Page 7

Chapter 6

T he moment I stepped through my front door, I was hit by a wave of panic. Seven save me, what had I been thinking? Inviting Vorgath to dinner? My home was a disaster, I had nothing prepared, and—

“Mama!” Elias's excited voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. He barreled toward me, his small boots thudding against the creaky floorboards. His face was smudged with dirt, and his hair stuck up in wild tufts. “You're home early!”

I scooped him up, grunting slightly at his weight. “I am,” I said, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “And we've got work to do. We're having a guest for dinner.”

His eyes widened. “A guest? Who? Is it Aunt Thyri?”

“No, it's... it's Vorgath. My teacher from the forge.”

Elias's jaw dropped. “The orc? He's coming here?”

“Yes, he is. And we need to get this place cleaned up before he arrives.” I set him down, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest as I surveyed our cottage with fresh eyes.

The small kitchen table was still cluttered with the remnants of breakfast—bread crusts, half-eaten apples, and Elias’s wooden toy sword lying forgotten among the plates. The pile of mending in the corner had grown into a small mountain, with fabrics draped haphazardly over the worn chair. The hearth, cold and ashy, hadn’t been lit since morning, and a thin layer of dust coated the shelves that held Elias’s books and a handful of keepsakes.

The cottage was cozy to me—warm, lived-in, full of memories—but what would an outsider like Vorgath see? It wasn’t grand like Lady Hargrave’s estate or even well-kept like his cabin in the woods. It was small, cluttered, and worn by years of struggling to make ends meet. Would he think less of me, of us?

There was a soft rustling behind me, and I turned to find Mrs. Crumble materializing out of thin air, leaves swirling around her tiny form.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, clutching my chest. “Mrs. Crumble, you startled me.”

The brownie's eyes twinkled. “Apologies, dearie. These old ears of mine couldn't help but overhear. An orc for dinner, you say?”

I gave her a sheepish smile, my cheeks warming. “Yes, I know it's last minute, and the house is a mess and—”

Mrs. Crumble waved her tiny hand, cutting off my rambling. “We'll have this place spick and span in no time.” She winked at Elias. “Won't we, young man?”

Elias nodded enthusiastically, already reaching for the broom that was taller than he was. “I'll sweep, Mama!”

Affection welled up in my chest. “Thank you,” I said. “I don't know what I'd do without you two.”

“Now, now. No time for sentimentality. We've work to do.” She clapped her tiny hands together. “Elias, you start sweeping. I'll tackle those dishes. And you, my dear,” she fixed me with a knowing look, “best get started on dinner. I imagine an orc's appetite is not to be trifled with.”

I nodded, suddenly uneasy at the thought of cooking for Vorgath. What did orcs even eat? All I knew about their cuisine came from wartime rumors of raw meat and strong spirits. Somehow, I didn't think that would make for a comfortable family dinner.

As I moved to the kitchen area, my mind raced with possibilities. I had some venison left and plenty of root vegetables. A stew, perhaps? Simple, hearty, and easy to make in large quantities.

The decision made, I began chopping vegetables. Behind me, I could hear Elias chattering away to Mrs. Crumble as they cleaned, his excitement about meeting a real orc evident in every word.

“Mama,” he called out, “do you think Vorgath can lift our whole house?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I don't think so, sweetheart. And please don't ask him to try.”

Mrs. Crumble's tinkling laugh joined mine. “Oh, I don't know,” she said, her voice full of mischief. “I've heard tales of orc strength that would make your hair stand on end.”

I turned to give her a mock glare. “Don't encourage him, Mrs. Crumble. The last thing I need is Elias asking Vorgath to benchpress our furniture.”

“And why not?” she asked. “It might liven up the evening.”

I rolled my eyes, but as I turned back to my cooking, I felt some of my anxiety ease. Yes, this was unexpected and potentially awkward, but also exciting. No man had stepped through this door since Kald, and certainly not one like Vorgath—an orc, a man I’d barely known a few weeks ago, who was now... what? My teacher? My friend?

Or something more?

I caught a glimpse of myself in the small, dusty window—hair in wild disarray, apron dusted with flour and soot. I wasn’t polished or perfect, and suddenly, I felt vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with the state of my cottage or the meal I was preparing.

“Mrs. Crumble,” I said softly, not turning around, “am I crazy for doing this?”

There was a pause, and then Mrs. Crumble appeared at my elbow, her wizened face kind. “Crazy? No, dearie. Brave? Perhaps. But there's nothing wrong with opening your heart to new possibilities.”

“I don't know if I remember how to do this,” I admitted, adding the vegetables and chopped venison to the simmering pot.

Mrs. Crumble patted my arm. “The heart never forgets, my dear. It just needs a little encouragement sometimes.” She glanced at the stew. “Now, how about I add a pinch of my special herbs? They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, after all.”

I laughed, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders. “Even if that man is an orc?”

Mrs. Crumble winked. “Especially if he's an orc, dearie. Especially then.”

###

Time flew by in a flurry of cleaning, cooking, and last-minute preparations. Before I knew it, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across our newly tidied home. I stood in front of the small, cracked mirror in my bedroom, fussing with my appearance for what felt like the hundredth time.

I'd changed into a dress I'd mended earlier in the week using the delicate flower embroidery that Lady Hargrave had rejected. It hugged my curves in a way that made me feel both self-conscious and oddly empowered. The neckline was a touch lower than I was used to, and I found myself constantly adjusting it.

“You look lovely, dearie,” Mrs. Crumble's voice drifted up from somewhere near my elbows. I looked down to see her beaming up at me, her tiny hands clasped in approval.

“Are you sure?” I asked, smoothing down the fabric nervously. “It's not too much? Or too little? Seven save me, what if he thinks I'm trying too hard?”

Mrs. Crumble chuckled. “My dear, he'll be too busy picking his jaw up off the floor to think anything of the sort.”

Her words sent a flush through me, a strange blend of embarrassment and pleasure. It had been so long since I’d dressed up for anyone, yet here I was, fussing over a dress, over how I looked. For him.

For Vorgath.

A sharp rap at the door made me jump. “He's here,” I whispered, suddenly feeling like a young girl again, nervous before her first date. Not that this was a date. It was more like... a working dinner.

“Then let's not keep him waiting,” Mrs. Crumble said, giving my skirt a gentle tug to straighten it.

With one last glance in the mirror, I made my way to the door, my hands trembling slightly as I reached for the handle. I opened it to find Vorgath standing there, his massive frame filling the doorway. He wore a brown tunic that strained against his broad chest and shoulders, and dark leather breeches. His hair was brushed back, revealing more of his face than I was used to seeing, and his beard seemed to be combed.

“Soraya,” he said, his dark eyes widening slightly as they took me in. “You look... different.”

My confidence faltered for a moment before I noticed the appreciation in his gaze. “Good different, I hope?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“Very good,” he said in a way that confirmed I hadn’t imagined the spark between us.

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.”