss from the Princess. But one day he returned to these hills with the most sorrowful countenance in the world. He didn’t go back to his own castle, which is only one valley away, and he asked me to let him build this poor tower instead. He cut the steps out of the rock himself, working until his hands were bleeding. And ever since then, he’s been sighing night and day. He says he’s lost his honor and he can never show his face among men and women again. But I’m sure he’d keep you company on the way home if you asked for his help. If his eternal sighing doesn’t drive you mad, that is.”
Igraine looked up at the lonely tower.
“I always wanted to meet a knight who’d won one of the royal tournaments,” she said softly. “Do you really think he’d come
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