Page 4 of Her Orc Blacksmith

For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice. I’d always been practical, focused on what was in front of us, not on dreams or wishes. But Elias still saw the world with hope, still longed for more. It surprised me—this difference between us. I wasn’t used to thinking beyond the day-to-day, but maybe I needed to be.

Finally, I swallowed hard, forcing myself to smile as I squeezed his hand gently. “That’s a wonderful wish.”

He smiled back, his eyes already drifting shut. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“Goodnight, little prince,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

I watched him for a moment, his breathing deep and even, before quietly slipping out of the room and closing the door behind me.

Back in the kitchen, I prepared a cup of tea. The dried herbs I’d gathered from the market earlier that week—lavender and moonmint—filled the room with their earthy scent. Once the water boiled and the herbs steeped, I wrapped my hands around the warm cup and stepped outside into the cool night air.

The street was quiet, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight and the faint shimmer of stargrasses that grew along the edges of the path, with only a few scattered cottages nearby, their windows dark. Behind me, the forest whispered, the trees swaying gentlyin the breeze, while ahead, the town’s quiet streets stretched toward the distant glow of the market square.

I leaned against the doorframe, sipping my tea slowly, letting the warmth spread through me as I stared across the street at the forge. It had stood there, dark and silent, for so long. The chimney, now overgrown with ivy, reached up into the sky, and the tools still hung untouched inside, waiting for a hand that would never return.

The forge had once been a place of life, of fire and strength. I could still remember the sound of the hammer striking metal, the rhythmic clang that had echoed through our days, steady and reassuring. It was where my husband had spent most of his time, crafting weapons and tools, and when he left to fight, the forge had been his parting gift—a promise that he would return, that our lives would go on.

But he never came back, and the forge had grown cold.

I took another sip of tea, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in my bones. For years, I had avoided that place. It had become nothing more than a monument to what I had lost.

But now… now Elias wanted the forge working again. He wanted something I hadn’t dared to even consider—a return to the life we had before. And for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something deep inside me, something that had lain dormant for too long.

I finished my tea, the decision slowly solidifying as I set the empty cup on the step and crossed the street. The night air was cool against my skin, but I barely felt it as I approached the forge door. My hand hovered over the handle, hesitating for just a moment as the memories threatened to overwhelm me. But I pushed them down, focusing on Elias’s wish, on mine. With a steadying breath, I grasped the handle and pushed the door open.

The hinges creaked as the door swung inward, and I stepped inside. The smell of soot and metal still lingered in the air, faint but familiar, and I stood there for a long moment, letting the silence settle around me.

It was just as he had left it. The anvil stood in the center of the room, the tools neatly arranged on the walls now coated with a layer of dust and cobwebs, the forge itself still filled with cold ashes. It was like stepping back in time, into a place that had once been full of life and hope.

With a deep breath, I moved to the forge, my hand shaking slightly as I picked up a piece of flint and steel. I hesitated, the memories still so fresh, so raw, but then I thought of Elias, of his wish, and the resolve within me hardened. Everything I had done since the war had been for Elias, to keep him safe and make sure he had something steady to hold onto.

But now, he was asking for more. He needed something to look forward to, something steady and strong, something that could give him hope. Maybe it was time I stopped thinking about what we’d lost and started thinking about what I could give him.

I struck the flint against the steel, and a small spark leaped into the darkness. I struck it again, and again, until finally, the spark caught in the cold ashes, a tiny flame flickering to life.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. The flame grew, feeding on the dry kindling, and a glimmer of hope sparked within me.

For years, I’d been surviving. Maybe now, it was time to start something new—not just for Elias, but for me. For us both.

Chapter 3

Iwiped the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, staring at the stubborn piece of iron that refused to cooperate. I’d been up nearly all night, finishing the mending for Lady Hargrave, and now, with Elias off at school, I thought I’d get an early start in the forge.

But this was no needle and thread, and no amount of determination could change the fact that I was out of my depth. The metal on the anvil seemed to mock me, holding its shape with the same resistance I’d felt all morning.

I pumped the bellows again, coaxing the flames to life, but the fire in the forge flickered weakly, as if it, too, was as tired as I was. My muscles ached, and the weight of the sleepless night was catching up with me. Maybe last night’s burst of inspiration had been driven by nostalgia and sweet rolls rather than anything real. What was I even doing out here?

Just as I was about to give up and set the hammer down, a familiar voice called out from the open doorway.

“What in the Seven are you doing in here?”

I turned to see Thyri standing there, a basket balanced on her hip, her brow arched in confusion.

“Trying to figure out how these things work,” I replied, gesturing vaguely to the tools scattered around the forge.

“Why?” she asked slowly.

“Why not?” I retorted. “I’ve got this whole forge at my disposal, and it’s time I put it to use again.”

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