Haley Thistle
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Orc Boyfriend: Moreno (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2021-05-08 20:00:02 +0000 UTCYou don’t know the reasons why, all you know is that when you were a newborn you were abandoned. You were found crying in the bushes by a hunting dog who took you to his master. The hunter Andre was out with his son, Moreno, and the two of them took care of you until they could return home. They took you to Baia who had just lost her son suddenly. Baia says that though you came from a stranger, she knew right away that you were her’s and she was meant to be your mother. Though you were human and she was an orc, all that mattered was the love there.
Your father was a woodworker and furniture maker while your mother crafted fine ales and lagers. Both were highly respected in the community because of their crafts. You learned from both of them, but your father’s main pupil was Moreno, who had been part of rescuing you as a baby. While you learned from your father as well, it was more important to learn your mother’s craft. Her family had been crafting beers for generations, and each who learned eventually would create their own draft. Your mother’s was a dark ale known throughout the village of Rivaden as the Final Feast. She only made it for the winter festival, but it was so highly sought that she sold barrels of it instantly.
Moreno was often in the house, a source of contention for you. You saw him as a rival for your father’s affection. Since Baia and Rueben had no sons, Moreno was often doted upon by your parents while he was there. As you grew up you would admit that it was petty, but your rivalry with Moreno started from a very early age.
It was hard to admit that he was extremely gifted in the craft. Your father made beautiful pieces of furniture, but Moreno made art with a bit of wood. He was able to craft pieces that went on to be the homes of royals. The royal family in Charbagne had them build every piece of furniture for their child’s nursery and he was still just a young boy. You already didn’t like him, but the fact he was outshining your father made you even more leary of him.
Moreno didn’t do much to soothe the tension between the two of you either. He enjoyed teasing and scaring you at every possible moment. He knew you didn’t like frogs or slimy things, so he often carved frogs and left them around to scare you. He would tell you scary stories when you were able to be in the workshop with your father. He also wasn’t above calling you names or picking on your appearance.
“Look at those golden curls, it’s as if you’re asking to get eaten by bears!” Moreno loved to poke fun at your hair. There were old myths that bears, having once been human men who gave into their wild sides, had a predilection for blonde hair.
“Shut up!” You would fuss at him. “That’s isn’t true!”
“You never hear tale of orcs getting eaten by bears do you? None of us are blonde save for those in the Polar. You only hear stories of young girls getting eaten.” He continued to torment you until your father would scold him.
Even as young adults this continued, only you got better at countering Moreno. You verbally sparred until someone had to intervene, usually one of your sisters. They learned early to keep the two of you apart.
Then, one day, Moreno was hired by the Charbagne royal family to be their onhand craftsman. He was still young, barely eighteen. It was an extremely high honor. At first, Moreno was afraid to take it, but your father convinced him that he was ready and had been for some time. Moreno decided to go, and the night before his departure Rivaden threw a party in his honor.
Though celebrations were going on and you thought you would be relieved to have him gone, you were shocked to find that you were saddened. It should have been a relief, the two of you had been mortal enemies since you could walk. But there was a deep heavy sadness that settled onto your heart. But you couldn’t tell anyone this, who would believe you? During the party, you snuck away, going into the workshop where it was quiet. You thought you would be alone, but you found Moreno in there, sitting at his old spot.
“Why aren’t you at the party?” You asked him quietly.
He didn’t look up from the tabletop. “Why aren’t you?”
“It’s not my party.” You took a seat at your father’s work station, smoothing your hand across the top feeling the knicks and dents from years of hard work
“I’m surprised you’re not celebrating,” he glowered.
You notice he’s working on something, chisling at a small piece of wood in his hand. “I don’t feel like it.”
Moreno chuckled under his breath. He kept himself bald back then, probably to try and look like your father. He had a few piercings in his ears, a couple tipped with pieces of wood made from the scarps of his favorite projects, each polished to a fine shine so they almost looked like gemstones.
“You’re going to have it too easy around here. Without me you may even get a worse attitude,” he said with a smirk.
“I’m worried what’s going to happen to you in Charbagne,” you sniffed. “Master craftsman of the royal family, you’re going to get a big head and it never truly was a dainty ornament.”
His grin grew. “You’ll worry about me?”
You gave him an exasperated grimace. “What is there to worry about?”
He laughed and laid what he was carving down upon the counter. “Promise me not to confront any bears while I’m away.”
“Of course not. You’d like that too much,” you sniffed.
He sighed heavily. “Do you think I deserve this?”
That was strange. You never expected him to ask you that. “What do you mean?”
Moreno looked into your eyes, his eyes were usually so dark, but here in the woodshop that had a slight golden gleam to them. “You’ll answer me straight, won’t you? Do you think I deserve this job?”
“Well,” you couldn’t decide what to say. “I think you deserve A job,” you muttered. “You’re not bad at it or anything.” You screw your mouth into a tight line. “Why does it matter? You have it! Take the hint.”
Moreno sighed again, rubbing his face between his large palms. “Rueben never even got a job like this. He’s worked all this life-”
“Stop comparing yourself to my dad!” You snapped at him. “You’re not him. You’re different from him. He chose where he’s at, that doesn’t mean you have to too.” You rolled your eyes at him. “You want to honor my dad then you go and work for that royal family. He taught you. That’s his honor!”
His eyes narrowed and brow pinched. “Are you actually saying something nice?”
“Because you’re pissing me off! Whining about deserving it and worrying you’re hurting feelings,” you mock whined. “Get over it! They asked for you, my father taught you, that’s what he does! He’s proud of you, you fucking moron! Go away and make him proud!”
Moreno started laughing. It was a soft chuckle at first and then he threw his head back as it became a guffaw. “You’re right!” He chortled. “You’re absolutely right.”
“Of course I am. I always am.” You looked at him and that sadness settled over your heart again. “You’ll do adequately.”
The smile on Moreno’s face became gentle. “With any luck I will. Thanks, Goldie.”
You smiled back. “Sure.”
He left in the morning, and without him there was an emptiness to not just your home, but Rivaden as well. Nothing felt complete without him there for the longest time, even now, ages later, you sometimes missed your barbs and battles.
Between his departure and tenure at Charbagne, you and your sisters opened up a brewery of your own. Making your family’s long held recipes as well as your own, and hosting patrons every night, serving them drinks and finger foods. You called the place ‘The Bear’s Pot’, just to mock what had been slung at you all your life. It became a popular spot, earning your family quite a bit of money. This came in handy when your dad got sick and couldn’t work anymore. The extra coin helped to keep your dad as healthy as possible while still keeping a roof over their heads.
Everything was working out fine. You and your sisters worked, your mother looked after children in Rivaden and your father tried to regain his former strength, although he still needed a wheelchair to get around most days. Things were peaceful until one day, your father made an announcement.
“Moreno is coming home,” he says over family dinner. You nearly drop your plate as you’re carrying it back to the table.
“When did you hear this?” Your mother asks.
“We’ve been writing to each other since I got sick. I was worried I wouldn’t get a chance to say farewell to him, so I wrote while I could.” You dad looks thoughtfully towards the window. “He said he was leaving the position to a student of his, and that he’s been wanting to return home ot Rivaden for sometime.”
You sit down at the table and scratch at your chin. “When is he expected?”
Your father scratches his chin as well. “Not sure. Just got the letter this morning. He shouldn’t be too far beind it.”
“But why is he coming back?” You have to laugh. “Why leave such a remarkable position?”
He shrugs. “He didn’t say. All that he said was that he was returning home.”
Your mother sighs and looks over at you. “It’ll be good to see him. He was still such a young thing when he left. How long has it been now?”
“Ten years,” you answer quietly.
She shakes her head. “My gods, where has the time gone?”
“You must be excited,” you youngest sister Luz teases.
You scowl at her. “What makes you say that?”
“Had Moreno stayed you two probably would have been married by now,” Erea, the middle child, says confidently. “You two were one year away from sneaking off into Mr. Rodela’s barn to-” You snack her knuckles with your spoon.
“Hold your tongue! Moreno and I despised each other.”
“You two were made for each other!” Luz scoffs.
“The stories you two come up with,” you stand up from the table. “You’ve turned my stomach at the very notion!” You left while they giggle behind you. You go outside, taking in a deep breath of the cool air. “The very idea,” you grumble under your breath. “Made for eachother! Bah. Made to kill one another.” You head on to the brewery. There was nothing to do but you found busy work for yourself. You clean despite the fact that the place is spotless. You wipe the bar, clean glasses, anything to keep yourself preoccupied.
As you’re doing this unnecessary scurry, the door opens and a customer walks in. You don’t stop to look up. “Sorry mate, we’re not open quite yet.”
“Look,” he grunts, “I’ve been traveling all through the night just to make it here while it’s still daylight. I’m exhausted and I’m thirsty, all I am asking for is for one drink.”
You sigh and give in. Besides, what else are you suppose to do? “Alright. What would you like?”
“Anything at this point. Just give me your favorite.” You look back at him, he’s an orc and has very long dark hair.
“You got it.” You take a glass and fill it up with a pale ale of your own making which you named the Goldie Locks. “Where have you come from then?” You hand him the glass.
He takes up the glass and smells it before siping. “Charbagne.”
Your brow knits together. “Why have you come from there?”
He sets down the glass and chuckles. “Because it’s not home.” He looks up at you, dark brown eyes with gleams of gold in them. He looks different, of course he does it’s been ten years. He looks more manly, less boyish. He’s hairy now, rather than the bald thing when he left.
“Fucking hell,” you say sunder your breath. A smile perks the corners of your lips. “Moreno, as I live and breathe.”
“Glad to see you are,” he chuckles. “Was worried a bear had gotten hold of you.”
“Dad only just told us you were coming home, how’d you get here so fast?” You say, still stunned by his presence.
“I left not long after I sent it,” he replies. “I couldn’t wait so I ended up traveling most of last night to get here earlier. You look good Goldie.”
You smile honestly. “You too.” You then laugh. “Sorry, I’m just in disbelief! Look at you! You were as bald as an egg when you left.”
He runs his thick, rough fingers through his hair. “Grew it out a little,” he laughs.
“It suits you better.”
He smiles. “So you own this place?”
“Erea, Luz, and I do,” you say with a nod. “Which came in handy when dad got sick.”
A serious look crosses his face. “How’s he doing?”
You shrug. “Still a little weak, but he’s alive, thank goodness. Is that why you left Charbagne?”
He drinks his ale. “Not exactly. I have been wanting to come home.”
All these years and he still gave off that whiny attitude he did when he left. It pisses you off still too. “And what are you going to do here? Make rocking chairs for little old ladies? I bet you were doing works of art up in Charbagne! Why leave that?”
He sets down his empty glass. “Maybe I want to make rocking chairs. Ever think of that? Maybe I want to teach like your father did. Make rocking chairs and cribs for the people I care about. Teach some young asshole how to craft them too.”
You’ve been chewing guiltily at your bottom lip. “So you admit you were an asshole?”
He grins. “Maybe I missed this too.”
“Now that's sad,” you chuckle.
“Maybe so.’ He taps his finger to the side of the glass. “But this is sadder. Fill me back up, won’t you Goldie?”
You roll your eyes and top off his glass. “You like it?”
He takes his glass and sniffs the top of it. “Is it yours?”
“Yeah, it’s called the Goldie Locks.” You smile down at him as he drinks. “Still like it?”
Moreno breathes as he sets the glass aside. “Call me a bear, because it’s my favorite now.”
Not long after his return, Morneo takes over your father’s shop. He even takes the empty apartment over it to live. That emptiness you once felt when he left had filled back up. Having him home made Rivaden feel like it used to.
You visit his shop in the mornings, right as he’s coming down from his apartment. He doesn’t have a kitchen or a means to make food yet, so you bring him leftover breads and pasties from the brewery. And since it’s your father’s shop, you have a key to just let yourself in anytime you like.
“I never expected it to be you who would be bringing me food,” he says one morning.
“Why? Because we were both asshole children? Please. I grew up. You filled out.” You say teasingly.
Moreno laughs, taking the food you’ve offered. “Speaking of filled out.”
“You keep your mouth shut, Moreno or I’ll pop it.” You’re looking over his work station, seeing he’s begun a project of making a chair. But there’s also a collection of carved rings laid across the counter. “Already hard at work on those rocking chairs?”
“They’ll sell quickly and I’ll be able to buy supplies the shop needs.” He comes over, scooping the rings out of sight.
“I can loan you the money. The brewery makes me more than I need.”
Moreno slips on a tunic and pulls his long hair out from under the collar. “Then why loan it? Why not just give it to me.”
“Because I am not a fool.”
“Then I’ll earn it by making the chairs. There’s no need for me to rush here.” He bites into a meat pastie and sighs with relief.
“What was it like in Charbagne?” You ask. “Did you like working there?”
He chews and shrugs. “It was a lot of detailed and difficult work, mostly. A lot of big and ornate things. It was a learning curve for me. I was used to what your father and I made. I was not used to the grand scale of royalty. It was hard to make the bigger things suit, it’s easier to make a rocking chair beautiful even with simple carvings.”
“Are you confessing to me you weren’t any good?” You say snidely.
He grins. “No. I’m saying my perfectionism drove me crazy.”
“Do we need to worry here?” You ask, turning around to face him. “You’re not going to snap and start destroying tables with an axe during the night are you?”
He smiles down at you. “Not unless some golden headed little pain in the ass keeps taunting me about it. I’m just happy to sit here and make my rocking chairs.”
Your heart skips a beat and that terrifies you. “I’m surprised you didn’t come back with a wife and an armload of fat children.” You quickly turn away from him. “Or are they not to far behind?”
Moreno laughs. “No. I certainly had the opportunity, but it never worked out.”
You look back up at him, your heart working correctly again. “Did you leave a string of broken hearts?”
“Just mine,” he sighs. “Nothing worth getting into.”
“Sorry to hear that.” You weren’t, you were actually relieved to hear he was not attached. That frightened you as much as the skip of your heart.
