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  The Wench and the Giant

  Copyright © 2006 Viola Grace

  Cover art and design by Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

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  To David and Gale, who unfailingly support the lack of seriousness in my work…

  The Wench and the Giant

  Anya had always lived a comfortable life. That was of course, until her father died and left her alone in the world. The estate was entailed to a cousin who had no interest in supporting a grown woman on his coin. He turned her out into the world without a copper.

  “Have fun finding work! The only occupation you are suited to is whore.” He cackled evilly for a few moments as Anya picked her gowns out of the dirt where he had thrown them. “Maybe that pretty face of yours will be able to support you.”

  The door of her childhood home slammed in her face. She scooped up her clothing as best as she could and made her way to her new life.

  It took her only a few days to realize that her ‘pretty’ face was a detriment to her finding a position in any household as a servant. The offers she did receive were along the same professional lines that her cousin had mentioned to her. She left the premises as fast as she could and hid in the forest until the leering ‘gentleman’ had given up the hunt.

  She needed a job where an interested man with unscrupulous intentions would not be able to spirit her away. She needed to be in public.

  As she mulled this over, she heard laughter from inside the local tavern. A woman was ensconced in a man’s lap as he drank his ale. She seemed happy enough, and there was a large, intimidating individual near the door to make sure that no one took one of the wenches off him by force.

  She had a sudden idea. She took her small bundle of possessions into the nearby forest and began to craft a disguise. When she emerged she bore no resemblance whatsoever to the woman who had gone into the woods a few hours earlier.

  A veiled hood covered all of her head except for her brilliant green eyes. Her breasts had been bound down to give her a cylindrical appearance and a sack of a dress fell from her shoulders straight to the floor. Not one feminine attribute was visible to the eye.

  Nearby was a still pond, a place she liked to go to and dream. This is where she had come up with the idea of her disguise. She walked to the pond and gazed at her reflection in its still waters.

  It was perfect. No one would recognize her. Now all she needed to do was convince a tavern keeper to hire her. Another village would probably be best.

  * * * *

  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.

  She turned and went inside her tiny cottage, sealed the windows and locked the door behind her. Her mind whirled in bewilderment at the feelings that had started to warm within her.

  * * * *

  “What do you know about the giant, Orthias?” Anya was wiping down a table, John the tavern keeper was nearby repairing a bench.

  “Not much. Why?” He continued to work absently and glanced up at her.

  “He drove off some imps for me earlier in the week. I was just wondering about him, you know, where he lives, how long he has b
een in the area. Stuff like that.”

  “Oh. Hmm…he’s only a half giant, only seven feet tall or so. Lives near the Great Oak in the forest. Nice guy. Makes furniture in his spare time. That is about it.”

  “Thank you, I was curious. I haven’t run into many giants, half-blood or otherwise. He seemed polite enough. Does he ever come into town?”

  “Very rarely. Only when he needs to lay in supplies.” John focused his entire attention on her, “Why all the questions, really?”

  “I wanted to take him something. You know, as a thank you for his help.” She scrubbed harder at the table.

  “Hmm…why not take him some of the fresh bread Minya made this morning? Perhaps one of the roasted chickens.” John seemed most helpful in his suggestions.

  “Ok John. What do you want? You never give up food without a fight.” Anya stopped her cleaning and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Fine, you got me. I want to know if he can make me some new benches. These old ones are falling apart.” He shook his head at the wobbly repair he had affected on the furnishing. One heavy patron and it would fall apart for good.

  “What are you willing to pay him?”

  “Free meals for a month for every bench he makes.”

  “But you said he doesn’t come into town. How is he going to get the food?” Anya was curious now.

  “You said you wanted to thank him. You can deliver them once a day.” He seemed very pleased with his logic.

  And so it was that with basket in hand, Anya found herself walking down the path in the woods, past her own cottage and into the deep forest. The walk to Orthias’ house took her the better part of one hour. When she arrived, she knocked on the door and waited for a response.

  Nothing. She knocked again.

  “Is there something you want?” The voice sounded from right behind her and she almost jumped out of her skin.

  “Oh gods, you scared me!” She whirled to look at him, finding herself confronted with a wall of bare skin. Sweaty bare skin. He had obviously been working in the yard when she arrived. She tilted her neck back to meet his eyes.

  “I have brought you food and a business proposition.”

  “What kind of business?” He seemed only slightly curious as he took the basket from her and went into the cool darkness of his house.

  “John at the tavern would like to know if you would be willing to trade your carpentry skills.” She trailed after him as he entered a spotless kitchen and set out two plates.

  “Trade them for what? He doesn’t have anything that I want.” He swiftly divided the chicken, and served it on the plates next to neatly sliced pieces of bread.

  “He would give you one meal a day in exchange for a month for every bench you complete.” Anya blinked as he held out a chair for her. Since she had transformed herself into a shapeless blob of fabric, very few men had ever treated her like a lady.

  She hopped up onto the chair and gave him a nod of thanks.

  “I don’t go into town.” His voice was matter of fact.

  “He knows that. The meal would be delivered to you each day.”

  “By whom?”

  “Me.” She studied her plate and picked at the chicken. Tearing off a piece and then tucking it behind her veil to eat it.

  “You are willing to come out here every day? Rain or shine?” His surprise was evident.

  “Well, I’ve wanted to thank you for your help the other day. This seemed an expedient way to do it.” A tiny piece of bread disappeared behind her veil as she continued to eat slowly and carefully.

  “You could just say thank you.”

  “Thank you.” Her gaze met his and a smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “Are you interested in John’s offer?”

  “Not really, but I will accept it. On the condition, that you bring enough food for two everyday and have lunch with me.”

  Anya was startled. Apparently the widening of her eyes betrayed it.

  “Every now and then I do have the urge for…company.” Orthias was smiling again. “This is a convenient way of ensuring it.”

  “Alright then.” She pushed her half-full plate away. “When will the first bench be ready? The agreement will start as soon as John has it.”

  “It will be ready in one week. I expect to see you the day after it has been delivered.” Orthias took her plate, finishing the food she had left behind. It seemed very intimate to share food with a man she had just met. Especially since she was unable to use her looks to charm him. “You can go now.”

  “Fine then. I will see you soon, I guess.” Anya slowly rose from the table, then walked out the door and back into the green silence of the woods.

  * * * *

  Exactly one week later Anya found herself back at Orthias’ house. Once more with a basket full of food and still wrapped head to toe in her disguise. Two benches were delivered to John's tavern and he was delighted with them. The elegant carving on the supports made each bench a showpiece in the tavern. Villagers came by just to see the exquisite workmanship, and they'd stay for a pint. Two meals a day was a small price to pay for such a draw. He had been startled that it was a pair, but he was not about to complain.

  She stood on his porch and knocked. The door swung open and his massive form confronted her once again. He was tall, but fit and trim. His body hard muscled from working outdoors.

  “Hello Orthias. With compliments from John.” She held the basket out between them and his fingers brushed hers as he took it.

  As if his hands were fire, her fingers released the basket and withdrew into the folds of cloth. She smoothed her hands down her thighs as she followed him down the hall and into the kitchen once again, trying to stop their shaking.

  Lunch was a polite event. John had packed enough food to satiate Orthias’ enormous appetite, and he made quick work of it.

  When he had cleared the dishes off the table, he offered her a tour of his home. A dining room was off the kitchen, two guest rooms, a small washing room, and finally a library. Anya was astonished. She had never seen so many books together in one place before. Her father had had a few, but nothing to compare to this collection.

  “Where did you get all of these books?” One of her hands reached out to caress the spines lightly. She glanced over at him to find him watching her slender fingers stroke down the books with a sensitive touch, and jerked her hand back to her side with a blush.

  He cleared his throat. “Most of them were given to me by my mother. Some by friends. Some I found in my travels.”

  “Oh, have you traveled much?”

  “Not recently. I came to this house and decided to settle here. There’s everything I could possibly need within easy reach.”

  “Except books.” She smiled at her thought. Then froze her features when she noted the intense look he gave her. If she didn’t know better, she would guess that he could see through her clothing.

  His features composed themselves. “The books should not be exposed to the elements, so I will ask you not to take any with you. You are welcome to read when you come to visit though.”

  “Thank you, I may take you up on it.” She smiled at him again, a pleasant, vacuous smile that emptied her eyes of any thought.

  This set the pattern for the next few weeks.

  One day she got up the courage to ask a question that had been bothering her. “Why did the imps scatter when they saw you? And why haven’t I seen them since.”

  “It must have been your charming attitude, and the way you sway your hips while you are carrying that basket. It must have scared them off.” He gave her a grin and went back outside to work on one of his projects.

  Each day she brought him food. Each day he divided it between them and then he escorted her to the library and left her to read for a few hours. The companionship between them grew. Anya began to have stronger feelings for him than she had ever imagined, but she didn’t know what to do about it. If she made her attraction known, she might lose his friendship,
he might reject her, or gods help her, he might take her up on her offer. If only there was a way to lie with him without him knowing about it.

  Anya pondered this for a few days, and then decided on her course of action. She would go to the forest fey, Kenyon, and ask for a potion to serve her purpose. Then she would go to Minya at the tavern and get the rest of what she needed.

  * * * *

  Kenyon had a house deep in the forest. Anya was slightly timid as she walked up to the door. She started when the door opened and an attractive elf stood in the opening.

  “Can I help you?” His finely sculpted brow raised in query as he assessed the unidentifiable creature before him.

  “Yes, I mean, I hope so.” Anya stammered slightly as the elf gestured for her to enter the house.

  Inside she was astonished. It was extremely similar to Orthias’ house. The same basic structure, but something was off. In a few seconds, she realized that it was the scale of the rooms and furniture. Everything was too small. She had grown accustomed to the larger proportions. She smiled to herself and followed him into what should have been the library.

  It was a laboratory. Vials, beakers, flames, and powders she could not identify covered the walls and tables. There were large tomes stacked on a shelf and piled on the floor.

  “What do you need?” He took a seat on the only chair in the room.

  “Uh, I’m not sure, a potion perhaps? Something to knock out a giant.”

  “A giant? You want to knock out a giant? Why?” He looked angry. His finely sculpted features were pulling into a scowl.

  “I would really rather not explain why.” She shrank back from his piercing gaze.

  “You will explain or I will not assist you in this manner. Causing a giant to sleep is not an easy task. They do not generally sleep for more than an hour at a time.” His voice was implacable.

  She tucked her chin to her chest and muttered, “I want him asleep so that I can…umm, lie with him.”