Two Statues

A teardrop the size of a summer squash rested on the iron cheek of the Monumento Del Treizo, a forty-foot statue which stood cowering in dashed humility, hunched in shame.
Had the figure stood proudly erect with its chin defiantly turned towards the sky, it would have towered well over sixty-feet.
The Treizo was by no means a warrior, nor was this metal monument shaped with bulging muscles. Thin, with a worrisome expression hammered upon the face, the Treizo looked as though it’d be terrified of even a bird landing on its head.
The Treizo was conceived one day when the pacifistic Yumisi tribe decided it would be more beneficial in melting down every metal sword, knife, lance and spear in the village and re-forge them into a statue celebrating their cowardice. The statue had to be so utterly pathetic in displaying valor that any aggressor would consider an invasion a waste of time.
The Yumisi's had spent many years in conflict with their archenemies, the Lamis tribe, who were all warriors and who all loved blood. The Treizo was constructed with the hope of conveying the message to the tribe of Lamisport, that the Yumisi people were fed-up with all the barbarism.
Years earlier, the Lamis tribe had constructed a statue of their own.
In contrast to the Colossus of Lamisport, whose majestic arms akimbo seemed to say; halt, who goes there?, the Treizo’s posture and the way it was depicted as biting the knuckle of its right hand seemed to say; Leave me alone, I feel like crying.
Substantially smaller than the Treizo, the Colossus of Lamisport stood 12-feet high, however, it was built-to-size, an exact replica of a Lamis warrior. It’s legs straddled a babbling creek in their wooded enclave. In its hand was a battle sword thrust into the air with a Yumisi villager impaled upon it.
There was a time when the Yumisi would have defended themselves against the Lamis, but lately they’d been jaded by all the pillaging, death and dismemberment.
It had gotten to the point that not a day went by without a Lamis warrior butchering a Yumisi for nothing more than shits and giggles.
But with the Yumisi’s newfound antiviolence methodologies, and refusal to put up a fight, the Lampis soon got bored. Decapitation just wasn’t that much fun anymore.
Truth be told, there also wasn’t anything left in the Yumisi village worth pillaging. Every scrap of metal had been used in creating the Treizo.
When a band of Lamis warriors happened upon the Treizo, they became nauseous at the sight.
“They are a spineless people. Let’s kill them all and put them out of their misery,” cried one warrior.
“Eh, why bother,” crowed another.
Soon, the Lamis threw down their swords and arrows and buried them in the earth.
They decided that since they were large enough to hunt and kill the animals of the forest with their bare hands they didn’t need such weapons.
When the attacks on the Yumisi villages ceased, the Yumisi people began to feel ashamed of the Treizo. They didn’t have anything to be afraid of anymore. They had no enemies. The Lamis tribe no longer waged war. The Yumisi villagers became very embarrassed at this pitiable statue of theirs.
So one day, the Yumisi people took the Treizo apart and melted it down piece by piece in the foundry.
With such an excess of iron, they decided to make new swords and arrows, knives and spears.
When the Yumisi shaped ten thousand weapons, they attacked the Lamis and slaughtered each and every one of them.
They cleared the trees from the forest, and built a settlement on what was once Lamis land. As a testament to the enormous warriors they defeated, the Yumisi left the Colossus of Lamisport standing.
Not long afterwards, the pigeons began to arrive; giant, vicious pigeons who had been attracted to the area by the sight of the mighty warrior statue.
Within their talons the pigeons could scoop up three or four villagers at a time, with beaks the size of canoes, they tore the Yamisi limb from limb.