Page 66 of Mountain Orc Daddy

40

UZUL

Iam sitting on my favorite log on the eastern side of Misty Mountain, New Hampshire. Orc country. The sun is an orange, glorious madness rising. The tribe village is off to my left and nestled beneath the trees. The road below me is filled with a troop of thirty orcs and Rogar. I am watching them from my favorite stump. Blair is standing beside me.

“Do you ever think about her?’ Blair asks.

“Only if I have to,” I answer. I know who Blair is referring to.

Aisling.

Approximately one year ago the crazy witch had been dispatched from this world about twenty feet from where I sit.

I turn my attention back to the troop of orcs gathering on the road below us.

“They look happy,” I say. I say this to Blair, and to the universe all around us. I say it for the mountains, too.

“Thanks to you,” Blair inserts.

“Thanks to the human resource people at the Department of Forestry,” I tell her. “Nobody is better equipped for caring for the mountains and the trees than orcs. The first orc to walk these hills was born from the Misty Mountain, earth and stone. She appeared the way rainbows appear, between the heavy rain and the sun.”

“You are so correct,” Blair adds. “There are no forest rangers as efficient and better fitting for the role than orcs.”

I stand. Blair and I walk down to the orc village deep in the trees where they have jobs to protect this land. It’s their perfect part of society. The air is thick with smoke, coffee, and bacon.

Blair and I reach the back section of the orc village where we see a second grouping of orcs gathering. The young, huge, and unusually strong orcs.

The warrior class. This group is dressed in all black suits, dark shades, and they are loading into trucks and SUVs with tinted windows.

“They’re looking tight today, babe,” Blair tells me.

“Hell yes,” I answer. “They need to be. The number of stadium-tour concerts this summer is crazy. Nobody does concert and special event security better than orcs. Watch, this’ll be our busiest platform.”

“I am so proud of you, my big handsome.”

Blair is always proud of me, surely more than I deserve. I have won the Lotto securing her as a wife.

I am proud of the Broken Maws Tribe. They integrated. They are thriving. They are fearless. They show that fearlessness is not being without fear. Fearlessness is transforming the fear-lead into gold.

“We should go soon,” I tell Blair.

“We can go whenever you’re ready,” Blair answers me. “I packed the Ford last night.”

“You are so organized,” I tell her.

“We are a great fit,” she adds.

I stay silent for a moment and watch the warrior class gather and organize and finish loading vehicles.

“We’re going to have to tell them when we visit today,” Blair says with a slight giggle. “My family can detect secrets a mile away.”

Blair’s family can detect secrets from millions of miles away, from dimensions away, too.

“I know. Let’s drop the news towards the end of the visit,” I suggest. “They’ve probably already figured it out.”

I follow Blair to the Ford, and we leave. I drive these days. Blair is patient but misses no opportunity to tell me I drive like an old man. I am still deciphering what she means by that.

The drive to Blair’s family’s house has lots of bends and valleys that I have come to enjoy. For that reason, it feels over too soon.

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