Page 6 of The Orc Who Hated Christmas
And he couldn’t deny the comment held some truth. Graal couldn’t speak for other races, but orcs could see pretty well in low levels of light. Still, that didn’t mean they preferred it.
Snippets of Orcish, Troll, and Goblin conversations reached him from behind the half-dozen doors he passed. Several families and couples rented rooms down here on the basement floor. He was one of the few single occupants.
A door opened, and two orcs came out. They glanced at Graal as they passed him.
They grunted in greeting. Graal grunted back.
He knew other orcs found him odd. Whilst half-orcs weren’t rare, that he couldn’t speak the language made him an outsider.
Raised by his human mother and her human husband, Jordan, Graal had just never learnt the orc tongue. He’d rarely even heard the language growing up. When he’d first moved into the apartment building and seen the other orcs, he hoped to get to know them. But orcs tended to be a closed community, suspicious of those they didn’t know. And that he didn’t know the language did not help matters.
He reached his door at the end of the corridor, unlocked it, and stepped in. He lit the lantern and placed the loaves of brick bread, along with some smoked sausages and hard cheese he’d bought, on the table in the middle of the room. After going over to the basin of water on the side table, he undressed and placed his clothes into a sack.
He grimaced at the sight of the cloudy water in the basin. It hadn’t been changed today. The agreement with the landlord was that the water would be changed daily.
Sadly, Graal wasn’t even slightly surprised. This was not the first time it had been left dirty. But Graal knew better than to complain. It got him nowhere.
“You can find somewhere else to live if this place doesn’t suit your standards.” Fernos had sniffed.
Graal’s small room contained only a side table with a basin, a cupboard, a bed, and a table with two chairs. No mirror to help him wash. He didn’t need a mirror apparently.
“Why would you want to see a hideous face like yours every day?” Fernos had said with a laugh as he’d shown Graal the room.
Graal hadn’t even asked about a mirror. Fernos had just wanted to get the insult in.
At best, Graal was ugly. At worst, he was a horrifying monster no mother could ever love.
Still, the agreement was that the landlord would ensure the cleaning water was changed daily and his clothes would be washed. Not that Fernos saw to those chores himself. He hired others to do the dirty work for him. Despite that, it still hadn’t been done.
With a sigh, Graal washed using the dirty water. He put on cleaner clothes. Not clean clothes, since his laundry always came back poorly washed.
Still, he felt better after washing and changing. Then he sat at his table and grabbed the serrated knife. He sawed into the brick bread before biting into the hard slice. He chewed and chewed and continued chewing as he stared at a dark stain on the otherwise blank wall.
What did the pixie’s room look like? He couldn’t imagine Cas in a room like this with its stained blank walls, worn brown furniture, and faded linen. Not a scrap of colour or pattern brightened his room.
Cas’s room would be pretty. A pretty room for a pretty pixie. The room would be decorated with brightly coloured trinkets and fabrics. His wall would hold painted pictures, maybe even magicked or enchanted to sparkle and glow like Cas.
And of course, there’d be Christmas decorations. Christmas decorations for the Christmas pixie. Maybe silver baubles like the ones he wore from his ears today. No doubt there’d be a mirror so Cas could look at himself and see how lovely he was.
But this room suited someone like Graal. Basic, simple, plain, and ugly. He didn’t need pretty. He just needed a room to sleep and eat in. And he definitely didn’t need any of thatChristmas nonsense. After all, he’d never had it. Why would he need it now?
At Christmas, his home had been bare when he’d been a child.
“Are we going to have a tree and presents?” Graal had asked his mother once as he put more wood on the fire.
He had overheard the other children in the street talking about them.
Jordan sneered at Graal and looked at Graal’s mother. “Don’t you dare buy a single present for that half-blood monster with my hard-earned money.”
Graal stared at the flames as they flickered. He shouldn’t have asked. He knew he shouldn’t have brought it up. But he’d heard the other children talking. He had gotten his hopes up.
“If you want to get him presents, go find his father in whichever cave you fucked him in,” Jordan spat. “Tell that orc to provide for his bastard son. And he can take the boy too whilst he’s at it.”
“You don’t need to work yourself into a huff!” Graal’s mother snapped. “I never said we’d be getting him presents. And we won’t be.”
Graal glanced at his mother. She sat looking at her husband before turning her gaze to the fire.
Despite the fact Graal was beside it, she hadn’t even spared Graal a glance.
