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Round of belly, capacious of appetite and generous of spirit, the Giant, Pot, revered a full pantry and laden table enjoyed in the company of friends. But he preferred to keep logistical concerns well clear of his merrymaking, and in this matter Rue was indispensable.
Steady and straightforward as the oak from which Spriggan had carved him, Rue Beane had joined the House of Pot to run its cavernous kitchens. Pot was (and remains) many things, but "organized" and "practical" had never been among them. As such, over time Rue's duties had expanded, the odd task piled onto his schedule one by one until he was more of a personal aide than a chef; more butler than maître d'. Under his direction, the house staff transformed the bounty of Ur into lavish feasts of delectable imagination and culinary delight. And once the revelry had concluded, plates and scraps and soiled cups were quickly whisked out of sight and scoured into gleaming brilliance once again. Whatever Rue may have lacked in social graces, his efficiency more than compensated for it in the overall balance of life.
Primary among the concerns of any Giant was the matter of donations, and in this Pot was no exception. Each day, devoted Glitchen heaped his Urian shrines with their offerings, emptying their packs in pursuit of his enlightening favor. In the early times of the 12th age, the fruits of cheffery and knife-work and pugilistic grilling were introduced only briefly to the interior of Pot's larder; almost as quickly as they arrived, Rue would whisk them away to join the endless parade through the dining room.
Alas, in his gusto for the finest things in life, Pot turned his many eyes from the unforeseen consequence of piety: a great many gifts for which he had no use, steadily filling the spare corners of his home. Great heaps of glittering gems, stacks of finely tinkered tools, clutches of toys and unbelievable mountains of bundled grain strained toward his cavernous ceilings, too numerous to ever enjoy but far too precious to outright discard.
Time passed, further Glitches sprang forth, and their efforts began to outstrip even the grandest of Giant appetites. Braised meats and elaborate grilled cheeses were soon left to languish alongside their less perishable counterparts, which by that point had reached alarming numbers all on their own, their bulk threatening to swallow Pot and Rue and their household alike.
Finally, the morning dawned that Rue could take no more.
"Enough," he rumbled. "Tell them to stop. We're going to smother in here."
Pot stood amongst the fruit changers and firefly jars and fretted anxiously. "Oh, I can't! Of course, the noms and nibbles have gone a bit too far, but I couldn't bear to seem ungrateful!"
"So send it back," said Rue.
Pot blinked twenty-two-fold in surprise. "Back?"
"Not directly." Rue made a vague gesture. "Gifts."
"It's unwise to give too generously," said Pot. "Imbalance makes one feel pitied and small. I couldn't do that to my poor little Glitchlings."
Rue sighed. "Sell them?"
"Crass!"
This time, the sigh was more of a groan. "Trade, then?"
"And exchange one surplus for another?"
"No. Not an equal trade." Rue considers for a moment. "A seasoned bean for a bubble. Great grinders for an apple. Let them feel like they're getting away with something."
Pot frowned. "Could they believe me such a rube, that I would make so poor an offer?"
"Get someone else do it, then," said Rue with a shrug.
Pot stared at him for a moment, as if taking the measure of Rue's character with his eyes. He rubbed his stomach thoughtfully and smiled.