Regarding our protagonist's rather fragile emotional state, please be assured it was a short time before he scraped himself together and began to formulate some more coherent thinking as to his situation. First of all, he reasoned, it would be foolish for any giant to be lying around crying over such small a matter as how anyone felt about him. His good name was immaterial in the town where he lived. After all, he was a giant! He towered over all whom he surveyed. He could have cared less whether he was liked or well regarded by the people of the town. They were fortunate to have him there, gold or not! He had every intention of returning to his town with the satchel when his invitations had been issued. He was no thief! In fact, he thought, if it were gold and treasure he was after he could scoop some up in almost any town he came to. He promised himself he would not be dragged down the emotional drain by feelings of guilt and remorse, and would rather focus his limited energy on getting out of the situation he had found himself in.
That said, he was in a bit of a bind. He realized that nothing was going to be accomplished from a bed, and the first move he should make would have to involve getting up. He tried wiggling his toes and found that he could move them with no problem. Reassured that he wasn't paralyzed, he pushed back the heavy quilt and covers and sat up a little. Again the pain in his back forced him down. He decided that it would be best to rest a bit and try more later. As the sun faded over the hilltops and the shadows turned gently to dusk, the tolling of of the bell mercifully stopped. The sound of crickets soon replaced the droning thrum of the bell. He closed his eyes and allowed the sweet escape of sleep to overtake him.
That night the giant dreamed of terrible things. The tower bell rang incessantly in his dream. He was being chased relentlessly through thickets, fields and forests by the huge dog. It seemed his feet were made of wet clay and his each step was impossibly slow and sloppy. The dog was so close to him he could feel moist hot doggy breath on his neck (imagine!). Just when the dog was upon him, he woke up.
His sheets and blankets were in a snarl around his legs, the quilt had been pushed halfway to the floor. The room was dark with not even a ray of moonlight coming through the window. His eyes slowly adjusted enough to make out the outline of the room, the nightstand, the coat hung on the back of the door.
As he lay in the darkened room, a thought slowly occurred to him. If the gigantic dog belonged to the impossibly large house and soaring bell tower, then what was he doing in a room of his own proportion? The bed was exactly long enough to hold him. The nightstand and windowsill were the same height as the bed. The hook on the back of the door was just at the right height to hold his coat. He sleepily came to the encouraging conclusion that, as bad as it seemed and as big as the dog was, at least he must be dealing with normal sized giants. Maybe everything would be alright after all. Maybe they would like to come to his feast. He gathered up his covers and soon fell asleep again, dreaming of pots of cheese and roasted meats.
