Poor Wayfaring Stranger

GEORGIA Be of love a little more careful than of anything. image by Csutkaa @ flickr.com The man looked big sitting there on the ground, but it wasn't until his hand completely enclosed her own that she realized just how big he probably was. She had to brace herself and grip his forearm with her free hand to help get him to her feet all the while hoping that he wouldn't end up pulling her down on top of him. It wouldn't be good for her to injure him further, not to mention her poor flowers had had enough abuse already without her adding to it. Once on his feet the man was even taller than she had assumed. "Well then." Georgia said, her head tilting back so she could look up at the new comer. "Fall off your beanstalk?" The tone of her voice sounded almost serious, but the twitch of her lips as she tried not to grin should have been enough to make it known that she was joking. When he no longer seemed like he was wobbly on his feet she let go of his arm and stepped back, brows furrowing as she studied him. There had been an influx of newcomers, but for the most part she had been left alone and had stayed out of sight. He was the first one that she had come across and it made her wonder if they were all that big "Okay, we need to get that taken care of." She said, motioning to the bloody hand pressed against his injured side. She turned to walk to her cottage, but the glint of metal in the sunlight made her stop. There, lying on the ground near her crushed flowers, was a sword. "Huh." She stepped away from him then stooped down to pick up the sword. It was heavy, the edge razor sharp, but there was no blood on it which made his injury all the more perplexing. She looked back at Tristan when he thanked her and grinned. "I haven't done anything yet." She said. "I'm sure you'll be less thankful when I do." From her experience bigger men tended to be bigger babies when it came to cleaning and stitching wounds. "Come on." Georgia said, taking hold of his arm once again to guide him toward the cottage. She pushed the door open and stepped inside, stopping long enough to leave the sword leaning against the wall.  The inside of the cottage was quaint and home. Dried herbs and flowers were spread out across a small coffee table in the living room. A couch and a set of chairs sat near a fireplace that wasn't currently being used. In the kitchen were more dried herbs surrounding a morter and pestle on the counter. "Sit at the table." She said, motioning toward it as she disappeared to get clean bandages. Georgia returned a short time later with the bandages in hand and a bottle filled with amber colored liquid. "Here you go." She held the bottle out to him. "A bit of whiskey helps take the edge off." "."