You wander for several leagues through howling wind and biting snow. As the gray light darkens, you shiver violently. Feeling leaves your feet, but you trudge on.
Before nightfall drowns the barren landscape in inky darkness, you see what appears to be a massive, iron-bound door set into a jagged outcropping of rock and ice on the horizon. Desperate for any kind of shelter you break into a clumsy, denumbed sprint.
You knock at the towering double doors (no sense being rude), but there is no answer. With the rest of your waning strength you push mightily against the frigid oak and slowly it groans open.
Yawning before you is a tremendous hall! Massive bronze braziers line the ice-carved walls, filling the hall with a dim, but warm, light. You step trepidatiously forward, until the howling of the wind through the crack of the door is a distant whine. But another strange and rumbling sound grows louder and louder.
At the far end of the hall you see an incredible sight! Slumped in a cyclopean wooden throne, thunderingly snoring, is a huge man, well over 20 feet tall! A frost giant! His chain shirt jingles and his bone-white, braided mustache flutters with each exhalation. To his right is a lovely, but equally giant, woman; divested of every shred of clothing she is folded into large wooden floor stocks. Her head pokes through the center with her hands at either side, and her enormous bare feet just below them. Despite her contorted arrangement, she seems to be sleeping just as soundly as the other giant.
You begin to consider the wisdom of coming any closer when the eyes of the woman open suddenly, focusing directly on you!
"Ah, brave magician! You come for the feather," she whispers loudly, with a thick Scandinavian accent.
She motions with her eyes toward the throne and you notice a scintillating golden feather resting on the lap of the sleeping giant. This must be the item you need to escape this pocket dimension.
The she-giant groans and fidgets uncomfortably in the stocks.
"Free Helga from this contraption and I will give you the cursed feather!" She pleads, smiling hopefully.
"Hmmmmm," you think, "cursed?"
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