Page 25 of Ironling
The soft darkness suited him. And so did that dimple.
“If you come tomorrow, I’ll have a…” He frowned, pausing as if to think of the word. “An example to show you.”
Her heart leapt in pleasure. “A prototype? Already? Wonderful! I can come tomorrow afternoon?”
“Whenever suits, my lady. I hope you will approve of them.”
She assured him she would. After a few more questions on what he liked to whittle—animals, mostly—and what Wülf liked to do—sleep, mostly—Aislinn bid him goodnight, her spirits lighter as she climbed the stairs back into the castle.
She could already hear the scolding from Brenna, that she hadn’t the time to spend lollygagging in the smithy over a project, but Aislinn would make time. As she quietly walked the corridors of her castle, she found herself eager to discover whatelse the handsome blacksmith could create with those big hands.
7
The new blacksmith didn’t disappoint.
Aislinn settled herself comfortably in the chair he’d obviously set out for her in a tidy corner by the window, with a cushion and everything. She grinned to herself, setting her notebook in her lap as she watched the giant half-orc bustle about his space.
She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought he might be…nervous?
Aislinn didn’t know him well, of course, and always struggled to discern the feelings of new people, but the thought that this big man might be a bit flustered with her there in his forge tickled her with amusement.
A cloud of dust and soot puffed a foot in the air when Wülf flopped down beside her to watch the spectacle.
As she waited, Aislinn figured yes, he must be nervous. He knew she was coming, of course. She said she would the previous night, and she’d executed one of her better sneaks through the castle to avoid Brenna. He’d found a chair and cushion for her comfort. Yet he hastened about the smithy gathering everything, his ears that ruddy brownish color at the charmingly pointedtips.
In the bright daylight, she noticed a detail she hadn’t before—several small gold rings hung from his ears. One pierced the left lobe with three more studding the shell almost up to the point of his ear. His right only had one. By the shine of them, they were true gold, and she found herself a little entranced by the glimmer.
It was from the sound of him clearing his throat that she finally realized he stood before her. His ears had deepened in color, and he tilted his head to angle the left one toward her.
“My lady?”
“Oh, forgive me, I was just admiring your earrings.” She touched her own with a fingertip. “They’re lovely. Do they mean something?”
“For orcs, it is a symbol of…” He gestured with his hand. “A new one is earned with every…”
“Achievement?” she offered.
“Yes. Achievement.” He cleared his throat. “There is another word I have to learn.”
“You’ve already done remarkably well learning the Eirean tongue. Did you speak it before coming to Dundúran?”
“No. I learned on the journey from Kaldebrak.”
“Well, I don’t speak orcish, but I’m glad to help you any way I can with Eirean.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You are kind, my lady.” Reaching for something on a worktable, he presented her with an unfinished set of gardening shears. “Before that, let me see how you like the prototype.”
Aislinn gasped in delight as he lowered it into her greedy hands.This is only a prototype?It looked perfect!
“Oh, Hakon, this is marvelous!”
She held the shears up to the light, appreciating the wicked curve of the blades. Although metal, the shears weren’t tooheavy, and she turned them this way and that to inspect and admire.
His dimple teased along his cheek as he explained the spring he’d made, as well as the catch for safety. He then presented her with options for the handles—smoothed pine and soft leather and tightly wrapped canvas.
“Knowing now how talented you are, I have to choose the pine,” she said.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll have it ready for you very soon.”
