Page 112 of Her Orc Protector

After another moment of resistance, Uldrek nodded. "I'll be right outside," he said. "Right outside the door."

As he ducked through the doorway, I heard Gruha mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "men" before she turned her full attention to me.

"Now then," she said briskly, arranging the linens at the foot of the bed. "Let's see how you're progressing."

I shifted on the bed, grateful for the cool spring breeze that drifted in through the open window. Our cottage had come alive in the past year—new curtains, a garden that Uldrek and Ellie tended together, shelves filled with books, and the small, ordinary treasures of a life being built. The room we'd chosen for the birthing was our bedroom, sun-warmed and familiar, with its wide bed and the quilt Leilan had sewn for us as a "home-warming" gift.

Sunlight slanted across the floorboards, catching the steam that rose from the basin of water Hobbie was obsessively monitoring. The brownie had been pacing between the basin, the bed, and the window for hours, muttering incantations and checking that the warming stones remained at precisely the right temperature. She'd barely spoken to any of us since the labor began, focused entirely on her self-appointed task of ensuring everything was perfect.

"Hobbie," I called softly after Gruha had finished her examination. "Come here."

The brownie's head snapped up, her body going momentarily still. "Water's not ready," she said, almost defensively.

"The water's fine. You're wearing a path in my floor."

Her mouth twitched, the closest thing to a smile I'd seen from her in hours. She approached the bed with reluctance. "What?"

I reached out and caught her small, work-worn hand. "Thank you."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and I watched the complicated emotions play across her face—embarrassment, pride, worry. She squeezed my hand once, hard, before pulling away.

"Hmph," she muttered. "Don't thank me yet. Still work to do."

Another contraction built, stronger this time, forcing me to close my eyes and focus on my breath. I felt Dora's hand slip into mine, heard her quiet encouragement. When the pain receded, I opened my eyes to find Hobbie watching me with a mixture of anxiety and determination.

"Nearly there," Gruha announced. "Won't be long now."

Time seemed to stretch and compress, measured only by the rhythm of contractions and the shifting light across the floor. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of voices—Leilan with Ellie, Fira who had arrived sometime during the morning, and Uldrek's deeper tones, a constant presence just beyond the door.

During a brief respite between contractions, I heard a commotion—tiny running footsteps, Leilan's gentle warning, and then the unmistakable sound of Ellie's voice, high and insistent: "Mama! Baby!"

The door swung open, and there she stood—my firstborn, now a sturdy toddler with wild curls and determinedly sticky hands. She wore what appeared to be an entire garden on her head, flowers woven into a lopsided crown with several dandelions stuck directly to her hair. Her face was smudged with dirt and pollen, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I made for baby," she announced, proudly patting the flower crown.

Uldrek appeared behind her, his expression a mix of apology and helplessness. "She insisted," he said. "Wouldn't be distracted."

I smiled, feeling a wave of love so intense it momentarily eclipsed the discomfort. "Come here, little wolf."

Ellie darted to the bedside, scrambling up with Uldrek's help. She immediately placed her grubby hands on my swollen belly, her expression solemn.

"Baby coming now?"

"Soon," I assured her, brushing a sticky curl from her forehead. "Very soon."

She nodded as if this confirmed a suspicion she'd long held. "I help."

"Thank the Seven," Gruha said with a snort. "We were getting nowhere without your assistance."

Ellie beamed, completely missing the sarcasm. She patted my stomach once more before turning to Uldrek. "Papa stay too."

I watched Uldrek's face soften at the word 'papa'—a title he'd earned in a thousand small moments over the past year. Bedtime stories and scraped knees. Nightmares soothed and puddles jumped in. A hand always ready to steady, to lift, to guide.

Before anyone could answer, another contraction seized me, stronger than before. I gripped the sheets, breathing through the intensity of it. When I opened my eyes, I found Ellie watching me with curious concern and Uldrek with barely contained alarm.

"Time to take the little helper outside," Gruha announced, already moving toward Ellie. "Dora, bring more water. Hobbie, we'll need those clean cloths now." She cast a critical eye at Uldrek. "You. Stay or go, but make yourself useful."

Surprisingly, it was Hobbie who settled the matter. "He stays," she declared, shooting Uldrek a look that brooked no argument. "Hold her up. Give her something to squeeze." She thrust a stack of cloths into his arms. "Take these. Sit behind her. Support her back."

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