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We stood there for a moment, the tension between us almost palpable, before I remembered my manners. “Oh! Please, come in,” I said, stepping back.

Vorgath ducked his head as he entered, his shoulders nearly brushing the doorframe on either side. He looked around, taking in the modest surroundings with interest. From the corner of my eye, I saw Elias peeking out from behind the kitchen doorway, his eyes wide. Mrs. Crumble stood beside him, her face alight with curiosity.

“Elias,” I called, “come say hello to our guest.”

Elias hesitated before stepping out, his small hand clutching Mrs. Crumble's. Vorgath turned, his imposing figure seeming to grow even larger in the confines of our small home.

“Hello,” Elias said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vorgath crouched down, bringing himself closer to Elias's eye level. It was a surprisingly gentle gesture from such a formidable figure. “Hello, Elias,” he rumbled. “Your mother has told me much about you.”

Elias's eyes widened. “She has?”

Vorgath nodded solemnly. “She says you're very brave and smart.”

A small smile crept onto Elias's face, some of his nervousness fading. “Mama says you're teaching her to be a blacksmith.”

“That's right,” Vorgath said. “She's learning very quickly.”

Mrs. Crumble stepped forward next, offering Vorgath a deep curtsy that was somehow both respectful and slightly mischievous. “Welcome to our home, Master Vorgath,” she said. “I'm Mrs. Crumble. I help look after young Elias here.”

Vorgath blinked, clearly surprised by the tiny brownie's presence. “It's a pleasure,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

I smiled at the scene—my son, the towering orc, and the diminutive brownie, all navigating their introductions. It was so different from anything I could have imagined even a few days ago.

Mrs. Crumble glanced between me and Vorgath. “Well, now, Elias and I have a few finishing touches to put on dinner,” she said. “Why don’t you take Master Vorgath out to see the old forge, Soraya?”

Elias looked like he was about to protest, but Mrs. Crumble tugged gently on his hand, steering him toward the kitchen with the promise of letting him help stir the stew. His eyes showed a flash of reluctance before he gave in, allowing himself to be led away.

I turned back to Vorgath, who was still crouched down, his gaze lingering on the spot where Elias had stood. There was a softness in his expression, a glimpse of something tender that made my heart ache just a little. He looked up at me then, and the tenderness was replaced by curiosity.

“Shall we?” I asked, gesturing toward the door.

Vorgath rose to his full height, nodding. “Lead the way.”

Chapter 7

As we stepped into the cool evening air, the old forge loomed ahead, its squat stone structure suddenly seeming smaller and less impressive compared to Vorgath’s. I could almost hear Grimble’s voice praising its once grand stature, but now it felt like a relic of what it had been.

I glanced at Vorgath, suddenly self-conscious. “It's... well, it's seen better days,” I said, trying to keep my voice light as I pushed open the creaking door.

Moonlight filtered through the dusty windows, casting long shadows across the workspace. I fumbled with the lantern by the door.

“Let me,” Vorgath said, his large hand easily lighting the wick. The warm glow illuminated the forge, and I saw it anew through Vorgath's eyes.

The anvil stood at the center, its surface dulled with disuse. Tools hung on the walls, some rusted, others gleaming where I'drecently cleaned them. The forge itself was cold and dark, a far cry from the roaring heart it had once been.

“It's small,” Vorgath said, his deep voice echoing slightly in the quiet space.

“It served us well enough,” I replied, then winced at how sharp my words sounded. “I mean, it's not as grand as Thorne's, but...”

Vorgath turned to me. “I meant no offense,” he said softly. “It has... character.”

“It does, doesn't it?” I moved further into the space, running my hand along the workbench. “I've been trying to get it back in working order, but there's so much to do.”

Vorgath nodded, his eyes taking in every detail as he moved through the forge. I watched him, noticing how his eyes lingered on certain tools, his fingers ghosting over the anvil's surface. “The layout is efficient,” he said. “Your husband knew his craft.”

“He did,” I agreed, smiling softly.