Brother?

The tavern was nearly empty. Gragnar, in the dark back corner, shuffled his feet awkwardly. His face scars were itching, but to scratch was to show weakness, and to show weakness was to court death. The younger man-orc in front of him was disconcertingly bare-faced, with only his scraggly beard and a black tattoo on his temple for decoration. He was smiling, too, which was off-putting in its own way.

“So, uh, Merkin…”

“Merquin, actually, just, you know, a ‘kwa’ right there, not a usual name, I know, but really, neither of us is particularly usual, you know, but then who is?”

Gragnar nodded. “Mm. Merquin. You say you’re my brother.”

The man-orc’s smile stayed, rigid, on his face, though Gragnar thought he sensed desperation in Merquin’s eyes. “Yes. I -there weren’t many clues, just my mother’s recollection of my, um, our father’s tribe scars. I got her to draw them, and asked around, and your, um, mom also remembered them, she said there had, well, been a war on and so, well, my, um, our father was very, ah, protective, and, well…” Merquin tugged his scraggly beard, a nervous gesture. “The name your mother had for him was Grakkin, so I asked, you know, around, and was told you were the oldest son of Grakkin, you know, and, well, I thought, a half-orc half-brother?”

Gragnar grunted in acknowledgement but didn’t reply. Merquin continued, still tugging his beard. “Yes, well, I, uh, thought, I thought it would be nice to meet somebody who knew what it was like growing up. I mean, mama has plenty of kids, and I love my sisters to death, but, well, they’re all more or less human, and, well, I stick out like a sore thumb, with the skin and the teeth and the size and all, and, well, you’re not one or the other, and, well, talking. I’d, uh, like to hear about you.”

Gragnar sighed. He was smarter than his brothers, though smaller and never as bloodthirsty. He could see what taking this young, soft-bodied orc-man -more like orc-boy -home would mean. It would mean arguments with his mother, Grakkin Dangu Kellawa, and her husbands would probably rip into Gragnar for talking back. Kellawa didn’t like that her first man, Grakkin Dangu Grener, had strayed to humans; she liked it even less that he had brought the product of his transgression home. Gragnar could take on the husbands, but Kellawa was scary. On top of that, his scars weren’t getting any less itchy. Must be a storm coming in.

“Look, kid. You’re what, a year -two years younger, right?” Gragnar’s deep voice rumbled loudly, and the young woman scrubbing the floor looked up briefly. Merquin nodded.

“Right. So. I was… two and a half, maybe three when Kellawa, Gragnar’s wife, got to me. She beat me into shape. She made sure that only the family could hurt me, and if she hadn’t decided to keep me, my bones would have been roasted and cracked open, with the marrow sucked out by my brothers. Da couldn’t have done a damn thing.” Gragnar gave in and scratched the scar under his right eye. “What I’m saying is, you’re not going to survive meeting her.”

This didn’t deter Merquin nearly as much as Gragnar had hoped. The kid leaned in, the smile fading somewhat.

“Look, Gragnar, I don’t care about the rest of the, of your family. They’re orcs. They have their tribe. I don’t -I just -” The young man gulped, and Gragner winced as he realized the kid was swallowing his tears. He wouldn’t even survive the humans at this rate. Gragnar had enough respect for the loins of his father not to laugh in Merquin’s face

“Kid. Merquin. I get you’re lost or whatever, but I’m not helping. I travel, I do rough jobs, I enforce for money. I don’t do…” Gragnar gestured towards Merquin. “…This.”

“I can come with you! I -I learned things, and I, I’ve traveled, and I can do the rough things too, you know!” Merquin’s voice boomed in the customerless tavern. The maid was very industriously scrubbing and making every effort to keep her head down. Gragnar silently thanked her.

“Yeah, well, you’ll just have to -” Gragnar’s brush-off was interrupted by a crash and the splintering of wood as the door and some of the surrounding wall exploded inwards.

“MERQUIN, YOU BASTARD! GET YOUR ORC-ASS OUT HERE AND FIGHT!” A gnome, three and a half feet high, stood in the wreckage, clothes smoking and ripped. She took a step into the room and screamed again, “MERQUIN! DAHLIA TRACKED YOU! WE KNOW YOU’RE HERE!”

“Oohh, excuse me a moment, so sorry, didn’t mean to lead them here, uh, can we talk after I deal with this?” Merquin was already up and moving towards the gnome, and in the sunlight streaming Gragnar got a good look for the first time. What he had taken for an ill-fitting tunic was a short, loose robe; a distinct lack of weaponry was instead a series of bottles and flasks clinking at Merquin’s belt. Merquin’s braids, gathered at the nape of his neck, were wrapped in metal wire, and as he moved into the sunlight Gragnar saw the tattoo at Merquin’s temple continued behind his ear and down the back of his neck, disappearing under the robe. Mage, Gragnar thought. Definitely self-taught.

“Ah, um, Carey, so sorry for, uh, well, I don’t really know -” Merquin had gently shoved the stunned maid to the side, and she ran to the back, slipping behind the table next to Gragnar.

Carey the gnome didn’t scream this time, and Gragnar strained to hear her. “You son of a bitch. You left us stranded. Riel had to make a bargain with a blood sorcerer to get us back. Dahlia -Dahlia is resting right now. I came to kick your ass.”

Merquin shook his head. “Carey, no, I didn’t leave you. Riel -he made that pact before we left. I found out, I found the papers. I, uh, I watched him. I threatened to tell, and so he got rid of me. He didn’t realize I had, I have the key.” Merquin extended his hands palm up. “Please.”

The gnome just roared. Blue-white fire sprouted from her mouth. Merquin brought his hands up, cutting the fire in half; the remaining tongue of flame rolled back into the gnome’s mouth, and she gasped, raising her hands to her neck as if she were choking. She then pulled a thread from her ripped tunic, and as Merquin rushed her she wrapped it around her finger, and snapped it; Merquin stumbled, but momentum kept him going, and he pancaked the gnome.

Gragnar stood up. “Impressive. Right, kid, you’ve changed my -” he ducked just in time to avoid a shot of lightning the gnome was spewing from her hands. “Right, you little lawn ornament -“

“Give me a minute!” Merquin gasped, his voice muffled by the gnome’s suddenly expanded hands, which were wrapped around his throat. The younger man-orc didn’t even try to get the gnome’s now disproportionately large hands off. Instead, he plucked a hair from her head, and, with a finger snap, set it on fire.

The gnome screamed and rolled off him, her body convulsing. Merquin stood, slightly unsteadily, and carefully extinguished the flame. The gnome, whimpering, curled into a ball, the fight gone out of her.

“Sorry Carey, I told you, though, I did, that it was Riel, not, um, not me.” His voice was raspy. “Look, just, you know, get, um, better. I’ll be, I’ll be around. And, you know, um, sorry.”

Gragnar watched the kid fish in his purse and hand the maid a few, large coins, then carefully touch the gnome’s temples and send her to sleep. Interesting, more than I thought. Finally, Merquin grimaced awkwardly at Gragnar. “I, uh, told you I, uh, do the tough stuff.”

Gragnar smiled. It was an orc smile, so it was full of bared teeth, and Merquin took a step back at the sight. “I like you, Merquin. I would have killed her, though.”

Merquin shrugged. “Not, uh, her fault. Riel is a piece of work. She’ll, um, she’ll come around and feel better. You know, not just from, um, this, but from him.” He frowned. “You’re not, uh, planning to kill her, are you? I’d, uh, really prefer if you didn’t, you know.”

Gragnar blinked. That streak of kindness reminded him of Da. Grener was a bit odd for an orc. “Well, we just met, so I don’t know that we’re friends yet. But, and I say this with reservation, we could be brothers.”

Merquin beamed. “Really?!”