Basset Abused

If Basset Gwinnel was a child with any sort of sense he would have dropped dead from a heart attack the moment he awoke cradled in the nail of a giant. Instead he chose to spit in the eye of said giant. The eye stared, unperturbed by such a drop in an ocean. A voice so low that Basset's teeth chattered to it grinded forth from an endless maw.
I have no time to make sport with children. 
Pledge to me undying loyalty and you shall live a prosperous life. 
You shall stand on the shoulders of giants.
When it does not conflict with my will, you shall not know consequences. 
What say you?
“Alrigh' mate, I ain't no nestlebird, and ain't gonna go quiet. Put me back righ' in my bed. Monsters that steal kids get what's comin' to 'em, don't ya know?”
Is that a no?
“Of course it's a no! Was a master carpenter who fit together an ugly and a stupid stick to 'it you with.”
Very well.
Gogmagog curled his hand into a fist, trapping Basset in a cavern of nail and flesh.
Gogmagog ran down the Giant's Causeway. He did not slow where it met the sea. Where his feet would touch water, there were more steps. Less ill kept than the haphazard ones behind him. Each bound had the world fade away a bit more, replaced with a grand road. Each block of it quarried from a single mountain. Others traveled this road, big or small, Gogmagog stepped over them. Gogmagog strode into the barren wasteland he called home. Sharp mountains pierce the sky and water trickles down them from the holes. Sometimes the mountains fight. What for? Who knows. They need no food nor space. But the quakes from their bouts are ever present. From wounds in the mountains stream lava. Where lava and water meet, violence occurs. At the end of their struggle, both have lost, the water burned away and the lava twisted into another sharp rocky spire. The waters that make it to the base feed into dead grey marshes, where bits and bones breach the surface with a contrasting white. The moon sits heavy in the sky, casting a baleful red light. Plants do not grow here, they struggle to survive, eeking out a parody of a biome. All about the sharp crags and chasms laze giants of all shapes and sizes, none roused by the fall of a mountain in the East. A handful show any kind of industriousness, working volcanic forges to produce arms and armor that could bridge canyons. Gogmagog could feel the weight of their attention descend upon him. All noticed his arrival, whether they slept or not. These brutes call him Chief. They follow his lead. They followed his Exodus from Albion and coveted it as much as he. Yet each of them could smell the blood oozing from his chest. The being that had struck him was easy enough for him to kill, but it had pierced him to the heart with its first attack. From the lack of action on their parts, Gogmagog knew that none of them thought the wound near sufficient to challenge him. He still had arms, for one. 
But Gogmagog did not feel the need to let them dwell on the fact that he could bleed at all. Uncurling his fist he presented a small angry boy cradled in the scoop of his nail to the nearest giants. Their nostrils flared and even those with two or more heads have him their full focused attention.
I have brought a conundrum.
It smells of courage, hope, and overcoming adversity. 
It smells of the Mitely Order of Gnats. 
Yet here in my nail is a human bean. 
Do not kill it. Do not eat it. 
Any who does so I shall eat then kill. 
I will be back for it later.
Tatty Bogle called out with both heads from the crevice he spent his days lurking in. 
And what of the Knights? Will they not rescue their brother in a spectacular and unpredictable fashion? They would not be able to resist striking into the heart of our power when tempted so.
Gogmagog turned over his nail and let the child fall and fall until he hit the ground with a sickening thud.
No. It's tale is malnourished. 
No one of import knows to look for it.
It is part of our family now, so we must mold and shape it. 
We have all the time we need. 
Teach it to beware monsters. Teach it there is nothing worse than telling a monster no. 
Gogmagog turned and left. Giants crept out of crag, hole, and mountain top, gathering around a boy who was very small, very hurt, and very alone.
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In a sleepy clock shop in Cornwall the clocks all struck one. A sleepy mouse called for its mother once, twice, thrice, and hearing no answer ran down the clock. It's mother was not home. Her carpet bag was in the fire place, her collection of rat skulls all pointed north, her shopping cart was overturned, and the eggs in her nest were all cracked. Bad omens all, except possibly the rat skulls. The mouse did not know how to read skulls. Digory Dock sat in the shop of clocks feeling very small, very scared, and very alone.
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There are few traits shared by all giants. In fact there is only one trait shared by giants. They are taller than a tall man. However, many traits are quite common among giants. Some turn to stone when they die or when exposed to sunlight. Some are habitually nocturnal. Some are dim witted. Some are clumsy. Basset learned that daylight was his friend, that caves are the best place to sleep, to avoid caves that look like faces, and to yell if he wanted the giants to even notice his attempts to confuse them. 
His favorite days were when giant raiders brought back cows or goats, for he would steal as much milk as he could in the hope that he would grow big and strong as soon as possible. His least favorite days were when the largest giants went on raids collectively. Then the smaller giants come out. The smaller giants are infinitely more cruel. 'Shit rolls downhill.' as a vague kindly bearded figure in Basset's memories would say. The smaller giants are always eager to vent their spite and anger on something less powerful than them, as the larger giants do to them. Worse, the smallest and cruelest of the giants were much more capable of following and reaching Basset wherever he hid. Basset did his best to become a master of inserting sharp objects under the fingernails of grasping giant hands. He considered the malice of the retributive beatings well worth it. 
The giants, overly proud of their wit, would step on Basset and affectionately refer to him as Toe Jam. Basset, more deserving of the pride in his wit, took to jamming their toes with boulders, mallets, femurs, or even other giants when properly convoluted and slapstick events unfolded just right. This was a time of strife and of barbaric delight for Basset. He took joy in teasing giants and foiling their clumsy attempts to catch him. The giants took joy in breaking his bones. But they all knew the line that Gogmagog had set, which made Basset more reckless than wise. 
And then Gogmagog returned for Basset.
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Fear is your friend.
The rumble of the words filled Basset's bones, vibrating them against the clamps that held him.
Shrink away into yourself. 
Gogmagog turned the wheel and the clamps squeezed tighter. Basset bit his tongue.
The pain will stop, you have my word. 
You simply need flee from it.
The face of Gogmagog filled Basset's field of vision.
Accede, and in submission, find freedom.
Basset grinned with blood stained teeth and spat into the giant's face. “Alrigh', come a wee bit closer and give me a chance ta piss in your eye, if ye'd be so kind, mate.”
Gogmagog smiled back, with tomb stone teeth.
Very well.
There is more than one way to pare you down to size.
With each click of the wheel the space available for Basset to fill shrank away. With each click his bones ground together in protest.
I like you child. 
I will be disappointed when your spirit breaks.
Basset, ever contemptuous and defiant, found it difficult to reply with no room in his lungs for air.
It took many sessions over many months, and little food, for Basset to be pressed into a form small enough to meet with Gogmagog's satisfaction, and only just barely that, thanks due to a bent and twisted back.
That accomplished, Basset was placed in a bird cage and given as much to eat as he liked. A prospect that worried him as he'd seen the giants fatten up many a child before eating them. With each meal Basset gained a bit of height back, eventually being transferred to a large gibbet. Inch by inch he grew. He never again reached his full height, due to his curved spine.
Gogmagog's eyes peered into Basset's cage, well away from whatever Basset might want to toss into it this time. 
I was worried this would happen. 
It will require constant maintenance to keep you Mite sized.
I advise you to be afraid, child.
It will save us both much trouble.
"I ain't dead yet, which means I ain't never gonna die here. A reckonin' is comin'. I remember your story now. Dashed into bloody bits on sharp rocks. S'gonna 'appen 'gain, jus' you wait."
Gogmagog's long nail flicked open the cage and scooped Basset out to drop him to the floor below. With years of practice, Basset landed much better than his first fall. 
Go find the shortest of us. 
Learn from him how to lie, grovel, and sneak.
To bare belly and accept your fate.
To ware those with power over you.
Go. Do not run or hide, I have the scent of your blood.
So, Basset ran and hid. Was found and tortured. 
This was repeated ad nauseam until Gogmagog informed Basset he only needed one eye and one hand.
So, Basset cowed, went in search of Tatty Bogle.
Into the wasteland ventured Basset. The first order of business: to find a high point. The trick to that is finding a mountain, of which there are many, that is not awake and/or a giant. Which there are few. Basset was always fond of climbing, so his current lifestyle of high places and dangers has worked out well for him in that case. He could be under the sea, after all. Now that would be awful.
Halfway up the mountain Basset spotted what he needed. The thickest, lushest, and sickest patch of plant life. He waited and watched for several hours. Once satisfied that no bird ventured near such a tempting piece of land, he began his descent. At least one forge was on the way there, and he'd yet to see a smith who didn't keep extra cows on hand for a snack. Once at the forge Basset was glad to find at least one of the cows produced milk. The forge was quiet, meaning the smith was likely drunk, for if he was sleeping his snores would blow the roof off. Availing his thirst, and a bit of his hunger, Basset went up to the nearest steer. The legs looked alright, and it seemed to have some strength, so it would do. 
It was a spot of trouble to get it going, but soon the steer was charging off across the plains, with Basset holding on very firmly and steering it by its horns. It took several hours, and several jabs with a sharp flint, to ride all the way to the fetid garden. The closer they got, the more Basset's stomach filled with cold dread. Tatty Bogle was mean and imaginative. Gogmagog speaks with strength and authority, and tortures much the same, which Basset had gotten used to. Basset could never get used to Tatty Bogle. Basset had often seen Tatty Bogle shriek and flee in fear of Gogmagog. Basset took no joy in that, because soon after those events, Tatty Bogle invariably flew into a rage and found someone to take it out on. Basset is usually the most convenient choice. 
Basset likes both of his hands and both of his eyes, so into the field of rot he plunges. Several yards in he gives the steer a final jab then rolls off into the underbrush with much scraping of skin and bumping of noggin. He sits up and watches the steer ford a path through the weeds. From a large hillock an arm longer than Basset is tall snakes out and grabs the steer by a foreleg. With a sickening crack the leg snaps and the steer tumbles head over heels. It lays on the ground, its chest expanding with labored breathing, and bellowing in pain. Its eyes rolled in their sockets. A second arm reaches out and grabs the steer by the neck and begins pulling it off the impromptu trail. From the hillock come sounds of eating and of a raspy voice.
“Who's out there?”
Basset dusted himself off and stood. “Alrigh', it's me Basset. Gogmagog sent me. And I though' I'd bring ya a gift, mate, while I was out and about.”
A pause, then continued sounds of eating and a more nasally voice. “A gift? A way of learnin' where I've squirreled meself away, more like. The clever little shite you are.”
“Not clever enough by half, accordin' ta our glorious chieftain. He wants me ta tutor under ya. Learn yer tricks and yer trade.”
“Oh, izzat so?” I'm far more tempted to teach you what the inside of a stomach looks like. What exactly did Gogmagog say?”
“He wants you ta teach me ta be better at hidin' myself and lyin', and he wants me ta feel small.”
Basset could hear Tatty Bogle sniffing at the air, and then the raspy voice spoke. “I said exactly. A half-truth stinks the same as a lie.” So Basset told him.”Gogmagog wants I, Tatty Bogle, the 'shortest of us' to teach you to 'bare belly and accept your fate?' As if I have great knowledge of baring me belly. As if others have power over me. As if you'll learn to become a runt by emulating the best at it?!”
Basset gave a sour face. “I ain't wantin' to learn to become a nestlebird. I'm 'ere because I 'ave to be.”
 
Tatty Bogle dragged himself out from the undergrowth, long fingers pulling himself across the ground until both of his faces were blowing rancid hot breath into Basset's face. “You're a vile creature, Basset. Me toes are all broke because of your tricks. I was just now plotting to seal you up in the stomach of a cow and trick someone into eating you. Even if I were allowed to eat you meself, me stomach would certainly recoil and burst from the indigestion. But.” The nasally head took over talking. “We both hate a certain someone. Maybe you hate this someone less than me, considering our relationship, but I'm not the one keeping you here. I'm not the one that brought you here. I will lower myself and make a deal with you. Does this interest you?”
Basset ground his teeth. “I'll give ya a listen. But I ain't swearin' anythin' 'til I hear the terms.”
Back to the raspy voice. “I will teach you to 'lie and sneak.' I will teach you some caution. But I will not teach you to grovel and accept your fate. Do not thank me for that, there is a catch. He will beat us both severely when you fail in those aspects. And I will test how poorly you follow them, I will try and break you, and kill you to see if you learn them, because if you pick up these habits you will be useless to me. If you are capable of learning these habits, you are useless to me. For I will teach you many things he does not wish you to know, and you will never use them if you become a mewling beaten puppy begging for approval. So, choose. Do you despise me more than anything? Or do you still have some faint glimmer of hope for the what the future might hold?”
Basset sat down upon the ground and thought. Tatty Bogle waited with bated breath. The moon had knocked the peaks off three mountains by the time he looked back up, to see Tatty Bogle still staring at him. Basset didn't believe the giant had blinked once. “I accept.”
To be continued
Category:Fiction