The Wench and the Giant

Several months later Anya reflected that life as a tavern wench was actually kind of fun. The customers occasionally got extremely drunk and tried to carry off one of the wenches, but it was never Anya. The rumor of horrific burn scars under the draped fabric was enough to cool the most ardent of admirers. This enabled her to wait on the tables, chat with the customers, and clean the more obvious spills without extreme harassment, and only receive the occasional pinch on her curved buttocks.

She took possession of a tiny cottage outside the village that housed the tavern, and was on the way home when her life took an unexpected turn.

"Damn it! Imps!" The tiny creatures were frolicking across her path.

At her outburst, the collection of creatures turned as one and hissed.

The pack attacked her, leaping upon her robes and twisting them around her feet, sending her to the ground in a tangle of fabric. She clawed at the creatures as their tiny teeth gnashed at her clothing, tearing off strips to nest with.

Suddenly, they were gone.

She sat up slowly and looked around at the catalyst for their exodus. She found it in the very large boots that entered her field of vision as she calmed her breathing.

"Are you alright?" The voice was very deep, and based on her current locale it was extremely far away.

"Yes, I'm fine, I think." She started to stand up but tripped over the shredded scraps of fabric that were still twined devilishly around her ankles.

Large hands caught her and lifted her up against a chest that was wonderfully warm and hard.

"Apparently not." His voice was amused and she could feel it rumble through the walls of his chest as he spoke. She still did not have enough nerve to look up and meet his eyes.

"Where were you headed, miss?" He seemed to be unfailingly polite.

"To my cottage, at the end of the lane. Near the Maiden's Pool." She had tucked her chin into the fabric of her shawl, which muffled her voice, yet he obviously understood her as he began to stride down the path.

"Have you lived there long?" His legs made short work of the walk as they ate up ground at twice the rate of her pace.

"A few months. I only just moved to this village recently." Warmed by his interest, even if it was just out of politeness she continued. "People around here are very nice for the most part. The tavern keeper has been very kind."

"I don't go into town much. I have a slight problem with the scale of the place." He smiled. She could feel it. She peeked up at him and was astonished at the pleasant features that met her gaze.

The moment that she looked up at him, he looked down at her. He smiled again. It was a kind look, amused and full of good humor. It transformed his face from pleasant to handsome in the blink of an eye.

"I didn't think giants were so good natured." She smiled in return, and then stopped as she realized that he could not see her face. All that was visible were her eyes. She attempted to put as much warmth as she could into them, but he had already looked away.

"Most aren't, but I am not fully a giant. A full-blooded giant would be over ten feet tall. I am a few feet short of that." He stopped and began to lower her to the ground.

With astonishment, she realized that they had reached her little cottage in the woods. The pond was a glassy reflection of the night sky and everything was silent.

"Well, here you are. Safe and sound. I will bid you good night." He turned and began to stride away down the path into the deep woods.

"Wait! What's your name?" she called to his retreating back.

"Orthias, miss. My name is Orthias." He continued without looking at her and soon was lost to her sight.

"Thank you, Orthias." Her voice was a whisper.