Page 84 of Her Orc Blacksmith

“Again?” he asked.

“Again,” I confirmed, tapping the heavy coin purse at my hip as proof.

The past year had been a whirlwind, with each week bringing more commissions, more recognition, and more confidence. Word had spread among the townsfolk—particularly the women—that I offered more than just sturdy tools or weapons.

My necklaces, woven with Brilda’s mithral and enchanted to change color when danger was near, had become a favorite among travelers. The bracelets I’d designed, which adjusted to the wearer’s body temperature, had drawn praise from farmers who needed warmth on cold winter mornings or relief from the midday summer heat. But it was the heartstones—the mother-and-child tokens—that had truly captured hearts. It was a simple idea that connected families, allowing a mother to track her child with just a glance. It was born from my own fears for Elias, and now it hung from necks and wrists all over Everwood.

“You're incredible,” Vorgath said, kissing me once more before leading me toward the table.

Elias finally plopped into his chair, still flushed from his game of outrunning Vorgath, and placed his wind-up bird on the table with exaggerated care. It still sputtered every now and then, the wings twitching like it had a mind of its own, but it was a marvel nonetheless.

“Did you make that?” I asked, leaning down to kiss his head before sitting beside him.

“I built it with Grimble's help,” he beamed, holding up the small invention. “It can even fly for a bit.”

“Amazing,” I said. “I'm so proud of you.” And it was the truth. While I'd originally thought he might follow me into blacksmithing, he had found his passion in tinkering, inventing gadgets and intricate devices that showcased his incredible imagination.

Lira settled into the chair across from me.

“And look at you,” I said. She wore a lightweight piece of armor—a sleek, intricately designed breastplate with delicate engravings. “That's incredible work, Lira.”

Lira’s cheeks flushed a little, and she gave me a bashful smile, her confidence growing but still tempered by her youth. “Thank you. I’ve been working with lighter armor, trying to make it both strong and flexible. For women who need protection but can still move.”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, impressed by the precision of her work.

Vorgath nodded in agreement as he settled into the larger chair at the head of the table. “You’re really finding your way.”

She glanced down at the armor and then back at me, her smile soft but proud. “I have you two to thank for that,” she said quietly. “For giving me a chance. And for standing by me when my father…” Her voice trailed off, but the mention of Thorne was no longer filled with the same tension as before.

“Thorne’s come around a lot, hasn’t he?” I asked gently.

Lira smiled, a bit of relief in her eyes. “He has. It’s been slow, but he’s finally starting to see that this is what I want—what I’m good at. And he’s been more supportive than I expected. Even helped me with some of the designs.”

“That’s good to hear,” I said. “And you, Vorgath? How was your day?”

“Busy,” he answered gruffly, but there was a satisfied half-smile on his face.

Over the past few years, just as I had been establishing myself in Everwood, so had Vorgath. At first, people had been wary of him, but it hadn’t taken long for them to see what I had: that he was more than his appearance, more than the assumptions people made. He was steady, reliable, and, above all, kind.

Now, he was just as much a part of the community as anyone else. He’d become a trusted blacksmith, known for his craftsmanship and his willingness to lend a hand where it was needed. Whether it was fixing a broken wagon wheel or building something new, he was always willing, never asking for more than he was owed. His orcish strength, once a source of fear, was now seen as an asset. And more than once, I’d caught the children of the village running up to him, eager for a story or to watch him at work, completely at ease with the giant of a man who used to be a stranger.

A sense of peace and belonging settled over the room like a warm blanket, and I looked around the table, marveling at how far we’d come. Mrs. Crumble’s tiny figure laden with her stew pots, Lira’s hands moving with practiced care as she adjusted the straps on her armor, Elias grinning up at Vorgath. And Vorgath himself, his broad, scarred hand resting on the back of my chair, his watchful eyes catching mine with a quiet intensity that still made my heart race.

It was simple, but it was beautiful.

Like the ring on my finger—a band of blended iron and silver, with intricate etchings along the edges that looked like vines curling around a sturdy tree trunk. A gift from Vorgath. And while orcs did not do marriage in the traditional sense, he wore its pair on his own hand, a matching band wrapped snugly around one of his thick fingers, symbolizing our bond in the way that felt most authentic to us.

Dinner passed in a warm haze of laughter, clinking bowls, and the rich, comforting smells of stew and fresh bread. There was a casual rhythm to the meal, everyone settling into their familiar roles around the table—Elias bouncing between bites of food and excitedly tinkering with his bird, Lira quietly smiling at his antics while inadvertently showing off her growing confidence, and Mrs. Crumble, ever vigilant from the hearth, serving seconds and thirds even as she grumbled softly about “young folk never eating enough.”

As twilight deepened outside, the soft glow from the hearth cast flickering shadows across the wooden beams above, the room bathed in warmth and a sense of belonging that lingered long after the last bite had been taken.

When we had all eaten our fill, Mrs. Crumble stood and dusted her hands on her apron, her wiry frame small beneath the cast of her oversized cap. She quirked a brow as she glanced toward the window where the sky had begun to darken, the late summer twilight heavy with the promise of stars.

“Lira, dear,” she said. “Best be heading home before those night winds get too clever. I'll walk you, and I can show you the best spots to gather those sky-lights. They're fluttering low this time of year, perfect for the picking.”

Lira’s face lit up, and she nodded instantly, eager for the chance to spend more time with the old brownie woman and learn the tricks of her magical garden.

Mrs. Crumble turned her attention to Elias next, her eyes twinkling as she watched him lazily picking at the final crumbs on his plate.

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