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Authors: T. A. Barron
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withers every word, a songly sound absurd.
Just who am I? Me gladly cry—
A giant, bigsy tall.
But would you know, by my big toe,
I once was oddly small!
No highlyness at all, as tiny as a doll.
Basil blinked in astonishment. For he now recognized this giant, who was even bigger in reputation than in size. Basil had heard about him over the past two years, and not just from a yammering flock of crows. He'd also heard stories from a pair of far-flying owls, with the mist of Fincayra still fresh on their wings. From a bedraggled faery, blown all the way from Waterroot in a gale. And, most recently, from a wandering bard, who had been bursting with songs and stories about the wizard Merlin and his friends.
This was Shim! Of all the giants who had lived in Lost Fincayra, he was by far the most celebrated—a close friend of Merlin the wizard. Though once very small, Shim had grown truly enormous, and had played a crucial part in the famous Dance of the Giants, the decisive battle that banished—for the time being, at least—the evil spirit warlord Rhita Gawr.
Descending, Basil alighted on the topmost spire of the dead tree. From this perch, he watched the giant lumber through the distant hills of the forest. The huge stone pillar on Shim's shoulders reminded him of something the bard had said: Merlin's mother, Elen of the Sapphire Eyes, had just founded a new order to spread harmony among all the creatures of Avalon. Even now, her followers were building a great compound in Stoneroot, using a sacred circle of stones from Lost Fincayra. Could that pillar be one of those stones? Had Shim actually carried it all the way through the mists into Avalon?
Sitting atop the dead tree, which creaked and groaned every time one of Shim's bare feet slammed down, Basil's batlike face crinkled in a grin. Imagine being large enough to carry a stone pillar! To shake the ground with every step. To fear nothing, short of a wrathful dragon, ever again.
Clinging to the barkless tree, Basil sighed wistfully. Size didn't mean everything, of course. But it certainly had its advantages! Why, even a fire-breathing dragon had recently done Shim's bidding, according to the bard. When Shim had donated his own belt buckle to make a great bell for Elen's compound, there was a problem: No fire was hot enough to melt down something so big. So Shim, to Elen's amazement, asked a dragon to blast it with flames. The dragon obliged—and then, to everyone's relief, departed.
Basil shuddered at the thought. A giant was one thing—huge in size, but normally peaceful. A dragon, though, was quite another. They were rarely peaceful, and then never for long. Compared to them, dactylbirds seemed utterly tame. Dragons savored every chance they could find to destroy lands and devour creatures. Especially little creatures.
Stay away from dragons , thought Basil. Another useful rule for life.
Just then he heard another verse of Shim's rumbling song:
So who am I? A proudly sigh,
And I'll say who I be.
Just strips me nude, and you'll conclude
There be no mystery:
Bigly now I be! My size is truly me.
9: G REEN F IRE
Change. What a paradox! The more you do it, the more you don't. The farther you seek it, the nearer you find it. The less it's in your world, the more it's in you.
Y EAR OF A VALON 27
Time for a rest," sighed Basil. Wearily, he climbed onto an oak branch and nestled into the hollow of one of its leaves. His tiny body—from his batlike nose to the tip of his lizard's tail, from the edge of one little wing to the other—fit snugly on the oak leaf.
"What a day," he muttered, yawning. "Chasing those rascally insects over eighty leagues, through marshes, lakes, rivers, mountains . . . changing speed and direction constantly. Changing tactics, too, as well as my smells. Guess that's one thing I'm good at—how to change."
Noticing a slender cocoon suspended from the leaf beside him, his words seemed to wither, like a pond lily in the heat. He peered at
Just who am I? Me gladly cry—
A giant, bigsy tall.
But would you know, by my big toe,
I once was oddly small!
No highlyness at all, as tiny as a doll.
Basil blinked in astonishment. For he now recognized this giant, who was even bigger in reputation than in size. Basil had heard about him over the past two years, and not just from a yammering flock of crows. He'd also heard stories from a pair of far-flying owls, with the mist of Fincayra still fresh on their wings. From a bedraggled faery, blown all the way from Waterroot in a gale. And, most recently, from a wandering bard, who had been bursting with songs and stories about the wizard Merlin and his friends.
This was Shim! Of all the giants who had lived in Lost Fincayra, he was by far the most celebrated—a close friend of Merlin the wizard. Though once very small, Shim had grown truly enormous, and had played a crucial part in the famous Dance of the Giants, the decisive battle that banished—for the time being, at least—the evil spirit warlord Rhita Gawr.
Descending, Basil alighted on the topmost spire of the dead tree. From this perch, he watched the giant lumber through the distant hills of the forest. The huge stone pillar on Shim's shoulders reminded him of something the bard had said: Merlin's mother, Elen of the Sapphire Eyes, had just founded a new order to spread harmony among all the creatures of Avalon. Even now, her followers were building a great compound in Stoneroot, using a sacred circle of stones from Lost Fincayra. Could that pillar be one of those stones? Had Shim actually carried it all the way through the mists into Avalon?
Sitting atop the dead tree, which creaked and groaned every time one of Shim's bare feet slammed down, Basil's batlike face crinkled in a grin. Imagine being large enough to carry a stone pillar! To shake the ground with every step. To fear nothing, short of a wrathful dragon, ever again.
Clinging to the barkless tree, Basil sighed wistfully. Size didn't mean everything, of course. But it certainly had its advantages! Why, even a fire-breathing dragon had recently done Shim's bidding, according to the bard. When Shim had donated his own belt buckle to make a great bell for Elen's compound, there was a problem: No fire was hot enough to melt down something so big. So Shim, to Elen's amazement, asked a dragon to blast it with flames. The dragon obliged—and then, to everyone's relief, departed.
Basil shuddered at the thought. A giant was one thing—huge in size, but normally peaceful. A dragon, though, was quite another. They were rarely peaceful, and then never for long. Compared to them, dactylbirds seemed utterly tame. Dragons savored every chance they could find to destroy lands and devour creatures. Especially little creatures.
Stay away from dragons , thought Basil. Another useful rule for life.
Just then he heard another verse of Shim's rumbling song:
So who am I? A proudly sigh,
And I'll say who I be.
Just strips me nude, and you'll conclude
There be no mystery:
Bigly now I be! My size is truly me.
9: G REEN F IRE
Change. What a paradox! The more you do it, the more you don't. The farther you seek it, the nearer you find it. The less it's in your world, the more it's in you.
Y EAR OF A VALON 27
Time for a rest," sighed Basil. Wearily, he climbed onto an oak branch and nestled into the hollow of one of its leaves. His tiny body—from his batlike nose to the tip of his lizard's tail, from the edge of one little wing to the other—fit snugly on the oak leaf.
"What a day," he muttered, yawning. "Chasing those rascally insects over eighty leagues, through marshes, lakes, rivers, mountains . . . changing speed and direction constantly. Changing tactics, too, as well as my smells. Guess that's one thing I'm good at—how to change."
Noticing a slender cocoon suspended from the leaf beside him, his words seemed to wither, like a pond lily in the heat. He peered at
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