I blink, uncertain whether I understood her correctly. She has been waiting for me? I look to Delkash and raise an eyebrow.

He shakes his head. Not me.

Turning back to Tanua, I hesitate, uncertain. Her face is enormous—my outstretched hands would barely reach from one temple to the other—and uncomfortably close. Her eyes are dark brown, and each as large as my entire head. I can smell her breath—exotic and not-unpleasant, almost floral somehow.

“I—“ I swallow. “Did you say, you’ve been waiting for me?”

She smiles. “I did.”

“And…do you mean, waiting for me, specifically?”

She laughs and sits back with her legs crossed, settling her enormous cloak around her. The ground shakes as she gets comfortable. “If you are asking whether I knew your name before you told it to me, then no, not you specifically. The tale is long; do you have time?”

I feel encouraged by her good humor, and feel inclined to let her keep talking. I set my pack down beside me and find a moss-covered stone to sit on. “We do,” I say. “We’ve been traveling for many days; I cannot speak for my companion—“ I gesture toward Delkash, “—but I would welcome a chance to sit and listen to this story.”

Tanua nods, and begins.

The tale is a long one, indeed, and she tells it well. Her voice is low, and she speaks with a melodic cadence entirely unlike what I had imagined from the stories I’d heard of giants. I find myself drawn into her story.

Hundreds of years ago, another giant once dwelled in this valley, she says, an ancient giantess named Gryick. She was a gentle, wise soul who rarely left the compound here. Tanua was younger in those days, and impetuous, eager to prove her skill in the wilderness, and when she discovered Gryick, she immediately sought to demonstrate how “wise” she was, herself.

Tanua laughs at the memory, and describes how Gryick took her for a walk through the valley. They stopped at this herb, and that bush, and this tree, and each time Tanua proudly described what the plant was called, and what it could be used for. Gryick would nod and continue. Tanua would point out animals and name them, describe how they lived, whether they could be domesticated or not, and what an individual might learn by observing these beasts’ behaviors. The walk lasted nearly all that day.

When they finished, Tanua says, they stood in this very place, and Gryick complimented Tanua on her knowledge of wilderness lore. Then, almost as an aside, Gryick tilted her head and asked, “How many of us went on that walk, just now?”

Tanua was confused, but answered, “Two. You, and I.”

Gryick tapped her lips and nodded in thought. “Can you prove it?”

Tanua tells us that she felt angry, at first, as if Gryick were mocking her. She turned around, ready to point at the foot prints in the gentle clay to show where they had started off together, but when she looked, there was only one pair of prints: her own. She continued down the path they had taken, following her memory and also her own tracks, looking everywhere for any sign of Gryick’s passage.

She came back to Gryick just as the sun was setting, defeated and humbled. She had no doubt that Gryick had accompanied her on the walk, but she’d been unable to find any hint of the older giant’s presence on the trail. Somehow, she had left no footprint, bent no blade of grass, broken no twig. It was, Tanua tells us, as if she’d taken the walk by herself, though she knew she had not.

From that day, Tanua apprenticed herself to Gryick, and truly began to learn the ways of the natural world. Later, after Gryick was gone, Tanua set herself the task of watching over this valley, and protecting it from harm. She has considered it a holy, sacred place, dedicated to the memory of Gryick and her gentle wisdom.

“Also,” says Tanua, “there was something Gryick told me, just days before she died. She took me into this building here—“ she gestured behind herself at the ruin where she’d been waiting, “—and showed me a pond of water. I knew it was special; Gryick used it for many rituals and ceremonies. But she said there was, somewhere in the world, an evil object that must someday be brought here, and dipped into the pond, after which it would become a great boon to the giants.

“She said that there would come a day when a young man would come to the valley, traveling from the south. His head, Gryick told me, would be smooth, like an egg, and he would carry the sign of wisdom on his shoulder.”

I touched my hand to my bald head, and was conscious of Rigi’s weight on my left shoulder. “How did she know?” I ask.

Tanua shrugs. “Gryick knew many, many things. She was exceptionally skilled in the magics of this land. I suspect she even knew of me, before I came to her, though she never told me so.”

“What did she say I would do?”

“She said that you would know where to find this object, this tainted thing.”

I frown, thinking. “I’m afraid I must disappoint you, Tanua. I have no idea what she is talking about.”

“She said you would say that, too.” Tanua smiles. “But she also said that your own quest would align with this one, and that when you find the object of your search, the reason for which you come seeking the sacred waters of Gryick, that you would also find the object that she spoke of.”

I nod. “I would be happy to bring whatever I find back to you, if you will let me have some of this water you mentioned. What should I be looking for?”

Tanua nods her head in acknowledgement. “It is a ring, a narrow band of iron of sufficient size to fit a giant’s finger.” She shows her hand, and I realize that I could probably fit my whole head through such a ring. And iron? It would be heavy. “You will need to prepare yourself first,” she continues, “for the waters reject the prideful, but I will help you. For now, feel free to make camp anywhere here, except in the building behind me. You will find plenty of forage here, and even small game to hunt. Rest, and make yourself ready for tomorrow.”