Page 29 of Lost to the Orcs

He smiles at me over his shoulder. “Yes. Cannae tell though.” I shake my head and he laughs. It’s deep and warm like the fire.

“Why’d you move so far south?” From my talks with my gentlemanly mates, I found that this mountain is like smack dab in the middle of the continent because it is easier for all of the tribes to come here if they so wished to during the harsh winter. Because the entire continent practically freezes over during the winter. If a tribe is not prepared, they will perish. Thus, if they are not prepared, they gather what they can and come to the mountain where there is plenty. But, what Burgrol is speaking of is a different continent or island so to speak. It is only connected to the main continent during the winter when the waters freeze, connecting the lands. Pilgrimages occur back and forth throughout winter but it is mostly for game or the rarer herbs that grow only in that northern island. An island where it is always winter. Or at least, the seasons there are so extremely short that it seems like only winter.

He hands me an apron that I have to knot the strap around my neck quite a bit lower because it’s made for these six foot plus Orcs before wrapping the straps around my waist several times and then tying it in the back. I know he isn’t ignoring me. He’ll get to me in time. It might seem as if he is ignoring me or that he is so focused on his task that he isn’t paying attention but he is thinking. He takes out a mixingbowl, a spatula and a list. “Today you make this.” Not a list. A recipe. “By yourself.” Ah.

“If I don’t know what something is, can I ask you?” He nods. Relief fills me.

“Always ask. Never flounder.” I nod my thanks. And he begins.

He was born to a human father and a female half Orc who looks more human than Orc, minus her tusks, strange eyes and pointed ears. Many call her an elf cousin. But she proudly proclaims herself an Orc because she is in every which way that it matters. She is brilliant, brave and loved so fiercely. She is strong. Built like a brick house and as tall as a tree. Which I assume means as tall as him because he’s probably as tall as a tree. His father on the other hand comes up to her stomach and he loves her to pieces. She is his every breath and he provides everything she could ever want. They have six children. Burgrol is their third. All survived, despite the extreme weather they were raised in. He has two sisters and three brothers who he wouldn’t trade for the world.

His parents are, from their letters, still alive and well. His youngest sister is being courted by a local boy with “green as the hill” eyes. He did use air quotes for that tidbit. I’m betting his sister wrote that in her letter as he gets letters not just from his parents but every one of his siblings.

When asked if he gets along with all of them, he scoffed. “’Course not. But we love. We love deep.”

He tells me of his father’s love for baking them sweets with the nectar of bees, what I believe is bees from his description, all throughout his childhood and how his mother would jokingly say that if they didn’t wash behind their ears, they’d not get a single morsel. It didn’t matter because she would always let them have some after their supper. His older brother who is actually the one who bit off a piece of his ear, whined once that it wasn’t fair his brother only had to wash behind one ear for it to matter. Which got him a swat on the behind, since it was his fault his brother only had an ear and three fourths.

That was the beginning of his love for baking and cooking. If his dad didn’t bake sweets the beginning of the week, he traded for it. But it always was warm in their home and it always smelled like the sweetness of life to him. Warmth, happiness. They came hand in hand.

It is why he cooks in the mountain instead of hunting or skinning or any of the other things that the Orcs do in this mountain.

“None of that explains why you left.” I murmur finishing rolling my dough.

“Rugar an’ Aargon mated a male heated one. Aden travels. Bertsa is being courted an’ Ruby helps Mother an’ Father. I am big an’ no’ much room for a big Orc like me. Even two parts more human. I traveled too an’ found Jaeda. Very nice, sweet Orc. She reminded me o’ Mother. Offered me a stove, big enough. Home far from Home.”

I crimp the dough around the dish using my thumbs. Slicing into the top to air it out while it cooks. I pause to wipe the sweat from my brow. “I’m kind of surprised. Every story I hear from Orcs lately seems to be tragic. I like the change.”

“Because north is dangerous. We accept t’ survive. Here?” He shakes his head as he takes my dish and places it in the oven. “They kill different. Even for benefits. Jewels. Jewelry. Herbs. Many humans understand little of ‘he land. They are still young an’ yet act younger still. Orcs live amongst it. Roil in storms. The waves. Humans fear our power. They fear our ways. Mating. They pawn an’ ruin their own precious heat children. For land. Riches. Or they’re robbed of them. The strong destroy ‘he weak.”

I sit on a stool he pulled out for me as I wipe my hands clean. He’s not wrong. Humans are wicked and cruel in general. They are more likely to stab you in the back for their own benefit. I mean, notallof us are like that. But the negative usually outweighs the good in these things. Because it’s usually the powerful that are the negative and their influence alone is often detrimental to change.

“I’m sorry.”

“No’ them.” He shakes his head in reassurance.

“Burgrol!” Comes in a dainty human woman wearing a long sleeve tunic and pants. She has straight black hair, baby blue slanted eyes, angular features, and plump curves in all the right places. I almost squirm in insecurity. She has the literal hourglass perfection figure and I am extremely jealous of that. If I were a shape, it’d be a mashed potato. “Oh,” She pauses in front of the counter. “Hello.” She smiles politely at me. “I came to complain about my mate.” Her smile turns apologetic.

“What has Garret done today?” I watch him pull out a jar andstart the process of pickling a vegetable that looks like a turnip and carrots had a baby.

“He’s talking about how he wishes his brother were alive. Saying something about how it would be really nice to have a relationship like U’snar has with his own.” She shudders. “I can’t believe he’d suggest that.”

“Is that bad?” Burgrol asks. He hands me a couple of tubular vegetables and mimics chopping as her expression sours.

“Ofcourseit is. Humans wouldneverdo that. What are they going to call their child? Son? Both of them?” She gags. “And what about the child? Do they call thembothdad? Don’t even get me started on the fact that the woman is okay with fuckingbothof them. I can understand cousins maybe. Friends even! But hisbrother??”

“Fuck!” I slice my finger. Burgrol clucks his tongue but gives me a cloth to wrap my thumb in. He rids the table of the bloody vegetable and takes the others to his side.

“Jaedason will be upset.” I wince, the woman’s horrified face jerks as if she were slapped. Her wide eyes stare at me.

“Oh my god. I didn’t—I’m so sorry.” She starts to shake. “I didn’t mean to offend you. Please don’t kick us out during the winter.”

“What?” I frown, displeased with my clumsiness.

“Sumira hated anyone who crossed her. If you’re anything like her… I just. I’m so sorry.” She starts crying.

Immediately a large Orc stomps his way inside the kitchens. “Hani? Hani what’s wrong?” He turns his angry gaze upon me but the woman stops him.

“Garret, it's fine. I just, I was apologizing. I said some rude things and I didn’t mean to upset her.”

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