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# Giants

Story
The morning mist clung to the hollows as Brunna, daughter of Harloc, set her shoulders against the plow. The earth gave way beneath her strength, black soil rolling in furrows as wide as cart-tracks. Beside her, three halflings walked the length of the field, dropping seed from baskets with practiced rhythm. One sang a planting song, light and quick, and Brunna rumbled a bass line beneath it, her voice rolling like distant thunder.
When the row was finished, she straightened, wiping earth from her brow. The halflings scrambled onto the wagon hitched nearby, already sorting seed for the next stretch. Brunna lifted the yoke herself, dragging the wagon across the field as though it weighed no more than a child’s toy. The halflings laughed, clapping the sides, and she chuckled with them.
At noon, the workers gathered beneath a great oak at the field’s edge. Bread, cheese, and cider were passed around, mugs the size of a halfling’s head filled from a single barrel. Brunna drank deeply, then leaned back against the tree, listening as the halflings argued over which cheese was finest this year. She let them bicker, smiling. Their voices were like birdsong, bright against the steady heartbeat of the land.
In the distance, the Willowfen river gleamed. Wagons would soon bear Ardenvale’s grain to Corvessia, to the Empire beyond. Brunna knew some giants grumbled at the thought, but she cared little. The fields were her world, the soil her companion, the seasons her gods. So long as the land was sown, so long as the harvest came, Ardenvale endured.
As the sun dipped lower, Brunna rose again, lifting the plow with one hand and beckoning her halfling companions. “Come,” she said, her voice like rolling hills. “The day isn’t done, and the earth waits for no one.”
And together they returned to the furrows, great and small, shaping the land in harmony.

Giant pulling a cart loaded with grain

The giants of Ardenvale are living monuments. Standing twice the height of most men, broad as barn doors, they carry their strength with a calm dignity. Their faces are weathered like stone cliffs, with kind eyes set beneath heavy brows, and their hands are large enough to cradle a halfling child as one might hold a kitten. Their clothing is simple but finely made, tunics of homespun wool, cloaks lined with fur in winter, and belts adorned with brass buckles and carved charms.

Despite their size, they move with surprising gentleness. A giant will stoop to enter a halfling cottage, lifting beams with care so as not to snap them. They smile easily and laugh deeply, their voices rolling like thunder across a valley. To see a giant bent over a plow or sitting cross-legged in a halfling tavern is a familiar sight in Ardenvale, where the great and the small live side by side.

## Daily Life

Giants rise with the sun and work until it sinks, their lives woven into the rhythm of the seasons. Their strength makes them the natural tillers of the land: they pull plows where oxen would falter, raise barns in a single day, and carry wagons laden with grain as if they were sacks of flour. Yet they never boast of this. To them, strength is no different from a halfling’s deft hands or sharp eye.

Evenings are for gathering. A giant household is often large enough for both giants and halflings to share, with hearths broad as halls and tables long enough to seat dozens. Giants carve benches in two sizes, brew ale in casks tall as a man, and hang their rafters with herbs, lanterns, and charms. Laughter and song fill these spaces, halfling fiddles weaving with the bass rumble of giants singing old verses.

## Temperament

Giants are renowned for their patience. They weigh their words carefully, considering every side before they speak. Outsiders often mistake this quiet for dullness, but those who live with giants know it as wisdom. Once a giant decides, they do so with absolute certainty, and it is rare for them to be swayed.

They are slow to anger, but their wrath, once kindled, is devastating. Many an invader has learned that while giants prefer peace, they fight like storms. A giant with a club or axe can scatter soldiers as easily as threshing wheat. This memory keeps the Empire wary; the legions know that a war in Ardenvale would be ruinous, for the giants would turn farmland into battlefield, and every barn would become a fortress.

## Values and Virtues

For giants, the highest virtues are honesty, generosity, and hospitality. A giant’s word is as binding as the seasons, to break it is unthinkable. They open their halls to any traveler, offering food, drink, and shelter without question. Theft is rare, violence rarer still, for to steal from a neighbor would be to break trust with the land itself.

Generosity flows as naturally as water. At harvest, giants pile their tables with food not just for their families but for the whole village. At festivals, they bring forth their finest brews and share them with all. In disputes, they favor fairness above pride, often urging reconciliation through shared meals or wagers in games and contests.

## Craft and Skill

Though known for farming, giants are skilled artisans. Their woodcarving is patient and intricate, with beams and doors etched in spirals, animals, and seasonal patterns. As masons, they raise halls, mills, and bridges that endure for centuries. Most famous of all is their brewing.

Giant-brewed ale is legendary across Tir Albireth. Deep, rich, and hearty, it is said to taste of the earth itself. Each village has its secret recipes, guarded fiercely but shared generously at festivals. Brewing contests are common, often lasting for days, with halflings and giants alike judging casks until none can stand straight. The giants claim that Brunnoch, the Winter Brewer, walks among them unseen during these nights, sipping each mug before declaring his favorite.

## Giants in the Council

Six giants sit upon the Council of Twelve, equal in number to the halflings. They rarely speak much, letting the smaller folk debate at length. But when a giant does rise to speak, silence falls, for their words are considered weighty. A single sentence may sway a council more than an hour of halfling arguments. Giants never clamor for leadership, yet their quiet authority gives the council balance.

## Faith and Seasons

Giants follow the same seasonal gods as the halflings, but their devotion is shown in deeds more than words. To plant the fields is to honor Maelis, Spring Maiden. To bring in the grain is to thank Harlorn, Autumn Father. To teach a child to read or build is to praise Syril, Summer Mother. To drink, feast, and rest by the fire is to give thanks to Brunnoch, Winter Brewer.

For giants, these gods are companions, not masters. They are spoken of with fondness, toasted with mugs, and honored with laughter. Festivals are holy days not through solemn prayer, but through community, where halfling and giant alike dance, feast, and remember that life is good.

## Giants and War

Though Ardenvale has long been peaceful, all know the stories of giants in battle. When roused, they fight as if the land itself has risen. Soldiers crumble under the sweep of their clubs. Forts shake when struck by their stones. It is said that one giant can hold a bridge against a hundred men.

The giants take no joy in war. They do not boast of it, nor do they keep trophies. They return to their fields as soon as the danger passes, laying aside weapons like tools after a harvest. Yet the threat of their anger lies at the heart of Ardenvale’s security. The Empire dares not break the peace, knowing how dearly such a war would cost.

## The Spirit of the Giants

In a world of endless strife, the giants of Ardenvale embody another path: strength without cruelty, power without pride, patience without weakness. They live close to the soil, in harmony with halflings, shaping their lives not around conquest or ambition but around the steady rhythm of seasons.

They are not naive. They know the world beyond their fields is harsh and bloody. But they believe that gentleness is not foolishness, and kindness not cowardice. And if the day comes when Ardenvale is truly threatened, the world will remember what it means when the mountains themselves choose to move.

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