Page 2 of Yuled By the Orcs

Anddamn it,Tryghad been studying her with close, watchful attention, his eyes narrowing. “Wishme to stop coming, then, woman?” he’d asked, very smoothly. “Younot willing to share either?Noteven in this?”

ButLydiahad swallowed hard, and rubbed at her hot face, and fought through the bitter swelling misery.No.Hecouldn’t stop coming.Notwhen he was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened in her quiet, empty life.No.

“Please, don’t stop coming,” she’d told him, her voice cracking. “Please.Tobe frank,I’lllikely go along with anything you please — anything you want from me — as long as you keep coming.”

Tryghad eyed her for a long moment, but he’d bent down and kissed her with surprising gentleness before saying farewell.Andthen he’d indeed kept coming, without fail, week after week.Untilsummer had slowly slipped into fall, and then the cold, dark nights of winter.

Buthe still hadn’t once attempted to stay the night, or to take things any further than their shared pleasures together.AndLydiahadn’t once asked, either, or brought up his other lovers again.Untila day several weeks before, whenTryghad slung his sack over his shoulder, turning as usual toward the door — but then, without warning, he’d spun to face her again.

“Liketo spendYulewith me, woman?” he’d said. “Icould get us a little lodge nearby to cozy up in for a few nights.Notmy home, you ken, but a place my clan keeps for aught such as this.”

Oh.Lydia’sbrows had shot up, her eyes searching his face, because there’d been something — different, there.Somethingshe couldn’t at all read.Butshe’d still fervently, frantically nodded, her heart leaping in her chest, because he wanted to spendYulewith her.Yule.Forafew nights.

“I’dlove to, thank you,” she’d told him, with a swift, genuine smile. “When?Where?Andwhat canIbring?Isthere anything you’d like for a gift?”

Perhapsit had been far too eager, becauseTryghad glanced away again, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ach, no gifts,” he’d said flatly. “Mayhapyou can wear a pretty frock, or some such, should you wish.Butno more.”

Lydiahad instantly agreed, and hadn’t been able to resist giving him an impulsive hug, which he’d returned with an indulgent pat to her head.Andthen she’d begun making arrangements, and counting down the slow, endless days untilYule.

Andnow,Yule’sEvehad finally arrived.AndLydiahad waited until dark, and then closed up her little cottage on the outskirts of the village, and crept into the moonlit forest.Carefullyfollowing the directionsTryghad given her, her heartbeat rising with every step.Followthe road to the river, and then turn left, and cross the log bridge.Andthen keep going south, until… until…

There.Athin wisp of grey smoke, streaking up into the night sky.AndLydia’ssteps quickened as she strode toward it, toward where she could indeed see a cozy little stone cottage, tucked into the surrounding snow-capped trees.

Shehalted at the wooden front door, dragging in long, deep breaths.Fightingto calm her frantic, furious heartbeat as she slowly raised her hand to knock…

Butthen, without warning, the door swung open.Andthere, standing tall behind it, was a powerful, grey-skinned, silver-bearded orc.Anorc with sharp teeth, pointed ears, and a broad, stunning smile.

“Finally, sweet thing,”Trygsaid. “Comein.”

2

LydiafollowedTryginto the cottage with shy, tentative steps, her eyes sweeping around the little room.

Itwas surprisingly warm and snug, with a merry fire crackling in the fireplace, and a few simple, sturdy wood furnishings scattered throughout.Atable and chairs, a shelf holding a few carved figures, and a large, fur-covered bed.Andperched atop the fireplace mantel, there were multiple boughs of fresh-cut spruce and fir, their scent filling the air with warmth and sweetness.

Butmost compelling of all, of course, wasTryghimself.Standingtall and rangy and bare-chested before her, his beard neatly trimmed, his silver hair pulled up into a messy knot, stabbed through with a gleaming, deadly-looking dagger.Andas always, his grin was impossibly contagious, showing all his sharp white teeth, and deeply crinkling the corners of his glittering black eyes.

“Ach,I’vemissed you, sweet thing,” he purred, as he stepped close, and tilted upLydia’sface with an easy, familiar clawed hand. “Lookhow flushed and pretty you are.Wereyou eager to see me, too?”

Lydia’scheeks heated as she nodded, andTryg’sgrin broadened even further, his eyes dancing in the firelight. “Good,” he said. “Now,I’vegained us a nice festive supper, should you wish?AndIsnatched some treats from home, too.”

Tryg’shome,Lydianow knew, wasOrcMountain, the terrifyingly large fortress that loomed a day’s journey to the south, and teemed with hordes of raging, ravenous orcs — or so the tales went.ButasTrygcarefully took offLydia’scloak, and hung it on a nearby hook, she once again found herself utterly unable to reconcile all the horrifying stories ofOrcMountainwith the reality of this particular orc.Withthe way he’d turned to grin at her again, his eyes lingering with frank appreciation on the thin, form-fitting red dress she’d worn beneath her cloak.

“Yougain this frock just for me, sweet pet?” he asked, with a blatant curl of his black tongue against his lips. “Verypretty.Ilike.”

Therelief swarmed upLydia’sspine, and in that instant, all the trouble she’d gone through for this dress — travelling out of town, haggling with the tailor, spending the greater part ofTryg’sexceedingly generous payments upon it — felt entirely worthwhile.Especiallyas he kept looking at her like that, like she was the only bedmate in his world, like there was no one else…

“Come,” he said, with another stunning grin, as he nudged her toward the table. “Sit.Drink.Eat.”

Onlynow didLydianotice the two chipped, steaming mugs on the table, and the overflowing tray of fresh-looking sweets and pastries.Andonce she’d gone and sat down,Trygstrode over to the fireplace, and brought back two bowls of succulent-smelling stew, too.

“Thisis delicious,”Lydiatold him, with genuine surprise, after she’d carefully tasted a spoonful. “Ididn’t realize you could cook.”

Shebelatedly winced at the implied insult in the words, but across the table,Tryglaughed and waved it away before loading up his own spoon. “Ach, you don’t want to eat my cooking, pet,” he said cheerfully. “Butm’boy, he’s made some good friends in the kitchen back home, so he’s got me sorted.”

Tryg’ssmile had gone soft and fond, the way it always did when he spoke of his son, andLydiacouldn’t deny the pang in her chest as she smiled back toward him. “Youdon’t mind being parted from him forYule?” she asked, tentative. “Isn’tit time you’d usually spend together?”

Trygwaved it away again, and then reached for a cake, snapping it in two with his sharp teeth. “Ach, m’boy’s got a sweet new mate to dote upon, these days,” he said lightly. “Buthe said he might bring him out later, if you’d wish to meet ’em.”

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