The Philosophical Strangler by Eric Flint

“When will it come back?” interrupted Greyboar. (Let the mage go on, and you’ll get an entire lecture in natural history.)

Zulkeh frowned. “Do you trifle with me, sirrah? ‘Tis well known that the Great Ogre of Grotum never leaves its lair for any reason.”

He thrust out his staff, pointing to a dark corner of the grotto. “Indeed, the miserable monster lurks yonder.”

Everyone had now entered the grotto. Everyone gasped. Everyone stared where the staff pointed. Gwendolyn and Hrundig held up the lanterns.

A voice came from the dark corner. A horrible, dry, croaking kind of voice.

“Don’t hurt me,” it whined.

“Show yourself!” commanded the mage.

“Don’t hurt me,” repeated the voice.

The mage pounded his staff into the floor of the grotto. “Show yourself!” he commanded anew.

“Don’t hurt me.”

Smoke and lightning issued from Zulkeh’s ears. (I’m serious. It astonished me too, the first time I saw it happen.) The wizard began stalking about the grotto, staff in his left hand, his right fist clenched above his head.

“Oh, boy,” said Shelyid. “You’re in for it now, you Great Ogre of Grotum! That’s the famed and dreaded peripatis thaumaturgae.”

So it was. I’d seen it before, in the chamber at Prygg where we—never mind. It’s quite a distinctive tread, the peripatis thaumaturgae—counterclockwise, eleven steps to the circuit, with, of course, the semi-hop following each third completion of the circuit to throw off what demons might be tailing behind in the astral plane.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” squealed the voice from the corner. A moment later, the Great Ogre of Grotum scuttled into the light.

I gaped. So did everyone. The damn thing wasn’t more than two feet tall! Oh, sure, it was horrid looking, what with those bat ears and the bat fangs and the talons and the knobby limbs. But still—

“Ah, excellent,” spoke the mage. He turned and bestowed a cheerful smile upon us. “You are most fortunate, my fellow adventurers. Not often does one encounter such a perfect specimen of this breed!”

Here the wizard began another impromptu lecture, pointing out the diverse features of the little monster which—to his mind—made it such a singular model of the famed Great Ogre of Grotum.

Again, Greyboar cut him short. “But it’s so little!” he protested. “Why’s the thing got the reputation it does? It can’t be more than two feet tall.”

Zulkeh spread his arms wide, exuding satisfaction. “Did I not say it was a perfect specimen?” he demanded. “Nowhere more than in this, I might add—that it demonstrates that absolute mastery of disguise which is the diagnostic trait of the Great Ogre of Grotum to all scientific taxonomists.”

Greyboar frowned. “What disguise?”

“Its size, naturally. Marvelous, marvelous. I was familiar with the phenomenon, of course, from the literature. But not even the excellent monographs of the Grimm Brothers Laebmauntsforscynneweëld had truly prepared me for the wondrous—”

“How big is it?” cried Jenny.

“Yes!” added Angela. “Really, I mean?”

Zulkeh examined the little ogre carefully. The ogre returned his gaze with a fearful scrunch of its beady red eyes.

“I estimate—” The mage pondered. Then, with his usual sureness: “Eight feet tall. Possibly nine.”

“Nine and a half,” said the ogre smugly. A moment later, the disguise vanished and the great slavering monster sprang upon the wizard.

Or would have, if Shelyid hadn’t lunged forward and interposed the sack. The Great Ogre bounced off like a rubber ball and sprawled to the side. But it was back to the attack in less than a second.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind. Greyboar met the monster’s charge with a roar and a choke. More precisely, a neck grip. The Great Ogre was so huge that even Greyboar’s hands couldn’t fit around its throat. Think of a baby strangling a mastiff and you’ve got the general picture. A very strong baby, to be sure. But at a certain point the exercise gets a bit ridiculous.

Still, Greyboar was able to stop the monster. And while I didn’t think he’d be able to actually choke the thing, he was certainly keeping its attention concentrated.

This was wizard’s work, as far as I was concerned.

“Zulkeh!” I shouted. “You stirred this damn thing up—so deal with it!”