The next day, I got up just before sunrise. Since I wasn’t feeling tired, I assumed that meant Old Jack was an early riser.

I slipped my hand under my pillow and felt my page was still there. I wasn’t going to be needing it today, so I left it where it was and went upstairs.

Figuring out how to read the extra two stories in my story's description turned out to be not as big of a jackpot as I thought it would be. They were both versions of Jack and the Beanstalk that I'd already read back on my original Earth. The version that inspired my story, was a version about some normal peasant boy. that I'd probably read back when I was a kid and forgotten the details passed 'Jack sells cow for giant beanstalk growing magic beans' and 'chopping down beanstalk with giant on it means big giant dead now.'

As for the version that influenced my story, the one about a not so normal peasant boy who was unaware that he was actually the son of a knight, I'd read that one back in college along with the first for a class. It was a 'Moral Teachings of Fairy Tales and Folklore' class that I took because I thought it would be less work than an actual history class. It wasn't, but I at least got to request what stories I got to write my final paper on and since my name was Jack, the professor was more than happy to let me choose whichever stories had a Jack-based protagonist to write it on. That made things easy for me since the knight's son version of the story was written because the peasant version was found to be lacking in morals.

Anyways, I could see the similarities that the starts of their stories shared with mine, considering the whole widowed mom left with one child thing we all had going on plus the giants and magic existing part. That being said, I couldn't really see what value they were providing beyond telling me 'this is how Jack and the Beanstalk usually plays out.'

There was a bit of a chill when I got to the second floor of the house, probably coming from the boulder-sized hole in my room. It made me thankful that I’d been sent here in late spring rather than the dead of winter.

A door opened down the hall and I looked over my shoulder to see Agatha taking a step out of her room. “Oh.” She stopped in place once she saw me. She looked tired, but I didn’t think it was from lack of sleep. “It’s good that you're up.”

“Thanks for dinner last night, Mom.” I said. It still felt really awkward calling her that, but I was going to have to get used to it.

“Of course. You’re getting changed right?” She asked, stepping out into the hall and closing the door behind her.

“I’m about to, yeah.”

“Then I’ll put something out for you to eat while you do that. Don’t take too long, okay?”

“Okay.” I headed over to my room. Once I got something under the tarp we put up the other day so I could get some light in, I started going through my clothes. There weren’t any black tunics, but I had one dyed a dark enough shade of blue that I thought it would be appropriate.

I took everything off and wiped myself down with a wet cloth, before putting on the funeral wear, getting the tarp back in place, and then headed downstairs for breakfast. We were still eating the leftover meat pies, so Agatha already had a plate set for me by the time I got down to the kitchen. She was wearing a black veil now, so I asked her if there was anything else I should put on, but she told me what I had was fine.

After finishing our meal, we cleaned up, then headed out the door. Agatha locked her arms around one of mine and like that we went on our way towards the hamlet.

I think it took us little more than half an hour to walk from the property to where the thornwoods ended and for most of that time, we walked in silence. Once we had about reached the edge of the woodlands, however, Agatha had some questions for me.

“What happened yesterday?” she started.

“Giants came to our property and killed everyone, but the two of us.”

“And what are the names of your brothers and your sister?”

“Andrew, Timothy, and Jane.”

“How old were they?”

“Fifteen, five, and seven.”

“And what’s your father’s name?”

“Grant.”

“Okay.” Agatha whispered with a sigh of relief.

As we exited the woodlands, the road turned towards the north and kept to the edge of the forest. I could already see the hamlet up ahead, so we wouldn’t have to walk for much longer.

Along the way, we reached the point where the giants’ footprints lead in and out the forest. They never touched the road, just kept to its side.

Looking at the prints, the ones from the stolen livestock were fading, while the giants’ prints stayed strong. The signs of the damage they had done would stay for some time.

When we got closer to the hamlet, I could see that the villagers had built a funeral pyre towards the side of the settlement we were coming from. It didn’t look too big, but the hamlet itself didn’t look too big either. From where I was, I could see the whole settlement was just a strip of houses long enough for one side of a city block.

“When someone talks to us, let me speak first.” Agatha whispered in my ear. “Make sure to remember their names when I say them.”

“Okay.”

As soon as Agatha pulled away from me, I saw a woman who looked about the same age as her start running out to us. Not too far behind her, a younger woman closer to my age followed.

“Agatha, Jack,” The older woman said when reached us, “I’m glad to see that you’re both alright.”

“Alright as we could be.” Agatha said, with a weak smile.

“I’m so sorry.” The other woman hooked her arms around Agatha and stole her away from me.

“I’m glad to see you too, Joyce.” Agatha hugged her back. “You as well, Hailee.”

“Happy to see you, Auntie Agatha.” The younger woman said, having caught up. “You too Jack.”

Hailee was the Old Jack’s childhood friend and Joyce was her mother. The benefit of reviewing the page was that I already knew that. “Nice to see you Hailee, Joyce.”

Joyce threw her head back from where she had it rested on Agatha’s shoulder and looked at me. “Joyce is it? And just where did the Miss go?”

“Sorry, Ms. Joyce.” I corrected myself.

“I forgot to tell him that.” Agatha said. “Ms. for the women older than you, Jack, and Mr. for the men.”

“The giants must have hit his head something fierce for him to forget even that.” Joyce said.

Agatha nodded. “It’s bad.”

“How bad?”

“He’s lost most everything.”

Joyce gave me another look over before saying, “Well, at least he’s still alive.”

“Jack, Agatha!” A woman named Martha called out. The other villagers who had already gathered finally caught up to Joyce and her daughter.

Everyone gave us their greetings, we gave them ours, and whenever Agatha said one of their names it felt like I was remembering something obvious.

“I want to thank both of you from the bottom of my heart for offering the wood for the pyre.” Mr. Edward said. My page had him listed as a wise elder and from what I could tell he was in charge of managing the settlement for the baron.

“If you need us to pay you back, we can send you the wood from the tree the giants knocked down once it's dried.” A villager named Tom said.

Agatha shook her head. “We’ve given you the wood for the pyre for free every time before and now is no different.”

“It’s hard times for you.” Tom countered. “If you need us to pay, we’ll pay.”

“It’s hard times for everyone now and all of you are like family. We won’t be trying to put greater burdens on your back.”

“Well, at least let us send someone to help you patch up the hole those giants left in your house.” Mr. Edward said.

Agatha gave it some thought. “I suppose we can accept that. Thank you, Mr. Edward.”

The old man tipped his hat. “You’ve given us some good wood; the pyre will burn strong.” He looked over to the pyre. “Still, it’s a shame we can’t give them a proper burial instead.”

“Why can’t we?” I asked. Everyone knew about my memory issue, so it was fine for me to ask questions.

“The baron won’t allow it.” Tom said. “Doesn’t want us to put up a graveyard where his planners might end up wanting to put something important.”

“He’s probably still hoping that the king might let him share timber rights to the forest with the count. It’s why he bothered sending me here in the first place, after all.” Mr. Edward said. “The king hasn’t budged for years, though and as such the town has been on hold for years too. I’ll probably be dead and gone before I ever see it built.”

“Couldn’t we get away with burying them deeper in the forest?” I asked. There wasn’t anyone around to report them for it.

“What, are we going to start burying our own with the livestock now?” Tom said, sounding offended. He had two relatives amongst the deceased, a brother and a cousin.

“Tom,” Martha, his wife, jumped in, “The giants knocked his head remember?”

Tom didn’t say anything and just glared at me.

“No men lay in forests.” Mr. Edward said. “We don’t bury our own in the forest because we don’t want the fey to get them.”

“The fey?” I asked.

“Magic folk that live in woodlands and love to play dangerous tricks on humans. If we bury someone under the shade of a tree, a fey could find them and have them raised up.” He shook his head. “It’s never good when that happens.”

Getting raised up was definitely similar to my situation. “What do you do when it happens?” I asked.

“Chop them up. Burn the remains.” Tom said. “It’s the only way to make sure they’ll stay down.”

Mr. Edward nodded in agreement.

When the dead walk, we make them not, I thought. With a policy like that, I could see why Agatha had told me to keep tight-lipped about my miraculous recovery. Worse than a freak, I’d have been a dead man raised by the fairies.

“Would they have risen if we buried their bodies on our property?” I asked.

Mr. Edward shrugged. “Probably not. The old kings had this forest sown long after the giants had all the fey running passed the border.”

“About the only good thing that came from when the giants ruled.” Tom said.

Hold up. “When the giants ruled?”

“It was long before any of us were born.” Mr. Edward clarified. “Our ancestors overthrew them about four hundred years ago. They’d been gone from these lands ever since. Up until the war started three years ago, at least.”

“The war?”

“The king’s army has been fighting the giants east past the mountains since three years ago. If you go down to Dearing, the recruiters will tell you that the army has been keeping them at bay there.”

“But they haven’t?”

Mr. Edward shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. All I know is that many of us never thought they’d be able to come raiding this far out west.”

“We should save answering all of Jack’s questions for later.” Joyce said, before I could ask one about the fey.

“Right.” Mr. Edward said. “Now that Jack and Agatha have arrived, we should gather everyone for the ceremony.”

After he said that, most of the group scattered to handle things, while Joyce and Hailee walked with us over to the pyre. Agatha and Joyce had their own conversation, while Hailee put me through another round of the type of questioning Agatha had put me through already.

Do I feel okay? Did the giant leave a mark where he hit me? Do I still remember her? Do I still remember when we were kids?

“Ben and Matthew aren’t going to be happy when they find out what happened to you.” She said after all the questions. She wasn’t looking much happy herself. “Ben and Matthew are my brothers, by the way.”

“I know that much.” I said.

“It’s kind of hard to assume that when you’ve forgotten all the good times. Do you even remember that they’re twins?”

“...”

“See.”

“Well, I’m sorry that I forgot.”

Hailee shook her head. “Don’t be. I shouldn’t be making you feel worse about all this, especially not today.”

“Can you tell me a little about the good times?” I asked.

“Uh...” Hailee smirked after a second’s thought. “Well, you were really ambitious back then,” she began.

Apparently, the Jack I was replacing had been a bold dreamer when he was young. He’d never hesitate when telling his friends that he’d conquer the world someday. When they asked him how, he’d say that he’d take the fey’s magic and use it for himself.

Of course, dealing with the fey being a big no-no, saying stuff like that got him whacked on the back of his head by the adults more often than not.

“You're telling me some really embarrassing stuff, you know.” I said.

“We all thought you were something special for acting like that though.” Hailee said. When I pressed her, she made it clear that she wasn’t saying I was special in a bad way.

“Even still though...” I said.

She looked really assumed hearing me say that. “Never thought I’d see you of all people getting embarrassed over something like this.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just keep going.”

Thankfully, Old Jack grew out of proclaiming embarrassing things like world domination and instead settled on something slightly more normal called being an adventurer. Exploring as a profession wasn’t exactly the safest thing back in the day where I came from and I didn’t think having a bunch of murderous giants and magical creatures wandering around made it better.

That being said, I think it showed that the search for something greater defined the other Jack’s personality. He tried to make the slow days around here a little more special because of it and that was what the people around him loved him for.

When all the villagers had been gathered and it was finally time to light the pyre, Joyce and Hailee went to stand with Hailee’s father while Agatha and I were brought forward. We were stood in front of Old Jack’s father while the relatives of the deceased field hands were made to stand in front of their own lost loved ones.

Once everyone was in place, black cloths were wrapped around each mourning family. Agatha held one end of our cloth while I held the other.

“Like it had been for many years before, yesterday was to be a day of celebration.” Mr. Edward said, now standing before us all. “The last day of seeding for the crop that would be harvested in the coming fall. But instead of a day of celebration, what we received was one of suffering, where loved ones and belongings were stolen from us alike. And for what has been taken that can not be replaced, today has become one of mourning.

“We come here today to mourn our fallen brothers, our fallen fathers, and our fallen sons who perished defending what they could not afford to lose, each other and the youngest among us. For their bravery and for their heart, we shall acknowledge them. Wybert.” He said the name, paused, and then did the same for rest as they were lined up. First it was the field hands—Wybert, Brinley, Clifton, Wade, Esmond, and Piers—and then came, “Grant…”

Agatha quivered when he said her husband’s name. I just held her tighter.

“All of them. We shall sorely miss.”

After it was all said and done, I asked why the missing field hands and Old Jack’s siblings were not named and again I was told that no men lay in forests.

“Even if we know them to be dead, if their body is lost in the forest, we dare not speak of their passing, lest the fey hear us and bring them back for us.”

For this, the names of the missing were excluded. Judging by Agatha’s reaction to her husband’s name, I assume she was relieved not to have to hear her children’s names as well.

Mr. Edward held up a torch. “So that they may rest undisturbed and maintain the honor that they held in this life, we gift them this flame which they can no longer light for themselves.” He lit the pyre, throwing the lighting torch in once he was sure the flames had taken to the kindling.

“Though their ashes may spread along the wind, their memory will remain with us. For their sake and for our own, we shall continue to support one another. For their sake and for our own, we shall keep their memory alive. For their sake and for our own we will survive… May they rest in peace.”

For maybe just a minute following Mr. Edward’s speech, the only sounds I heard were the wind’s whistle and the fire’s roar. The villagers held on that long before they let their sobbing be heard. First, someone covered by the cloths and then someone standing further behind.

I saw many tears shared that day, so I’m sure the others just proved better at hiding their cries. That was the case for Agatha, at least. Since the cloth’s cover wasn’t enough, she buried her head in my chest, so the sound of her sorrow wouldn’t escape.

Up until now, she’d put on a good front for her neighbors, but there in my arms again, she was just as broken as she had been the day before. As we were with the giants, Old Jack and I were in agreement on this: We wanted to be there for her.

I’m sure my desire had been on the more superficial side. It was the kind of feeling that you get after seeing something sad that you won’t end up doing anything about. You feel bad for a bit, then move on with your life after a friend sends you another funny video.

The feelings that Old Jack left me, however, were much stronger. I didn’t doubt that he would have given up on those dreams that Hailee had told me about as long as he could be here for his mother.

His feelings gave mine backbone, his feelings gave mine strength.

I shed no tears. Even with the lingering feelings her son had left, I was still just a stranger. But for her, I think a stranger was enough. She didn’t need my tears, she just needed someone to lean on. And if that was the case, I’d be there for her. For her son and for his father, I’d support Agatha in their stead.