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After what may have been hours - or just as easily days - of scanning the horizon from Farron Keep to the Cathedral of the Deep, the giant archer lowered its greatbow. Its joints popped, its muscles ached; untold ages of service had not been gentle on its body. Yet here it stood upon its tower, vigilant and faithful. It was a thankless lot, but the giant found contentment in its purpose.
Taking in a lungful of fresh air, the giant let out a sigh longer and deeper than the winds that blew through the valley below. The chill that clung to the land was invigorating, especially at such an altitude. Though, it was only now as everything stood still that the aged warrior could appreciate it.
There was never any telling how long peace might endure in Lothric, however. Knowing this, the giant leaned its weapon against the tower wall behind it and set its arrow atop the pile at its feet. There was a visitation it wished to make while it was still able to. Carefully, it stepped over the lip of the balcony and descended the outside of the tower. The structure's features - elevator, stairs, right down to the doorways - had not been constructed with occupants of its size in mind. It had no other recourse in leaving.
* * *
The giant dropped down on the inner side of the temple wall, thankful for the sanctuary's open roof. The design was surely for the benefit of the residing spirit trees, but it was convenient for the giant too. Despite their intimate connection with the trees, the doors here were no more accessible to its kind than the tower's.
Putting aside thoughts of these small details that reminded it of its ill fit to the world around it, the giant approached the Greatwood. A massive spirit tree situated in one corner of the temple's central yard, its wide and study trunk stood as a symbol of prosperity for the people of the Undead Settlement. In the silence of temporary peace, the archer knelt amongst sprays of purple flowers so bright, they almost seemed to glow. Rays of sunlight beamed down and warmed the craggy skin of its back as the giant prepared to pray. It felt as though the temple itself was wrapping its guest in a gentle embrace.
With the Greatwood as its witness, the giant gave thanks for its keen eyes and strong arms, which allowed it to serve as defender of those it called 'friend'. It gave thanks for its thick hide, which no longer chaffed under the shackles and stakes that had long since melded into the fabric of its flesh. The giant's life was not always easy, but it was content. It knew a comfort of spirit that had once seemed impossibly far-removed from its life of enslavement, and for that it would remain grateful for the rest of its days.
Despite this blessing of contentment, it was a lonely life isolated within its tower. Both it and the Greatwood were guardians in their own ways, yet the giant envied the tree its worshippers; not because it desired recognition for its ceaseless vigilance, but simply for the joy that company brought.
Raising its head, the giant beheld the spirit tree through the slats of its worn iron helmet. Standing in stark contrast to all its grandeur, the Greatwood had been showing signs of ill health for some time and only seemed to be worsening. Bulbous growths had spread across its bark in clusters. Chloric of complexion and run through with dark purple veins, they gave the impression of the curses gathered within the tree bubbling to the surface as great pustules.
Unable to look askance from its blighted idol, the giant reached out and cupped a cluster of the nodules in its hand. It was neither priest nor physician; but as a soldier, the giant had some knowledge of folk remedies collected through the ages. If it could better understand the nature of the blight, perhaps - it thought - it could tender some aid.
Carefully fondling a nodule, it found the growths surprisingly soft and fleshy in contrast to the Greatwood's bark. Giving the growth an experimental squeeze, the giant nearly lost its footing as the ground began to rumble.
The Greatwood shook with the earth and, before the giant's very eyes, turned as though to...face its visitor? It had no eyes nor other visible sensory organs, so the giant could not be sure. What it did have, however, was shockingly humanoid anatomy despite lacking a face. What the archer had initially taken for drooping branches were limbs in another sense: two arms and two legs upon which the spirit tree shuffled its ripe, corpulent form about. The Greatwood loomed over the giant by metres, even seated.
The archer hadn't meant to disturb it so, but the unexpected beauty of its fully revealed form made it impossible to regret their chance encounter. Further, while the giant had no means to divine if its boldness had caused any offense, the Greatwood at least didn't appear hostile. The giant observed silently, humbled and awestruck.
With the tree turned 'round, a second cluster of nodules now hung at eye-level for the giant. Keeping its eyes focused on the tree to better gauge its reaction, the giant reached out and massaged one great, pale ball in its hand. There was the snap of dry timber as the tree flinched at the touch. Almost immediately, however, the Greatwood settled. A breeze whistled through the temple yard like a soft sigh.
The giant's hands wandered over the nodules, occasionally brushing the spirit tree's bark. In contrast to the growths, the bark was hard as stone, as though long petrified. And compared to the chill bark, the nodules' warmth burned with a pleasant intimacy. There was even a subtle pulsating beneath the thin, mottled skin.
Bracing itself against the tree's thigh with its opposite hand, the giant turned its face to the sky. High above, strange fruit hung from the Greatwood's branches. Stands of unidentifiable fibres dangled from their bodies alongside twiggy protrusions, and their sides were divided into alternating segments of taut emerald skin and rough grey peels dotted with mold-like flecks of white. As the giant listened to the rhythm thumping within the tree, it swore that the fruits pulsated in time to the beat.
The hand resting on the Greatwood's thigh wandered until it too found a nodule cluster in want of kneading. The tree shuddered in response, its limbs groaning as it swayed.
As the giant worked the growths in its hands, orange sap seeped from hairline faults in the tree's petrified bark. It dribbled down the trunk and over the giant's hands in creeping globules. It emanated a thick, musky, sour smell unlike anything either animal or vegetal the giant had encountered in its life. And rather than being sticky as it would have expected of sap, the liquid had a uniquely oily texture. The giant ignored the secretion as its digits were passively lubricated by it. it wasn't irritating to the skin, and the Greatwood seemed far from distressed. The giant could only guess it to be a natural byproduct of spirit trees.
As the giant massaged the fleshy growths, the Greatwood's trembling grew more and more intense. The tree leaned back, gripping the top of the temple wall with one woody hand. Suddenly, a deafening crack resounded through the yard. A spray of milky fluid erupted from its trunk, coating the giant's face and helm. For a moment, it was stricken blind.
Wiping the liquid from between the slits in its face guard, the giant looked up at the Greatwood only to behold with alarm and despair a great fissure splitting the length of its trunk from top to bottom. A spindly arm with black, talon-like nails jutted from the rupture. A layer of the cloudy, white fluid flowing out of the wound glistened across its pale skin.
Frozen in shock, the giant mounted no resistance as the arm swooped down and snatched it up. Cupping the giant's back in its palm, the tree pulled it into a forceful embrace. Pressed against the newly exposed flesh, all the giant's senses were overwhelmed. The shallow cavity was hot as a fever and sticky with free-flowing sap. Unlike the odour of the orange fluid, this white sap had a salty and bitter scent that threatened to choke the giant's very consciousness from it with every breath.
The giant pawed around blindly, completely disoriented. Cautiously at first, it explored and stroked tenderly, running its fingers along a slit where flesh and bark met. The Greatwood stiffened and shook, pressing the archer tighter still to its bosom with every beat of the pulse thundering within its trunk.
There was a deep rumbling, and suddenly a deluge of both white and orange fluids burst from the Greatwood's fissure. The gushing sap coated the giant from head to toe in a hot, odiferous morass.
The tension that had built throughout the spirit tree's frame abated as the flow of sap ebbed. Slowly, it leaned back until its trunk rested against the temple wall with a creak and a crumbling of loose pebbles. Its white, fleshy arm went limp, coming to rest draped across its ample trunk. The giant had been released, but had to peel itself off of its arboreal host. The final shower had stuck it fast to the exposed wood.
The giant climbed down the tree's trunk, careful not to disturb it a second time. Once it had both feet on solid ground, it took a moment to wipe as much of the sap from its body as possible. Despite the mess, despite the stench, despite the shock, despite having been unable to communicate verbally with its host at all, this visit had been the most thoroughly enjoyable experience in recent memory for the sworn archer. It felt as though a great weight had been lifted from its shoulders - a burden it hadn't even noticed had been bowing its back earthward for some time.
The tree lay still where it had come to rest after their communion. Climbing back over the temple wall, the lesser giant went to find a place where it could wash itself before returning to its post. The scent would fade and the stains would bleed away with soap and water. But the comfort that the Greatwood had gifted the giant it would carry with it forever more.