Once upon a time there was a Giant. He was a very nice Giant, with a big belly and a bushy beard and a loud rolling laugh that sounded like merry thunder. He had a wife and two strong sons and two clever daughters. But the Giant also had a weakness for clever inventions, and one day in Summer, when he was in town, he spied a new shop.
"Ophthalmologist," said the sign above the door. Well, the Giant knew that any word that long and that hard to say had to be very clever, and so he sat outside the shop next to an old standing stone that had fallen over a hundred years ago. Eventually the shop-keeper came out to him, because of course the Giant was far to tall to fit inside the shop. The shop-keeper had a strange device upon his face, all glittering and golden, and lenses in front of his eyes.
"What do you sell?" asked the Giant of the strange shop-keeper.
"I sell spectacles, good Giant," said the shop-keeper cheerfully.
"And what might they be?" asked the Giant, for he lived in a high house with a crumbling tower, out on the cliffs over distant moors, and had not seen spectacles before – though you and I have seen them and know what they are, of course.
So the shop-keeper explained to the Giant that spectacles held special pieces of glass called lenses in front of your eyes, so that you could see better. And he explained how the lenses were very delicate, and how the frames were made of pure gold and had lots of hinges and pads to make them comfortable.
Of course the Giant, who had a weakness for clever inventions, fell in love with spectacles immediately, and he asked the shop-keeper for a pair.
"First I must test your eyes," said the shop-keeper, "to make sure that you need them."
"Oh, nonsense to that!" the Giant exclaimed, "I want a pair of spectacles, and a pair of spectacles I shall have! Now hurry and make some for me!"
Of course, even though he was a very nice Giant, he was still a very, very big Giant, and when a big Giant insists on something, it is a brave shop-keeper indeed who says, "No." And so the shop-keeper rushed inside and started working on a big, Giant-sized pair of spectacles immediately.
"They will be ready on Thursday," he told the Giant, "and they will be so comfortable that you will never know you are wearing them."
When Thursday came, the Giant returned to town, eager to try on his new spectacles. He sat down next to the old stone and waited for the shop-keeper. The sun shone, and the birds sang, and eventually the shop-keeper came out carrying the largest spectacle-case you ever saw. It was covered in red leather, and the size of a prize-winning salmon.
The Giant took the case from the shop-keeper and paid him handsomely. As he settled the spectacles on his face, the shop-keeper fussed around him, trying to adjust the hinges and lenses and pads so that they were comfortable.
"Leave me alone," chuckled the Giant, delighted at his new spectacles, "I’m sure I can work it out. I’m a very clever Giant, you know."
And without another word, he gathered up his things, and tucked the huge spectacle-case into his waistcoat pocket, and strode off towards the distant moors to show his wife and children.
The Giant’s family were not as impressed by the spectacles as he thought they would be, but they knew that the Giant was happy, and so they said nothing, and only giggled among themselves about how silly he looked. Soon the Giant worked out how to adjust the spectacles, and he wore them night and day. Soon he had forgotten that he was wearing them at all.
Summer passed into Autumn, and Autumn passed into Winter, and through the Yuletide merry-making Winter passed into Spring. The Giant and his family were very busy, for they collected the deep black jet and sparkly golden amber that the Sea washed up at the bottom of the cliffs, which they sold to jewellers. In Spring, the storms threw up the most and the best, and the Giant’s family took turns to comb the beaches at high tide.
One morning, when it was still grey and the Sun was not yet fully up, the Giant was cooking breakfast. As you an imagine, a Giant’s family eat a lot for breakfast, and he was busily frying bacon and scrambling eggs when there was a knock at the door.
"Who can that be?" thought the Giant. "It cannot be my family, for I would have seen then coming up the slippery steep path." He opened the door – and there was his family, with their knapsacks full of jet and amber. The Giant was confused, but he took their bags and fed them breakfast.
The next day, it was the Giant’s turn to go down to the beach with his children. They walked along the line of seaweed that marks the high tide, his sons scaring the seagulls and his daughters peering into rock-pools, looking for mermaids as well as jewels. Then suddenly one of his sons shouted to him from up ahead: "Father! Look what I have found! It’s huge!"
The Giant strode over to his son and looked at the big black stone he was holding. Now, there is a stone that looks similar to jet, but which is worthless, and it is called sea-coal. Where jet is hard and shiny, sea-coal is soft and crumbly, and only shiny when it is wet. It’s quite tricky to tell them apart, unless you have years of practice, like the Giant.
So the Giant took the big stone from his son, and looked at it. The stone was a bit fuzzy, the Giant thought, but it was probably sea-coal, and he told his son this.
"Are you sure, Dad?" asked the Giant’s son.
"I’m a very clever Giant," said the Giant, "Of course I’m sure." And without another word, he threw the stone back into the sea.
When they returned from the beach, the Giant told his wife about the stone. "Oh," she said, "Are you sure it wasn’t jet? A stone that big would fetch a handsome price – enough gold to repair the crumbling tower."
"Of course I’m sure," said the Giant, "I’m a very clever Giant."
And that was the end of it, until the Giant’s daughters came back from school one day a week later.
"Daddy! Daddy! One of the other girls in school had such a lovely new dress today!"
"Oh, really?" asked the Giant, who was trying to read the instructions on a clockwork toaster, "That’s nice."
"But Daddy, she said she got it from her father as a present for finding a huge piece of jet on the beach. And she said it looked just like the piece of sea-coal you threw away."
"What a coincidence," said the Giant, tossing the toaster instructions aside.
That night, a Spring storm rattled the roof-tiles, and in the morning the crumbling tower had collapsed into the sea. The Giant nailed a big tarpaulin cloth over the hole to keep out the wind, but it leaked.
The next morning, walking down the slippery steep path to the beach, the Giant slipped on a stone and fell all the way into the sea. What a splash he made! Furious, he picked seaweed out of his beard as he limped back up to his house. "How could I be so stupid?" he fumed as he slipped and clambered and limped up the path, "How could I be so blind?"
The Giant had twisted his ankle, which – if it has ever happened to you, you will know – hurts a lot. The doctor came to visit, and told him to rest.
"Do not use that ankle for at least a month, Giant, and then only gently. Keep away from the path by the cliffs! Next time, you might not be so lucky, and might break your neck."
So the Giant stayed in his crumbling, leaky house. His wife and children had to go and stay with their Uncle until the house was repaired, but the Giant could not walk, and there were no carts big enough to carry him, so he had to stay.
He was very lonely, and he felt very stupid for throwing away the big piece of jet, and for twisting his ankle. To make matters worse, he could not even read his favourite books, because the words on the pages were all blurry and moved around when he tried to look at them. So the poor Giant sat alone, watching the storms from the one good window, and thinking, "If this sort of thing happens to all Giants, it is no wonder that there are so many stories of nasty ones!"
A whole month passed, and the Giant was sadder than ever. His wife had written to him every Sunday, but he could not read the letters. He sat in his old chair, thinking about how good last summer was, until the fire died in the fireplace and the only light left was moonlight coming through the window.
"Oh, what shall I do?" he sighed, "I do not even know what is wrong, so how can I make it right?"
And just then, Raven alighted on the window-sill.
"Caw!" said Raven.
"Hello, Raven," said the Giant wearily. "Do you know why I am so unhappy?"
"Caw!" said Raven.
Now, not many people can understand Raven, and the Giant was not sure that he did, but it seemed to him that Raven was offering to help. So the Giant pulled himself to his feet, and hobbled across the room (using a walking-stick made from a whole Rowan-tree) to the window.
Raven hopped sideways, as ravens do, his black claws clattering over the old stone window-sill. He fixed the Giant with a beady black eye.
The Giant knew a little about ravens, and about their relatives. For years when he was younger, a colony of rooks had lived in the top of the crumbling tower, until it got too dangerous and they left. He knew that ravens and all their brothers and sisters were a bit like he was; they love shiny, intricate, clever things.
"If you can help me, Raven, I will give you the most wonderful pieces of amber in my collection," he offered, "I would give you jet too, but your feathers and eyes are already so glossy and black that you have no need of it. Do you know somewhere where I might see a solution to my problems?"
Raven tilted his head sideways, and you know what he said: "Caw!"
And Raven looked deep into the Giant’s eyes, until the Giant felt giddy and very strange. And with that, the Giant felt himself transformed into the biggest swan you ever saw. Raven dived off the window-sill and flew into the night, and the swan that was the Giant flew after him. The Giant was scared, and a bit clumsy at first (for he had never been turned into a swan before), but Raven flew slowly enough for him to keep up.
They flew across the bleak moor and up into the mountains, until Raven landed on top of a cold granite tor. The huge stone stuck out of the moor like a big tooth, and on top of it, Raven turned the Giant back to his usual shape. The Giant felt like he was on top of the whole world. He could see for miles and miles.
"Oh ho!" cried the Giant, "Will I find something here that will help? O, thank you, Raven!"
"Caw!" said Raven, watching as the Giant paced around the tor. The Giant lit a lantern and looked around, hoping to find some new gadget that would solve his problems… but there was nothing, only rocks and stones and moss. Then he put out the lantern and looked hard at the horizon, hoping to see something in the distance that would solve his problems… but there was nothing, only the sea, and the forest, and the bleak moor. He sat down on the rocks, and blinked hard to see more clearly, but it didn’t help.
Raven hopped over to him and pecked at the lantern.
"Oh, Raven," sighed the Giant, "If you can help me, I will give you the most wonderful pieces of amber in my collection, and I will have my wife set them in pure gold."
"Caw!" said Raven, taking off and flying down into the forest that grew around the mountians.
"Oh ho!" cried the Giant, "Is there someone in the forest who can help me?"
Again the Giant turned into the biggest swan you ever saw and followed Raven, ducking low through the thick trees. Although he was getting better at flying, his blurry vision made him bump into branches, and he was getting a headache. Finally, Raven alighted in a moonlit clearing.
"Of course!" cried the Giant as Raven changed him back into himself, "This is a faery-ring! The faeries might be able to help me! O, thank you, Raven!" And the Giant searched among the thick grass and the toadstools for the secret entrance to the faery court. But while Raven pecked cheerfully at the discarded buttons and bonnets and beetle-shells, the Giant could not find the entrance; nor could he find anything that would help him.
Eventually he gave up, and sat down heavily on a tree-stump. He took out his wallet, and looked at the blurry picture of his family that he kept there, and was about to cry. He was very, very sad.
Raven pecked at the photograph of the Giant’s family. "Caw!" he said, "Caw! Caw!"
The Giant looked at Raven, and Raven looked at the Giant. Even in the Giant’s fuzzy vision, Raven’s eye was as bright and sharp as a needle. And Raven pecked at the photograph again.
"Very well," said the Giant (who thought that perhaps he could understand what Raven was saying, after all). "If you help me, I will give you the most wonderful pieces of amber in my collection, and I will have my wife set them in pure gold, and you may take one of my daughters with you, so that she can make shiny things for you every day."
"Caw!" said Raven, and there was a mysterious glint in his shiny black eye.
The Giant was very sad at the thought of losing one of his children, for he loved them all very dearly. But without Raven’s help, how would he ever find enough jet and amber to repair his house and bring his family back from their Uncle’s? And besides, everyone knew that Raven took care of his children – although they always turned out a little bit strange, and took to ranting sometimes.
So the Giant agreed to give Raven his eldest daughter, whose name was Holly.
No sooner had he agreed, then Raven flapped his big glossy black wings and flew out of the clearing and into the moonlit night. The Giant had to change quickly and fly after him in a hurry, for fear of losing both Raven and Holly. Above the forest, Raven circled and cawed, leading the way back to the Giant’s house where he landed. As the Giant shook out his feathers, Raven hopped from rock to rock, leading him down the slippery steep path to the beach at the bottom of the cliffs. The Giant nearly slipped and fell many times, and more than once his rowan-tree stick was all that stopped him from tumbling into the sea. Eventually, his ankle hurting and his blurry vision swimming, he reached the bottom, and sat heavily on the sand.
Raven hopped in front of him, pecking at the sand. "Caw!" he cried, "Caw! Caw!"
"Why am I here, Raven?" asked the Giant. "What is there here that is not the forest, or on the moor?"
"Caw!" said Raven, giving the Giant a special look. Then he plunged his black beak into the sand like a dagger, and pulled up something large, and red, and rounded.
"Why, Raven!" exclaimed the Giant, "That is my spectacles-case! It must have fallen out of my waistcoat pocket when I fell down the path for the first time."
Raven dropped the case at the Giant’s feet. It fell open, empty.
"But… if that is my case, then –" and the Giant reached up to his face. Sure enough, there were the spectacles, on the end of his nose. He remembered the words of the shop-keeper, "They will be so comfortable that you will never know you are wearing them," and he realised that for all this time he had been wearing his spectacles.
The Giant took off his spectacles and looked at them. The fine glass lenses were dirty with fingerprints and nose-prints and rain and mud, and the shiny gold frames were dull and scratched. And as he cleaned the lenses on his handkerchief, he felt his eyes relax, and everything became so much clearer that he almost wept for joy.
"I have been wearing these murky old glasses for so long! Silly me!" he laughed.
But then he remembered his deal with Raven.
"Oh Raven, how can I give my daughter to you," he asked, "when you have given me nothing except what I already had? How will I explain it to my family?"
"Caw," said Raven, finally, and he flapped off along the streak of moonlight that danced upon the water.
The Giant felt that while he understood a little of what Raven said, he understood nothing of what Raven thought.
The very next morning, the Giant was repairing the hole in the wall (for he felt much better now that he could see again) when he was surprised by voices from along the cliffs. It was his wife and family – who had written to tell him that they were returning, but of course he had not been able to read their letter.
The Giant’s heart rose as he saw them, and he walked out to meet them, hardly using his stick at all. His family rushed to meet him, and they all hugged at the gate.
That afternoon over tea, the Giant told them about how Raven had helped him, and about the terrible deal he had made. But it turned out that Holly had already been meeting with Raven in the crumbling tower, and was quite old enough to live by herself now. She was, in fact, looking forward to spending some time with Raven. She promised to write, as all good daughters should.
The Giant’s wife, who was much more clever than the Giant, wondered if Raven had been tricking him all along.
Raven returned one sunny day a week later. After they had all said their goodbyes, Raven and rode on Holly’s shoulder as she walked away. As they vanished into the distance, they shimmered just a little, but the Giant could not tell if it was the heat-haze, or if Holly had turned into a raven, or if Raven had turned into a man – or if it was just his eyesight.
Just before they disappeared from view, Raven gave his final statement: "Caw!"
And both the Giant, and Holly, knew what he meant.
To this day, the Giant still carries his spectacles in his waistcoat pocket, as a reminder to himself that even a very clever Giant sometimes needs to listen to others, and as a reminder that whatever he needs – he probably already has it.
And of course Holly writes, every week.
Copyright 1999 Andrew Gates, all rights reserved