Author: Doyce

“Well,” said the boy, “I went all through that house — the top floor, at least, and I saw all sorts of things that the giant has taken from other people. There’s armor, there’s treasure; I even saw a phoenix feather (I think, or something like it) standing in an ink pot! Why do people let Mudferthing get away with it?”
“Well, what,” said Kibber, “do you think people should do? And who do you think should do it?” He had crossed his arms across his chest, and looked like a grandfather who could not wait to hear his grandchild explain a spilt honey pot.
“I think people should stop him,” said the boy. “There’s all sorts of heroes and knights and hunters in the Forest of Anything, isn’t there? You’ve already told me about the King’s gamekeeper and how he was so good at guarding the King’s land that the King made him guard his people and castle as well, and the Lorrigan has all kinds of –“
“Shh, boyo, I get your point.” Kibber looked over his shoulder to make sure no one had heard. “But you don’t know about Mudferthing; if you did, you’d understand.”
“Then tell me,” said the boy.
Kibber gave him his very best angry look, but the boy didn’t budge. Kibber sighed. “Fine, boyo. If you must know, Mudferthing cannot be hurt.”
The boy frowned. “What, by anything?”
Kibber nodded. “There is nothing in Anything that can cut Mudferthing’s hide, and nothing so heavy it can crack his noggin wide — that’s how the saying goes, and that’s why heroes (and those who aren’t so much heroes) the land over can only dream of getting what was once theirs back from Mudferthing — no one can kill him, so they know that no matter what, he’ll come after them, and he’ll find them.”
The boy thought for a long time.
“I suppose that only makes sense,” he finally said. Kibber nodded and went on his way, sure that he had gotten his young friend to see reason.
But he whispered to himself after Kibber had gone. “I suppose it makes sense, except I don’t believe it.”

You see, the boy didn’t know which giant lived in the house, but it would have been obvious to most that it could be none other than Mudferthing, the richest and most dangerous of all. Knowing that, is it possible to imagine a house with more wonders?
The boy wandered from room to room, stopping here to gape at a golden spoon hung on the wall, there to stare at a suit of armor on a stand (with a very scary hole right through the middle) but, to his credit, he touched nothing and took nothing from the house. He knew that he had walked, not climbed, to get to this house (except for the window outside), and there were no convenient beanstalks to drop this giant from if he were caught stealing.
The day got on (as they usually do, even in the Forest), and the boy left the house before the giant returned, then made his way to visit his friend, named Kibber. As soon as he found him, he asked about the giant’s house.
“Oh ho, boyo, you found yourself Mudferthing’s place, and it’s lucky you took aught from it!” cried the wise fey.
The boy replied that he was no fool. “Still, I can’t figure out why someone hasn’t done something about that giant,” he said.
“Done something?” said Kibber. “What do you mean?”

During the course of working on Spindle for NaNoWriMo, I wrote a sort of fairytale/flashback about one of the characters — 3000 words that just gushed out in about 90 minutes.
I like it. I liked it so much that I read it to Katherine that night at bedtime. She thought it was scary, but liked the stuff about the jelly.
Anyway, the original thing was written in separate parts, so I’m going to repost them here the same way. Think of it as serial installments.

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