Page 7 of Her Orc Blacksmith

I clenched my hands at my sides, my pulse quickening. What did they know about me? About what I’d been through? What I’d done to survive since the war tore everything apart?

He didn’t know about the sleepless nights, how I’d kept Elias fed and sheltered on my own. He didn’t know how much I had already given up, how much I still stood to lose if I didn’t find something more.

Who was he to tell me no? Well… he was the guildmaster, wasn’t he? Of course, he had that right. But that didn’t mean I had to accept it quietly. That didn’t mean he was right about me.

“I don’t see why I shouldn’t be given a chance,” I insisted, keeping steady even as heat rose in my cheeks.

“What’s she gonna do? Knit the iron into shape?” another man chimed in, eliciting a chorus of chuckles.

Thorne didn’t bother to reprimand them. Instead, he looked at me with equal parts amusement and pity. “I think it’s best you stick to what you know—sewing and mending. Leave the heavy lifting to those who are more suited to it.”

His words hit me like a blow, the finality in his tone crushing the small spark of hope I’d carried with me. The apprentices laughed openly now, mocking and dismissive.

Before I could muster a response, another voice cut through the laughter, deep and commanding. “That’s enough.”

The apprentices immediately fell silent, their laughter dying in their throats. I turned to see who had spoken and found myself staring up at the orc I’d noticed earlier. Up close, I saw that a scar cut across one of his eyes, a jagged line that gave him a rough, battle-worn look. His tusks, shorter than I thought they'd be, peeked out from beneath his lower lip. He was standing too close, towering over me with a broad chest and thick arms that made me feel about half my size.

And maybe a little breathless.

He stepped forward, his gaze shifting from the apprentices to Thorne, then finally resting on me. “Let her learn,” he said, his tone firm and deep.

For a moment, I could only stare at him. His presence was overwhelming—raw strength and something darker, a dangerous edge that wasn’t entirely unappealing. I swallowed, trying to regain my composure.

The orc’s gaze didn’t waver, and after a tense moment, Thorne sighed and shook his head. “Vorgath, this isn’t—”

“I said,” the orc—Vorgath—interrupted with undeniable authority, “let her.”

Thorne’s face reddened, and he took a step forward, the tension between them thickening the air. “This isn’t up for discussion. Need I remind you—again—that you are a guest in my forge?”

Vorgath gave an approximation of a smirk, baring his tusks. “I see you, Thorne. First, an orc outdoes you, and now, you’re worried a woman might show you up, too.”

The master’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white. The apprentices exchanged uneasy glances, caught between their loyalty to him and the sheer force of Vorgath’s presence. The tension between the two men was thick and suffocating, and I shrank back, feeling like I was caught between a hammer and an anvil.

“Watch your tongue,orc,” Thorne hissed. “You may be skilled, but don’t forget your place. Everwood is my home, and I won’t have you—or anyone else—stirring up trouble.”

Thorne’s gaze flicked to me. Instinctively, I stepped back again, only to collide with something solid and unyielding.

Before I could react, a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I froze, every muscle tensing as I realized I had backed right into the orc—into Vorgath. His grip was firm, his big, green fingers curling around my shoulder. It was like standing against a wall of stone, yet there was a gentleness to his touch, startling and unexpected. His presence was overwhelming, his hand large enough to engulf my entire shoulder, and yet, instead of feeling crushed or confined, I felt… protected.

It was disorienting, the sudden sense of safety beneath a hand that could easily break me. I had braced myself for rejection, for another blow to my already fragile resolve, but Vorgath’s hand on my shoulder kept me steady.

“Everwood is my home, too,” Vorgath said, his voice low and steady. “And maybe it is time I took on my own apprentice.”

Was he talking about me? The shock scrambled my thoughts, excitement warring with doubt. Orcs were known for being solitary and fierce, not the kind you’d expect to offer help. And my own prejudices had me wondering… was it even safe? CouldI trust him to teach me, to be patient with my mistakes, to understand why I needed this so badly?

But before I could process it all, Thorne let out a sharp, mocking laugh. The apprentices followed suit, their laughter echoing through the forge as if the very idea was ridiculous.

“Sure, Vorgath,” Thorne sneered. “Take her on. Teach her what you can. I’m sure she’ll last all of a day.”

Determination flared within me, fueled by the laughter around me. Maybe this wasn’t what I had planned, but it was a chance—a real chance—to prove myself.

“Actually,” I said, raising my voice to cut through the noise, “I think I will take you up on that offer, Master...”

The orc glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Just call me Vorgath,” he said

The laughter faltered, the forge falling into an uneasy silence as all eyes turned to me. Thorne’s smug smile faded, replaced with a look of genuine surprise. Vorgath’s hand still rested on my shoulder, warm and solid, and I drew strength from it as I faced Thorne.

“I’m serious,” I continued, holding my ground. “And if Vorgath is willing to teach me, then I’m willing to learn.”

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