A reluctant conversation

As Patr considered the liquid now dripping off the bar room table a wave a realization passed over him, the giant had been drinking Galadonian Dark. Foul stuff with a consistency not unlike the excrement of a black warg. . .it also contained astronomical amounts of alcohol, certainly enough to liquify a svrifnibli liver in under a minute. But to an exceptionaly large giant, it only succeeded in making an already unintelligent race, much more so. . .that would explain the giggling.

Removing his cloak, Patr felt obliged to address the giant in a somewhat more civil manner.

"Are you purposely trying to damage yourself or do you seriously enjoy drinking that stuff?" He knew his code forbade him from even speaking to giants, but something in him felt a kind of pity for the oversized drunk. And after all, he was a cloud giant, certainly not the worst of his kind.

The giant stopped chuckling long enough to take a good long look at the individual that stood barely above his knees. "Bah," he suddenly spat out, "of course not, but 'twas all they had in stock." He then looked around suspiciously and beckoned Patr to come in close, "Well that. . .that and the filthy goblin wine they actually consider drinkable around here," he gave a disdainful nod at the barkeep, who happened to be a goblin and returned the nod with a sneer.

The giant then tilted back in his chair and Patr's heart inwardly sank and as he realized with a sinking feeling that the giant was about to launch into a tale that he would probably regret listening to.

"Why, back in my homeland, in amongst the craggy mountai. . " the giant then trailed off as Patr slowly held out a weary hand.

"I came to here to have a drink quietly by myself, not be. .entertained. .by an intoxicated giant. Furthermore, I have studied your history at length and I happen to find it an exeedingly tedious narrative which I, at the present time, do not wish to hear any more of. " Depositing his axe into the belt loop which hung at his side he gave a slight nod to the giant and pushed open the bar door into the pelting rain outside.

The beginning of a funny friendship

"Your fly is undone," the Giant said. He spewed his drink over the bar as another bout of laughter wracked his body. He threw his head back and laughed hard, shaking the walls of the tavern and drawing every eye in the place (which, counting the Hovelton twins down from Fair Havens, numbered in the thousands). The svirfnebli eyed him cooly and fingered the hilt of the axe at his belt loop.

"Have you got anything else you want to say?" the svirfnebli said. The combination of his words and stare should have frozen the Cloud Giant's contorted face for three weeks. But the Giant merely waved him off, wiping a stream of tears that had begun to flow from his eyes.

"No, hehe, that was all, haha! Ah, gosh, what a good one! What's your name squirt?"

This last statement deepened the svirfnebli's mood. He jumped down from his stool and snatched the axe into his hands.

"Woah there little guy, don't mind me! I meant no disrespect. You must admit that the fly thing was a regular gizzle-tugger. I mean, three Morstas and a Zambeezo rat couldn't keep a crowd entertained as long on such a simple trick."

Mollified, the svirfnebli swung his axe at the Cloud Giant. As it lodged in the Giant's arm, the creature gave a huge yell, followed by hysterical cackling.

"Ah! You hit my funny bone! Ahahaahah. Take it out squirt! Hurry, it's too much!"

Embarrassed, confused, and more than a little dejected that all of his efforts seemed to be severely ironical, the svirfnebli obeyed the laughing Cloud Giant (who was banging the table with his other hand) and pulled the axe free. After a few minutes of weezing and clutching his enormous chest, the Giant turned to the svirfnebli.

"Thanks! I thought I was done for back there. I'm addicted to laughter, and my doctor says if I'm not careful, I'm going to keel over and die in the middle of a good roar. What's your name squirt?"

the svirfnebli grimiced, but feeling a curious attraction to the magnanimous Giant, he picked his mug up off the floor, ordered another round for the two of them, and started in.

"The name's Patr," he began...

Patr and the Giant

The svirfnebli gazed up at the night stars, yearning. The stars seemed to chuckle back at him. Taunting him. Perhaps daring him to count them. Maybe sympathizing with him.
The svirfnebli fingered the hunting axe at his belt, still stained with the blood of the creature he had killed in obtaining it. He wondered what he should feel about that death. About that light he put out. He felt little. Little but the itch.

He shook his head and walked into the building. The guard looked him over quickly, probably fighting the urge to make a crack about his size, and let him pass. The warrior's guild was a simple place. Basically a tavern with a training room and an entrance into the sewers below Galadon. The svirfnebli was not in the mood to train, so he pulled himself up to the bar and ordered an ale.

A chuckle to his right caught his attention. He looked to see a massive cloud giant, giggling into his own ale.

"Problem?" the svirfnenli asked.
"Nay, nay. There no problem." The giant shook his head and tried hard not to laugh.