Jack (7 page)

“Hey, pea brain, do you know anything?”

I growled and kicked at the dwarf-giant—whatever this creature was—not thinking about how he was still three times my size and could probably crush me, but he didn't do anything. He just stared blankly, as if our entire exchange had been forgotten. “Message?”

I sighed. “My papa's name is Henry and—” Before I could say any more, the dwarf-giant waddled off calling, “Message for Henry! Message for Henry!”

“Wait!” I shouted, but the creature waddled on without a backward glance. “Message for Henry! Message for Henry!”

So the pudgy giant-dwarf creatures wouldn't be any help. No matter. I didn't
need
help. Grandpa Jack faced a giant with three heads all on his own.

Turning my attention back to the castle, I leapt high and grabbed onto a giant woman's skirts and hid myself between the folds. As the giantess walked I swung wildly back and forth, like I was being thrashed about in a gale. It was rather fun, and I was moving at a very fast pace,
upward and onward, until someone bumped into the woman. I lost my grip and went tumbling down the hill,
thumpity, bumpity,
until I came to a stop in the middle of the road. A hoof stomped down on one side of me and a wheel rolled by the other. A long tail brushed over my head, and without a second thought, I grasped at the coarse threads.

Before coming to the giant world, I would have thought riding on a horsetail would be no more threatening than hanging from a tree, but a tree only bends with the wind, while a tail has a mind of its own. It flicked me side to side and up and down. It was like hanging on to the end of a whip and you never knew which direction it would go. I got dizzy, giant flies buzzed in my face, and it smelled pretty awful, which shouldn't be surprising considering where a tail is placed.

Once inside the castle gates, the horse halted but the tail did not. The horse must have felt me because I got whipped around so violently, it was impossible to hold on. I went flying. I tumbled to the ground and bounced and rolled until I came to a stop directly beneath the stone steps of the castle.

T
he walls of the giant castle rose above me like endless mountains and cliffs. To my left was a set of stairs leading to some doors, but each step was twice my height, and frankly I'd had enough of climbing for one day. Besides, it was better to enter with stealth and strategy, and take the giants who held Papa by surprise.

I slid through a crack in the stone and entered a tunnel, probably for mice and rats. The air was stale and moldy. Only a few shafts of light pried through other holes in the stone. Above me there were great wooden
beams covered in dust and cobwebs and rather elaborate spiderwebs….

“AaaaAyACK!” I leaped back as a giant spider dropped down from one of the beams right above me. Its body was the size of a pumpkin, with eight hairy legs, two sharp pincers, and four shiny black eyes all fixed on me. I held my axe, ready to swing, but the spider didn't attack me. It merely looked at me as though curious and then scuttled back up its silk thread.

A mouse as big as a sheep scurried by, twitching his whiskers and sniffing at the ground for food. He crawled up one of the beams and then disappeared through another hole. If a mouse could go through the hole safely, then so could I. I climbed up the beam, pulling myself up on giant nails and digging my feet into the knots in the wood. The spider continued its spinning, but I felt its eyes on me. Well, I suppose when you have eight limbs, it's hilarious to watch little humans climb.

As I climbed, I got whiffs of the most heavenly smells. Roasted meat and onions, fresh bread, and baked cheese. My stomach growled. The thought of eating something besides beans was almost too much for me. I climbed faster.

Finally I reached the hole the mouse had gone into. It was a tunnel, just big enough to crawl through on my hands and knees. The mouse was crouched behind a sack, nibbling on some grain that was spilling out of a rip at the bottom. He watched me closely with his beady eyes. I must have made him nervous, because he quickly finished his meal and scurried off. I scooped up
a handful of grain. It was wheat. Just regular wheat, not giant.

I climbed on top of the sack of grain to get a better view of things. This was undoubtedly a kitchen. There were more giant sacks of grain and baskets of fruits and vegetables. A giant table rose up above me twice as high as a house. The walls were lined with shelves and pots and pans, rolling pins and dishes and giant wooden spoons. Across the room was a giant fireplace with a black kettle, and two stone ovens, each with a fire blazing inside. The smells of bread and meat and cheese were so strong I could almost taste them now, but there was no sign of giants. Perhaps I could grab some food without anyone noticing.

I hopped down from the sack. The floors were made of great slats of wood that I'm sure were flat and smooth to the giants, but to me they had cracks and ridges that were easy to trip over, not to mention giant nails and splinters of wood poking out like daggers and swords. I wasn't afraid, but I pulled out my axe, just to be prepared.

Some hot liquid splashed down at my feet. I jumped back and looked up. Hanging from the sky-high ceiling was an enormous iron chandelier with a dozen blazing candles. I added dripping hot wax to the list of things to watch out for.

Suddenly a bell rang. There was a rumble and the ground trembled like the earth before a stampede.

“The king demands his supper!” boomed a voice.

Through an open doorway to my left came a rush of
giants. They stomped and boomed into the kitchen, and I was right in their path.

“I need the soup!” someone shouted.

“Hand me the pie!”

“Careful now, it's hot!”

“Oomf! Watch yourself, clumsy!”

“You watch
your
self! I've got the king's pie.”

I ran back toward the mousehole, but my path was blocked by something large and furry. My heart gave a sickening jump. It was a giant cat, its fluffy tail swishing back and forth, patiently waiting for a mouse—or some tasty morsel—to come out of the hole.

I slowly backed away but then tripped over one of the slats of wood and fell with a
thud!
The cat meowed and turned around. It was orange with a squashed face and yellow eyes that narrowed when they saw me. Before I could blink, the cat pounced. Giant claws like curved daggers slashed down at me. I ran for my life.

ReeeeaaAAARRRrr!

I hurtled over a giant nail and then dodged a giant foot. I ran around chair and table legs and giant feet and skirts, all with the cat snarling and clawing at my heels.

Where to hide? I couldn't run fast enough, and there were no holes in the middle of the floor. I wedged myself between the jugs and jars, but the cat pushed them aside and tipped them over, swiping me with its giant claws.

“Out of the way, stupid cat!” One of the giants shoved the cat aside, which gave me enough time to scramble on top of one of the sacks and jump in.

Ale. Yech! Better than claws, but it was sticky and
smelled rancid. Through the hole at the top I could see the cat attacking the jug. It clawed and swiped at the opening. The jar rocked back and forth, threatening to topple over.

“Rufus!” said a voice. “What in the world are you doing, you silly cat!”

The cat growled and hissed.

“Did you find a mouse? Did you?” The jug was suddenly picked up, causing me to tumble back into sloshing ale. A giant eye came over the opening, and then the jar was tipped. Liquid sloshed over me and I went down, down, down in a whirlpool of ale. I tumbled out of the opening into a bowl. I coughed and coughed and flopped onto my back, unable to move.

“Good kitty, Rufus! You caught us a big, fat— Oh my! What have we here?” The cat snarled and jumped at me again, but the giant scooped me up in the palm of her hand so fast, my stomach dropped and flipped. And then we were face-to-face. Big blue eyes twinkled and an enormous mouth stretched wide to show rows of teeth the size of axeheads. My axe! I was in the hands of a giant and I had an axe! But there was no time for it.

“Oh, what fortune!” said the giant woman. “I just
love
little boys!”

And she dropped me into her apron pocket.

T
he giant went about her business, shouting orders and bumping into things, therefore bumping me into things. I was smacked and slammed and tossed to and fro so viciously, I couldn't help but think of all the spiders and grasshoppers I'd put into Annabella's pocket. Poor grasshoppers! I promised that if I ever got out, I'd never put another living creature into anyone's pocket again.

“I need a serving spoon!” shouted a giant.

“I need a knife!” shouted another.

“Out of my way!”

I smelled food. Delicious food. Bread. Bacon. Turkey.
Leg of lamb cooked in sage and onions. Or maybe it was leg of
man.
Boy stew. Human hearts. My own hunger shrank and curdled in my stomach. What was this giant going to do with me?

I tried to make an escape hole with my axe, but I nearly chopped off my own arms, so I gave up and tried to stay still.

After what felt like hours of being jostled around, the noise quieted and the giant plucked me between two fingers and pulled me out. It was evening. The windows were dim and the kitchen was lit by a single candle on a table as big as a wheat field. Menacing shadows stretched along the walls and ceiling. Dark shapes lurked in the corners.

The giant brought me to her face, cupped in the center of her palm. All the giants Grandpa Jack faced were brutish men with disfigured faces and breath like rotten meat. This giantess was not disfigured. She had round rosy cheeks and twinkly eyes. She smelled like fresh-baked bread and melted cheese. My stomach grumbled loudly and the giantess chuckled.

“I'm hungry, too,” she said. “It's been a busy day in the kitchen, and goodness knows I am always the last to eat, but I am so glad I found you! Such a sweet thing.”

Sweet.
Sweet things were good for eating. Snakes and toads, wake up, Jack! Just because she's a woman giant doesn't mean she won't eat you.

I slid the axe from my waist and raised it above my head. “Thou barbarous and villainous giant! I am Jack, the great-great-great—”

“Oh dear, that does look sharp.” The giantess plucked the axe right out of my hands as easily as pulling a pin out of a cushion. “Don't want to chop any fingers or toes, now do we? I prefer to keep you in one piece.”

She dropped the axe into her apron pocket.

That did not go the way I'd pictured.

“Oh my, you
are
dirty. Let's wash for supper.” The giantess plopped me into a washbasin and poured water over my head. She held me between her thumb and forefinger and rubbed me against a bar of soap. Up and down and all around so the soap lathered and bits of foam got into my mouth. I coughed and spat, and then the giantess dunked me back in the water and swished me around like a dirty rag in the wash bucket.

Swish, swish, swash.

“All clean!” She shook me a few times, wrapped me tight inside a handkerchief, and set me beside a stub of candle. The flame was like a blazing fire in front of me, and it was nice and warm.

“Now, my name is Martha,” said the giantess. “You can call me Mum Martha.”

Mum?

“What's your name, little one?”

I looked at her, confused. Did giants enjoy knowing the names of their meals? Roast Jack. Jack Stew. Jack Pudding and Pie. Delicious.

“Oh, poor thing,” said Martha. “Perhaps you have no name. Some do come that way. But don't worry. We'll find you the perfect name! You could be Hans or Fritz or Gus, or…”

The giantess continued to rattle off names, but a movement at the corner of my eye caught my attention. A sugar bowl as big as a chicken coop sat on a shelf just above me. It wobbled from side to side and finally tipped over. The lid popped off and a boy tumbled out. A boy who was my size, and looked about my age.

“Well, if it isn't Tom Thumb!” said the giantess with delight. She held out her hand, and the boy climbed into her palm without hesitation. “I'm sorry, I forgot I put you in the sugar bowl for dinner, but now that you're here, I have a surprise for you.” Martha set the boy down next to me. “A new brother! Oh dear, I never did choose a name for him, did I? He doesn't seem to have one. What do you think his name should be, Tom?”

Tom shrugged. “How about Tim?”

Martha clapped her hands. “Oh perfect! Tim and Tom Thumb! We're going to be such a happy little family! My own baby boy is all grown up and gone off in the world, and you little ones just fill the cracks in my heart!” A giant tear trickled down her cheek and made a puddle at our feet. She scooped us both up and pressed us against her chest so I could barely breathe. I suddenly wished for my own mother, even if she met me with a good tongue-lashing.

Finally Martha let us down, and I fell to my knees, gasping for air.

“We must celebrate,” said Martha. “With cheese! Cheese and children! My two favorite things!”

Martha went to a cupboard and took out a large
wooden block with a slab of cheese as big as a cow and a giant knife.

I struggled to get out of the handkerchief and tipped over. Tom helped me up and unraveled me.

“Thanks,” I said, but before I could say anything more, Martha placed the cheese right between us. She cut off a chunk and popped it into her mouth. The smell was sharp and acrid.

“Mmm. Mm. Mm! I just love cheese.”

Tom poked his head over the top of the cheese and climbed down the other side. He ripped off a chunk for me.

“Here, Tim, have some cheese.” The smell was overwhelming, but I was dizzy with hunger, so I dug in. It tasted better than it smelled, and I instantly felt better.

“My name is actually Jack,” I said.

“Well why didn't you say so? My name is
actually
Tom. Martha calls me Tom Thumb since I'm about as big as her thumb.”

“I thought she was going to eat me.”

Tom laughed. “Not Martha. We're her pets, like a toad you keep in your pocket.”

Tom's clothes were rather odd. He wore a giant acorn shell on his head like a helmet, a vest and pants made of leaves and thistledown, and fur boots. He had bright-blue eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles over round cheeks and a button nose.

“How long have you been here? Did Martha kidnap you?”

“Of course not. She paid another giant an entire round of cheese for me, which is a lot for Martha. She loves cheese. She prefers it over any other food.”

“Do the other giants prefer to eat children?”

“I don't think so, but giants are the least of your worries when it comes to getting eaten. Once I got eaten by a giant cow!”

“How could you be alive if you were eaten by a cow?” I asked.

“I got swallowed whole. I went straight down the throat like a big mud slide, traveled through all four stomachs, and came out the other end.”

“You mean you came out in the cow's…?”

“Exactly!”
said Tom, grinning with pride. “It was amazing!”

I pictured this event in my mind and slowed down on the cheese. It too came out of a cow.

Now that I had some food in my stomach, and I knew I wasn't going to be eaten, exhaustion settled in. My limbs were sore and heavy, and the warmth of the candle made my eyelids droop.

I shook myself awake. I couldn't sleep now! Perhaps I was not in danger, but Papa might be.

“Tom, have you seen other people like us? People who have been taken by giants?”

“Oh sure. There are lots of elves in the castle.”

“Elves?”

“Yeah, elves like us.”

“I'm not an elf. I'm a human boy.”

“Not in this world. Do you think the giants call
each other giants? Here in The Kingdom, they're regular sized and we're little, so we're called elves. You'll get used to it.”

I felt a little dizzy. “Okay. Can you tell me where I might find more of these…elves? I'm looking for my papa.”

Tom froze. He lowered his cheese and looked at me as though I'd just told him it was poisoned. “Your papa?”

I nodded. “Giants took him. They took all our crops and animals, and they snatched my papa right out of the barn with our newborn calf.”

Tom's eyes lost focus. He looked as though he had gone somewhere very far away.

“His name is Henry,” I said. “He looks like me, only taller. Have you seen him?”

Tom snapped to attention. “Nope, haven't seen anyone's papa lately.” He took a huge bite out of his cheese.

“Do you have any idea where he could have been taken?”

“No idea.”

“Would Martha know?” She was steadfastly feasting upon cheese with her eyes closed. The giant slab was now half gone.

“She hardly ever leaves the kitchen,” said Tom. “I see a lot more than she does. I've been all over the place. Want to duel?” Tom picked up two giant toothpicks off the cheese board and held one out to me. Normally I would have jumped at the chance, but seeing the giant toothpick gave me horrible visions of things that might have happened to Papa.

“Not now. I'm on a quest.” I walked along the edge of the table. Looking for a way down.

Tom tossed the toothpicks aside. “A quest! I love a quest! I'll join you. What is our quest? Treasure? Trolls?”

“No. I'm on a quest to find my papa, of course.”

Tom's smiled faded. “Oh. Well that's not as fun as treasure or trolls. You know, there's lots of treasure in the castle. The giant king is
extremely
rich. He has mountains of gold—giant-sized mountains. And he makes it with
magic.
Mum Martha's seen it before. Haven't you, Martha?”

I got a tingling feeling at the back of my neck. A giant king. Gold. Magic. It was like Grandpa Jack's tales.

Martha opened her eyes as though she'd been woken from a dream. “What? Oh, yes. The king has plenty of gold, but I daresay it would be better if he could grow some magic potatoes. Such a famine we're in, we can't grow a bean these days! Our cows don't give milk, the hens don't lay eggs, and if we didn't have you little elves, we'd all be starved!”

Martha's words took me by surprise. “So that was why those giants took all our food? Because you're in a famine?” Of course, I had noticed how brown and droopy all the plants were, but I hadn't made the connection to famine.

“It's a
curse,
” said Tom. “An evil magician put a spell on the land.”

“Tom, stop telling tales,” Martha chided. “I know it's horribly beastly of us, but what can we do? We would
have starved by now without you dear little elves.” Her eyes started to brim with tears.

“Don't cry, Martha,” said Tom, patting her big hand. “We know it's not your fault and you're very kind to us.”

“But why do you take people, too?” I asked. “Why not just the food?”

“Giants couldn't very well handle our food on their own, could they?” said Tom defensively. “Can you imagine Martha trying to milk one of our cows with her giant hands? She'd crush it! I had to milk seventeen cows for that one slab of cheese, you know.”

“Such a good, sweet boy, my Tom Thumb.” Martha patted him on the head so his knees buckled beneath him. “Now, that's enough chatter for one night. It's off to the sugar bowl with you boys.”

Martha scooped us up and dropped us in.

The sugar bowl was very comfortably lined with feathers and thistledown and other soft things. “Good night, sweet boys! Sleep tight, don't let the cats bite!” Martha placed the lid over the top, and all became pitch-black.

“Isn't Martha great?” said Tom.

“Sure,” I said. “Great.”

“Just wait until tomorrow,” said Tom. “After we milk the cows, we can duel and joust and play tug-of-war. We can eat whatever we want, and I can even take you to the armory, where there are helmets that make terrific forts and swords you can slide down and axes and spears you can climb like trees.”