Who Ate All the Pixies?

Breakwater Bar

Gogmagog was a giant without peer, he was stronger than any being alive and he was royally smashed out of his face. He looked over his shoulder, towards the ocean and lobbed his mug as hard as he could. He missed the stupid human boats bobbing around in the water, it was tempting to blame the ale, but he wasn't even seeing double yet. With a sigh, he laid his hands back down on the bar. There had been a time when he could have struck a sparrow from the air with a stone, and now he couldn't hit a ferry with a boulder if he tried, which he had.

"Do you remember those days Balor" Gog shouted to the one-eyed giant propping up the other end of the bar "I remember knocking that prat Corineus off his perch with one good throw"

He mimed throwing and accidentally lost the grip on his second Ale and watched it tumble through the air behind him. He still missed the boats. Balor, lone eye closed as always, chuckled when he heard the splash and took another swig from his bus-sized tankard.

"As I recall Gog" said Balor with a wry chuckle "I mostly wandered around like a blind beggar until you got bored and bade me open my eye"

Gog felt a swell of happiness as he remembered the havoc his war-brother wreaked on the battlefield, the chaos the opening of his eye could cause. Once the other giants had fought their fill he would let Balor destroy what was left, it was simpler that way.

"whatever happened to those days brother?" asked Gog, letting the ale work its doldrums over him.

Balor had no answer, not one that would avoid a brawl, at any rate, so he remained silent. The other Fomorians, some giants, some smaller, all supped from their tankards. It felt strangely appropriate that the defence that kept them from returning to Britain, the Plymouth breakwater, was also the place where they quenched their thirst. It was easy to build up a thirst in the ocean realms, even after centuries amongst the Fomor he still wasn't used to the salt.

"As I recall, brave Gogmagog" said a voice from the lighthouse "you got fat, drunk and lazy. It's no surprise you lost your fight with Corineus"

There was a great deal of silence, even the wind itself stopped whistling and went in search of safer areas to breeze through. Tankards were drained, thanks were muttered and a whole host of Fomorians disappeared into the sea leaving Gog, Balor and the voice in the lighthouse.

"You have a nerve!" yelled Gog "but fuck if you aren't right"

He let the hand, raised to smite, drop to the bar in defeat. The doldrums caught him strong tonight, barely the temper to brawl. Only when his hand was lowered did the voice from the lighthouse step forwards. Gog had been expecting Tavy, the old giant loved to put him in his place, or maybe Tamara. He wasn't expecting Joan of the Wad.

"Well look brother" said Gog, nudging Balor with his elbow "we're in the presence of royalty"

He spat off to one side and glowered down at the queen. She was tiny compared to him, but still managed to look down her nose.

"Queen of the pixies" said Joan, alighting on a seat moved especially for her "keeper of secrets, protector of Cornwall and a useful friend to have if you're a useless oaf of a giant"

His fist moved, motivated by anger and drunken rage, but before he could bring it down the very stones of the breakwater started to hum. It didn't affect her, she belonged, but for him and everyone trapped on this side of the breakwater it was impenetrable. The queen barely batted an eye, sipping politely from a hip flask she wore around her waist. Through the drunken haze, he noticed her outfit wasn't very courtly, it looked like motorcycle leathers.