Chapter 24

GURREK

I was given the most wonderful wife, so full of heart, so loyal and kind and generous of spirit—I can’t imagine a luckier orc than I. Holding her again, breathing in the scent of her hair, soothes an ache deep in my chest. The familiar softness of her body in my hands fills me with an unparalleled warmth, as if all the pieces of my existence on this earth have clicked together in a single moment.

We have reached an agreement, then, that suits both of us. I will bully Rulag until I’m blue in the face to get Sita what she wants. My relief at finding she still cares for me, that she still wants to be a part of my life, cools all the bad humor that’s ruled me. Suddenly I’m exhausted, fully drained to a husk, and I reluctantly release her from my embrace.

“Can we go to bed, sweetling?” I ask, kissing her head. “Will you sleep with me in our room?”

She blinks up at me. “Our room?”

“It’s yours as much as it is mine. Just as this house and the forge are, too.”

She blinks wet, red eyes, then wipes her face with her arm. “I would love to.”

I’m too tired and too raw to even explore her body, and so is she. We fall into our bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms, and are swept away in a shared dream.

We rise late, which is just fine with me on the day of the solstice. Though the weather will get colder, the days will only get longer from here, and that gives me even more hope for the future.

We have crossed a hurdle that felt insurmountable, and now I believe we can be stronger for it. I hope that whatever worries Sita has, she will bring them to me first from now on.

A gentle snow is falling, but the air is not too cold. It’s as perfect of a winter day as we could have asked for on such an auspicious occasion. After slipping on our boots, gloves, hats and cloaks, we venture out into the untouched snow, marveling at its sparkling surface. Sita takes my hand in hers and we run through it, enjoying the soft powder under our feet. She scoops some up and dumps it on me with a giggle, then takes off running. Of course, I must chase her, my woman—so I race after her, snatching her up when I get close and swinging her around in my arms.

“Good morning,” Merka calls, waving from where she’s clearing off our path. What’s an old woman doing taking care of my chores?

“Good morning!” Sita shouts back, the joy plain in her voice. She runs to Merka and hugs her, too, much to the old orc woman’s surprise. “Do you know what Gurrek got for me yesterday? Oh, it’s marvelous!”

Merka grins at me over Sita’s shoulder.

“No, I don’t! Show me.”

While Sita leads her friend inside the house to show off her new loom, I take over clearing the pathway, both to my house and to Merka’s. They’re both all smiles as they return, and Merka elbows me in the side.

“I didn’t know you were going to get such a grand gift,” she says. “That is truly a marvelous work of craftsmanship.”

I nod. “Naggen and I constructed it together. I still had the plans from building your newest one, so I made the fasteners while he assembled it all together.”

“A work of art.”

Sita agrees vehemently. “It’s the most beautiful loom! Not to insult you, Merka.”

“No, no,” Merka says, waving her hands. “It is finer than mine. As the wife of the blacksmith deserves.”

Then Sita frowns. “But this means I no longer need to visit you to weave!” She clearly doesn’t like the idea of not seeing her friend every day.

Merka laughs and claps Sita on the shoulder. “We will have plenty of excuses to get together, don’t worry. There are still things I’d like to teach you to hone your craft—especially if you plan to produce more goods for the village.”

“I do, I do,” Sita says earnestly. “I need to make money that I can take home to my family.”

“Your family?” Merka echoes, quirking an eyebrow.

“Mother and Van, my little brother.”

Merka shoots me a surprised look, but I nod in agreement.

“Sita is going home in the spring,” I explain. “After the melt. We’ll be taking them more food and supplies, and then once she’s spent some time with her mother and brother, we will come back.”

Merka grins a wide, proud grin. “This is a good compromise, I think.”

“If we can convince Rulag,” Sita adds.

I spit on the ground. “I don’t need his approval.” It’s intimidating to think of defying Rulag, but I’ll do it for Sita. Though I don’t know how her family will take to an orc in their midst.

“Now, now,” Merka says, patting my arm, “calm down. For now, we should all head to the main hall. The feast’s going to start soon.”

Sita cocks her head. “It’s early.”

Both Merka and I chuckle.

“You haven’t seen yet just how much orcs love food.” I kiss Sita’s cheek. “This will be an all-day event. And all night, too, most likely.”

Her eyes grow big. “All day? Eating?” I know how much she loves to eat, too, and I think she’ll be rather pleased by the wide variety on offer.

I have a few things to contribute to the affair, so I return to the forge for the candelabras I made, and then the three of us head to the main hall. Before we’ve even reached it, the sound of merrymaking greets us, and Sita takes hold of my arm. Big gatherings still make her nervous, as new as she is, but I know that after a warm cider she’ll enjoy herself.

Other orcs rise to greet us when we enter hand in hand. Rulag cocks an eyebrow at me as we make our way inside, and I shrug in return. Naggen and his wife both say hello, and even Dakar nods his head as we pass. Lassa is the one who calls to us to sit with her, and Sita is glad to join. Immediately they launch into conversation, and cheekily, Lassa slides a mug of warm cider into Sita’s hands.

“Don’t have too much,” I caution. “It’s still early.”

But Sita bats a hand at me while she takes a big sip. I shake my head and laugh, knowing my wife will always do what she wants.

Then, the first course is served. Before we dig in, everyone takes their neighbor’s hand and begins the chant:

One year has passed, and another comes

Gods steel us for the cold months ahead

Keep our homes warm and our bellies full

And grant us the pleasures of the bed.

At this last line, Sita’s cheeks turn bright red, and she casts me a wide-eyed look.

“Really?” she whispers. “Asking the gods for a good fuck?”

Her use of the word makes me bark an abrupt laugh, and Lassa joins me.

“Filthy mouth she has,” Lassa says with a smirk, and I know just where she learned it.

As more cider is passed around, the assembled orcs get louder and more joyous. Sita is all smiles, keeping her hand clasped tight around mine under the table, as if she refuses to let me go for even a moment or I might disappear.

Once we’ve eaten the second course, it’s time for the fun. Younglings race outside to play in the snow while adults gather to knit wreaths. Others throw axes at wooden targets. Sita wants to participate, which makes me nervous, given how big the axes are.

But then I remember how she felt unsuitable—too small and too weak to be of use to me—so I keep my mouth shut.

All of Sita’s throws fall humorously short, Lassa nails the center of the target every time. She wins a joke gift of a huge wooden phallus, and promises to “take good care of it” with a wink.

Then evening falls, and though we could use the lamps that line the walls of the great hall, candles are placed upon my candelabras instead, casting the entire hall in a warm, orange glow.

The third course is soon served: potatoes and yams and other sturdy root vegetables, all roasted to perfection. Sita eats far too much along with her cider, and when she’s finished, she falls against my shoulder.

“I hope there’s ham,” she says, all while rubbing her belly. “I love ham.”

Sure enough, there are glazed hams, beef roasts, and stuffed pheasants in the next course, and we both pour on too much gravy. Sita giggles as some of it drips down her lip onto her shirt. “Oops.”

I lean down and lick it off her, much to Lassa and Merka’s amusement. Other couples are growing frisky, too, around the tables in the great hall. It’s nearly time for the giving of the fifth gifts, and I’m both thrilled and nervous about what I’ve made. Unlike my other gifts, it is not functional or utilitarian, and I don’t know how Sita will receive it.

I suppose I’ll find out.

The snow outside resumes falling in earnest as more cider and beer is served, and then, at last, dessert. There are pies and custards of all kinds, topped with sweet cream and maple syrup. We’re already stuffed to bursting, but somehow find even more room in our bellies.

“I could simply roll home,” Sita whines, settling into my arms as I draw her into my lap at the table. “Just knock me over and push me, Gurrek.”

“I can carry you.” I perch my chin on the top of her head. “Or we can roll together. Merka, are you up to the task?”

She chortles. “Putting such a thing on an old woman like me! Scoundrels.”

We all laugh together, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt such satisfaction, such joy and optimism, as I do with Sita in my arms and my clanspeople all around me.

There is a roar of laughter from the other end of the great hall. It’s Rulag, who has grown even more unruly since his woman left him. All night he’s been pounding tables and barking orders, as if a child has taken over position as clan leader.

My life only faces one obstacle in being perfect, and it’s him.

I set Sita down on the bench beside me. There’s just enough alcohol in my veins that I feel prepared to stand up to him.

“Where are you going, Gurrek?” she asks, worried once she sees my expression.

“I have a matter to settle with Rulag.”

“Rulag?” She hops off the bench and follows me as I march across the hall, toward the head of the biggest table where the clan leader sits, enjoying his beer and dessert.

I slam a fist down on the table in front of him, surprising everyone. The hall falls quiet as Rulag looks up at me, half of a piece of pie in his mouth.

“How can I help you, Gurrek?” he asks, slurring his words. He doesn’t look pleased to see me.

“I’m taking Sita down to the human village,” I say in my sternest, most commanding voice. “This spring. As soon as the snow melts enough that I can pull a wagon, we are going to visit her family and bring them supplies.”

Rulag gawks at me. “Who said you could do that? We traded for her. She’s ours, fair and square. There is none of this visiting business.”

I bristle. “She doesn’t belong to anyone,” I growl. “She is my wife, and she deserves the same rights as any other orc of our village would have.”

Rulag rises to his feet, perhaps ready to fight me. I’d take him on if I had to. I would do it for Sita.

But then her hand lands on my arm. “Gurrek,” she murmurs to me. “Please. I don’t want this on the solstice.”

“Listen to your wife ,” Rulag says, smirking. “She knows her place, unlike you.”

Bastard. I could simply punch him in the face.

“I’m sick of your experiment,” I snap. “If you truly wanted a good relationship with the humans, you would allow this.”

“Do not tell me what I should and shouldn’t do,” Rulag warns, rising to his feet. “I am the one in charge of this clan, not you.”

I’m about to snap out a retort when Sita steps in front of me, and I think she looks even angrier than I am.

“You!” She stomps her foot. “You say you’re afraid of not showing strength, but maybe that’s what you’re doing wrong. Help my people out of the kindness of your heart, and if what you really want is for other humans to come, maybe they will choose to come here voluntarily!”

Rulag’s mouth bobs open to speak, and then closes again. I am in awe of her, my clever little wife.

“A human, giving me advice?” he growls.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” I say, winding a hand around her waist.

The clan leader stutters for a moment, then frowns. “Hmph. I’ll think about it.” He waves us off with a hand, but I can tell Sita has snuck in through his armor by the irritated furrow of his brow. “Leave me be, Gurrek, on a night like tonight.”

Rulag falls back to his seat and downs his tankard of beer, and I decide to let it rest for now. I will go no matter what he decides. Besides, I have other plans for tonight besides fighting with the clan leader.

My heart thrums in earnest as everyone cleans their places and starts tottering off toward home. I take Sita’s hand in mine.

“Are you ready for your final gift, sweetling?”

She gazes up at me with the purest kind of adoration in her eyes. “Yes, please. Take me back home.”

We’re both warm from the food and cider as we walk out into the gently falling snow. The moon shines through the clouds, casting an eerie but lovely silver glow across the world. I can make out the pink of Sita’s cheeks as she gazes up at the sky, her gloved hand wrapped up tight in mine. I will always marvel at how small and precious she is, and fueled by my overwhelming affection for her, I reach down and sweep her up into my arms.

Sita squeals, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Gurrek!” She cackles like a witch. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying my bride over the threshold, as I should have done the day we married.” I feel guilty, thinking back on it, how poorly I treated my brand-new wife. But all we can do is move forward, and so now I will show her just what it means to be treasured by me.

Sita clings to me as I carry her to the house, cradling her body in one arm as I fiddle with the knob in the other. Then I push the door open, kissing her as we step in through the doorway.

“There we are,” I say. “My lovely bride.”

I kick the door closed behind us and head into the living space, setting Sita down on the furs in front of the hearth. After putting on more logs and stirring up the coals, it lights up once more, filling the house with its warm glow.

Sita waits patiently as I retreat to the bedroom and fish around under the bed for my final gift. I certainly gave Naggen a lot of my business this year.

I pull out the small wooden box engraved with Sita’s name. I may barely have a pence left in my coffers, but it’s all been more than worth it.

When I return, I kneel in front of her by the fire.

“The way we started was... unconventional,” I begin, keeping the box behind my back. “I wasn’t able to properly court you. I wasn’t able to offer you marriage, as it was thrust upon you. But now”—I pull the box out and hold it out in front of her—“I’d like to give you the choice again, as to whether you want to be my wife.”

Her eyes get big and round. “Of course I want to be your wife!” she cries out, blowing air into her cheeks like an incensed chipmunk. “I’ve made that choice many times over.”

I had hoped that would be her answer but actually hearing it, it in her words, fills me with delight. Still, I manage to remain calm as I open the box and gingerly pull out my gift.

“I know it’s no emerald jewel like the necklace Merka gave you.” I use both hands to hold up the necklace, and Sita’s mouth falls open. “But I tried to keep it lightweight.”

Working with tiny objects is not what I do often, but I do enjoy it, and I particularly loved making these. The thin chain is decorated with intricate metal charms, each representing something I know she enjoys: a tiny dove, a fox’s head, an anvil, a loom, a small tree, and a pair of boots.

Sita holds it up close to her face so she can fully see each of them.

“Gurrek,” she whispers, touching each tiny token of my affection with the tips of her fingers. “It’s beautiful.”

That is all I needed to hear. I unclasp the necklace, and before I can ask, she turns around and lifts her hair. I remove the pendant and then replace it with my new gift, which settles neatly into the hollow of her throat. I nuzzle her hair as it falls back to her neck, unable to keep my hands off her any longer. I’ve been craving her, desiring nothing but her for so long that I can’t restrain myself from winding my arms around her middle and pulling her against me.

Sita tips her head up to brush her lips over my cheek. “Thank you,” she murmurs in my ear. “But I have no gifts for you, after all you’ve given me.”

I chuckle against her. “ You are the gift. A gift that fell into my lap one day, that I never expected to receive. And it took me too long to realize what I had.” My hands around her grow bolder, exploring her, wishing to remind her how naturally we fit together.

“Just long enough,” she answers, covering my hand and then pushing it upward, over her breast, where she urges me to squeeze.

My wife wants me to touch her, does she? I lean down to breathe against her throat, rubbing my thumb over her nipple while my other hand splays across her belly. She arches into me, urging my other hand down, down between her legs.

I will give her whatever she desires.