Fiction: Fee Fi Fo Fum
Dec. 25th, 2009 01:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kethniName: Fee Fi Fo Fum
Pairing: Matt/Mo
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Note: With thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jaune_chat for the prompt.
Summary: What’s a hero to do when the evil giant just wants to be friends?
Word count: 1137
Once upon a time, there a giant called Matt who lived in a castle in the clouds. The castle was beautiful and the giant had many lovely things, a hen that laid golden eggs, a harp that sang, and a jug of wine that never ran dry.
However, the giant lived alone in his beautiful castle with his lovely things. The harp that sang could not make conversation, the hen that laid golden eggs could not share a meal with him, and the jug of wine that never ran dry could not itself enjoy a drink with him.
For all of his things he was alone.
There were giants nearby, but he liked them not. They were uncouth, brutish louts coarse of skin, manners, and language whom he found distasteful to see and unpleasant to be around.
As time progressed, the giant found he valued his things less and valued the company he lacked ever more.
One bright and clear day as Matt was tending to his colossal cows and stupendous sheep there came a clamour from the bell. Upon returning to the castle main, he found the door ajar and a line of muddy footsteps all through castle. Tiny, muddy footsteps.
The giant followed the footsteps through the castle, past the place where the jug of wine should be, past the little hutch that housed the now missing hen that laid the golden eggs, and toward the harp that sang.
The harp that shouted and bellowed, ‘Help! Help! Thief, thief!’
‘Shut up!’ wailed the tiny intruder at the haranguing harp as he tried to shove it into the sack containing the hen and the jug.
Tiny and very beautiful intruder.
‘Fee fi fo fu, do I smell an Englishman?’ Matt asked. ‘Where do you hail from?’
The intruder looked up at Matt with horror. ‘Begone foul giant!’
Matt sniffed at his tunic. ‘Foul? I bathed this...’
The intruder ran at Matt waving a sword. ‘Arghhh! Have at you!’
‘Hey now!’ Matt said as he easily plucked the sword from his hand. ‘There is no need for violence. What do you do with my things?’
The intruder backed away for a moment and then ran, ran forward, slid between Matt’s legs, and tried to run. But Matt moved faster than the intruder thought and caught the sack twixt thumb and forefinger.
‘Is that how you were raised?’ Matt asked, as his hopes of company were dashed again. ‘To enter decent houses without invitation, steal the goods, and run away? What kind of a creature are you that thinks this is the way to behave?’
‘A hero!’ said he, firmly. ‘Come to steal from the evil giant!’
‘Evil?’ Matt asked so quietly that the other had to strain to hear. ‘What evil have I done you, you I never saw before in my life?’
The ‘hero’, if so he was, licked his lips. ‘You live at the top of the beanstalk.’
‘What beanstalk?’
The hero rolled his eyes. ‘My father’s research... there were beans, there was a cow, I was trying to prove my father’s theories about the next generation of beanstalk evolution. Everyone thought he was insane but... what?’
Matt lowered his raised hand. ‘While you tell your tale could we perhaps sit by the fire and enjoy a glass of wine?’
‘So you can roast me alive?’
‘You confuse giants with Cyclops,’ said Matt. ‘I never saw one of your kind before, let alone cooked or atethem.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see. Very well then.’
The hero settled himself on the chair the size of a king’s bed and sipped wine from a thimble. Matt stoked up the fire, which already burned like an inferno, and sat opposite.
‘Now,’ said Matt. ‘You said there was a beanstalk?’
But the hero was already uncertain and uneasy. ‘You’re supposed to be evil.’
Matt tried once more to seem as though this intelligence was of no disturbance to him. ‘Shall we begin from first principles? My name is Matt.’
‘You have a name?’ asked the hero. ‘Oh. You never had a name in... I realised not.’
‘All creatures have names of their own,’ said Matt shaking his head. ‘That you know them not does not make it less true.’
‘I am Mohinder,’ said he, quietly. ‘I came up the beanstalk to... steal your hen, your harp, and your jug.’
‘Oh.’ Matt played with his glass of wine. ‘I bought the hen, I was given the jug, and my father left me the harp. None of them are stolen.’
‘You’re a giant,’ said Mohinder miserably. ‘I’m supposed to be the hero. I climb the beanstalk, steal the things, uh... and live happily ever after.’
Matt toasted a teacake the size of a tray, buttered it, and broke off a piece, which he handed to Mohinder.
‘What if I came and wanted my things back?’
Mohinder writhed on the chair. ‘You’re supposed to follow me down the beanstalk, then I chop it down, and you... fall.’
Well, Matt stared at the tiny stranger that he had thought beautiful, until he had to look away from Matt’s gaze.
‘You came not only to steal but to murder me? What have I done to deserve such a fate?’
‘You’re an evil... you’re a giant,’ said Mohinder wretchedly. ‘Everyone says that giants are evil.’
‘Giants do not say it! Nor do we say your tiny forms think it well to rob and murder but clearly we ought.’ Matt snorted angrily and looked away. ‘If giants have killed... whatever you call yourselves... then that is wrong. But I have never and would never.’
Mohinder crossed his legs and stared down at his thimble of wine. ‘Humans.’ He nibbled at his piece of teacake. ‘This is nice,’ he said quietly.
‘Even we evil creatures know how to be hospitable,’ Matt said sharply.
‘I apologise for myself,’ said Mohinder. ‘For all I know, for the tales, the stories, and the books I cannot apologise. There was no good thought in my head when I climbed the beanstalk.’
‘Is your mother very poor?’ Matt said softly.
Mohinder went red, red as a sunset. ‘Yes, more now I traded the cow.’
Matt crossed the massive room and returned holding something glittering and glimmering in his hand. ‘Take these,’ he said, handing over heavy golden eggs.
‘I cannot,’ Mohinder said firmly. ‘It would not be right.’
‘It’s no theft,’ said Matt. ‘A gift.’
Mohinder shook his head and looked at the giant sadly. ‘I deserve no gift from you.’
‘Payment then, for your company,’ Matt said. ‘I am all alone here and enjoy company dearly.’
‘Even mine?’ Mohinder asked.
‘In time yours more than most, but you will go home and cut down the beanstalk,’ Matt said sadly. ‘That is how the story
ends is it not?’
‘Does it?’ asked Mohinder.
...
The end
Jack and the Beanstalk - Mohinder is Jack, Matt is the giant. Matt is intrigued by this strange new guest to his cloud castle, but understandably upset when Mohinder just cuts and runs, stealing things along the way. Mohinder thought stealing things from the "evil giant" was just what a hero was supposed to do...
Pairing: Matt/Mo
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Note: With thanks to
jaune_chat for the prompt. Summary: What’s a hero to do when the evil giant just wants to be friends?
Word count: 1137
Once upon a time, there a giant called Matt who lived in a castle in the clouds. The castle was beautiful and the giant had many lovely things, a hen that laid golden eggs, a harp that sang, and a jug of wine that never ran dry.
However, the giant lived alone in his beautiful castle with his lovely things. The harp that sang could not make conversation, the hen that laid golden eggs could not share a meal with him, and the jug of wine that never ran dry could not itself enjoy a drink with him.
For all of his things he was alone.
There were giants nearby, but he liked them not. They were uncouth, brutish louts coarse of skin, manners, and language whom he found distasteful to see and unpleasant to be around.
As time progressed, the giant found he valued his things less and valued the company he lacked ever more.
One bright and clear day as Matt was tending to his colossal cows and stupendous sheep there came a clamour from the bell. Upon returning to the castle main, he found the door ajar and a line of muddy footsteps all through castle. Tiny, muddy footsteps.
The giant followed the footsteps through the castle, past the place where the jug of wine should be, past the little hutch that housed the now missing hen that laid the golden eggs, and toward the harp that sang.
The harp that shouted and bellowed, ‘Help! Help! Thief, thief!’
‘Shut up!’ wailed the tiny intruder at the haranguing harp as he tried to shove it into the sack containing the hen and the jug.
Tiny and very beautiful intruder.
‘Fee fi fo fu, do I smell an Englishman?’ Matt asked. ‘Where do you hail from?’
The intruder looked up at Matt with horror. ‘Begone foul giant!’
Matt sniffed at his tunic. ‘Foul? I bathed this...’
The intruder ran at Matt waving a sword. ‘Arghhh! Have at you!’
‘Hey now!’ Matt said as he easily plucked the sword from his hand. ‘There is no need for violence. What do you do with my things?’
The intruder backed away for a moment and then ran, ran forward, slid between Matt’s legs, and tried to run. But Matt moved faster than the intruder thought and caught the sack twixt thumb and forefinger.
‘Is that how you were raised?’ Matt asked, as his hopes of company were dashed again. ‘To enter decent houses without invitation, steal the goods, and run away? What kind of a creature are you that thinks this is the way to behave?’
‘A hero!’ said he, firmly. ‘Come to steal from the evil giant!’
‘Evil?’ Matt asked so quietly that the other had to strain to hear. ‘What evil have I done you, you I never saw before in my life?’
The ‘hero’, if so he was, licked his lips. ‘You live at the top of the beanstalk.’
‘What beanstalk?’
The hero rolled his eyes. ‘My father’s research... there were beans, there was a cow, I was trying to prove my father’s theories about the next generation of beanstalk evolution. Everyone thought he was insane but... what?’
Matt lowered his raised hand. ‘While you tell your tale could we perhaps sit by the fire and enjoy a glass of wine?’
‘So you can roast me alive?’
‘You confuse giants with Cyclops,’ said Matt. ‘I never saw one of your kind before, let alone cooked or atethem.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see. Very well then.’
The hero settled himself on the chair the size of a king’s bed and sipped wine from a thimble. Matt stoked up the fire, which already burned like an inferno, and sat opposite.
‘Now,’ said Matt. ‘You said there was a beanstalk?’
But the hero was already uncertain and uneasy. ‘You’re supposed to be evil.’
Matt tried once more to seem as though this intelligence was of no disturbance to him. ‘Shall we begin from first principles? My name is Matt.’
‘You have a name?’ asked the hero. ‘Oh. You never had a name in... I realised not.’
‘All creatures have names of their own,’ said Matt shaking his head. ‘That you know them not does not make it less true.’
‘I am Mohinder,’ said he, quietly. ‘I came up the beanstalk to... steal your hen, your harp, and your jug.’
‘Oh.’ Matt played with his glass of wine. ‘I bought the hen, I was given the jug, and my father left me the harp. None of them are stolen.’
‘You’re a giant,’ said Mohinder miserably. ‘I’m supposed to be the hero. I climb the beanstalk, steal the things, uh... and live happily ever after.’
Matt toasted a teacake the size of a tray, buttered it, and broke off a piece, which he handed to Mohinder.
‘What if I came and wanted my things back?’
Mohinder writhed on the chair. ‘You’re supposed to follow me down the beanstalk, then I chop it down, and you... fall.’
Well, Matt stared at the tiny stranger that he had thought beautiful, until he had to look away from Matt’s gaze.
‘You came not only to steal but to murder me? What have I done to deserve such a fate?’
‘You’re an evil... you’re a giant,’ said Mohinder wretchedly. ‘Everyone says that giants are evil.’
‘Giants do not say it! Nor do we say your tiny forms think it well to rob and murder but clearly we ought.’ Matt snorted angrily and looked away. ‘If giants have killed... whatever you call yourselves... then that is wrong. But I have never and would never.’
Mohinder crossed his legs and stared down at his thimble of wine. ‘Humans.’ He nibbled at his piece of teacake. ‘This is nice,’ he said quietly.
‘Even we evil creatures know how to be hospitable,’ Matt said sharply.
‘I apologise for myself,’ said Mohinder. ‘For all I know, for the tales, the stories, and the books I cannot apologise. There was no good thought in my head when I climbed the beanstalk.’
‘Is your mother very poor?’ Matt said softly.
Mohinder went red, red as a sunset. ‘Yes, more now I traded the cow.’
Matt crossed the massive room and returned holding something glittering and glimmering in his hand. ‘Take these,’ he said, handing over heavy golden eggs.
‘I cannot,’ Mohinder said firmly. ‘It would not be right.’
‘It’s no theft,’ said Matt. ‘A gift.’
Mohinder shook his head and looked at the giant sadly. ‘I deserve no gift from you.’
‘Payment then, for your company,’ Matt said. ‘I am all alone here and enjoy company dearly.’
‘Even mine?’ Mohinder asked.
‘In time yours more than most, but you will go home and cut down the beanstalk,’ Matt said sadly. ‘That is how the story
ends is it not?’
‘Does it?’ asked Mohinder.
...
The end
Jack and the Beanstalk - Mohinder is Jack, Matt is the giant. Matt is intrigued by this strange new guest to his cloud castle, but understandably upset when Mohinder just cuts and runs, stealing things along the way. Mohinder thought stealing things from the "evil giant" was just what a hero was supposed to do...
