Chapter Text
Another day, another stupid job that Vizzini was dragging him on.
Inigo was tired. Well, he was always tired. He never really got good sleep unless it was brandy-induced, but tired more in the sense of melancholy. Everyday was the same, wake up to Vizzini's screeching, do some brainless job that his sword skills were much too refined for, ask people if they've seen a six fingered man, and dream of finally avenging his father. Inigo was often troubled about that last thing. 10 years of training, and 9 of searching for the man that ruined his life, with no success. The Spaniard could feel his crisis getting worse and his current life was not helping. He had agreed to work for the Sicilian about 3 years ago, at that time, money had run out and Inigo was at his second rock bottom in life. First, of course, being when he lost his father. He was lost in his last bottle of brandy when Vizzini walked into the Thieves' Quarters, looking for bums to hire for his next scam. The Sicilian always seeked out the most pitiful men he could find, men that would work for any small amount of money he would put upfront as pay. When he saw the depressed, drunken, and positively pathetic looking Spaniard, Vizzini knew he had struck gold. Inigo didn't actually remember the day too well (again, he was lost in his brandy), but Vizzini often, crudely, reminded him of it.
“You don't want to go back to being a worthless drunk throwing your guts up and your life away in the Thieves' Quarters back where I found you! Now quicker your pace, I need you to be a threatening swordsman.”
Inigo sighed and stepped off the boat, putting a hand around his sword's handle. He had no idea what plot Vizzini had planned, but he could guess it was probably a particularly immoral one. Why else would he be told to play the part of a “threatening swordsman”.
Inigo followed his small demanding employer onto land.
“ahm- Vizzini. What country are we in again. And why.”
The Sicilian scoffed, and answered like it was the most obvious thing ever and Inigo was so unintelligent for even daring to ask:
“Greenland of course. Why do you think I acquired this fleece coat before we came?! Every man with even the slightest bit of brains knows that Greenland is the only place that could be this cold.”
Of course Vizzini would only get a garment for himself and not even inform Inigo of the harsh conditions of where they were going. Of course. Inigo shivered, his clothes kept him from freezing but he only wore a simple long sleeve shirt and leather vest. He tightened the ties on his shirt to cover his chest, he hoped this job would be quick or he would have to spend money on more clothes that he could spend on food. Or spend on brandy.
The two finally seemed to make it to a destination, a group of circus tents, it looked like a fairly large traveling circus. However there were no guests this early in the morning. Inigo's eyes darted around. A circus could mean a tent of freaks, and a tent full of freaks could mean a man with a freakish amount of fingers. Inigo followed Vizzini behind one of the larger tents, where there were 2 men waiting. Vizzini shook hands with the one that looked like the ringmaster, and held out a small pouch of coins.
“He's a terrifying force, you're lucky I'm giving him up for so little.”
The ringmaster said, his voice was the picture of a showman and sounded so fake. Vizzini spoke next:
“a wise man, which I am, does his research, and I know that I'm the one, really, taking him off your hands.”
The ringmaster's fake face twitched a bit. And he snatched the coins from the Sicilian swiftly, who was grinning incredibly smugly. Inigo still had no idea anything that was going on. He could gather that Vizzini was hiring someone from the circus, but other people Vizzini employed normally ended up dead or left behind. He wasn't thinking about possible coworkers anyways, his focus was on looking for a freaks tent. The second man of less importance left promptly after the ringmaster gave him a wave, and returned with a huge man, a giant even.
The giant was handcuffed, a large chain connected to the cuffs being held by the second man. Inigo looked at Vizzini, whose eyes were lighting up with the greed of a man who had just scammed someone out of their life savings. Inigo had a thought: A giant.. That can be considered a freak, correct? He unsheathed his sword and glared at the man holding the giant's cuffs.
“Where did this man come from. Do you have a tent of freaks here? And do any of your freaks have more than 10 fingers?”
“I am from the freak tent, I never saw any-”
The giant tried to answer the Spaniard, but was promptly shut up by the man slapping him across the legs with the large chain. Vizzini made a motion with his head towards the giant for Inigo. Ah, he understood; this is who he was supposed to threaten so Vizzini would be less scared of his own head getting crushed by the large man. The swordsman was essentially slightly pointy bait, because there's no way if he tried to fight this absolute unit of a man he would win. Inigo was used to fighting men his own size, and he wasn't even sure if his sword would pierce a giant's skin. But he guessed that Vizzini had guessed, that the giant wouldn't be wise to that. The man holding the chain handed it to the Sicilian, along with a key for the cuffs.
The three men walked back to the boat Vizzini and Inigo had arrived on. The Sicilian proudly led, holding the chain. The giant walked between them, and the Spaniard pointed his sword at the giant's back. The boat was released from shore and Vizzini unlocked the cuffs. Inigo stood at the back of the boat, observing as the Sicilian started his running mouth:
“The circus did not want you, giant. You may be a strong creature, but you are weak minded, and frankly, cowardly. I can confirm this is true because of how you did not resist your change of employment, or even talk back to anyone while in the process. I am Vizzini of Sicily, and I will pay you to be my second henchman. Along with that Spaniard.”
Vizzini gestured to Inigo. The giant turned to face him. Inigo looked at the giant's face trying to read his expression before he spoke. He could make out confusion, and thought? The giant looked as if he was trying to think of something. Inigo slid his sword back into its sheath, and spoke his introduction:
“I am Inigo Montoya of Spain. You didn't happen to see any 6 fingered men back in Greenland did you? Or anywhere else you've been?”
The giant replied, his voice very low and laced with a heavy Turkish accent:
“No.. I don't think so. But people say I don't do a lot of thinking anyways. Hm.. Anyways.. May raise…”
The giant’s gaze drifted behind the Spaniard as he thought. What was he going on about?
“What was that you did just now??”
Inigo asked. Who says random words like that after speaking? What ‘may raise’??
The giant blinked, like this was a surprising question.
“It- It was a rhyme. Anyways, May raise… I say them out loud sometimes to see if they rhyme correctly.”
The Spaniard was intrigued. He looked behind him, nothing but ocean and fog. He shivered, they were still close to Greenland. Inigo sighed and sat down. It might be nice to have someone besides Vizzini to talk to on long travels again…
“Sword. What rhymes with sword?”
Inigo asked, a smile creeping up on his lips.
“Hmm.. Sword.. Booored? Sword and bored.”
The giant sat next to the Spaniard, he seemed very happy that someone gave interest to his wordy hobby.
“I am very much a sword that is bored.”
Inigo laughed a little under his breath at his own joke.
“What is your name, giant?”
“Fezzik. I am Fezzik of… Well I don't really have a home. I live wherever they'll house me. But I come originally from Turkey.”
Inigo, now sitting next to the giant, or, Fezzik, finally took the chance to really look at him. Fezzik was, obviously, a giant man, about 2 feet taller than Inigo. He was tan, had dark brown eyes, curly brown hair, sideburns, and a slight beard. In fact, he was very hairy. His sideburns bled into his hair, framing his face in a fuzzy way. His chest and arms were also covered in the stuff. Inigo, while noticing this, realized the giant wasn't wearing a shirt. His face went a little red realizing that he was literally staring at a shirtless man.
“ARENT-.... Aren't you cold..??”
Inigo grimaced a bit. He didn't mean to speak so loudly.
“Not really. I am very large so I stay warm. Like a walrus. Warm.. form.”
“But- how long were you in Greenland? Did the circus never give you a shirt??”
“No.. They told me I would be ‘more frightening’ without it. I don't want to be scary.. But I tried my best. Job is a job.”
Fezzik looked at Inigo, specifically his clothes.
“Are you not cold? You are so tiny. And thin.”
Inigo shuttered, he was actually quite cold.
“I am, but I am fine. I am a heavily trained wizard, and something as simple as cold weather will not get to me!”
“Are you a master swordsman? I've never met anyone like that before.. Someone important. Important.. Dormant.”
“A six fingered man murdered my father, Domingo Montoya, many years ago. I love my father very much, so I, of course, am searching for the six-fingered man to end him.”
Inigo stood and unsheathed his sword, gazing at it.
“I trained in all the ways of the sword for 10 years, to be the very best. So when I see the six-fingered man I will say to him…”
He struck a pose, pointing his sword at the air.
“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
Inigo re-sheathed his sword, and sat back down next to the giant.
Fezzik placed his hand on top of Inigo's head, and turned his head to the side. Inigo nearly pulled his sword on him out of instinct of being touched in such a way. However, for some reason, he didn't feel like he was in danger after the initial jumpscare. Fezzik's hand was large, sure, but it didn't grasp his head too tightly at all, in fact it was almost pleasant because of the sudden warmth.
“Did the six-fingered man give you these?”
Fezzik used his other hand, moving some of Inigo's hair to reveal the long scars on his cheeks better.
“YES-”
Inigo promptly moved away from Fezzik's grip, which was surprisingly easy for him to do. His face was red, and his heart was beating quicker. He could have crunched my head in his hands like a coconut. My heart is going crazy from the fear..
“Yes. The six-fingered man.. Did give these to me. Have you killed anyone before.”
Fezzik took a second before worry filled his face.
“Oh! I'm sorry for grabbing your head- no.. Not intentionally. I have nearly killed people though. Even my… my own father..”
The giant's face fell into a guilty expression. Inigo recognized it, the guilt. He felt it often.
“Did your father die as well?”
The sun was setting, the sky was painted with beautiful shades of orange and red. Fezzik stood up to look at it, his large hands resting on the frame on the back of the boat. Inigo followed, crossing his arms on the barrier.
“My father.. My parents, didn't like me very much I think. They cared for me but… deep down I think scared them. It didn't help when I broke my father's jaw because he told me to try out my punches on him. Because I was born a giant they had me fight others, for money, you see.”
“I can guess you didn't like it, fighting others?”
Fezzik shook his head.
“All I ever want to do is make rhymes and be helpful.. But I sometimes even fail at that. Downsides to being born not only a giant, but stupid as well. You're the first one I've met to indulge in my silly rhymes.”
The giant smiled at him and Inigo felt the weight the giant carried in his heart in his own. The ocean wind blew through the two men’s hair, as the sunset’s colors deepened.
“I don't think the rhymes are silly. I would even call them brilliant. Have you ever considered being a poet?”
The giant seemed a bit taken aback by this comment.
“No, not me. I can't make up metaphors or anything fancy, I'm too dumb for it. I just like the rhymes.
Inigo thought for a moment: How can someone so charming think so low of themself?
“hm. Dumb, numb. That's not too good is it heh.”
The giant's eyes lit up at the Spaniard's attempt to rhyme.
“Succum. Dumb and succumb. Numb isn't too bad, a solid rhyme!”
A loud snore from a sleeping Sicilian broke the moment. The sun had set now. Laying on the floor of the boat, Inigo was left to his own thoughts. I like this one. I think I may call him my friend. I hope he sticks around longer than other people Vizzini has paid. No. I will make sure he will.