The Story of a Lifetime Ch. 08

Crosston may not have been the most creatively-named town, being that it's literally just a town on a crossroads. But what Crosston lacks in creativity, class, and culture, it makes up for in... what did this town even have going for it?

Maybe there's the convenience factor, in that Crosston is the closest settlement to Amella's Southern border. Human traders from north take the Highever Way and peddle their wares at every town along the way, dumping whatever scraps they have left in Crosston, while from the east and west, a dozen small farms feed into the village, which in turn supplies the nearby Fort Bulwark. And once in a rare while, orcish merchants come up from the south to trade for human or dwarvish goods.

That should be a recipe for a metropolitan melting pot, but instead Crosston is just a dingy, backwater trading post masquerading as a small town. In short, one wouldn't expect a half-elven young mother from a decent family to be so excited to see Crosston's squat silhouette appear on the horizon.

But for me, Crosston was the last stop on the road towards the orcish clan lands, home of my son's father (and namesake). In just a couple of days I would be crossing out of my homeland Amella and into... well, I really had no idea what the orc clans were like.

In preparation for what might well be my last international journey, I had done a little bit of research. I learned very quickly that the people of Amella had no idea what went on south of their borders. The only useful scholarly works were military assessments from when we were at war - a war that ended twenty-five years ago.

Few academics had ventured into the clan-holds in the last century, and none seemed interested in going far enough to lose sight of the border, let alone far enough to actually meet a variety of locals. Amella has always treated the clan lands as a single, savage, backwards country, when it was actually several independent nations with their own cultures and beliefs.

One work I found did actually acknowledge that, and even went as far as listing out the six orcish clans. But when I had met Davor two years ago, he had told me there were five clans, and I was more inclined to believe him than some scholar writing from a safe distance.

And so I was setting off into a complete unknown.

Again.

The last time I had done that, I'd ended up pregnant and stuck in a foreign land, surrounded by patronising, racist elves. I was pretty sure this time would be very different. All I had to do was not have sex with a trio of orcs less than a week after meeting them, nor with a satyr and nymph. Although that experience was so magical that I still dreamed of it some nights, more than two years later. And of course, no having sex with dwarves, minotaurs, or chaluum either. Easy.

I quelled the sudden tickle of nerves and kept my face positive. The last thing I wanted was for Davvy to see me looking nervous. He was still young, but already so good at reading emotions in people - especially when it comes to his momma.

We were on my horse instead of the back of one of the carts, so I could have control of our path once we were in the town proper. The old mare wasn't quick, but she was reliable and obedient. Mostly obedient, anyway... when it was convenient for her.

That lack of obedience became obvious as we came into the town square, such as it was, and I yanked on the reins to hold the horse back. I needed a second, just a moment, to process, but she didn't care. We were close to the town's inn, where no doubt the old nag had been stabled and fed before, and there was no dissuading her from going that way. Even if there was another cart. Even if said cart was being unloaded by someone familiar. Even if I needed just a minute or three to catch my breath and rein in my nerves before getting any closer to it.

The man set a small crate down in front of a pudgy human lady who seemed to be doing her best impression of a scowling dwarf. The orc turned back towards the rest of the boxes and bags in the cart, and stopped as he saw me.

"Amy?" He asked, surprise and disbelief lighting his face. "Gods above, what in the hells are you doing in a shit-heap like this? Wh-"

The rest of his words cut off as he saw the fussing toddler on my lap. A fussing half-orc toddler.

"Hello, Mazon," I answered him as I swung down from the saddle and carefully transferred my son to my arms while keeping a grip on the reins. There were a few too many horses running around here for me to be confident letting him run around. I faced Mazon, one of three men who could possibly be the father of my child, and gave him an earnest smile. "Could you help me with this horse? She's a bit of an ass."

His eyes flicked down to Junior for a moment before he caught himself. He probably didn't see much, seeing as my son's face was currently pressed against my shoulder. I don't think his shyness came from his father's side, whoever that father might be. But it's not hard to see Davvy's green skin and put one and one (and one and one) together and get two.

"Oh, damn," Mazon muttered, and hesitated for just a beat or two before stepping forward and taking the reins from my hand, quickly and efficiently tying them to the side of his cart. "I'll hook your horse here for the moment," he told me. "You, uh, you should head inside. Someone there will be happy to see you."

"Thanks, Mazon. Are you coming too?"

"In a moment. I've got to deal with this first," he punctuated the last with a thumb over the shoulder, pointing at the unhappy looking woman. Mazon's grimace showed enough tooth and tusk to tell me he liked the lady about as much as she liked him.

I gave him a quick smile and told him good luck, then circled the building to the front entrance. The orc heaved a large sack and dropped it in front of the woman as I walked away.

"Flour, four stone's worth." he told the woman.

"I'll weigh it myself," she snorted. "Just in case you're overselling the weight." I found myself pausing around the corner, listening to their back and forth for a moment.

"Feel free to drag your scales over." Mazon's voice sounded exasperated, but he was still keeping it civil for now. "The weight is exact, just like last time and the time before."

"Oh, I will. And it had better be good quality this time. No sawdust or other fillers. The last loaf I baked with your flour turned out flat."

"It's good flour," he growled. "I can attest to that - I saw it harvested myself. If you can't bake a loaf of bread, though, that's your own problem. My job is to move the product, not teach humans how to bake."

"You arrogant son of a green-" she started, and I quickly stepped into the squat, plain building.

I didn't need to hear more, and I certainly didn't need Davvy hearing a slur about skin colour. It had been bad enough living among the elves in Yamen En'sol. They might have been racist and looked at Davor as less-than, but at least they hadn't resorted to racial slurs. Not in my hearing, at least.

The inn was humble, to say the least. Short and wide, it had a lot of windows along one side, but half of them were closed against the afternoon's heat, leaving the room dim. It might have been tough for a human to make out details, but the elven blood from my father's side of the family meant I had keener sight than most. But I wouldn't have needed any help to make out the orc currently leaning against a desk, looking bored and irritated as he waited for the human clerk to finish futzing.

Even in total darkness, maybe even if I was blindfolded, I would have recognized him. His tunic left his arms fully exposed, and my eyes traced the tattoos there for a bare moment before settling on his face. His eyes met mine, and all emotion seemed to drain from him for a moment. But only for a moment.

Then he grinned, and his whole face lit up like the sun piercing through the clouds. "Amaranthea?" He called, louder than necessary for such a small room, and started towards me. It looked like he was barely restraining himself from sprinting as I set my son down and straightened up.

He closed the distance in just a few strides, and stopped abruptly. He raised his hand to my face, almost but not quite touching, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed. Or as if he wasn't sure I was really real.

"Amy," he whispered, and I felt something in me turn to jelly.

I've heard my name said by a lot of people, heard it sit on the lips of more than a few amorous men. But when Davor said my name, it felt different. Like it was the first time hearing it said correctly.

"Davor," I answered in a matching hush. Stresses I had barely noticed building in me suddenly started to melt away, leaving me feeling light-headed. I had worried this trip was foolish, that Davor had already moved on, that he wouldn't even remember me, or that he wouldn't want to see me again. But as I pressed my cheek against his palm and felt the physical connection, I knew none of that was true. I had been drawn back to him like an iron filing to a lodestone - I had travelled half the world to come back home.

Davor Junior shifted then, and the two of us looked down at him.

"Who's this little guy?" He asked, crouching down to be closer to eye level with Davvy. "Oh!" Davor finally seemed to process what he was seeing, that my son very obviously had orc blood, and I watched a cascade of emotions wash over his face. "Oh."

"His name is Davor," I told him, dropping to a knee beside the two boys. "Davor Junior, I suppose. Or maybe Davor the second..."

"He's..." he started, stopped, and finally started again. "He's mine?"

I laid a hand on Junior's head, and gently coaxed him towards the man who might well be his father. He stepped forward, reluctantly, looking back at me as if to check that it was alright.

"Well, you might remember that I was, ah... with three of you..."

"Oh, I remember," Davor answered with a hint of heat in his voice, though his eyes were locked on Davvy and his face was full of... I wasn't actually sure what. There was a tenderness there that was unmistakable, however. His eyes shifted slowly from Junior's face to mine. "I haven't forgotten a single second of our time together."

"Me neither," I told him. I started to say more, but we were interrupted by a not-quite-polite cough from behind the desk.

"We do have the one room if you still want it," the human man told us, "and plenty of space in the common room."

"That will do nicely," Davor answered without looking up from my face.

"Tick?" Davvy asked, and all three of us adults looked down to see him proudly holding out a twig towards Davor.

"Stick," I gently corrected Davor as his maybe-father solemnly accepted the gift.

The innkeeper pointedly coughed again, and walked towards the left half of the building, where five doors came off the hallway. The three of us followed, with at least two of us feeling sheepish. "Yours is the second on the left," he told us, "the last door straight down is a bathing room. We can bring hot water, but it costs extra. You two feel free to get settled in... and take your show out of the doorway, hm?"

"Oh," I stuttered, looking back at the man. "No, we're not, uh. I'll get my own room."

"Well, there's exactly one room left available, which the orc fella just paid for. There's still space in the common room though, and the bunks are perfectly comfortable. And affordable."

"Sure, I'll take one of those, I guess."

"Don't be silly," Davor cut in. "You can take the room, Mazon and I can bunk in the common area."

"I don't want to put you two out," I told him.

"I've been sleeping on the back of a cart for a few days, anything will be an improvement over that. I'm fine sleeping in the common room."

"Well," the human said, sounding somewhat exasperated. "You've got the room. When you figure out how many beds in the common room you want to rent, just come let me know." With that, he turned and walked away, shaking his head all the while.

"What a prick," I whispered as I pushed open the door to the room I would apparently be staying in.

"Agreed," Davor grunted.

"Tick," Junior chimed in excitedly, and the two of us burst out laughing. After a moment, Davvy started laughing too, more out of excitement that we were laughing than anything else.

"Do you need help carrying things into your room?" Davor asked, once our laughter finally died down and we were both standing in the little room.

"No need," a gruffer voice called from behind us. We turned to find Mazon stepping into the doorway behind us, holding my three bags out towards me. "I hope you don't mind, Amy. I needed to move our horse and cart, so I stabled your little pony beside ours."

"Thank you, Mazon," I said, then grunted as I accepted the backpack and bags that had been left attached to my pony's saddle. It wasn't the heaviest load, but too much for me to hold in one arm for very long. Mazon had been holding it all out at his full arm's reach, and I hadn't seen even a hit of effort on his face. Gods damn, that was one strong man.

"Any trouble with the supply woman?" Davor asked, and I was glad that neither of the orcs had noticed the flush on my cheeks. Or maybe they just chalked it up to the emotions of this reunion.

"She told me she would pay three-quarters of what she did for the last shipment, then wrote down a sum that was under seventy percent, like I was too fucking stupid to do basic math. I told her to take the offer and shove it up her-"

"Language," I chided Mazon, and the guys paused for a moment before laughing. The booming guffaws drew a frown from the human man down the hallway, but neither Davor nor Mazon seemed to care.

"Too young to hear swearing, is he?" Mazon asked with a tusky grin.

"We'll wait until my... that is..." Davor mumbled, fumbling over saying the word 'son'. "We can hold off on teaching Junior all the colourful swear words until he's at least two." Then he turned to me. "Amy, I have to go take care of this. That wrinkled prune is a real bi... a real tough customer, but I've been dealing with her for years. This shouldn't take too long."

With that, the two men departed together, leaving Junior and me to get acquainted with our lodgings. It didn't take me long to look over all the amenities: a bed, a small table with a single chair, a wardrobe, a clay jug of water, a room-dividing cloth screen, and a bucket for washing up. At least I hoped the bucket was for washing, not for...

It didn't take me much longer than that to unpack my belongings: one sack of assorted clothing and some dried foods, a backpack with my necessities and the few treasures I felt like carrying with me across the ocean, and a smaller bag for Davor Junior's clothing, books, and the few toys we brought.

Then I sat with Junior on the floor, where he'd become distracted by the toys I was unpacking. We played for a little while, and by the time he lost interest it was close enough to evening, and the boys were back. We ordered the simple but cheap fare, and the four of us ate around a table in the common area.

"I'm just about beat," I told the guys as we finished our meal. "I heard tell of a warm bath being available, so I'm going to bathe little Junior here, have a short bath myself, then sleep."

"The little guy joining you doesn't make for the most fun 'bath for two' I can imagine," Mazon grunted, then laughed at his own joke.

"I won't be able to soak quite as long, it's true," I agreed. "But that's fine."

"You've been on horseback for gods know how long," Davor argued. "You and I can give Junior a bath, then he can stay with me while you take a soak. You may as well enjoy yourself."

"He and I have a whole routine down for his baths, but I'll certainly take you up on the offer of soaking time..."

Normally, my little half-orc menace liked to put up a struggle over bath time, but tonight he was tired enough to go along with it. Twenty minutes and a few buckets of hot water later, I was just finished towelling him down when there was a hesitant tapping on the private bathing room door.

"Come in," I told Davor. His namesake was already half-dressed, and half-asleep. "You can pretty much just put him right down to bed," I said as Davor stepped into the small room. "He has a white blanket folded up on the pillows, he won't sleep without it."

Davor - the one I had dreamed about, not the one I had just washed - scooped up his son and held him like he was very used to carrying children around. Did Davor have his own kids? Maybe he just had nieces and nephews... Once again I realised I really didn't know anything about him.

"Davvy and I will figure it out," he told me. "You just enjoy your soak. I'll have the innkeep bring in a few more buckets of hot water for you."

Davor was as good as his word, and the weaselly human popped in with a polite knock and two buckets of piping hot water. I filled the tub with a mixture of hot and cold water, blocked the door with the empty buckets (just in case), and settled in for a soak that took my stress away. When the water went cold, I warmed it up with the leftover hot water. When it finally went cool again, I was forced to admit that I'd gotten as much as I could out of the bath.

A few minutes later, I gave a gentle rap on the door to my room, and eased it open to find Davor Jr. under the covers and holding his shawl, quietly snoozing, while his father reclined against the pillows beside him.

I took in the tableau for a moment, of Junior sleeping peacefully while Davor lounged beside him, muscular arms tucked behind his head to show off his shoulders and armpits. There was something so deeply masculine about his outline, and seeing him being paternal tonight... something in me sparked into warm flame that made me blush and tingle out to my extremities.

"All done?" he asked, cracking one eyelid. At my nod, he rotated and rolled to his feet, and I must admit that I did ogle the lines of his body as he moved. He wasn't as muscular as Mazon, but Davor's whole body looked toned, except for maybe a little softness around the middle.

He stood before me, and I didn't move out of his way. We stood that way for long moments, within arm's reach but not actually touching. Looking, but not speaking. My heart hammered in my chest and I felt my face flush again. My eyes flicked away from his for brief moments, taking in his muscular arms, then his chest, then his pants, but inevitably being drawn back up to meet his gaze.

Davor reached out a tentative hand, laying in on the side of my face. My heart thundered even faster, even harder, as his finger gently traced my jaw. He slid his finger under a lock of wet hair that stuck to the side of my face, and gently tucked it behind my ear.

His palm brushed against the pointed tip of my ear with that motion, and I felt myself leaning forward automatically, a slave to my impulses.

"Mama bat?" Davvy junior asked, and I almost jumped.

"Sorry, honey," I told my son, leaning past Davor. "Mama didn't understand that."

"Mama," he repeated sleepily. "Bat?"

"Oh, yes, I had a bath, honey. Go back to sleep."

Curiosity apparently satisfied, the little angel closed his eyes again. I stepped to the side of the man in my room, still near him but no longer in his way. "Not with him in the room," I whispered, and Davor nodded.

He took my hand in one of his, which dwarfed it completely, and brought the back of my hand to his lips for a brief, chaste kiss. Then he disappeared out the door without another word.

"Oh, Davor," I whispered as I closed the door, not really sure which one of the boys I meant. "We're really in it now."

I expected to be awake all night, nervous and tense and excited, but the bed was surprisingly soft, and I had gotten used to sleeping under thin tents on thinner bedrolls again, and I dropped straight into a deep, dreamless sleep.