Giant sizeshifter somehow able to use its smaller size or pretend to be smaller in some way to convince a tiny to free them from a trap (up to you if they deserved to be trapped ;P)
oooh, amazing prompt.
discduo, 1.9k words
ao3 link
Tommy didn’t go to the forest often, but he wasn’t afraid. He was a very big man who was not afraid of any forests. Wil could tease him all he wanted, but Tommy was not afraid.
And even if he was, who would hold it against him? He was only twelve, and everyone in town knew that strange things lived in the forest. Wilbur scoffed and said they were just stories meant to make problem children like him behave and he ought to stop believing in them. But in the evenings, Techno said to him, quietly, that he should never go into the forest at night, and never follow an unfamiliar light, and never listen if someone calls his name, even his own family. Even if it was Techno’s voice calling him.
Techno had always disclosed advice like this to Tommy in small, scattered lessons throughout his life. Sometimes he taught him how to properly barter in the market; other times, he taught him how to hold a dagger to defend himself against the highwaymen and other thieves that passed through sometimes.
And other times, he taught Tommy about the things in the forest. Things that Wilbur didn’t believe in, and that Phil seemed troubled by.
But Techno’s stories always seemed scarier in the dark. So Tommy hadn’t complained, and had in fact been very brave, when Wilbur asked him to go into the forest and fetch some of the wrinkly cone-shaped mushrooms that had begun sprouting up recently and bring them back for dinner. Wilbur himself usually got them, because he liked the taste the most and wasn’t afraid to go into the forest, but he was busy in town. (He wouldn’t tell Tommy what he was doing in town.) He’d explained that the mushrooms were hard to find and only in season for a month or so, so he needed Tommy to get them now.
So now, Tommy was alone in the forest, tramping through rustling bushes and tangled thickets that pricked him and stuck to his clothes. He had a few mushrooms in his bag, but he’d stopped looking for them a while ago when he noticed that the sun was sinking lower in the sky. It was later in the day now and crisp golden rays slanted through the trees, illuminating him and his surroundings like fire. The sun would set soon.
He stopped in a small clearing of forest floor between the brush and looked around, discreetly catching his breath. He fought down the troubled fear in his chest when he saw that everything looked exactly the same in every direction, just the same as last time he checked. This was fine. He could fix this, find his way back.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Fuck you, Wil. Fuck this. Get your own damn fucking mushrooms next time.” He kicked the leaves beneath his feet. They were too damp to do much besides stick to his boots and slap wetly against each other. Disgusting.
Which way? Which way to go home? Should I follow the sun? Tommy frowned and chewed his lip. The sun always rose over the forest, so it should be setting over his house right now, right?
Tentatively, he began to walk in the direction of the setting sun. It shone in his eyes and blinded him, so he put a hand up above his brow; it didn’t help much. The angle was too steep.
For a few minutes, the only sounds were the crunching on his boots over leaves and sticks and the faint rustling of various nocturnal animals stirring in their dens.
And then, he heard it. A tiny rattling sound, like a child shaking a tin can with a pebble in it. And over with the rattling, tiny sobs rose, quieter yet crystal clear.
Tommy froze in his tracks. Was there a child out here? Maybe lost, or trapped?
He took a tentative step towards where he thought the sound came from. It’s quiet, so it must be far off.
He began to walk in that direction, moving a little faster but taking time to scan the horizon. He was so busy looking that he almost fell off a small rocky outcropping and into the ditch below.
“Oh, fuck!” He managed to land upright and grab the trunk of a sapling on his way down. “Fuck, that could’ve been real bad…”
He didn’t notice that the rattling had stopped until it suddenly came back louder, jangling fiercely under his feet. He jumped away and almost fell over again, tripping over the rocky ground.
On the ground, tucked away from sight by the rock face, was a small hand-knotted net with two dented, rusty bells tied to it—about the right size to trap a rabbit. And inside the net, tangled hopelessly, was a tiny person.
Tommy immediately scrambled backwards. Fear bubbled up in his chest. This couldn’t be—this just couldn’t be good. So many of Techno’s stories were about tiny people. The Fair Folk, he called them. Except they weren’t ever “fair”, or at least Tommy didn’t think so, because they always tricked people and stole their names or their faces or their voices. They were never honest, even though they couldn’t lie, and… and nobody in the stories ever got away from them unscathed.
But then, the tiny thing sobbed again, a pathetic, gasping sound. Tommy, though still terrified, found himself unable to stand up and run away. Not when it was shaking like a leaf and making those horrible, broken sounds.
It shook itself, and the bell rang, that tinny jingling sound from earlier. It was clearly struggling more now than ever, because the bell was ringing so much faster and more frantically than before.
Against his better judgement, Tommy found himself studying the tiny thing.
It had a tail. A tiny, thin tail, with a tufted tip. Like nothing he’d ever seen before. Its feet were also strange—bare, with clawed tips, and stained like they’d been dipped in ink. In some ways, it reminded him of a bird’s clawed foot. It was blond, with choppily-cut hair, and wet tear tracks shone on its tiny face. Freckles fragile as snowflakes dotted its cheeks and shoulders.
Tommy was far too close to the creature. He was leaning towards it on his hands and knees, practically over it. He noticed suddenly that his palms were cold and wet and very uncomfortable.
He went to move back, away from whatever it was.
And then it spoke.
“Please…” its voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. “Please free me,” it begged.
Tommy immediately reached for the net, then hesitated. Why was he… But what if this creature really was one Techno’s Fair Folk? What if it was trying to trick him and steal something of his?
But… it hadn’t asked for his name, or anything else. Techno said they had to ask before stealing anything; they just tricked you into saying it. This one wasn’t asking him to say anything. It only wanted to be freed. So maybe it really was just trapped and scared. Maybe it couldn’t steal anything of his as long as he didn’t say anything to it. He could do that; he could save it without speaking to it, right?
It squirmed in the net, trying to tug it’s arm free from a particularly tiny, twisted section of twine. It whimpered at the chafe and stopped moving. “Please,” it said again, sounding exhausted and broken—so very broken. It hurt to listen to.
Tommy began untangling the net. He worked quickly, but his fingers were clumsy, and he kept messing up sections he’d already untangled. His fingers brushed the tiny thing’s limbs when he had to gently pull it away from the twine.
He gently pulled and tugged it’s limbs free until it was completely untangled. He lifted it up, carefully, in the palm of his hand. He felt tiny claws scratch him like pinpricks. He couldn’t find it in him to care very much.
It was now curled and half-sitting in his palm.
“Thank you, Tommy.” Now that it was free, it didn’t sound scared anymore. It smiled, showing tiny teeth like a predator’s. “You saved my life.”
It stepped off his hand, into empty air, but the ground came up to meet it—no, it came down—its leg was longer, it was bigger, it was growing—a crack echoed through the trees and it was growing. Tommy fell backwards, staring stupidly, as it distorted and stretched and became taller than him, and it just kept going, smiling all the while.
Tommy was paralyzed when a hand, almost the size of his whole entire body, came down over his chest and pinned him in place. He gasped, struggling to breathe, and the hand twitched and tightened just a bit. The weight was crushing.
“What,” he gasped. “What the—”
“Shh,” it said, voice deeper and rumbling. “Don’t struggle, Tommy.”
He never told it his name, did he?
He struggled harder.
“Don’t make this hard, now.” The hand curled around him, claws clicking together behind his back, and oh why hadn’t he cared how sharp they were before? The world tilted and he was lifted up, up, up into the trees, brought to the monster’s face. It was still smiling that awful smile, a self-assured smirk that filled Tommy with rage. Wilbur always made that face when he stole Tommy’s sweets or won Phil’s side in an argument. Tommy kicked his legs out and twisted, spitting out all the words that Phil told him not to say.
“Shhh,” it said again, voice lowering into a soft murmur. “Shhh. Be calm, little one. Be still.”
Horrifyingly, Tommy felt his energy being pulled out of him, gently, like spooling thread from raw wool. His breathing became more laboured as he kicked. His movements slowed. He panted from the exertion before letting his head fall forwards, onto the thumb pinning him in place. The gentle shhhh made his head feel all light and strange. He closed his eyes.
“Good,” it murmured. Tommy felt the ground shift. They were moving, walking. He wanted to look up and see where they were going, needed desperately to know how to get home. But his energy was gone, and his head felt so light and empty.
The woods were getting dark now. The grey, soft light of dusk was falling around them, making everything look even more washed-out and indistinct. They were going deeper into the woods.
The hand was warmer than the chill evening air around him, especially with his clothes damp from crawling around on the ground. Without meaning to, he scrunched up his knees and buried himself further into its grip, until his head was resting against the side of its fingers.
Tommy was sure he’d never escape.
“It’s okay,” the monster said, quietly, as if it knew exactly what he was feeling. “You’ll enjoy the court. Most humans do. You enjoy it too much, even.” The hand shifted around him, and he felt something brush against his curls. “ We’ll take care of you. You won’t want to leave.” It sounded like it was smiling. Tommy hated that smile.
He hated that he already enjoyed the warmth of this giant’s hand; that part of him already didn’t want to leave.