please forgive the crude style

Chelsea and the gentile giant
On the east slopes of the peaks was a small cottage. It belonged to a young girl named Chelsea. Her family lived in the morning sun and she played in the tall grass of her home. One day she took a stroll to the foothills of the slopes to play by the River of Tirs’. There on a log sat a great hulk of a Giant, crying.
Now this was strange because giants, for the most part were nasty things. They would stomp about and create great messes, throwing boulders at people and plugging up streams. And yet here he sat on a log, weeping.
“Hello?” she announced in her small, timid voice. “Are you alright?”
“Who’s there?” the giant bellowed as he dried his eyes, trying very hard to be intimidating.
“I didn’t mean to make you angry.” Chelsea replied. “It’s just you looked so very sad.”
“Who are you?” The giant demanded looking down at her.
“My name is Chelsea. I’m from the east slopes.” She smiled a little.
“East slopes huh?” The giant snorted. “One of the rich kind. Why you here?”
“I came to the river to play, but I saw you setting her crying and came to see why.”
“You really care?” The giant snorted.
“Yes.”
“My friends think I’m a sissy because I don’t like to throw boulders.”
“Well that’s silly.” She giggled. “I think it’s rather nice of you.”
“Well you try being a giant, that can’t throw a rock! I don’t like plugging up streams ‘cause it’ll kill the fish downstream! And think how you would feel if you had to hide your broom!”
The giant again burst into tears. He sobbed and we and carried on like the world was ending. So Chelsea sat down beside him and looked at herself in the river, trying to figure out how to help the giant. He stilled himself again and they sat in the light of day just looking into the water.
“Do you like to play?” She asked.
“I don’t know.” The giant mused. “What is playing?”
“Well it’s what you do when you’re not doing something.” She tried in her way to explain.
“I don’t understand.”
“You want to play hide and seek?”
“How?” He asked.
“Close your eyes, count to ten. And while you do that, I hide and then you open your eyes and try to find me.” Chelsea smiled brightly.
“OK.” The giant smiled and closed his eyes.
By this time the watchman from the town below took his post in the tower. He had just picked up his binoculars to see a giant at the edge of the River of Tirs’, throwing boulders and making a huge mess. Then suddenly he saw a small girl running in fear from the giant as it chased her all over the place.
He sounded the alarm and took his place in line with the rest of the town guard to slay the monster and save the girl. He would be one of many heroes’ on that day. Meanwhile, near the River of Tirs’ a small knot of giants was looking for food, when they heard the sound of a young girl screaming.
They ran in the direction of the screaming to see what was going on. The militia topped the hill to see the giant chasing the poor child across the meadow by the River of Tirs’ her screams filling the air. The Giants poked through the tree line to see their sissy friend chasing a little girl a stupid child around to eat it. Both Chelsea and the giant stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of the Militia on the bluff and the giants in the tree line. They were both frightened and ran to the other for protection from each ones kind.
“Kill the monsters!” Both the knot of giants and the militia screamed.
Rocks flew and cannons fired, the air was filled with smoke and dust. Militia and giants fought and fell and in the center of the fight, sat Chelsea and her giant friend.
The fight wore on and many people died, only three militia and one giant was left. They stood looking at each other tired bloodstained. They looked at the field littered with their dead friends and decided to call the fight quits because at the center of battlefield lay a giant with a small girl cradled in his arms. Both were dead. It seemed that the giant was trying to protect this little girl from the battle that was going on around them.
From that point on, the giants never threw boulders and blocked streams. They devoted their time to planting trees and caring for nature. The Militia was disbanded and became farmers and gardeners in the hopes that they could cover the scars of the battle so many years ago.
The commander of the militia and the lone surviving giant from the battle would meet on the shores of the River of Tirs’ and plant one big flower and one small flower so no one would forget that even though cultures are varied and strange to us, people are never what they seem to be.