HOW GIANTS CEASED TO EXIST
© 1998 Emily Hoffman

Long before any others lived in the mellow hills of southwest Nebraska, there lived giants. I know this to be true, because I know how giants ceased to exist.

Smoke from the morning fire drifted in Agog's nose. The smell tickled him awake and caused him to sneeze himself to a sitting position.

"Cover your mouth when you sneeze, boy. The breakfast stew was nearly blown into the river." Agog's mother shook the stirring spoon at him, speckling the young giant with bits of breakfast.

"Today is the day, Mother!" Agog said, as he stood and walked over to the bubbling food. Towering high, he inhaled deeply.

"Yes. I hope your Uncle Myloc has victory today. Giants should be ahead in the games by now. I'm worried we're not. We must win. You know how grave the games are this year."

"Myloc will win." Agog held his bowl for a filling and waited while his mother ladled in the food. "The small people can't beat a giant." As Agog waited for his mother to finish, his eyes caught a feverfew plant, and his mind traveled to his herb garden back home.

His herb garden made him think of swimming and tree climbing -- pleasant thoughts of a place he might never see again. He missed home. As he was dreaming, he moved the bowl several inches from the ladle.

"Agog, you are so very clumsy. Look at the food you've wasted...and your feet are sure to be burned. Run down to the river and wash off the boiling stew. Hurry!"

"Yes, Mother." Agog stumbled to the riverbank, for it was true that he was clumsy, and washed off his burning feet. He held them under the water until the stinging feeling left. While he sat, he could hear the voices that drifted from the game fields.

"That one is Myloc, shouting at the line judges for their bad call yesterday. That one is Zorom counting..."

"Agog," interrupted his mother. "Who are you talking to? I've got work to do, and here you are talking to the fish. You'll never amount to anything with that soupy mind of yours." She grabbed his oversized red ear and gave it a yank toward the fire. "Now eat! The games will last long, and it might be dark before you get another bite."

"If the games go poorly today, we might not eat at all tonight."

His mother answered him with a swat of her ample hand. "Nice thing to be saying, lad. Don't speak of defeat. When you're at the game field today, all you should think of is victory."

This was the first year Agog was allowed on the game field. A gratifying age, 12, when everyone -- a small person or a giant -- was considered an adult. And, only adults could view the contest.

Agog thought this was a good year to be admitted to the field because the small people had insisted wagering on this year's games. They had grown weary of having giants as neighbors. The giants were loud and messy and smelly, they had said. The giants stole things. These accusations weren't true; it's just what they said.

It was usually just sport; but this year, the winner of the games won much. If the giants lost the games, they had to give up their farms to the small people and move to the desolate land far beyond the hills. If the small people lost, they would become servants of the giants for 50 years.

The giants agreed to the wager, thinking they would win. Hadn't they won the games for the last ten years? But when they'd agreed, they were unaware of the King's whim. This year, instead of just games of strength and endurance, the King had included games of the mind. Here, giants were at a disadvantage.

Agog stood near the edge of the field, staring in admiration at his Uncle Myloc. Today was the final day of the games, and his uncle was the final contestant.

The score was tied, 340 to 340. On the line up for the day were two games of strength and two games of the mind. The first game was the javelin throw.

The small person threw his, and it sank into the earth a few feet hence. Myloc threw his, and it landed so far that it sank into the river that winded at the boundary of the playing fields.

Twenty points for the giants.

Agog watched as things were readied for the next game. The slingshot competition was a sure win, he thought. Spectators were cleared from the field's edge so no one would be injured. The small person threw first, attempting to hit the target laid out on the knobby grass. He miscalculated, letting his rock escape early. The rock torpedoed out of the sling and hit Myloc in the head, wounding him so he was unable to continue with the game.

"Treachery!" screamed the judge for the giants. "That was no accident."

"It was!" yelled the contestant for the small people. "It was an accident."

Agog watched the two judges deliberate. What should be done? The games must continue, but both decided it wouldn't be fair for the small people to allow their contestant to compete against an untrained giant.

Agog listened as the small judge explained procedures. "All male adults on the field will line up for a selection. We will pick, at random, two new contestants for the final games of the day."

Agog thought that sounded fair. He stood off to the side as the men lined up. Then, he heard the voice shout.

"You there, young giant."

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you twelve?"

"Yes, sir," answered Agog.

"Then, get in line. Everyone must line up."

Agog swallowed hard. Line up? Agog looked at his mother. She buried her head in her hands.

Agog blundered over to the line, took a number from the sack, and waited.

He watched as the small person in charge pulled a number from a sack. He yelled, "The ones with 18 written on your piece of bark, please step forward."

Agog watched as a small person stepped forward. He waited, yet no one from the giants presented themselves.

"All giants, check your numbers, please," a voice said.

When Agog checked, he was relieved to discover that his number was 81. He was safe. Still, no one came forward. So, a small one started checking numbers. He stopped at Agog.

The small man grabbed his tree bark and yelled, "Fool. You're holding up the games. Why didn't you step forward?"

"Why should I, sir? My number is 81."

"No, it's eighteen. There's a line under the number, see? Come on."

Agog stood rooted. How could this happen? And, this year of all years. He glanced at his mother, who was pounding the ground and weeping. Agog didn't feel greatly confident.

The first of the final three games was the slingshot throw. Accuracy and skill were required. The small person missed the target, his rock landing in the river.

Agog took the field and swung with timidity, even though this was a game he'd often played with other young giants.

"Bulls-eye," yelled the line judge. "Twenty points for the giants."

Agog's ears filled with encouraging cheers. The giants were cheering HIM! Maybe he could pull this off.

"Games of the mind will now begin. The first game is numbers," said the judge.

Agog's mother groaned, loudly. Every giant was still. The questions were beyond the skill of Agog. Remember? He couldn't even identify 18. He lost the round. The small people gained 20 points. The score stood: Giants - 380, Small people - 360.

The final game of the mind was spelling. Again, Agog's mother groaned. Her yowling unnerved Agog, causing him to spell both words wrong. Another round was lost. The score was now tied.

The sun was headed behind the green hill. It started to cast an orange glow on the company that was assembled on the playing field when the small judge stood.

"The king has decreed that to break a tie, questions must be answered until one contestant wins over another," announced the judge. "We will start with a question to the small person. What is the name of this plant?"

The tall man looked at the plant. A wave of knowing lighted his face. He said, "This plant is a Wort Thistle."

Then, the man smiled and raised his hands over his head. All the small people in the crowd cheered, as if the games were already won.

A plant was presented to Agog. His face split into a grin. "This is a feverfew plant."

The crowd was silent in their disbelief. Was it true? Did Agog really know the plant?

"Correct to both," shouted the judge. Another plant was shown. This time, the small person didn't know the answer. He shook his head in frustration when the time limit was announced. The plant was shown to Agog.

The crowd held its breath.

Agog smelled the plant and looked at it. "This is Dill."

The crowd silently waited.

The judge hung his head and whispered, "Correct."

Frenzy erupted among the giants. Agog was hoisted upon the shoulders of the crowd and paraded around the grounds.

Because Agog was victor, he was the first to choose servants for his family. He walked around the small people and chose. They were imposing, even tall, for small people. The family had five daughters and two sons. Agog was thinking the girls could help his mother with housework. With extra help, maybe she wouldn't be so crabby.

Each giant family chose a small person family then went off to their farms into various regions, spreading from Imperial over to Holdrege.

Those were the last games to be held for years. No one had much of a taste for them, after the wager. The years were hard on the small people; but as giants and small people worked together, they became friends.

The small people came to realize that the giants weren't as bad as they thought. Many of the things they disliked were just usual traits of giants. Before many years had past, the giants and small people learned to love and respect each other and their differences.

Surprising everyone, Agog and one of his servant girls fell in love. It was the first mixed wedding in the region, but soon became the norm. So much so that the giants freed their servants forty years early.

Agog's sons and daughters were a little shorter than he -- a little brighter, but possessing the same tender heart. And, Agog's grandchildren were shorter yet -- smarter yet, but still good at games.

As the generations marched on, giants disappeared at a mellow pace. No one remembers when giants existed because they gradually melted into small people. Indeed, no one today can tell who are the descendants of giants.

But, if you see someone who is extraordinarily tall, good at sports and not so great at math, ask them who their great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great-grandfather was. You never know; maybe it was Agog.