Part 3
As soon as Nimue left the ceremonial hall and entered her private quarters, the League waited for the opportune moment to escape. Once she laid down upon a richly embroidered couch to rest from her journey, the little folk stealthily climbed out of her pockets. Tom had little trouble leaping down to the floor but Thumbelina and Issun-boshi, who were in the left pocket facing the back of the couch, found themselves trapped between Nimue’s hip and a towering wall of cushion. They could either attempt to climb up and over the couch itself or make their way across Nimue’s body to join Tom on the other side.
This second option was the fastest but also the most perilous. When they were certain Nimue’s head was leaning back and that her eyes were not upon them, ‘Lina and Issun crawled carefully up the side of her thigh. Even their light footsteps would surely notify her of their presence so they dared not go further. ‘Lina quickly depressed a button on the harness she wore, releasing a pair of translucent artificial wings from their casing. This gift of her husband, the faerie prince Cornelius, had served her well and it seemed it would save her teammates’ lives again.
The three-inch-tall beauty scooped the inch-tall Issun into her arms like a small child and took off. She swooped away from Nimue’s body quickly before the priestess could realize anything was amiss.
Nimue caught the movement in her peripheral vision and turned slightly. “Sister,” she called to a young priestess-in-training who had been assigned to attend to her. “Please shut the door. I think we’ve let in some insects.”
While the young girl fulfilled this request, ‘Lina swooped over the ground, grabbed Tom by the arm, and dragged both he and Issun with her into a mouse hole as sanctuary.
“We have to stop her,” Tom cried out as they landed. “She means to kill Merlin!”
“You were right,” ‘Lina acknowledged. “Nimue is not to be trusted. I don’t understand it though. Merlin is of the blood of Avalon, a master of the druid arts. Why would they seek to kill one of their own?”
“I don’t know,” said Tom. “And those accusations—a great disaster, Merlin manipulating the kingdom for his own gain—I just can’t believe it! It can’t be true!”
“And if it is?” Issun said softly. This caught the others by surprise.
“If Lord Merlin is truly responsible for these crimes,” Issun continued, “what then?”
Tom hesitated, his face lined by conflicting emotions. Merlin’s spells had given him life. Though Tom had been raised by a human couple, the old magician was a second father to him and he owed him much. The entire League did.
“If it’s true…then he will face justice in Arthur’s new civilized court system,” Tom concluded reluctantly. “Judged by a jury of his peers, not slain outright like a common brigand. We cannot allow Nimue to harm him.”
“Perhaps it won’t come to that,” ‘Lina reasoned. “Perhaps Merlin has foreseen this in his visions.”
“And yet still took her to his bed?” said Tom. “You heard her. She knows his arts. She could be blocking his powers with her own. We can’t take the risk, my friends. We must act now.”
* * * *
The team soon regrouped with Hop and Thumbling and brought them up to speed on the situation. Obviously, the League could not hope to overpower Nimue. At their size, normal humans appeared nearly a hundred feet tall and easily outmatched them in strength. And Nimue was a more dangerous foe than most with her mystical training. The best they could hope for would be to waylay her somehow then race back to Camelot with Hop’s seven-league boots to warn their mentor. Granted, the boots would return them to the city faster than any horse could bear Nimue but they couldn’t risk her using magic to speed her journey.
Nimue slept soundly that night, weary from riding all day. The League considered simply leaving then and there but traveling the roads by darkness was perilous for normal folk, to say nothing of those small enough to be prey for owls, bats, or other night creatures. They would have to wait for morning and find a way to keep the priestess from following.
As first light began to appear on the horizon, the League stole into Nimue’s room bearing several lengths of rope they had procured from Avalon’s storerooms. Quiet as the grave, they scaled the sheets of the bed and stood in the shadow of the young Lady of the Lake, who now seemed a curvaceous landscape. The flimsy white nightgown she wore gave the appearance of a snowfall on the rolling hills and slopes of her form. To one side was her massive torso, the distant hills of her chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm. To the other, her long shapely legs seemed to extend for miles. In the distance, her upturned feet stood taller than any member of the League, forming literal foot-hills at the base of this mountain of a woman. Though somewhat daunted by the sight of their enormous foe, the League set about their task.
Their goal was to tie her down like a sleeping giant in the tales of old. They only questioned how to go about it. Just as before, with the escape from the pocket, they knew that to climb across that gigantic body was a risky venture. Even a sound sleeper might be disturbed by numerous tiny feet padding across one’s skin. And Nimue’s curves offered several perilous peaks and valleys that could prove difficult to navigate.
For safety’s sake, they tried to make as little actual contact with Nimue as possible. Thumbelina flew back and forth over the woman’s body, dragging the ropes into position. Hop transported himself from one side of Nimue to the other, pulling his ropes across her faster than the naked eye. On either side, Tom, Thumbling, and Issun drove tiny “stakes” (actually mere nails) through the ropes and into the mattress to ensure that their giant captive would be properly bound to the spot.
They secured every possible moving part—her hands, arms, legs, feet, hips, and torso were all bound by the ropes. Smaller strings were used to tie up each individual finger and toe, as even these small extremities could be used as deadly weapons against the tiny League. Their work completed, the five little figures surveyed the scene and cast nervous looks at their slumbering prisoner.
‘Lina flitted over towards Nimue’s head and hovered just above her chin. She floated there pensively and stared at the priestess’ mouth. The tiny woman’s hair and gown were ruffled by the slow yet powerful breaths rising from below.
“We’ll have to gag her,” ‘Lina whispered. “Can’t have her calling out for help before we make our escape. One of you, go find a strip of cloth or a kerchief.”
“Oh yes?” Thumbling answered quietly. “And who will be the unlucky sod who has to risk his neck to slip a gag between her lips?”
“I have already been devoured once,” Issun-boshi remarked. “I should like not to repeat the experience.”
“I imagine it’s quite dreadful,” a familiar voice said. Nimue, now fully awake, was staring straight at them. Before the team could react, she pursed her lips and sucked in a deep breath of air. Instantly, ‘Lina was pulled by this sudden vacuum and drawn headfirst into Nimue’s mouth. Her tiny skirt-clad legs could be seen kicking furiously between the enchantress’ lips.
Tom, Hop, Issun, and Thumbling leaped into action, each drawing tiny swords the size of (and in some cases, formed from) sewing needles. They clambered up onto Nimue’s body and aimed their swords at veins and vital organs. Some of the little folk stood near top of her breasts, preparing to stab through that soft flesh to reach her heart. Others perched uneasily on her neck, holding their blades to her jugular. “Release her!” Tom ordered.
“Unh uh,” Nimue mumbled through her mouthful. She sucked in again and Thumbelina’s legs disappeared with a wet slurp. Nimue closed her lips, trapping the tiny girl within. Manipulating the writhing little lady with her tongue, the sorceress shifted her into her cheek so that she could speak somewhat intelligibly, though her words were still rather garbled. “Not until you explain yourselves.”
“We know your plans for Lord Merlin,” Issun said calmly, brandishing his miniature katana on the vast expanse of the priestess’ chest. “We cannot allow this.”
“I see,” said Nimue. “I wonder if you would still defend him if you knew what he really is. How much of the sorrow descending on this kingdom he is responsible for. Now please untie me.”
“What if we refuse?” Tom asked.
“Then I will be forced to swallow poor little Thumbelina,” the priestess told him. Within her mouth, the little woman’s furious kicking became more agitated. Nimue closed her eyes and sighed, clearly distressed. “Believe me, little ones, I don’t want it to come to that. I don’t wish to be a monster like Avalon’s fallen sister, Morgan. But you leave me no other bargaining chips.”
The normally jovial Thumbling had become deadly serious and stared Nimue down with rage in his eyes. “You hurt ‘Lina, witch, and we’ll slit your wrists and leave you to bleed out right here.” He jumped down to her arm with his needle-sword poised and ready.
“A bitter shame,” Hop said, joining Thumbling in an instant with his own sword in a similar position. “Zey are such pretty wrists.”
“Then it seems we are at an impasse,” Nimue stated. The next few seconds were tense ones, as the opponents regarded each other. The League watched Nimue’s throat with fear, looking for the dreadful bob that would indicate their beloved ‘Lina had been consumed. ‘Lina felt about in the wet darkness of Nimue’s mouth, seeking handhold on a tooth or some way to prevent herself from being gulped down. She could feel the massive tongue lifting and sensed her body starting to slip slowly backwards in the slick film of saliva. As she approached the precipice of the giant throat, she muttered quietly, her voice echoing in the fleshy tunnel below.
“Farewell, Cornelius,” she said to her husband. “I would have liked to see you one more time. But know this, my love. I will give this bitch indigestion like she’s never known!”
A moment later, however, the path of her journey reversed itself. Nimue leaned her head forward and spat out Thumbelina with all her might, hocking her like a loogie across the room. As the League turned in surprise, Nimue quickly recited a spell in the Old Brythonic language. Instantly, the nails holding down the ropes answered her command and shot out of the bed, hovering in the air for a split second before collapsing lifeless again.
The High Priestess of Avalon sat up quite suddenly, sending the tiny men flying off her body. She cast off the ropes with a few flicks of her hands, telekinetically lifting them away as she had done with the nails. Below her, the League members lay scattered across the bedspread. By chance, Tom had not been thrown as far as the others and found himself in the gap between the priestess’ thighs. Unable to climb to freedom, he started scrambling down the bed along the length of her legs, hoping to escape between her feet.
“Oh no you don’t,” she hissed and slammed her legs together. Tom was trapped between the soft yet overwhelming weight of her thighs. Nimue had not applied enough pressure to crush him but it was clear that he was going nowhere.
As this drama played out, the others had leaped to the floor and rushed to Thumbelina’s side. The tiny princess was soaked through with saliva, her matted hair and dress hanging like dead weight and strings of spittle dangling from her arms. She was shaking with fear and aching from the fall but otherwise seemed intact.
“Ewww,” she groaned, flicking spit off of her hands.
“You all right, ‘Lina?” Thumbling said as he ran to her.
“Fine. Though I’ve looked better,” she muttered. “Where’s Tom?”
The others looked around and saw Nimue open her legs and hoist Tom up to eye level.
“I’ll get him,” Hop announced. “Ze rest of you make for ze door. We shall join you shortly.”
“You’d better, pal,” ‘Ling said ruefully. “You’re our ticket outta here.”
Nimue pulled her legs out of the bed and stood up, causing the ground to rumble as her feet touched down. The little people staggered slightly but began to dash for the outside.
“Come back here!” she cried. “You’re not leaving this island!”
Her strides were simply too long and they could see those massive, pretty feet gaining on them. The enchantress bent down and tried to grab a handful of the fleeing thumblings. They kept just ahead of her but felt a breeze as her huge hand swept past the backs of their necks, barely missing them. Frustrated, Nimue uttered the first few syllables of the spell she’d used on the ropes, clearly intending to stop the escaping little folk with magic.
Just then, Hop appeared on her shoulder, catching her by surprise. “Bonjour,” he said cheerfully before vanishing again. He popped up this time atop her head. Nimue reached out to grab him but he was gone once more. Now, he was suddenly standing on her breast. As she reached down, he jumped out into open air before disappearing again. Next, she felt something pinch her bottom and quickly spun a hand around to retrieve him. But Hop was gone again, far too fast for her. He appeared on her nose, balancing precariously, and leaned towards her eye to give her a mischievous wink. She tried to grab him again but only succeeded in slapping her own face.
Hop transported himself down to Nimue’s hand where Tom was being held tightly. The little Gaulish hero clung to the side of the appendage and gave Tom a self-assured smile.
“Watch zis next trick,” he told him. “Zis will really throw her!”
“Hop!” Tom declared angrily. “Quit showboating and get me out of here!” But Hop was gone again.
A moment later, Nimue felt a curious weight appear inside her mouth. She could feel the little man thrashing about, tickling her tongue and kicking her in the teeth and palate. She prepared to spit him out but Hop took hold of her tongue and began to wrestle it. The slick muscle whipped him about like a bucking stallion but Hop refused to let go. Back and forth and up and down he rode it around the interior of her mouth, whooping and hollering in defiance.
“You would threaten and nearly devour Madame Thumbelina?” he called to her. “Very well, cherie. Let’s see how you like a morsel that bites back!”
Hop drew his sword and stabbed it into the surface of Nimue’s tongue. As she cried out in pain, the little man emerged from her mouth, laughing with wild abandon. Blood trickled from the corner of Nimue’s lips and she was too stunned to react when Hop disappeared, pulled Tom from her grasp, and vanished with him out of the room.
Hop and Tom reappeared out in the grass beside their teammates. “Are you crazy?!” Tom yelled at his reckless savior.
“Like a fox,” Hop said, grinning.
“What if she hadn’t opened her mouth?!” Tom asked.
“Zhen I would see you in Hell, monsieur!”
The others stared at them with puzzlement. “What’d we miss?” said Thumbling.
“Never mind that,” Hop informed him. “Everyone form a chain and hold on tight. I shall have us home in moments.”
The League members took hold of each others’ hands and Hop prepared to transport them all back to Camelot with the mystic speed of the seven-league boots. The city was probably a bit more than seven leagues from the Summer Country but Hop estimated that it would only take a few jaunts. In a split second, they disappeared…
…and reappeared on the shore of the island.
The League looked about in surprise. “We’re still on Avalon!” Thumbling said.
Hop scratched his chin. “Zat is odd. Let me try again.”
The team vanished and found themselves in the shadow of the Tor. They had not gone far.
“Hop, what are you doing?” Thumbelina asked.
“I do not know!” Hop babbled. “Ze boots are not responding!”
Once more, he tried his magic but only managed to take them to Chalice Well, Avalon’s healing spring.
“Damn it, it’s because we’re on Avalon!” Tom realized. “We’re in another realm! The boots won’t work because there’s nowhere to go! The only thing surrounding this island is mist!”
“Well, those boats seem to pierce through it easily enough!” Thumbling offered.
“How are we going to pilot a boat at our size?” said Tom in a panic. “And are any of you sorcerers? We don’t know the spell to leave the Avalon realm and return to the real world! Blast it, we should have realized this…”
“Still, we must try, Sir Thomas,” Issun said. “We cannot remain prisoners here.”
“Oh God!” Tom cried. “My stupid plans have gotten us in trouble again! Damn me for a fool!”
“Blame yourself later,” Thumbelina told him. “If we survive.”
Hop transported the team back to the shore and sought out the dock where the Avalon barges were moored. As Tom had rightly observed, there was no way the tiny folk could hope to steer the boats or even push them out into open water. Instead, they lifted a large piece of driftwood from the reeds along the lake bank and gathered atop it like refugees on a raft. The team paddled furiously with broken sticks as already they could hear the sounds of the village rousing. Farther down the road, Nimue was in hot pursuit with several of her priestesses and druids close behind.
The little raft sailed out into the water as dawn broke in the east. The mists surrounding Avalon were as thick as ever and the group couldn’t see an inch before their faces. Their only comfort was that the mists and their own unobtrusive size hid them from their pursuers.
“What now?” Thumbling asked, paddling like mad. “Are we to be lost in this fog, circling the island until Judgment Day?”
“I don’t know,” Tom said. “Keep rowing. We can plan our next course once we’re far from the shore.”
And row they did until it seemed their little arms would fall off. The netherworld mists only seemed to deepen the further from the island they sailed. At times, the group swore they could hear faint voices whispering nearby or could catch glimpses of strange shapes flitting past their vision. Sailing blindly through the enchanted mist was not the way travel to and from Avalon was intended and they feared what the result might be.
Something slipped past the little raft through the dark waters, rippling the waves and unsteadying the makeshift boat. As the League held on for dear life, they saw the object again and froze with fear. It was a hand. A huge, yet delicate female hand rising from the lake to splash at them playfully.
This was soon joined by an enormous head and torso that rose from the water like a whale. The woman (if woman it was) had pale blue skin and long, dark green tresses that hung in wet clumps over her slender shoulders. Bits of plant matter lay strewn throughout her hair. Her huge naked breasts hung pendulously above the little craft as the she-creature swam closer. If but one of these came down upon them, the driftwood boat would sink like a stone. The being looked down at them with mischief in her deep green eyes. Though paralyzed with fear, the League could see that she was unspeakably beautiful.
She babbled something in a strange, musical language that none of the group recognized. With a charming laugh, she splashed them again and unsettled the water. The lovely water-sprite (for it could be nothing else) took hold of the boat on each side and shook it back and forth. She giggled as the tiny folk below fought to stay aboard.
Soon, she began to lift them, one by one, from the raft to inspect them more closely. She dangled Thumbling and Issun upside down by their legs and held them before her face. The sprite regarded them curiously, turning her head to the side and trying to work out just what these amusing little creatures might be. Holding them close, she thrust her tongue out to lick at them lightly, testing to see if they were edible. Satisfied with the results, she licked her lips and opened wide.
“That’s enough of that!” Thumbelina declared. She unleashed her wings and took into the air, hovering before the water sprite’s astonished visage. “Why does everyone seek to eat us on this adventure? You let my friends go at once!”
The sprite’s eyes opened widely as she watched Thumbelina. Suddenly disinterested in the others, she dropped Thumbling and Issun back on the raft roughly and snatched the little flying woman out of the air.
Thumbelina struggled mightily but was no match for the sprite’s slender tree-trunk fingers. The being turned her over several times in her hand, investigating the little wings and the mechanism that released them.
“Fae,” she seemed to say in her alien tongue. She babbled something else and set ‘Lina back on the raft, more gently than she had done with her teammates. The sprite put her hands together and bowed her head in a sign of respect. A moment later, she had ducked back below the waves, leaving the League alone and bewildered.
At last, after this torturous trip, the raft touched land. The League scrambled ashore to scope out the situation. Had they somehow managed to return to Glastonbury and the comfort of the reality they knew? Had the mists turned them around so that they found themselves on Avalon once again? Or were they somewhere else entirely?
The mists receded as they scurried further onto the land. But something was not right. Though it was surely well into the morning by then, no sun was in the sky. The world around them seemed illuminated by some other source, as if each stone, each tree, each blade of grass glowed with its own silvery inner light. A vast, green country was spread before them but the League did not recognize its landmarks. Their senses were at full alert and the hair on the backs of their necks stood on end with the strange energy of the place.
Before they had gotten far, a towering figure emerged from the nearby forest. It was a woman, as weird and beautiful as the sprite had been but with a much harder, more alien beauty. She was clad in a brightly colored tunic and strange silver armor, her long blonde hair bound in a ponytail behind her tall, pointed ears. Her face was fair but almost inhuman, with unnaturally high cheekbones and close-set eyes. A stern look of reproach was upon it. All this was secondary, of course, to the huge spear she was pointing at the League.
The woman barked something in a foreign tongue, similar to the sprite’s dialect. When this received no response, she repeated the words in several other languages, at last seeing recognition in the tiny folk when she tried the British dialect. “Who are you? State your business!” she said crossly.
“My name is Sir Thomas Thumb,” Tom answered, stepping forward, “Knight of the Round Table and servant to Arthur Pendragon, King of the Britons. These are my associates, the League of Homunculi.”
The woman laughed when she heard this. The sound was harsh and humorless. “You are a long way from Britain, little ones. This is the Realm of Faerie—what you mortal folk call the ‘Otherworld.’”
She replaced her spear in the casing strapped to her back. With alarming speed, she then dropped to one knee and scooped up the League in her hands. She held them tightly in her fists as the tiny folk struggled against her.
“And what’s more—you’re trespassing,” she said. “Not to worry though. I’m sure Queen Mab will know what to do with you.”
To be continued...
Giantess World
Author's Chapter Notes:
A little something for Gullivera fans in this chapter, as well as another legend entering the picture towards the end.