Words—so innocent and powerless as they are， as standing in a dictionary； how potent for good and evil they become， in the hands of one who knows how to combine them！

—Nathaniel Hawthorne （纳撒尼尔·霍桑，美国著名小说家）

When Colin the storyteller was a young man， people were drawn to him like flies to honey. They would soak up1 his tales， then toss coins into his cap.

But as years passed， some people began to doubt the value of the tales. And， in time， Colin became known as a lazy man who didnt do an honest days work.

“He takes our coins and gives only words in return，” the people complained.

So， instead of continuing to travel and tell tales， Colin settled in a small cottage near the village of Ladira， where he was tolerated but not embraced.

To save the tales， he wrote them down. Each evening hed curl up with the books hed fashioned2 and get nearly as much joy from reading the stories as he used to give telling them. He knew that remembering was important， even if it was he alone who remembered.

Then， one day， the earth trembled. The people of Ladira gasped3 as a giant stepped over the horizon. His voice sent shingles4 slipping from roofs. His footsteps left holes in the fields. He settled on a nearby hillside， eating several sheep as a midmorning snack.

The townsfolk rushed to the mayor， but the mayor knew even less about giants than they did. The giant ate several more sheep and started in on the cattle. The people wailed5 and wept and worried. What could they do？

Colin was writing in his cottage when he felt the ground move. He saw the giant and his heart hammered. Realizing that he alone had the tools for this task， Colin hurried to town. He found the people in the town hall， arguing about what to do.

Colin cleared his throat. “I will speak to the giant，” he offered. “If I succeed， youll be all the better for it. If I dont， youll be none the worse.”

“Whats your price？” the mayor asked.

Colin smiled. “Only a listening ear. Its all a storyteller ever wants.” And so the bargain was struck6. The villagers trembled as Colin hiked the steep hill to where the giant sat， enthroned7 on a boulder8.

Arriving， Colin doffed9 his cap. “WHO ARE YOU？” the giant rumbled. “A storyteller，” replied Colin. “I rushed here， hoping to learn your story.”

Flattered10， the giant decided not to smash11 the storyteller with an uprooted tree just yet.

Colin continued， “Stories about giants are the best. What a pity they always end so… poorly.”

“POORLY？”

Colin nodded. “We rarely know the giants side of the story， because the giant is often killed. So tell me about yourself， before its too late.”

“TOO LATE？” The giants booming voice started a small avalanche12.

“Surely youre not threatened by me，” soothed13 Colin. “You remind me of Bernard the Giant， who was taller than this hill.” Colin shook his head， reflecting. “So unfortunate about Bernard. If only Greta the Giant-Slayer hadnt paid him a visit.”

The giant stood， then sat abruptly. His head did not nearly reach the hilltop.

“Never mind，” consoled14 Colin. “Someday youll reach a good height. Until then， perhaps Greta will leave you alone.”

“YOU KNOW GRETA？” The giant eyed the nearby town nervously.

“Shes one of my favorite people，” Colin replied. Indeed， he loved the tale of Greta the Giant-Slayer and had often told it.

“Then there was Bernards brother， Bloford，” Colin continued. “From across the lake， he skipped15 that rock youre sitting on. It made five good hops before landing here.”

The giant tried and failed to lift the boulder.

“Never mind，”said Colin.“Youll eventually come into your strength.”

“WHAT HAPPENED TO BLOFORD？” the giant roared.

Colin coughed delicately. “He was defeated by Prince Allendo and his magic sword. But enough about my friends. Tell me about yourself.”

“PRINCE ALLENDO IS YOUR FRIEND？” The giants voice was now hoarse16 with fright.

“I just had a pleasant breakfast with him，” replied Colin. This was true， for hed read the story of Allendo while eating his morning meal.

The giant fidgeted17.

“Then theres a man who needs neither sword nor spear to vanquish18 giants，” Colin went on. “He lives down in the valley.”

The giant sprang up. “Sit！” urged Colin. “Its a wonderful tale. Youll never guess what he uses to ensure victory.”

“NO MORE！” the giant thundered. “THIS PLACE IS TOO DANGEROUS FOR ME！” He strode off， nervously glancing about. He vowed never to return. Colin smiled. “Colin uses the most powerful weapons of all，”he whispered. “Words.”

Then Colin the storyteller strode down the road to Ladira， where the people would surely be eager to hear his tale.

说书人科林年轻的时候，人们就像蜜蜂逐蜜一样被他吸引。他们会如痴如醉地听他讲各种故事，然后把钱币投进他的帽子里。

然而，随着岁月的流逝，一些人开始怀疑这些故事的价值。而且到了后来，科林成了大家眼中的懒汉，没有正儿八经地干过一天的活儿。

“他拿走了我们的钱，却只是动了动嘴皮说了说话而已。”人们抱怨说。

于是，科林不再继续游走各地讲故事，而是在拉迪纳村附近的一个小屋里住了下来。这个村庄的人能够容忍他，但却并不接受他。

为了保全这些故事，科林把它们写了下来。每天晚上，他都会蜷缩着坐在他自制的那些书旁读着那些故事，从中获得的乐趣几乎和当初他讲这些故事时播撒的乐趣一样多。他知道，记住这些故事非常重要，哪怕只有他一个人记得。 后来有一天，大地震动起来。一个巨人从地平线那边走来，拉迪纳村的人们都惊得倒抽了一口气。巨人一说话就震得房瓦从屋顶纷纷滑落，一走动就在田野里留下一个个坑洞。他在村子附近的一个山坡上坐下，把好几只羊当做上午的点心吃掉了。

小镇的居民都跑去找镇长，但是镇长对巨人的了解甚至还不如他们多。

巨人又吃了一些羊，而后开始吃牛。人们又是号叫又是哭泣，心急如焚。但是他们又能怎么办呢？

科林感觉到地面震动的时候，正在自己的小屋里写故事。他看到了那个巨人，心脏怦怦地剧烈跳动起来。科林意识到只有自己才拥有对付巨人的武器，于是匆匆赶到了镇上。……