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Description
Chapter 1
She stuck out like a sore thumb in a city full of Dwarves, standing at least another two heads over them usually. But they paid her no heed, she was a common sight for most in their city now a days. Having lived there for a good ten years allowed anyone time to warm up to her. She had gathered with the others to watch as the Orcs entered Erebor. Everyone was very unsettled by there presence, but only one of the Orcs caught her attention. A large pale Orc walked with the Wargs behind him, leading them in. He was massive compared to the others and had intricate scars all over his body. Perhaps decorative, but some were bound to be battle scars. The thing that got to Irilell the most, the one thing about them that made her just as nervous as the rest of the people around her was when he looked at her, his piercing blue eyes staring back at her own. Despite how it unnerved her she looked right back at him, not backing down for a moment as she slightly held her head higher, showing she did not fear his gaze. She wore her smithing clothes, simple work pants and boots, a short sleeved shirt on under her apron, making her look nothing like her royal self. She seemed like a possible refugee from Dale that they had kept in Erebor, nothing more and nothing less.
The Orcs met with the royal family that night, the bureaucrats of the Orc clan bowing there heads and flinching when one of the other moved. Something she saw as weakness and scoffed at when she heard of them acting that way, but she had not been permitted to attend. Thrain was worried of her human heritage bringing the worst out in the Orcs behaviors. She hated it. She worked her ass off constantly for that family, and as soon as something important came around she was swept under the rug and kept hidden from it.
She refused to stay hidden away during the Orcs stay. Staying in her commoners clothing she walked to where the esteemed visitors roomed to find a gathering of Dwarves watching the Orcs down in the court yard they were permitted to use. She watched as well, leaning on the railing of a balcony. It infuriated her to see such scum in her city. Why were they permitted to come here and stay like they were the same as any other race coming for trade issues. She quickly grew bored and moved to leave till she felt eyes rest upon her, eyes she had not seen in the court yard moments ago, staring at her again as earlier that day. She looked back, just as bold as she had then, looking down on the pale Orc from where she stood. He looked away, seemingly ignoring her now as he walked back into a pen the Dwarves had prepared for the Wargs. His look sent chills down her spine, but not one of hate, or fear, or disgust... she didn't really know what it was from. Irilell left shortly there after, returning home to eat, but the next day she worked at the forge for a great deal time. When she was allowed to leave she quickly took up the chance and grabbed her sketch book and some graphite she used regularly to a sharp point. She ran through the city, climbing buildings and jumping ledges, grabbing onto ropes till she reached her desired location. It was a roof over looking the court yard the Orcs used, but closer then the balcony she sat in yesterday and across from the pens with the Wargs. If they were going to stay here, she would at least learn as much as she could from them. She could see the Wargs in this spot more clearly, fascinated by the viscous creatures. The Orcs that stood in the court yard sparred as they passed the time. Bureaucrats being gone meant they had little to do. Most of the ones who weren't bureaucrats seemed rather capable but still hideous with deformities. The only one that seemed rather normal looking was the large one. One injury he bore Irilell was sure it was not for show was the missing arm, the spike like appendage that was shoved into the stump being used as a crude prosthetic. He still seemed to have full movement of his arm, the stump ending just below the elbow. He took care of the Wargs, every once in a while allowing the large white one from the pen to sit with or brush. That one must have belonged to him for he seemed to care about it the most.
Despite her laying on her belly on the roof, he spotted her again, looking into her eyes as she looked back at his till he would look away, going back to his work and she would continue her sketches. Though soon enough after a few days of this routine, she found her sketches were no longer of weapons, armor, or trinkets. But of the Wargs, or a full metal arm, perfectly measured even at this distance to match his other arm in size and length, and even of him. She found herself drawing his eyes the most, and the scars around them. She moved closer one day, on an even lower roof to get closer to the Wargs, to sketch the details of each one. He looked at her, this time glaring more then just his usual observant stare. She glared back, offended he would cast her such a glance before remembering she was in her common clothes, and Orcs seemed to value there privacy. Of which she was definitely invading, but she didn't care. She wanted to learn as much as she could from them if she could not go to the meetings, and like she would want to talk to an Orc.
One night she found herself in a bar, the ale flowing around and most patrons having a good time till he walked in. The room grew silent and stayed that way till she couldn't take the silence any longer and got on top of the table she sat at with the company of a few others around her, starting to sing another drinking song and bringing the life back to the party. What gave him the right to come here? And make all the rest of her people so nervous? Something slipped through her mind, a thought that made her regret her previous one. They were here to look for trade, to become alleys with her people through goods and services, just like many people before them. And all the others were allowed to roam freely as they wanted, but these Orcs, they were confined to their court yard, watched at a distance like animal that most of the Dwarves saw them as. She took more pride in her decision to draw attention away from him with her song, bringing the warmth and welcome everyone searched for in a good tavern back with it. She, if anything, had helped him this way, making the situation all the less awkward for him as well. Where else were they silently shunned from? Where else could they not go in fear of meeting the wrong crowd, greatly out numbered in the great Dwarven city? She paused in her song slightly to send a slightly sad look his way, seeing him sitting in one of the further corners of the tavern, watching her intently before she continued her song and dance.

Description
Chapter 1
She stuck out like a sore thumb in a city full of Dwarves, standing at least another two heads over them usually. But they paid her no heed, she was a common sight for most in their city now a days. Having lived there for a good ten years allowed anyone time to warm up to her. She had gathered with the others to watch as the Orcs entered Erebor. Everyone was very unsettled by there presence, but only one of the Orcs caught her attention. A large pale Orc walked with the Wargs behind him, leading them in. He was massive compared to the others and had intricate scars all over his body. Perhaps decorative, but some were bound to be battle scars. The thing that got to Irilell the most, the one thing about them that made her just as nervous as the rest of the people around her was when he looked at her, his piercing blue eyes staring back at her own. Despite how it unnerved her she looked right back at him, not backing down for a moment as she slightly held her head higher, showing she did not fear his gaze. She wore her smithing clothes, simple work pants and boots, a short sleeved shirt on under her apron, making her look nothing like her royal self. She seemed like a possible refugee from Dale that they had kept in Erebor, nothing more and nothing less.
The Orcs met with the royal family that night, the bureaucrats of the Orc clan bowing there heads and flinching when one of the other moved. Something she saw as weakness and scoffed at when she heard of them acting that way, but she had not been permitted to attend. Thrain was worried of her human heritage bringing the worst out in the Orcs behaviors. She hated it. She worked her ass off constantly for that family, and as soon as something important came around she was swept under the rug and kept hidden from it.
She refused to stay hidden away during the Orcs stay. Staying in her commoners clothing she walked to where the esteemed visitors roomed to find a gathering of Dwarves watching the Orcs down in the court yard they were permitted to use. She watched as well, leaning on the railing of a balcony. It infuriated her to see such scum in her city. Why were they permitted to come here and stay like they were the same as any other race coming for trade issues. She quickly grew bored and moved to leave till she felt eyes rest upon her, eyes she had not seen in the court yard moments ago, staring at her again as earlier that day. She looked back, just as bold as she had then, looking down on the pale Orc from where she stood. He looked away, seemingly ignoring her now as he walked back into a pen the Dwarves had prepared for the Wargs. His look sent chills down her spine, but not one of hate, or fear, or disgust... she didn't really know what it was from. Irilell left shortly there after, returning home to eat, but the next day she worked at the forge for a great deal time. When she was allowed to leave she quickly took up the chance and grabbed her sketch book and some graphite she used regularly to a sharp point. She ran through the city, climbing buildings and jumping ledges, grabbing onto ropes till she reached her desired location. It was a roof over looking the court yard the Orcs used, but closer then the balcony she sat in yesterday and across from the pens with the Wargs. If they were going to stay here, she would at least learn as much as she could from them. She could see the Wargs in this spot more clearly, fascinated by the viscous creatures. The Orcs that stood in the court yard sparred as they passed the time. Bureaucrats being gone meant they had little to do. Most of the ones who weren't bureaucrats seemed rather capable but still hideous with deformities. The only one that seemed rather normal looking was the large one. One injury he bore Irilell was sure it was not for show was the missing arm, the spike like appendage that was shoved into the stump being used as a crude prosthetic. He still seemed to have full movement of his arm, the stump ending just below the elbow. He took care of the Wargs, every once in a while allowing the large white one from the pen to sit with or brush. That one must have belonged to him for he seemed to care about it the most.
Despite her laying on her belly on the roof, he spotted her again, looking into her eyes as she looked back at his till he would look away, going back to his work and she would continue her sketches. Though soon enough after a few days of this routine, she found her sketches were no longer of weapons, armor, or trinkets. But of the Wargs, or a full metal arm, perfectly measured even at this distance to match his other arm in size and length, and even of him. She found herself drawing his eyes the most, and the scars around them. She moved closer one day, on an even lower roof to get closer to the Wargs, to sketch the details of each one. He looked at her, this time glaring more then just his usual observant stare. She glared back, offended he would cast her such a glance before remembering she was in her common clothes, and Orcs seemed to value there privacy. Of which she was definitely invading, but she didn't care. She wanted to learn as much as she could from them if she could not go to the meetings, and like she would want to talk to an Orc.
One night she found herself in a bar, the ale flowing around and most patrons having a good time till he walked in. The room grew silent and stayed that way till she couldn't take the silence any longer and got on top of the table she sat at with the company of a few others around her, starting to sing another drinking song and bringing the life back to the party. What gave him the right to come here? And make all the rest of her people so nervous? Something slipped through her mind, a thought that made her regret her previous one. They were here to look for trade, to become alleys with her people through goods and services, just like many people before them. And all the others were allowed to roam freely as they wanted, but these Orcs, they were confined to their court yard, watched at a distance like animal that most of the Dwarves saw them as. She took more pride in her decision to draw attention away from him with her song, bringing the warmth and welcome everyone searched for in a good tavern back with it. She, if anything, had helped him this way, making the situation all the less awkward for him as well. Where else were they silently shunned from? Where else could they not go in fear of meeting the wrong crowd, greatly out numbered in the great Dwarven city? She paused in her song slightly to send a slightly sad look his way, seeing him sitting in one of the further corners of the tavern, watching her intently before she continued her song and dance.