Giant-Sized stories by Claire Fayers

 How did you spend your extra hour on Sunday? I had a nice lie-in, worked out a knotty problem in the book I'm editing and remembered that I needed to write a blog post. So here's one I wrote earlier for a Welsh fantasy kickstarter campaign. 

Think of Wales, and you’ll probably think of dragons. Maybe sheep. But giants? When I started researching stories for my Welsh Giants, Ghosts and Goblins, I knew about Idris, of Cadair Idris fame, and Bendigeidfran – Bran the Blessed – who led a war against Ireland in the Mabinogi. But, digging deeper, I was surprised how many different giants wandered our landscape. They largely fall into three categories: hero giants who carry out good deeds; villainous giants who stand in the way of heroes’ quests; and random, chaotic giants who have a penchant for rearranging the landscape.

 Giant heroes

John o'the Thumbs got his name because he had eight fingers on each hand. (I don’t know why he’s not called John o'the Fingers in that case.) In some versions of the story, he’s a giant, in others he’s a warrior, but he definitely killed a dragon at Denbigh castle following an epic battle. 

The frightened townsfolk, however, refused to believe the dragon was dead and so John hacked off its head and paraded it through town, which finally convinced them.

Giant villains

My favourite of all giant villains is Yspaddaden Pencawr, father of the peculiarly normal-sized Olwen in the tale of Culwch and Olwen. He’s truly enormous and as blood-thirsty as any giant you might hope to meet. The sort of giant who’d grind your bones to make his bread then use what’s left of you to make marmalade. His most notable feature is his skin, which is so saggy and wrinkled that great folds of it droop over his eyes and a team of servants have to prop them up with long forks so he can see:

“The greeting of Heaven and of man be unto thee, Yspaddaden Penkawr,” said they. “And you, wherefore come you?” “We come to ask thy daughter Olwen, for Kilhwch the son of Kilydd, the son of Prince Kelyddon.” “Where are my pages and my servants? Raise up the forks beneath my two eyebrows which have fallen over my eyes, that I may see the fashion of my son-in-law.” And they did so. “Come hither to-morrow, and you shall have an answer.”

In the grand tradition of angry fairytale fathers, the giant sets Culwch a set of impossible tasks to win the hand of Olwen – a list that goes on for pages. Culwch and his team of Arthurian heroes complete every one of them, after which they kill the treacherous Yspaddeden. Olwen doesn’t seem to mind very much.

Chaotic giants

Where you find a stone, or heap of stones, there’s often a tale of a giant who put them there. 

The burial mound, Barclodiad y Gawres (Giantess’s Apronful) on Ynys Mȏn, was formed when a cobbler carrying a sack of worn-out shoes for repair came across two giants who asked him how far it was to Ynys Mȏn because they intended to build a house and settle there. Thinking quickly, he tipped all the shoes out of his sack and told them he'd walked from there and had worn out all the shoes on the journey. The giantess was so disgusted, she dropped the apronful of rocks she'd brought to build the house and the two giants sulked off back to England.

In a similar story further south, Mathilda the giantess built Hay-on-Wye’s castle in one night, carrying the stones in her apron. 

Jack o’Kent is variously described as a magician, a trickster and a giant. He lived on the Welsh borders and had a habit of making bets with the devil. In one story, he and the devil have a stone-tossing contest, resulting in the three standing stones that give the South Wales town of Trellech its name. Two other stories relate to Mount Skirrid, just outside Abergavenny. The mountain gets its name from its distinctive split peak (the Welsh name, Ysgryd, means split.) In one story, Jack and the devil meet to play cards on top of the mountain and Jack bets the devil he can jump from Skirrid to the top of the Sugarloaf, a distance of about three miles. He succeeds, but kicks out a giant piece of the Skirrid as he leaps. The second story has Jack betting the devil that the Sugarloaf is higher than the Mendips. Again, he wins, and, in a motif you'll recognise by now, the devil grabs an apronful of earth from the top of Mount Skirrid to add to the Mendips, but he drops it too early, creating a hill which is known as Little Skirrid.

Good or bad, metaphorical or literal, giants are larger-than-life forces that can send your stories off into unexpected directions. As with all magical creatures of Wales, treat them with respect.

Ysapaddaden Pencawr by John D Batten (1892)

www.clairefayers.com