Skyrim! It has existed since the creation of the world. And Skyrim has always had giants. That is the truth. I have studied these lumbering creatures and watched them tend their mammoths. They are peaceful, simple beings. Not all have given in to their battlelust. Not all have given in to the need to explore that drives every Nord I have ever known.

Giants and Nords continue to vie for some of the same territories. Future conflict is inevitable unless we take steps to find peaceful solutions. Giants fall, and Nords die, but I have never seen a giant eat a Nord.

- Kord the Curious, Giants: A Discourse

Madness. Absolute madness.

As Leifr ran towards the farm, it became clear to him just how inadequately he had planned things through. He, a simple farm boy, take on a giant? It had seemed all so simple back at the inn. Now? It was beyond laughable and yet Leifr found his legs pumping forward to take yet another stride; going against all hope and natural instincts of his human nature.

The ground shook the closer he came to the farm and Leifr found himself losing his balance every now and then. He was thankful that he did not fall - for if he had, he was sure that the fear coursing through his body would have locked up his legs forevermore. It was momentum from his earlier courage that was carrying him forwards now - momentum that was rapidly fading with every tremor underneath his feet. As the giant came into view, Leifr realized that he hadn't even come up with a plan to deal with the beast. The only thing he could do now was to pray to the Gods for luck; Leifr would know of their favour in a minute or so.

He skidded to a stop near Lemkil's house - what was left of it, anyway. Up close, the giant seemed to have grown even larger. Splinters of wood brushed past Leifr's face as the remains of the roof were smashed aside by the beast.

The giant hadn't noticed him yet which was fortunate for Leifr – he was too awestruck by the monster to fully react to anything. Standing about the height of three strong men, it stomped through Lemkil's crops with legs which befit a tree more than any humanoid. Thick, leathery skin covered it from head to toe and though many spiral scars decorated the beast, Leifr was sure that the blade that had done the scarification was not of the same make as his iron sword. He readjusted his sword in his sweaty grip, fully aware of how small the blade was. The giant mirrored Leifr and took a breath before leaning on the mass of log and bone that it used as a club. Its face was where most similarities between man and giant could be found – and yet the most differences be found as well.

Its wiry looking hair and beard were brushed back neatly and its facial structure and expression was not unlike that of the old bards that sometimes visited Rorikstead. It held great wisdom in the folds and wrinkles of its face and yet... Leifr had only seen its snarl on dogs and wolves. The giant's teeth were like great white stones grinding into each other and Leifr shuddered to think of its effect on humans.

However, it was the eyes that shattered any illusion of it being a merely large human – no, the eyes were decidedly alien in nature. The pure black irises were ringed by gold and it reminded Leifr of a horses save for the intelligence the giant so obviously held. No animal could hold the hate that the monster seemed to hold. No animal could make the noises the giants substituted for speech - their low moans and grunts were like a crude imitation of a person in pain.

Leifr shook his head, breaking his gaze on the creature. It seemed to be taking a break for now and if he couldn't kill the giant while it was standing still, then there was no chance for him to win anyway. His knees buckled as he tried to run out to face it. Leifr's heart was pounding a harsh and erratic beat against his throat, choking him as much as his fear. His face was flushed and hot while his arms felt clammy and rather distant - as if his own limbs were trying their best to run away from the situation.

"Think of mother, think of mother, think of mother..."

Letting out a strangled shout, Leifr ran foolishly at the giant head-on. It blinked, perhaps stunned by the Nord's recklessness, before swinging the club towards him. However, the split second of hesitation gave Leifr just enough time to dive in between its legs. He blinked out the dirt in his eyes.

"Kyne take you!" He swung the iron blade at a leathery leg -though it was more of a tree trunk than a leg- only to have the weapon jar painfully in his hand. To his dismay, the iron sword had left nothing but a thin scratch on the giant.

"Fuck!"

Leifr frantically rolled to the side, again barely dodging another one of the giants blows. The dirt stung his eyes and made them water. Fighting the giant, he realized, had been an incredibly bad idea. He covered his head and lunged for a nearby wheelbarrow, which he promptly ducked behind. The giant roared and pounded the ground nearby where Leifr had seemingly disappeared. Haystacks and dirt mounds were quickly demolished and Leifr cowered as the debris rained on his head.

With every thump he seemed to grow a little more deaf until the giant's rampage was replaced with a numbing ringing noise. It overwhelmed him, making him see static at times. Leifr crawled away slowly whenever the giant's back was turned - his mother, father, and neighbours all forgotten in the face of his body screaming for preservation of himself. He managed to find himself hiding in a ditch where he lay until the cracking of wood began to sound again.

Leifr poked his head out to see its intent back on destroying Lemkil's farm-house. As sturdy planks gave way to the giant's club, Leifr began to recall his original purpose. He spat on the ground before staggering back to his feet. Even now, both his parents and Lemkil's daughters were nowhere to be seen. The thought of them being crushed underneath the creature's foot powered him and he charged forwards with a fierce battle-cry.

Leifr stabbed forwards with enough force that his face slammed into the giant's leg. This time, the blade bit deep into its flesh causing it to roar and spin around rapidly. The iron sword was wrenched out of Leifr's hands and the sudden momentum caused him to be thrown off his feet.

The good thing was that the giant's attention was now pulled away from the farm-house. The bad thing was that the giant's rage was now focused towards himself. Although the blade was still embedded deep in the giant's ankle, it seemed to do little difference to its health. On the other hand, it actually seemed to increase its anger, something Leifr found out as the giant raised its mighty arm. "Oh-" he breathed out before the club came swinging sideways. Leifr was thrown like a rag doll, smashing into what remained of Lemkil's house.

It was like someone had turned him simultaneously deaf and blind. Leifr could do nothing - not even breathe. He didn't feel any pain - the impact had robbed him of all senses. Was this what death felt like, then? And if not, he thought wryly, he would know soon. After all, the giant was still alive and kicking. He had failed. A single clear thought rose from his jumbled mind - he would be able to see his family in Sovngarde.

He heard a shout, then felt a sudden blast of wind shoot over him before all was black.

"Hey. You alright?"

Drowning. He was drowning. His chest was burning and his lungs heaved for air desperately. Leifr struggled to move his arms, to breach the surface, but they were heavier than millstones. Kicking out wasn't much better - for all he knew, his legs had been cut off. At any rate, there was no feeling there besides the pain in his chest.

Eventually, as time went on Leifr began to feel the warmth returning to his limbs. It was then that he realized that someone was pouring a bitter liquid down his mouth, granting him the strength to move. Moreover, he realized that he was alive. He had survived. Selfish relief soared through his body and he felt himself grow limp in the wreckage.

Leifr's elation soon disappeared as the comfortable numbness gave way to searing pain. "Tssschpcchh!" He spit out the potion, red staining his mouth as he struggled for breath. His chest heaved and his limbs twitched madly as he gasped like a fish.

"It's over. It's over. You're safe now, brother. Try to relax."

Leifr blinked. Once, twice. A figure appeared, his - or was it her? - silhouette shrouded by the sun. "Nnngh." His tongue was too swollen to speak properly but his savior seemed to get the message. They flashed a brilliant smile at him and it somehow warmed his heart as much as the potion did.

"Don't try to speak – let the potion do its work. Don't worry, they'll work. I had… a good friend of mine brew them herself. I think she puts too stock into butterfly wings myself, but once you get past that taste, you'll find out they do the job."

What? Leifr hadn't got a word out of what they were saying. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the fuzziness in his vision. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that told him something was wrong with the picture. There was something he was forgetting, something important. If the stranger knew, they weren't telling - and Leifr's throat was too swollen for him to speak.

"That was a big fight, eh? I'm surprised you're even alive - I think you should count yourself lucky! I mean, I saw that giant hit you. I know what you're feeling."

They clicked their tongue sympathetically and Leifr was strangely reminded of a mother hen.

"Still, giants don't normally act this way. I wonder what set him off? Hmm... oh! Your village is coming. I can see them."

Mralki? The guards?

"They'll be able to take care of you. Here," they pulled out various vials, "you'll need them more than I do." They seemed to hesitate before unbelting a sword and placing it on the ground alongside the potions. Leifr blinked slowly as the world grew slowly back into focus. It was then he remembered his parents, along with Sissel and Britte. As his savior turned to quickly leave, Leifr used all of his remaining energy to grab onto the hem of their cloak.

"...Were there any other survivors?"

They paused, before dipping their head. "I'm sorry. Sovngarde takes care of your friends now… I need to go. Please. Your village, if they saw me, well let's just say that there would be complications." And with that sorrowful note, they were gone - as if they were never there in the first place. Leifr dropped his head back and stared at the sky. It was as he had suspected. He had been too late to save anybody. Unable to stem back the tears any longer, Leifr waited for the villagers to come.

It didn't take long and soon Mralki's concerned face swam into view. "Leifr! Can you hear me? By the Divines, man! You... you did it! The giant is dead!" Disorientated, Leifr groggily got up to his feet, helped by the innkeeper. The shouts of the gathered villagers appraised him. "Leifr!" "By the gods... I can't believe you did it!" "You slayed the giant!" "Giantslayer!" "Leifr the Giantslayer!" Perhaps it was his initial need for adventure or a massive lapse in judgement - either way, Leifr nodded and grunted weakly to the crowd.

"My father... mother? Sissel? Britte?"

Mralki paled, before pointing hastily towards a group of solemn guards removing... pieces from the ruined farmhouse. A bloodied dress tattered under the sheet the guards had valiantly tried to use to cover up the gore. A shuddering weep alerted Leifr to look over his shoulder to find Lemkil draped over the ground. Whether he cried for his farm or his daughter, Leifr did not know. He preferred to think that the man had found the appreciation for his daughters that he seemed to had lost in life.

There was plenty of song that night but Leifr had excused himself early in the night. Mralki had insisted on him staying at the inn and he had been too exhausted to argue. The gentle murmurs and clinking of the cutlery below helped ease him to bed; the familiar sounds almost convinced Leifr that nothing had changed. But the potions and sword that lay beside the nightstand told him otherwise and Leifr knew that it was no good to pretend. That didn't mean he had to dwell on things tonight - with a swig of a bottle, he closed his eyes and let restless sleep overtake him.

This time, he gladly accepted the blackness that blanked out his mind.