At the edge of the Shadowlands, a firbolg tended the valley that his people had maintained for countless generations. The woodland creatures were his friends, and the towering pines shared their ancient wisdom with him. Firbolg do not have names, but he thought of himself mainly as He Who Carries On The Old Ways.
Humans came to the valley. A firbolg went to speak with them, in the guise of an elf so as not to frighten them. The humans said the valley belonged to them, and the trees would be cut down to make more farmland. A firbolg explained that the valley was his home. The humans said he would have to leave. A firbolg made the humans leave instead.
The humans returned in great numbers, and they brought weapons, and fire, and dogs. A firbolg tried to explain to the dogs that he just wanted to be left alone, but the dogs were loyal to their masters. A firbolg did not blame the dogs.
Iron chains were put on a firbolg, and he was brought to a town. A human who seemed important, that the other humans called Yer'onna, told a firbolg that the farmers had the legal right to the valley, and that a firbolg was trespassing. A firbolg tried to explain that he had lived in the valley all his life, but Yer'onna told him that didn't matter. The humans practiced a strange magic with papers and maps and twisting words, and the ritual went on for days and days until a firbolg was confused, exhausted and angry.
A firbolg's identity could not be verified. A firbolg had no claim over the land. A firbolg was nobody and could prove nothing, because a firbolg did not have the humans' magic paper. A firbolg lost his temper, and his elven guise, and the humans were frightened indeed. They beat a firbolg and threw him into a cage.
After many days, a fancy human who the others called Petrare told a firbolg that he had been purchased, and was to be a gladiator. A firbolg did not know what a gladiator was. Petrare told him that he would have to fight.
He Who Carries On The Old Ways had never wanted to fight, but a firbolg was no longer that person. As his cage-cart trundled on towards the place the humans called Arena, a firbolg flexed his hands and felt like he wanted to fight very much. A firbolg asked Petrare whether he would be able to fight Yer'onna or the human farmers, and Petrare laughed and said maybe one day, who knows. A firbolg began to think of himself as He Who Longs For Vengeance.
