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andomery · 6 months ago

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The house you had been living in had seriously dilapidated after your parents had died.

Since you had little to no help, living far out and away from the nearest village – which was just under five miles walk – there wasn’t a lot you could do in the first place.

So you’d let the broken tiles on your roof, be broken and when rain came, let the water leak into your room and drip, drip with the tone of a metronome. You’d let the walls foundations crack and climb up to the ceilings of your house and let the doors hinges to each room in the house rust and stiffen open so that you could no longer close nor open them.

While you had tried to fix the problems yourself initially, they proved a lot more difficult than you would have thought.

The door hinges would not budge from the wooden thresholds, no matter how hard you tried to unscrew them, when you tried to re-plaster the walls, the thick cement smelling sludge would either become watery and the cracks reappear, or the mixture was just too thick and would take whole chunks of the wall with it, as it crashed onto your now rotting wooden floorboards.

Needless to say, you were not in the best spot. The only room that didn’t seem to be effected by the house falling apart, was the kitchen. All the cabinets worked, the sink still delivered clean water and the fire pit for cooking hadn’t failed you once.

One day, a hankering for blueberry pie got the better of you. You hadn’t made one since your parents had died and figured it would do you some good to get out of the house and then come back to make a deliciously sweet treat.

And so you’d set out into the forest, wicker basket hanging off the crook of your arm and waiting to be filled.

Once you had found the blueberry bushes deep within the forest, you began to pick and completely forgot about your surroundings. You don’t know how long you must have been there, for all you knew it could have been hours.

It wasn’t until the trees became still and the birds twittering and chittering had been silenced that you were brought out of your meditative state. Living in the woods for a long time, you get used to the sound of wildlife.

It isn’t until that wildlife goes silent that you realize when you’re in danger.

Confirming your suspicions, a low grumbled reverberated in your chest, the hairs on your neck standing on end.

You turned from your spot by the blueberry bushes and watched as a pack of wolves surrounded you, their teeth bared, hackles raised, their backs dipped as they readied their attack.

Eyes darting around, you searched for an escape route. It��s not like you could dart between them, they’d rip you apart like a chew toy.

Jumping over the bushes was a no go as well, the moment you’re in the air, they would strike and then you’d really be in trouble.

With the wicker basket still squeezed between your elbow, you instinctively gripped it as you realised that this situation was as helpless as it looked.

This was it. You were going to die here.

Just as your thought had finished, the wolf central to your vision let out a bark and lunged, spring boarding off it’s back paws, jaws open and aiming straight for your neck.

You squeezed your eyes tightly closed, threw your arms up to protect yourself, braced yourself for the feeling of teeth ripping at your flesh, the feeling of your warm blood spilling down your front.

But instead, the wolf gave a yelp, followed by a whimper.

You squinted open your eyes, ready to shut them again at the first sign of danger.

A wall of green, thick muscle stood in front of you, the pack leader clasped in this monster’s hands.

“Back!” He snarled. And as if he were throwing a baseball, he threw the creature to the ground.

As soon as the wolf had hit the ground, it had scrambled up, still whimpering. It scuttled away, pack following after it with their tails between their legs.

Heart in your throat, chest thumping like a drum, you looked up at your saviour.

It was an Orc.

Exactly as described by your parents as a child: Tall, walls of muscle with green skin that pulled taught over the strong flesh of their body.

Long, yellow tusks that jutted out from its bottom jaws as it turned to face you. It’s long dark hair had been tied into a low pony tail that swayed with his massive figure as he grunted at you, “are you alright?”

Still reeling from the wolf encounter, you nodded, words escaping you.

“Do you live nearby?” He asked.

You nodded again. His steel cold eyes examined you for a moment, completely enrapturing you.

“Come, let me walk you home.” He placed a hand between your shoulder blades and began to guide you away from the scene of the battle from the wolves.

“Oh?” You said, surprised. “O-Okay.”

The pair of you walked back in silence as you processed what had just happened; Where had this Orc come from?

You hadn’t heard him when you were sat there picking the berries – which were surprisingly intact, despite your reaction to block the wolf.

Without even realising it, you had led him back to your house. Absently, you said, “thank you. For saving me from the wolves.”

The Orc whose steely scowl had not faded during your walk, gave a curt nod and then looked over his shoulder. “I should be getting back to the camp now.” He said. “The others will wonder where I have gone.”

He went to turn and walk away, but you grabbed his hand, “w-wait!”

The Orc looked over his shoulder at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I can’t just let you go without thanking you properly.” You said. “I was going to make blueberry pie, if you’d like some.”

The Orc seemed sceptical for a moment, looking at you as if you might have been mad for asking him to come in.

“Are you certain?” He asked. “What of your family?”

Biting your lip, you shook your head. “Don’t worry about them. They won’t mind.”

After another sceptical look from you, the Orc shrugged. “Alright. Just a slice.”

Relief washed over you, before your face went scarlet.

Your hand shot away from the Orc’s hand, “s-sorry.”

The Orc gave another shrug and the pair of you made your way inside your home.

Upon stepping back into the place, your heart sank as you remembered the disrepair it was in. “I’m sorry about the mess.” You said, holding the front door open for him. “It’s not very easy for me to do all the repairs on my own and I don’t think anyone will come out to help me fix it. The kitchen is fine though!” You gave a nervous smile.

The Orc paid no mind to your hurried explanations as he looked around your front room, at the unlit fireplace, your sofa and lack of other decorations. “You live here?” He asked.

“Yeah…” you trailed off. Not wanting to make this anymore awkward than it already was, you rushed to the kitchen. “Do Orcs drink coffee? Or tea?”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the kitchen, your rescuer sat at your comparably tiny table, with a smaller mug of coffee in hand, watching you as you went through the motions of making a pie.

A part of you couldn’t quite believe what you were doing. Making a pie for an Orc? A blood thirsty brute who would happily eat you whole?

When the pie was finally done, you placed a slice in front of the Orc who had taken to admiring some embroidery your mother had done while she was still alive.

Upon seeing the slice in front of him, he picked up your plate and scrutinised it from all angles, as if he was a star chef looking for mistakes in an amateurs work.

You watched with baited breath as the Orc picked up a fork and shovelled a portion of the pie into his mouth.

After a moment, he hmphed and downed the rest of the slice in a flash. “This is good!” He said, flashing you a wide grin. “Another slice!”

Taken aback – but nevertheless glad – you cut out another slice and gave it to the Orc. After five or six more slices, the Orc rested an elbow on the table and pointed at you, “how are you not working somewhere like a bakery, hm? You’d make a killing!”

You chuckled abashedly. “I don’t know… I’ve just had to keep an eye on this place, make sure it doesn’t fall apart.”

The Orc took one last glance around the kitchen and then back at you. “I’ll tell you what, blueberry lady.” He said, his thick calloused finger still pointed at you. “You keep making this kind of food and I will help fix up your awful house.”

Your eyes widened. Was this Orc really offering to help?

“But, what about your camp?” You asked, concerned. “Won’t they get worried about you?”

“Bah!” He waved you away, “they’ll be fine without me for a while.” And with that same, toothy grin, he stood and rubbed his hands together. “Now, show me the main problem first and we will tackle that tomorrow morning!”

And true to his word, he had. After sleeping on the sofa, you had shown him the problem on your roof, with the water dripping into your room and he had simply waved it off once again. “Easy problem.” He said, stepping outside into the front garden.

“I didn’t realise Orcs were so handy,” you told him as he walked around the back of your house.

“We are good problem solvers.” He said, smiling. “We have to be, as we are constantly on the road and being chased around by Humans. We think quick on our feet.”

After finding a ladder and some spare tiles hidden away in the back of your shed, the pair of you set to work. By the end of the day, the tile had been fixed and by the end of the next, the cracks in your walls had been properly plastered over.

You weren’t going to lie, you were growing fond of this Orc. His initial cold demeanour seemed to have fallen away and was replaced by this jovial energy that was just infectious.

Everyday, instead of waking up and dreading the day to come, you felt excited to see him and greet him with a cheerful smile, before the pair of you started working on your next DIY project for the day.

It was nice to have someone to talk to again, to eat the food you cooked and to laugh with.

You hadn’t realised how much you’d missed talking to someone.

Unfortunately, the day finally came where everything had been fixed and the house looked as if it had never been damaged in the first place.

It was then that you realised, that this would be the day you two would part. For the past couple of weeks, your new friend had been talking about returning to his camp, which he was sure had now moved far ahead of him now.

“It’s normal for them to leave some Orcs behind,” he had explained when you expressed concern for him, “they always leave signs that only other Orcs can see so we can catch up. They are not so heartless.”

The night before his departure, he had told you, “to thank you for the great food, let me take you to a Tavern I go to sometimes on this route. They do a good beer there.”

When you had tried to tell him that there was no need for something like that, that he had done more than enough, he had dismissed your words, “this will be the last night we see each other! Let it be a fun one!”

When he’d said that you had completely ceased all objections.

The next evening, the pair of you set off on the trek to the village. As you both laughed and chatted, you realised that when he left, there would be no one else to do this with.

After all, it’s not like you were friends with anyone in the village and most people would give you strange looks if you just decided to insert yourself into their conversations.

When you both reached the Tavern, your Orc friend ordered two pints of beer and set one in front of you with a massive thunk.

“I’m really going to miss you.” You said, as you watched your Orc down his whole pint in one go.

You decided to sit at a booth in the corner of the Tavern, hidden away from prying eyes.

“And I will miss you too,” the Orc replied, sad smile spreading across his lips. He ran an arm across his face, wiping away the foam and signalled the barman to get him another drink. “It’s rare that I get to enjoy the company of a woman like you. Normally, they run away from me rather than invite me into their home.”

“Well, you did save me from a pack of wolves. I had to do something to thank you.”

Soon, that second pint of beer was gone too, while you were still on your first. You sipped at your beer apprehensively as the Orc beside you finally got his hands on what was now his fifth pint.

“Um…” you pursed your lips nervously. The Orc’s face had began to turn slightly pink. “I think you’re going a bit over board there.”

“Nonsense!” The Orc next to you slurred, jousting his glass pint at you with a wobble. “Orcs can handle a hell of a lot more beer than any human can! I mean,” he pointed at the pint in your hands. “Look at you, you’re not even finished with your first one.”

Your Orc friend hiccupped and held a fist up to his mouth, as if he was going to belch. After a moment, he placed his forehead on the edge of the table in front of him and heaved a sigh.

“Maybe you’ve had one too many?” You asked. Carefully, you removed the Orcs thick calloused fingers from his pint glass and slid it across to the other side of the table. “You wouldn’t want to get a hangover tomorrow would you? You won’t be able to go back to your camp otherwise.”

The Orc grumbled something next to you, forehead still firmly planted on the table.

“Sorry?” You asked.

The Orc looked up, resting his chin on the table edge and repeated, “I don’t want to go,” his cheeks had gone from a slight pink to a dusting of red, “I like staying with you.”

Your heart caught in your throat as he continued, “you’re kind and sweet and pretty,” he smiled at you as a free hand reached out to your face and caught a lock of hair hanging from beside your face.

He twirled it around his finger, before replacing his forehead down on the wooden ledge. “And I don’t want to leave you alone, no woman should live alone in a world where wolves will attack you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I don’t want you to go either.” You said, quickly.

The Orc beside you looked up at you, eyes wide in surprise. “R-Really?”

“Yes! I don’t want to be alone again! Spending time with you has been the first time in a very long time that I’ve been happy!” You admitted. Tears welled up in your eyes as you continued, “I don’t want you to go because...” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I really like you!”

The Orc stared at you for a moment, stunned by your words. “Y-You mean it?” He sat up straight, apparently completely sober since the fifth pint.

You wiped your tears and nodded.

The Orc fell silent for a moment as if in contemplation before he clapped his hands together. “I’ve got the perfect idea. You should come with me.”

“Go with you? But what about the house?” You asked.

“It was falling apart anyway!” He said, “And we did our best to repair it, so it’s not like it’s going to collapse any time soon. We can go back to it any time, it could be like a holiday home. My camp comes through here and when we need a pit stop, we can just put up in there for a little while!”

Hope soared in your chest, “you mean it? I can really go with you?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” The Orc stood up from his seat, swaying slightly. “Come! We should head back home and pack your things! We will have a long journey tomorrow.”

And with that, the two of you made your way out of the Tavern and back to the house.

“I’m so glad you’re coming with me, I don’t know if I could bare being away from you, blueberry lady.”

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