Pitchwife, not to be confused with a disagreeable woman of any ilk, is a Giantish Quasimodo lacking a belltower and a couple of gargoyle friends. Also unlike his more famous cousin twice removed, he won the heart of his Esmeralda, the comely warrior woman Gossamer Glowlimn.
Appearance and Character
One can definitely agree that Pitchwife will never look boring from any angle. Built from the leftovers of creation, his twisted spine does not permit him to gain an upright posture, and his ribs converge into a concave chest, limiting the ability to breathe. His misaligned eyes, crooked mouth, and wonky nose mismatch to the point that the halves of his face can show two different expressions at the same time. Hence, perhaps Gossamer relies more on the tone of his voice to determine whether he wishes for a snog or a pack of tissues. Which raises the question: what are Giantish nosewipes and toilet paper made of? Does their stonelore extend also to this area? Did Linden and Covenant find very thin sheets of granite in the loo?
With these deformities kept in mind, the top of either his torsal hump or head reaches a height defined as “half again as tall as Linden”. Since the reader has no clear conception of Linden’s height, this might be anything between 2,3 and 2,7 meters, making him still at least half a meter shorter than Gossamer and thus placing...a pleasant sight or two at his eye level. His hair resembles something like the bristles of a storm-ravaged broomstick, and his gaze is perpetually mirthful and gentle, that is, until he must slaughter a few scores of Raver-bewitched humans and Cavewights. In spite of his crippledness, he remains monstrously bemuscled and can snap thick slabs of stone in half with his bare fingers. Besides, women do love strong hands... it makes one wonder whether Little Pitchwife also stands, as opposed to its master, proud and tall. Notably, even though he and Gossamer share a cabin and can roll around the hammock every night, they still vanish beneath the deck with alarming rate, the very same frolicking continuing in the bushes of Andelain when they are dutifully supposed to guard their smaller companions. At that point, Linden has perhaps had enough and passes a few comments upon those raging hormones. It does not help that this Giant, for the lack of a better expression, worships his wife.
Pitchwife possesses a gentle, albeit foolhardy temper, and while he abhors bloodshed, he does not scruple from lumbering to Gossamer’s aid, should she face a horde of teenage mutant ninja ur-viles from outer Sunbane. For all his shortcomings, he is immensely wise, and soon becomes the equivalent of Foamfollower to Linden.