Chapter 10
Ten
Vaskel scooped up the bag from the pile of snow it had landed in, the citrus and cinnamon scent now overpowered by the smell of smoke that always hung around the blacksmith's forge.
Metal clanged again metal once more, drawing his gaze to the two orcs who stood outside their shop despite the falling snow.
They were working on an iron piece so large that Vaskel walked closer to get a better look.
Wrought iron had been twisted and shaped into an arch of delicate vines and flowers that bloomed and curved, creating a freestanding and four-sided bower that could only be for one purpose.
"That's extraordinary," Vaskel called out as he reached them.
Klaff looked up from where he was holding a section steady, his green face splitting into a pleased grin. "Vaskel! Good to see you."
Vorto, wielding the hammer, paused with the metal tool overhead. "Come to check on our progress? Korl's been fretting we won't have it done in time."
“I had no idea you were building the ceremony arch.” He was touched by the obvious care the two orcs were putting into their work. “It’s stunning.”
“It’s been a secret,” Klaff said, adjusting his grip on the iron vine he held. “Not that we can keep something this sizable a secret for very long.”
Vaskel tipped his head back. “It is large. I suppose it’s a good thing Lira and Korl are getting married outside.”
Vorto lowered the hammer and put one meaty hand on his hip. “An outdoor wedding in the winter? I keep asking how that’s going to work.”
Vaskel chuckled. “Elf magic, from what I understand. Lira always envisioned an outdoor wedding, but neither she nor Korl wanted to wait until spring, so Erindil is pulling off the same enchantment that keeps his camp so warm, but on a bigger scale.”
Klaff grunted. “Elf magic, eh? Do you think that’s why Lira’s baking is so good?”
Vorto shot his partner a look. “If that was the case, Lira’s gran must have been an elf because she could bake up a storm.” He held up a finger. “And we know she wasn’t.”
“Neither is Pip, but no one makes sweet rolls like he does.” Vaskel held up the paper bag. "Speaking of sweet rolls, I've got Pip's new orange spice version. Care to try them?”
Both orcs' eyes lit up as they carefully lowered the iron structure and dropped their tools.
"Orange spice?" Vorto accepted a roll with reverence. “What will that little baker think of next?”
As the two orcs ate their rolls and mumbled sugary thanks, Vaskel stepped closer to the arch to study the intricate metalwork more closely. The blooms fashioned from metal looked as real as the small birds perched on the curving branches.
"It's more than beautiful,” Vaskel said, stepping back. "It's art."
Klaff beamed, orange glaze dribbling down his chin. "You hear that, Vort? Art, he says."
"Don't let it go to your head," Vorto rumbled, but he was smiling too. "Though I'll admit, we're rather proud of this one."
Klaff brushed his sticky hands on his pants and tipped his head to the arch. “Mind giving us a hand? It will be easier with three sets of hands."
Vaskel didn't hesitate, setting down the bag of rolls and moving to support the iron where Klaff pointed. The metal was cold under his palms, but there was something grounding about the work that helped him forget about his worries.
"So," Vorto said, as he began hammering a metal branch, "you know much about orc wedding traditions?"
Vaskel shook his head, keeping the arch steady as the two orcs worked. "Can't say I do."
Klaff struck a steam beam with his hammer, and it vibrated through the entire arch. “Traditionally, the bride or groom carries a boulder down the aisle."
"A boulder?" Vaskel couldn't hide his amusement at the thought of Lira hefting a rock. The half-elf was tough, but rogue work had never demanded she heft boulders.
"The groom—or other groom—“ Vorto said.
“Or other bride,” Klaff interrupted.
Vorto inclined his head to his partner. “Or other bride has to carry one too. Then they break them together with hammers to show they can overcome any obstacle."
"Somehow I don't see that fitting Lira and Korl's ceremony," Vaskel said, drawing grins from the orcs.
"No," Klaff agreed, swiping a hand across his brow. “It’s not Korl’s style either.”
"Then there's the feast.” Vorto’s dark eyes glittered. "Seven courses, each one spicier than the last. By the end, even orcs are sweating."
"And the wrestling match," Klaff added. "The couple wrestles as a team, and it’s considered an honor to challenge them.”
Vaskel grinned and shook his head, trying to picture Lira in a wrestling match. “I think Erindil would be scandalized.”
Korl’s dads continued sharing increasingly outlandish orc wedding traditions—some Vaskel was certain they were making up—while they worked on the arch.
"Of course," Klaff said as he straightened and appraised their work, "Lira's not an orc, so we can hardly expect her to follow our traditions. But she's family now, orc or not.”
“You couldn’t have asked for a better addition to your family,” Vaskel said.
Vorto nodded with enthusiasm. “She understands him and lets him be himself. Not everyone would.”
Vaskel’s throat was suddenly tight. Lira had always accepted others for who they were, probably because she hadn’t felt she fit in for so long. It was why she’d never looked at him differently despite his infernal nature, and it was one of the many things he admired about his friend.
The thought of Marina touching any of this, any of them, made his hands clench on the iron and his knuckles go white beneath the crimson flesh.
"Steady there," Klaff said gently, noticing his grip had tightened.
"Sorry." Vaskel loosened his hold, pushing down the dark thoughts.
Vorto eyed him. “You have something on your mind, son?”
Before he could assure them he was fine, Klaff flapped a hand. “We’ve kept you too long, haven’t we? They’re probably waiting for you at the Tusk & Tail.”
Vaskel summoned a grin, grateful for the easy excuse. “I suppose I should get to work.”
Vorto winked. “You don’t want Sass coming to look for you. Especially if she’s expecting those sweet rolls.”
Vaskel laughed. “You’re right.”
“Never get between a dwarf and their food,” Klaff said, as if reciting a solemn oath.
Vaskel plucked the pastry bag from the ground, glad there were still sweet rolls to offer Sass. “Good advice.”
Klaff held Vaskel’s gaze for a beat. “You ever need more, we’re here.”
Vaskel nodded as he resumed his walk to the tavern, glancing back at the orcs and wondering if there had been deeper meaning beneath Klaff’s words.