Transgendered Fairy Tales
by Kaleigh Way

10. The Giant Who Had No Heart In His Body

 

Long ago there was a king who had seven handsome sons, and he loved them so much that he always had at least one of them by his side. When they'd grown and wanted to marry, six of them set off, but the king kept his youngest at home. The others promised to bring a princess for him when they returned. The king fitted them out with the finest clothes you ever set eyes on, and a prize horse for each.

The six brothers visited many palaces, and saw many princesses, and at last they came to a king who had six daughters. They hadn't seen the like of these lovely lassies in any place they'd been, so they set to wooing them, each one, and when each son won his sweetheart, they set off for home again. But don't you know, they were so happy and in love that they quite forgot about Boots, their youngest brother, and none of them thought to find a princess for him.

When the twelve princes and princesses had traveled a fair way, they passed close to a steep hillside that looked rather like a wall. They didn't know, but this was where a giant lived. The giant was lonely and alone, and when he heard the laughing and the singing, he thought that someone had come to mock and pester him. So the giant came out, fixed his eyes upon the fine company, and turned them all to stone. Then he picked up the six stone princes and the six stone princesses and arranged them in his garden, like statues.

The king waited and waited for his six sons, and the longer he waited, the longer they stayed away. He was troubled in heart, and said he would never be glad again.

"If I didn't have you by my side," he said to Boots, "There would be no point in living. I would give up my life, so full of sorrow am I."

"I'll tell you what I've been thinking," says Boots, "I want to ask your leave to go and find them again. That's what I've been thinking."

"No! Never!" his father cried. "That leave you shall never get. I cannot lose the last of you!"

But Boots had set his heart upon it; go he would. He begged and prayed and nagged so long that the king was forced to let him go. And the king was sadder still, for he had no horse to give to Boots but a poor, old, broken-down jade. The other sons had carried off all the best horses. Boots didn't care about that! He sprang up on his sorry old steed.

"Farewell, father," says he. "I'll come back, never fear, and like as not I'll bring my brothers back with me." With that, he rode off.

When he had ridden a while, he found a raven lying in the road, with barely the strength to flap its wings. He came down from his horse to move the bird to safety.

"My dear friend," said the raven, "I'm so starved, I don't have the strength to move. If you give me a little food, I'll be sure to help you when you're in need."

"I haven't much food," the prince replied, "and I don't see how you'll help me, but I'll give you what you need." And he fed the raven until it regained its strength.

A little further on, he came to a brook, and in the middle of a large flat stone lay a huge salmon, flailing about, unable to get himself into the stream. When the fish saw the lad, he gasped, "Will you be my friend and push me back in the water? I've fallen here and can't work my way back. If you'll help me, I'll be sure to help you when you're in need."

"I don't see how you'll help me," said the lad, "but it's a pity to see you lying there, choking." And he shoved the fish back into the current.

After that, he went a long way, and met a wolf, so famished and weak that it lay on its belly, panting.

"Sir," called the wolf weakly, "I'm so hungry that my ribs clatter each time I breathe. It's been two years since I've had a bite of food. Will you be my friend and let me have your horse?"

"Ah," said the lad, who was getting used to this song and dance, "and you will help me when I'm in need, is that it? I helped the raven, for I had a little food to spare, and I helped the salmon, because all he needed was a push, but now you want my horse? It can't be done, I'm sorry — if I give you my horse I'd have nothing to ride on."

"No, my friend, you can help me," the wolf replied. "If you let me have your horse, you can ride on my back wherever you need to go, and I pledge to help you whenever you're in need."

"That's a promise easily made," the prince observed, "Still, it pains me to see anyone in such a state. Take my horse, then."

The wolf ate the horse, and in between one bite and another, he asked the prince who he was and where he was going. When Boots mentioned the six princes who went a-wooing, the wolf recalled the twelve stone figures in the giant's garden.

After he'd eaten his fill, the wolf took the bit in his mouth, and Boots laid the saddle on his back. Now that he'd eaten, the wolf was so strong that he carried the prince as if he were nothing. The prince had never ridden so fast before. After a time, the wolf stopped and showed the prince the giant's garden.

"Sure and it's my six brothers I'm seeing, still as statues made of stone," says he. "The girls must be their sweethearts." Then he counted again, and counted a third time. "But no bride for me," he sighed.

"That's as may be," the wolf replied. "We can see to that in time. For now, you've got to free the others, and to do that, you've got to get into the giant's house." He carried the prince to the wall in the hillside and showed him the door.

"I don't dare go in," the lad replied. "He'll take my life, or turn me to stone, sure as like."

"No! No!" says the wolf. "There's a way it can be done." And as the sun set, they moved into the woods, away from the giant's house.

"I can wait until the giant sleeps," says Boots, "and slit his giant throat in his giant bed."

"No," says the wolf. "That will never do. No one can slay that giant, for he has no heart in his body. His heart is hidden in a place of safety, and while that heart is safe, the giant can suffer no harm. Besides," says he, "there's no one but the giant himself who can restore your brothers and their sweethearts to life. The key is his heart: if you take his heart in your hand, he must do whatever you like."

"Where is the heart to be found?" the boy asked.

"None knows but the giant, so it's he that must tell you."

During the night, while they waited for dawn, the wolf explained his plan.

The next day, the sun came up and the giant strode off to the wood.

Well, Boots went in, but he was very much afraid. He searched the giant's house until he came upon a cunning little mirror. It was more strange than beautiful, with a golden frame, fashioned like a pair of snakes that twined and joined and separated. As the wolf had told him, he placed himself before the mirror, clasped his hands behind his back, and stood upon one foot. He closed his eyes, pursed his lips, and leaned forward to kiss his face in the mirror. The wolf had told him on no account to open his eyes, but he found it hard, for the more he leaned toward the mirror, the farther away it seemed. At last, what with standing on one foot and all, he leaned so far forward, he fell flat upon the floor!

When he opened his eyes, the mirror was behind him, and when he got to his feet to brush off his clothes, he found that a interesting change had been made. Instead of brushing off a pair of pants and a shirt, he was brushing off a full blue skirt and a white apron, and a matching blue bodice with short puffy sleeves. Boots inspected himself in the mirror and was pleased with the result. "A bit fancy for a maid," he thought, "but it'll do." He sang a pretty tune in his light new voice and laughed in delight.

"If I'd known how easily the change could be made," says he to himself, "I'd have done it long ago." For the lad was now a lassie to all effects, and a happy lassie was she. With a smile and a clap of her hands, she busied herself around the cottage, cleaning and putting things to rights. It had been a great long time since anyone shook a broom in that place, and what with the dusting and the straightening and the washing, the day passed quickly, and soon enough the giant came home to find a pretty maiden and a hot meal waiting for him.

"Who might you be?" he roared, "And what business have ye in my house?"

But he looked about, and left off his roaring, for the cottage looked more pleasant and clean than it had in many a year. It reminded the giant of better days, days long gone by. "Who might ye be, lassie?" he repeated in a softer tone.

"I'm Beatrice, if you please, sir," the girl replied, "and it's me who hopes you need someone to keep your cottage clean and tidy like."

"Ah," the giant growled, and took her little face in his hand. His rough fingers were surprised by the warm softness of her pale white skin, and as he looked at her blood-red lips, her ebon hair, and the dark pools that were her eyes, he was enchanted. "Eh," says he, when he came to himself, "there's a loveliness about ye. Ye look more a princess than a pantry-maid, that's sure for the saying."

Beatrice trembled at his ferocity and strength, and confessed that her father was indeed a king. Then she told a tale of how her father commanded her to wed a prince who was as noble as you like, and as handsome as the sun, but whose head was as empty as a dry old dusty barrel.

"A pompous fool, ye say?" the giant growled. "I canna abide the beasts that twit about two legs and give themselves more airs than a bagpipe in a windstorm. Ye did well to run away lass, and you'll be safe as can be here. That's my vow. And if ye cook and clean and mend, that's all the more to the bargain."

In spite of his coarse manners, the giant went out of his way to make the maiden welcome, and he showed her all around the cottage. He marveled at the work she'd done to set the place aright, and let her choose what room could be her own.

"Aside from meats," says he, "whatever foods you need, you'll find in my garden, but I'll show ye that tomorrow."

Beatrice slept a little uneasily in the giant's house. She was pleased that the wolf's plan was going so well, but the giant's unexpected kindness made her uncomfortable in her deception.

In the morning the giant rose early and brought eggs, bread, and rashers. Beatrice built a fire in the stove and cooked breakfast for them both, and noticed that the giant had gone so far as to wash his hands before he sat at table.

True to his promise, he showed the lass his garden. Like the house, it needed tending, but here you found spices, and there you found flowers. There were beds for every sort of vegetable and trees with every kind of fruit. All the plants were flourishing, but all were in need of attention.

"'Twas my father's garden," explained the giant. "I do my best, but I canna care for it as he did."

The maiden praised the garden and its arrangement, and offered to try her hand out here as well. The giant brightened considerably at that, and said he would be more than pleased.

"What are these curious statues you have?" Beatrice asked him, the words catching in her throat. She pointed at her eldest brother, who stood frozen in stone before her.

"Ah, a nasty group!" the giant growled. "They came here, all of them, laughing and taunting me with their pretty looks and clothes. As I said, I canna abide the ones who give themselves airs and point their noses to the sky. By my powers, I turned the fools to stone, and stone they shall remain!"

At that, the giant took himself to the woods, and Beatrice gave herself to cleaning the house again. Though there was much to do inside, she spent part of the day in the giant's garden, weeding and cleaning and tending the plants. Some vegetables were gone bad, and these she threw in a heap. The good vegetables she gathered and cooked into a hearty ragout, which she served to the giant on his return.

She noticed this time that he'd washed his face as well as his hands, and had passed a comb (with some success) through his thick, untended hair.

"Tomorrow," says she, "I'll do some laundry," and as she spoke she laid her hand upon his chest.

Then, as quickly as she could, she pulled her hand away. Pretending to be surprised, the girl cried out, "Faith! Is there no heart beating in your chest?"

"No," says he, with a red, embarrassed face.

Well, she asked him why, and laid her small, pretty hand once or twice upon the place where his heart should be.

She asked him again, and when she asked him a third time he told her the long and the short of it.

He said that first his brother died, and then his mother died. And when his father died, the giant found himself alone, so he took the heart out of him and hid it in a hiding place where none could touch or harm it.

"And where do you keep your heart," she asked, "if you don't carry it about with you?"

"Ah!" he sighed. "You've no business to ask me that! But if you must know, it lies under the door sill."

Next morning, the giant was up well before the dawn, and strode off to the wood. As soon as he was gone, Beatrice shook the sleep from her lovely eyes and set to searching under the door sill for his heart. But the more she dug and the more she hunted, the more she couldn't find it.

"He's fooled me," says she, "but I'll try him once more."

She set the sill back in its place, and got the dinner cooking. Then she picked the prettiest flowers she could find, and spread them in the doorway. When the giant came home again, he stepped carefully over the flowers, and he says to the girl, he says, "What's all this business with the flowers, then?"

"Ah," replied Beatrice. "I'm so thankful that you've let me stay here, I couldn't help spreading those flowers, once I knew your heart lay underneath."

"You don't say so," says the giant. "Well, you're a great silly for all of that, for my heart doesn't lie there at all."

Later that evening, she asked him again where his heart was, for she would so like to know.

"Ah," says the giant. "If it's that way then, I'll tell ye. It lies away yonder in the cupboard there, against the wall."

Next morning when the giant went off to the wood, Beatrice attacked the cupboard, and searched it through and through. It was a desperate mess, full of old rubbish and bits of netting, old bird claws and rocks, pretty nothings, and dirty somethings, but one thing that was not in the cupboard was the giant's heart.

"Well!" says the girl, "I must try him once more!"

So she set it all to rights, and once the dinner was ready, she decked out the cupboard with flowers and garlands.

Back came the giant, and he looks at the cupboard and sees the decorations. "Ah," says he, "you've been flouncing about like a princess, have you? What's the meaning of this tomfoolery, then?"

"Oh," says she, "I did that when I knew your heart lay there."

"Are you silly enough to believe such a thing?" says the giant.

"Of course I believe it," says she, "for you told me it was so."

"You're a goose," says the giant. "Where my heart is, you will never come."

"That's as may be," says she, "but t'would be a pleasure to know where it really lies. I could think on it, and picture it in my heart."

The poor giant could hold out no longer. He took the girl's hands in his own, and in a low voice he told her, "Far, far away in the north there is a lake, and in that lake there is an island. On that island stands a church, and in that church there is a well. In that well there swims a duck, and in that duck there is an egg. Inside that egg lies my heart. There! Now you know, my princess, my dear! Before I told you tales, but this time, I tell you true."

In the morning, before the sun lit the sky, the giant strode off to the wood.

"I must be off as well," Beatrice told herself, "if only I knew the way." Well, she knew which way was north — there was the beginning! But that evening, if the giant found her gone, he'd go himself to fetch his heart ahead of her, and then what would she do?

When she stepped out of the giant's home, she found the wolf waiting for her. He'd listened at the window, and knew all that had taken place. The wolf bade the girl to climb upon his back, and soon they'd find the way. Away they went, till the wind whistled after them, over hedge and field, over hill and dale. They traveled until the sun was high and hot, and at last came to the lake.

There was no boat or bridge, so the girl clung tight to the wolf's back, and he swam across to the island. And so they came to the church, but the keys to the church hung high on the tower, and the tower could not be climbed.

"It's time to call on the raven," said the wolf. So the girl called out, and in a thrice the raven came. He flew up and fetched the keys, and Beatrice got into the church.

Next, they came to the well, and the water was high. The duck swam about, back and forth, just as the giant had said. Beatrice took some bread from her apron and called the bird and coaxed it, until it came close, and she grasped it tight. But as she lifted the bird from the water, the duck dropped the egg into the well, and the girl was beside herself as to how to get it out again.

"Now you must call on the salmon, to be sure," said the wolf. And when the girl cried out, the salmon came and fetched the egg from the bottom of the well.

Careful as could be, the maiden sewed the egg inside a pocket of her apron. Then she climbed upon the wolf and rode back home to the giant's house.

Soon after, the giant himself came, but he found no dinner on the table, no flowers, and Beatrice, his little princess, crying as if her heart had broken within her.

"What is this business, now?" says he, uneasily. "I'm not one who knows the ways of women, and if I've done aught to..."

"No," says she. "It's I who've done you harm, and sorry I am, believe me. You've been kind to me, and I've deceived you."

"What harm could a wee slip of a lass like yerself do to a monster like me," he laughed. "I said you're a goose, and it's a sweet silly goose you are, now."

"I've found your heart," says she.

"You've done no such thing," says he.

So she touched the pocket of her apron, and drew her hand over the egg. He gasped in astonishment, for he felt her fingers cross his very soul.

"Why have ye done it, girl?" the giant cried. "Haven't I dealt with ye true and kind?"

"You have," says she. "And I want to give you your heart and have you put it back into your chest, where it belongs."

"If ye wish it, girl, I'll do it," says he. "Ye needn't have gone to fetch the egg for all that. If ye'd asked, I would have done."

"It's another thing," says she. "That I must ask you, but I hardly dare."

"Ask away," says he. "For I canna tell ye no. Ye have my heart in yer hand, with or without that blessed egg. Ask me now."

She begged him to restore to life her six brothers and their brides, who stood as stone in his garden. He said he would, so she opened up the pocket of her apron and handed him the egg. The giant gave it back to her.

"I'll free your kin, and you as well, if you wish it. I've come to care for you, my dearest Princess Beatrice, and if you leave me, I'll have no use for heart or life. I know that I'm a monster and mayhap I'm a fool, but I've lost every soul on earth I ever cared for. You've brought me back to life, but if you leave, I've nothing for it but to die. If you'll stay, I'll put my heart back in my chest and keep it there. But if you won't, you may crush it with your pretty foot as you go."

"I'll stay," said the girl. "I've come to care for you as well. I love you, and I give you my heart with your own."

"Think well," says he. "I'm under no enchantment. There is no handsome prince in me. I'll always be the ugly brute you see before you now."

"I've thought well," said the girl as she dried her tears and gave him a smile, "and I have a plan!"

She explained it to the giant, and it pleased him well.

First the giant went a-hunting, and caught some boar and deer and dressed them. While he did that, the girl gathered fruits, vegetables, and flowers.

Together they went into the garden, and the giant carried the statues to a clearing in the wood. Beatrice placed herself before the stone figures. Then, the giant kissed her gently, and strode off toward the deep woods.

Once he was well away, he used his powers to restore to life the six princes and princesses. The twelve were amazed, for they remembered nothing of their captivity. Beatrice clapped her hands and called to them.

"Princes and Princesses! A year ago, you princes left your home to woo and win these lovely maidens. As luck would have it, your happy voyage home was interrupted by an evil wizard who imprisoned you underground. For many months you remained as statues made of stone, without life or breath or warmth."

"And who are you, fair maiden?" asked the eldest brother. "Did you set us free? Your face and voice are something like..."

"Your youngest brother, Boots?" the girl smiled. "Yes, there is good reason. Your father despaired of your ever coming home, and your youngest brother went forth to look for you. He too was captured by the wizard and changed into the maiden you see before you. I am your sister; my name is Beatrice."

After much surprise, came warm greetings and embraces. Each brother introduced his sweetheart; each princess kissed her new-found sister.

"Now tell," asked the eldest brother, "How do we find us here? Where is this wizard now?"

"We were freed," she said, "by a giant, fierce in aspect, but great in heart. He freed me first, then, at great risk to himself, he fought and killed the wizard and carried you here. By his own powers he restored your life and breath."

"We owe great thanks to this giant!" the brothers cried. "When can we know him?"

"His house is close at hand," she smiled. "Come, we shall prepare a feast!"

The brothers took the giant's long table and set it in the garden, which they found lovely and welcoming. They never knew how long a time that garden was their home, in wind and sun and rain. As they placed chairs about, the sisters were a-cooking. When the giant came home, he was met by the brave company, who toasted and embraced him as their savior.

It soon was clear to all that the giant had Beatrice's heart, just as she had his, so the next morning, two princes and princesses when forward to the lonely king, two returned to the father of the girls, and two remained with the giant and his pretty bride.

When Beatrice and the giant married, two kings and their courts attended, loaded with gifts. It was a beautiful wedding, full of flowers, birds, music, and song. Never did you see a lovelier bride or a happier groom! After the married couple enjoyed their first kiss, Beatrice took a little mirror with a golden frame, and threw it to the ground with a smile. The giant returned her smile, and brought his heel down hard, crushing the mirror to fragments. None of the company understood this strange ceremony, but they cheered and hurrahed, and all the men threw their hats in the air.

Beatrice and the giant lived happily in their woodland cottage, and had frequent visits from princes and princesses, who came to hunt or enjoy the good country air. Beatrice bore the giant three healthy boys: three handsome half-giants, big for a man, but small for a giant, and their grandfathers loved them and spoiled them terribly.

© 2007 by Kaleigh Way