the fresher the tracks were, the brighter they shone.
Before long Igraine came upon some gigantic footprints. It had been raining in the hills, and water had collected in the deep hollows left by Garleff’s toes and the soles of his feet. Whenever Igraine saw some of these curiously shaped puddles, she sprinkled a pinch of Albert’s silver dust into it. And the farther she rode, the brighter the trails shone. The bushes covering the slopes were prickly, but giants have thick skin, and Igraine’s parents had told her that Garleff liked to stretch out among the thorns by night to look at the stars. When he did that, you couldn’t see him at all. His huge body disappeared into the thickets of thorns as if the earth had swallowed him up.
In a particularly dark valley, where the starry sky was like a tent spread over the earth, Igraine found giant’s tracks that shone brighter than all the rest. She reined Lancelot in and looked around her. No sound met her ears but the song of the night birds and the rushing of water far away.
“Garleff?” she called into the darkness.
Lancelot lowered his head to the grass, which was wet with dew. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air for scents.
“It’s me, Garleff!” called Igraine. “The daughter of Sir Lamorak and the Fair Melisande. It’s Igraine! My father’s magic cured you of a nasty rash long ago, do you remember? Now we need your help!”
Nothing stirred. The hills lay silent in the darkness of the night.
Igraine patted Lancelot’s neck. “He doesn’t seem to be here,” she said softly. “Come on, let’s try the next valley.”
But just as she took up the horse’s reins again, there was a rustling on the hill to her left, and out of the undergrowth rose a figure so large that its moonlit shadow fell over the whole valley.
Lancelot whinnied and stepped back, his legs trembling.
“Take it easy!” Igraine told him. “Take it easy, there’s nothing to fear.” But she herself felt her stomach twist with alarm. She had heard hundreds and hundreds of stories about giants, but she’d never before seen one in front of her in flesh and blood. When she dared to look up, she saw Garleff’s right shoulder cover the moon.
“Oho, oho! So it’s the daughter of Lamorak the Wily!” he said. His voice was deep and full, like a warm wind blowing down on Igraine. The giant took one leg out of the thorny undergrowth, and with a mighty tread he climbed down the slope of the hill, until he was so close to her that when she glanced up at him she was looking straight into his nostrils.
“Help?” boomed Garleff. “What do you need my help for, little human?”
Igraine put a hand on Lancelot’s trembling flank.
“I need some of your hairs!” she called up to the giant. “Four or five would be enough, that’s what my parents said.”
“Giant’s hairs?” Garleff crouched down. He gently picked Igraine off Lancelot’s back and put her on his knee. “Have those two gone and bewitched themselves?”
Igraine looked into Garleff’s brown giant’s eyes and nodded. “They’ve turned themselves into pigs,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me and my brother too much, so long as it’s not forever, but now that they’re pigs they can’t cast spells, and just at this moment someone’s come along trying to steal our Books of Magic. Are you with me so far?”
“Hmm,” said the giant, nodding his head back and forth. “I’m not entirely sure, but go on.”
“His name is Osmund, and he’s our new neighbor,” Igraine went on. “He and his castellan are mustering a huge army to attack Pimpernel. That’s why I’m in such a terrible hurry. I have to bring my parents some giant’s hairs so that they can turn themselves back into their real shapes and cast a spell to change Osmund into a cockroach or a wood louse. Which would serve him right, believe you me!”
The giant looked up at the sky. He went on gazing at it for quite a time, so long that
Before long Igraine came upon some gigantic footprints. It had been raining in the hills, and water had collected in the deep hollows left by Garleff’s toes and the soles of his feet. Whenever Igraine saw some of these curiously shaped puddles, she sprinkled a pinch of Albert’s silver dust into it. And the farther she rode, the brighter the trails shone. The bushes covering the slopes were prickly, but giants have thick skin, and Igraine’s parents had told her that Garleff liked to stretch out among the thorns by night to look at the stars. When he did that, you couldn’t see him at all. His huge body disappeared into the thickets of thorns as if the earth had swallowed him up.
In a particularly dark valley, where the starry sky was like a tent spread over the earth, Igraine found giant’s tracks that shone brighter than all the rest. She reined Lancelot in and looked around her. No sound met her ears but the song of the night birds and the rushing of water far away.
“Garleff?” she called into the darkness.
Lancelot lowered his head to the grass, which was wet with dew. His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air for scents.
“It’s me, Garleff!” called Igraine. “The daughter of Sir Lamorak and the Fair Melisande. It’s Igraine! My father’s magic cured you of a nasty rash long ago, do you remember? Now we need your help!”
Nothing stirred. The hills lay silent in the darkness of the night.
Igraine patted Lancelot’s neck. “He doesn’t seem to be here,” she said softly. “Come on, let’s try the next valley.”
But just as she took up the horse’s reins again, there was a rustling on the hill to her left, and out of the undergrowth rose a figure so large that its moonlit shadow fell over the whole valley.
Lancelot whinnied and stepped back, his legs trembling.
“Take it easy!” Igraine told him. “Take it easy, there’s nothing to fear.” But she herself felt her stomach twist with alarm. She had heard hundreds and hundreds of stories about giants, but she’d never before seen one in front of her in flesh and blood. When she dared to look up, she saw Garleff’s right shoulder cover the moon.
“Oho, oho! So it’s the daughter of Lamorak the Wily!” he said. His voice was deep and full, like a warm wind blowing down on Igraine. The giant took one leg out of the thorny undergrowth, and with a mighty tread he climbed down the slope of the hill, until he was so close to her that when she glanced up at him she was looking straight into his nostrils.
“Help?” boomed Garleff. “What do you need my help for, little human?”
Igraine put a hand on Lancelot’s trembling flank.
“I need some of your hairs!” she called up to the giant. “Four or five would be enough, that’s what my parents said.”
“Giant’s hairs?” Garleff crouched down. He gently picked Igraine off Lancelot’s back and put her on his knee. “Have those two gone and bewitched themselves?”
Igraine looked into Garleff’s brown giant’s eyes and nodded. “They’ve turned themselves into pigs,” she said. “It doesn’t bother me and my brother too much, so long as it’s not forever, but now that they’re pigs they can’t cast spells, and just at this moment someone’s come along trying to steal our Books of Magic. Are you with me so far?”
“Hmm,” said the giant, nodding his head back and forth. “I’m not entirely sure, but go on.”
“His name is Osmund, and he’s our new neighbor,” Igraine went on. “He and his castellan are mustering a huge army to attack Pimpernel. That’s why I’m in such a terrible hurry. I have to bring my parents some giant’s hairs so that they can turn themselves back into their real shapes and cast a spell to change Osmund into a cockroach or a wood louse. Which would serve him right, believe you me!”
The giant looked up at the sky. He went on gazing at it for quite a time, so long that
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