The Song of Giants - Chapter Four
After seeing the interior of the cave, you were fairly certain Fanngeir meant to eat you. It was musty, dark, and completely inhospitable. Your lower lip trembled as you imagined all the horrible things he might do before making his meal.
He’d set you inside on a large rock while he unloaded the rest of the sled. Then, as if it were a small toy, he lifted and brought it inside, setting it along one of the cave walls.
“Misah!” he called out and even offered a whistle.
The cat came bounding inside, eyes glowing unnervingly in the dark. She ran off towards the back as Fanngeir lifted you back up into his arms. As he carried you back into the darkness, he hummed a low tune. It rumbled deep in his chest as you let your head nestle into his bicep. He wouldn’t eat you… would he?
Rounding a corner, he stooped low to avoid an outcropping of rock. Oddly enough, there appeared to be a wall of fur blocking the rear of the cave like a tent flap. It rustled ever so slightly, as if a small breeze was flowing up from inside.
“Home,” Fanngeir whispered as he took you through the flap.
Awestruck wasn’t a strong enough description of how you felt. The cave opened up into a large cavern, lined with row after row of plants and trees. It went on for acres before ending at a log cabin built into the rear wall of rock.
Small streamlets of water flowed out from the house, steaming ever so slightly as they mingled with the cold cavern air. Looking up, you saw hints of sunlight glimmering down through several abstract crystalline formations. It was an oasis tucked inside a bitterly cold mountainside.
“Home?” Fanngeir, looked down at you, his kind eyes twinkling with joy, “Yes?”
You looked up at him, then back out over the cavern. One of the trees had large red apples dangling from its branches. They looked similar to the ones he’d fed you on the road. Looking back up you flashed him a dumbstruck smile.
Chuckling at your response, he began to carry you through the garden, pointing out several of the heartier vegetables and flowers that were in season. As you approached the house, you saw a surprising variety of fruit trees including plum, pear, lemon, and, of course, apple. You had never been a particularly competent gardener, but what little you knew from your father made you suspect there was some kind of magic or alchemy at work here.
Your father… you wondered if he’d escaped the net of the Jotun, or whether he was being shown the inside of a cave right now too. Knowing him, he would have fought like the guardsman in town. You could still hear their screaming.
“Peiter?” Fanngeir had stopped walking and was looking down at you.
Without realizing it, you had begun to cry. Suddenly embarrassed, you sniffed and turned away, trying to stop the tears. You weren’t successful.
He squeezed you reassuringly, his thumb rubbing circles into one of your shoulders. Continuing towards the house he pointed out a small pen where Misah had curled up and was gnawing on a weed. Her pupils dilated drastically and it reminded you of the barn cat’s reaction when you brought her nip from the swineherd’s garden.
The cabin had a proper door, albeit one that was at least eleven feet tall, and as he carried you inside you shivered. It was warm. You almost couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt truly warm.
Looking around, you were greeted by a perfectly charming bachelor’s house. Everything seemed practical, from the stone fireplace carved into the side of the mountain, to the large kitchen area in the back. Off to the side there was a towering four-posted bed, and there was even a ladder that led up a small hatch in the ceiling.
He seated you on one of the overly large chairs near the fireplace before reaching up overhead and stretching his arms out wide. Now that you’d spent some time together, you noticed that he looked a bit tired.
Kneeling down, he reached for your right boot. When you pulled away he frowned, muttering something in his indecipherable language. Instead of persisting, he began unbuckling his own shoes, sighing in relief as his feet came free. Just like the rest of his body, they were enormous and had a light dusting of ruby red hair. He made a point of looking you in the eyes before nodding toward your feet.
Reaching down with your still bound hands, you unlaced your boots on at a time and let them fall to the floor. You hadn’t been doing much walking recently, so they were relatively clean, but you didn’t anticipate liking the smell.
He carried both pairs of shoes outside the main door, locking it upon his return. The lock was at the top of the door and would be almost impossible for you to reach on your own.
Scooping you up once more, he headed for the back of the cabin where another flap of leather separated the main room from a smaller offset. It was humid inside, and you heard the trickle of running water.
Three massive pools filled the majority of the room, steam rising up from each of them. He set you down near the edge, scooping up a hand full of water as if to test the temperature. Looking back at you with a relaxed grin, he began to strip.
You felt all the color drain from your face. Turning away, you convinced yourself it was out of modesty instead of fear. Piece by piece you heard his clothing drop to the floor and you gulped down deep breaths to prevent yourself from panicking.
“Peiter,” he spoke softly, resting a hand on your shoulder.
You tried to pull away, but his firm grip held you in place. He reached under your shirt and began to pull it off over your shoulders.
“Stop!” you tried to shove yourself away violently, but you lost your footing. It had been almost two weeks since you’d been allowed to use your legs, and everything felt a little wobbly.
He caught you, easily spinning you around and ripping off your shirt. You kept your eyes closed as he made short work of your trousers, pulling those off and tossing them aside.
“Shhh…” he lifted you off the ground and slung you over his shoulder. It was embarrassing to feel your bare skin against his, but you knew there was no point in resisting.
He climbed into the nearest pool, letting out a deep sigh as the water made contact with his skin. There must have been a seat carved into the stone, because he reclined back, letting himself soak waist deep in the almost boiling water. From where he had you perched on his shoulder, only your feet dipped into the tub. You had to admit it felt heavenly.
After a couple moments, he reached up and grabbed you around the hips. Slowly, he lowered you down into his lap, letting the water relax you inch by inch. The pool came up almost to your collar bone.
Once you were seated he released one of his hands, opting to run his fingers up the back of your spine with a firm pressure. You felt the stiffness bleed out of you.
“Mhhh,” you placed your hands against him as he discovered and released a particularly stiff knot.
Looking up, you noticed a sultry flame flickering in his eyes. Something brushed against your inner thigh and, since both of his hands were already on your body, you didn’t need to guess what was rising in the water.
You turned your head to the side and bit your lower lip. If he wanted to take his pleasure here, in the innermost sanctum of his home, you didn’t know if it was wise to resist.
Reaching behind you, he grabbed a small cylinder off a carved shelf. Dunking it into the water a couple of times, he brought it up to his chest and massaged it in slow circles. It was soap.
He looked down at you expectantly, placing the bar in your hands. Gulping, you hoped all he wanted was a decent clean.
As they were still lashed together, you had to use both of your hands to scrub him. He watched you, and lifted one arm after the other so you could wash under his pits and around his back. He seemed to enjoy the attention, a fact you tried to stay unconscious of even as his beast swelled beneath you in the water.
You worked your way up his neck and then into his beard. The soap smelled of sage and salt, and easily worked into a lather. You even scrubbed behind his ears in a desperate bid to avoid washing the lower regions of his body.
As if reading your mind, he reached up and took the bar of soap from you. Easily turning you, he began to scrub your back. He explored every inch of your skin with the bar of soap, lingering overlong on your rear. In the sudsy water, he kneaded your flesh with a terrifying hunger.
When he reached your sex he was gentle but direct, scrubbing even as you wiggled uncomfortably. Your legs and feet were next, followed by your arms and head. When he finished, you felt cleaner than you had in weeks.
He kicked his legs up on the other side of the pool and slowly tilted his pelvis forward. Seated with your back to his stomach, you became freshly aware of what was rising out of the deep.
His length crested the water between your legs and continued to rise. It was bulbous and veiny, and you worried about the damage it could do if he decided to use it on you. Taking your hands, he led them down into the water along with the bar of soap. Pulling away only meant snuggling back deeper into his chest. You felt trapped.
He nuzzled his sudsy beard into your shoulder. It was soft and fragrant, somehow making the whole situation seem less dangerous.
Then your hands felt his bullocks. Manipulating your hands with his own, he helped you scrub. His two orbs felt more akin to apples than acorns and you remembered just how much seed he had produced that first night in the tent.
Moving slowly, he helped you work up his shaft until you were almost at the tip. That he didn’t have you wash, instead picking you up and setting you on your feet in the base of the tub. He rose, putting one leg up on the seat and gesturing for you to wash.
Grateful for a momentary reprieve from his appetites, you washed obediently. After dunking his whole body several times, he motioned for you to do the same, clearly wanting to rinse off the excess soap before the bath was over.
After your final dunk, he lifted your wrists and pushed his head between your arms. Lifting your rear, he spread your thighs so that your legs stretched around his waist. You looked up at him fearfully, to beg him not to-
He kissed you, heat radiating off his skin. As his lips pressed into yours you offered no resistance, terrified about what he could do if you upset him. His tongue pushed into your mouth, slipping and sliding with a sultry urgency.
After a moment, he pulled back. With a cocky grin, he pawed at your thighs and said something in his indecipherable language. Pressed together, he lifted you out of the steaming pool and sauntered over to the next.
“Ahhh!” you cried out in shock and pain. The ice cold water stabbed at you with daggers and you instinctively tried to climb Fanngeir’s torso to get away.
He laughed, holding you steady in the water as he knelt. When only your heads were above the frigid liquid as he leaned in for another kiss.
This time you craved the heat. You pulled yourself closer to him, desperate for warmth. Heat was all that was important, and it poured out of him like a fire.
After an eternity of moments, he stood, lifting you both out of the water and back into the steamy air. Your skin looked white and pale, especially next to his swarthy completion. Nuzzling into his shoulder you whimpered, “P-please… I’m s-so cold…”
As if he understood, he carried you over to the final pool, sinking in slowly this time to let you adjust to the water. Mercifully, it was as warm as the first.
“Thank y-you,” teeth chattering, you shivered into his chest.
That was when you felt his cock again. The sensations of the past couple minutes had almost allowed you to forgot about the beast. A fresh wave of terror threatened to overwhelm you.
“No…” Fanngeir ran a tender hand up your side. As he cupped your chin you felt fresh tears begin to stream down your face. “No pain…”
“D-don’t… rape…m-me…” you were sobbing.
The fire in his eyes dimmed by orders of magnitude as he examined your face, “Rape?” he mouthed the word as if it wasn’t familiar.
Reaching behind his neck, he cautiously took your hands in his. Lifting gently, he removed his head from between your arms and helped you close your legs before speaking again.
“Life,” he whispered, placing a hand on your belly. Pulling you into the nook of his shoulder, he kissed your forehead. Something in his tone calmed you… made you feel safe.
You soaked together in the tub until long after your fingers had turned to prunes. The whole time, he ran his hand across your belly. In silence, you let him sooth away your tears. After a long while, he stood, taking you with him.
“Food.” He patted your stomach for a final time before pointing back toward the main room. “Sleep.”
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