There I stood, at the feet of giants, myself measuring no taller than the smallest of their toes, and standing as high in my own shoes as possible. One giant leaned down, only slightly, though the Earth trembled beneath his shifting weight. He peered at me, squinting, as I would to better observe an insect trundling across my boot. A snort. Dismissive. The earth heaved again as he rose. The atmosphere rumbled with his voice.

“I beg your pardon if this offends you,” he began, it seemed to me, in rather gentle tone for a being known to have bellowed up a hurricane, “but you seem mighty small for something which calls itself ‘King of this land and all the land you’ve ever known,’ some small trifle claiming to command us, the Brethren of the Mountains, as his subjects.” Gentle, perhaps, but not without a significant undertone of malice.