Birds whistled, chirped, and sang. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees bringing forth soft, soothing, whisperings. The usually placid lake churned and rippled causing the morning's light to wobble and bob as another rock was hurled into a watery grave. The lone figure of a giant-sized man stood at the shore, a pile of stones sitting in one of his oversized hands. In a careless and lazy manner the man would pick up one of the stones and give it a light toss. Hulgar brooded.

It was not unusual to find Hulgar at the shores of the lake moodily casting stones like so many sorrows and frustrations. It was his refuge, his sanctuary, his place of solace. When he was still a kid he would come when the derision of the other kids became unbearable. As he grew he began adding to the reasons; when it was time for him to become an apprentice he found scant few willing to take him; when festivals would come, he wouldn't receive one invitation; when he grew into his manhood he was rejected as a suitor, often before he even gathered the nerve to ask. Now he came to combat his loneliness.

In the beginning Hulgar didn't feel alone, despite the loss of his parents to raiders when he was but an infant. He grew up an orphan, but never knew it for many years. An old couple, he a woodcutter and she a weaver, took him in. Slowly, as he grew, he began to be shunned by the villagers, until one day he realized he was alone. When the old couple who raised him died the full force of his ostracism hit him. The house was taken from him, the land given to someone else, a not a soul offered him any comfort or sympathy.

Hulgar's only contact with the villagers these days are the occasional lost soul and his infrequent trips into the village to sell pelts and firewood. Every visit would send him back to his lakeside sanctuary; there was but one merchant in town who would buy Hulgar's wares, and he had a daughter, Emilia. To Hulgar she was as radiant as the sunrise on a winter's day, as mysteriously beautiful as the full moon, and as cheerful as the birds. Despite the early pre-dawn hour Emilia's father and Hulgar met to exchange goods she was always there to greet Hulgar with hot mulled cider, a curtsey, and a smile.

That brief contact was enough to bring Hulgar back to his home deep in the forrest and then to the lake. His history with women was so dismal it made all his other wounds mere trifles. It always started pleasant enough; the women were usually courteous and kind but the instant he showed more than a passing interest they never spoke to him again, and many treated him as if he were already dead. Emilia, kind and cheerful as she was, brought pain to Hulgar. She reminded him of what he was missing, what he wanted most out of life, and what he felt he was fated never to have: Hulgar longed for a companion.

A final splash and Hulgar was out of stones. With a heavy sigh he turned his gaze skyward watching two birds swoop and flutter crying with great delight at their play. Brush rustled, twigs snapped, and as Hulgar turned to face the sounds a fat grey rabbit casually loped up and sat at Hulgar's feet regarding him with patient expectation.

"Oh ho! 'Tis only you little Horatio," Hulgar said with a quiet chuckle. "And how are we doing this morning? Still wearing your winter's coat I see. Just as well. It still gets a might chilly, eh? What's that? You want some lettuce?" The rabbit's nose twitched at this. Letting out a quiet but hearty laugh Hulgar pulled a big leaf of lettuce from a pocket and tearing it offered it to the rabbit. "There you go you little scamp. Mind your manners and chew it slowly now."

A soft giggle brought Hulgar to his feet, eyes narrowed and alert. Before he could bellow a challenge Emilia stepped out from behind a tree a giggle still on her lips. Nonplussed Hulgar stared, mouth agape and eyes bulging; she was the last person he ever expected to meet here.

"This is such a beautiful forrest," Emilia said, looking all around her. "Is this where you live?"

Hulgar only nodded, unsure where this was going.

"Now I can see why you'd rather be out here than back in the village. It's so peaceful. Even the rabbits are friendly out here. Our neighbor's dog isn't half as friendly or cute as little Horatio. Can I pet him?"

Hulgar blinked. "He's a little wary of strangers." Emilia's smile shrank. Hulgar swallowed, "But I s'pose if I held him he wouldn't mind, would you little Horatio?" Hulgar bent down and gently scooped up Horatio, careful to grab a piece of lettuce.

Emilia's broad smile returned and she slowly reached out a hand and stroked his soft fur. Emilia bent down until she was eye to eye with Horatio and whispered, "You are a good rabbit, and I can see you have a good man taking care of you. Thank-you for letting me pet you," then stood back up. Looking up into Hulgar's face she smiled and said, "I came to invite you to dinner tonight. Father and I would love to have you over, say around sunset?"

Hesitatingly Hulgar nodded his head and managed a quiet, "I'd love to."

"Great!" Emilia exclaimed and clapped her hands together. "I'll see you tonight. And, if you don't mind, I'd love to come back and visit with little Horatio again."

Whether it was the trick of the sun or something special in her eyes Hulgar didn't know, but he saw a little twinkle as she turned and walked off.