How, by his own damn divinity, did Fenn get roped into this?
That was right, he thought to himself dryly, his chin in his hands as he stared upward. He had just followed the call of coin.
A burly man stared him down, each sitting at one end of a gnarly wooden table. Or, rather, an orc, not a man. An enormous, simply enormous orc with yellowed ivory tusks and a rather stupid squint. His muscles were thick and intimidating. You could see them shift under his skin with every movement he made, that was how huge they were. Gulp. Worst of all, there was a wager at stake here; both Fenn and the orc had set aside a heavy bag of coins for the contest, and the winner would take all.
That was right. Fenn was going to arm wrestle an orc.
The orc’s nostrils twitched. “Not sure if Krunck should wrestle you, on second thinking. Very puny,” he remarked to Fenn, lisping a little through his thick tusky teeth. “Not much challenge. Tiny elf boy gets hurt.”
A squat orc by the name of Ludgor resided over the proceedings with a heavy scowl. “Both agreed to challenge a minute ago. No take-backsies.”
A few beads of sweat dribbled off of Fenn's forehead and froze to his neck. On one hand, he really wanted the prize money that would come of beating this bloody orc. It would buy plenty of adultly drinks for a brief celebration, and good snacks. On the other hand, he had his own qualms about the potential for Krunck to snap his bones as easily as one breaks a twig.
But, the money...
He shrugged up at Krunck sheepishly, concealing his nervousness with false bravado. Fenn rolled up the sleeve and made a muscle. The orcs faces were at an unimpressed deadpan. With a sigh, Fenn dropped the act and held out his hand for Krunck to take.
The orc seemed almost apologetic as he took Fenn's hand in his. “Elf boy skin feels like ice,” Krunck muttered bashfully. “Fragile as snowflake.”
Ludgor bobbed his head curtly, and began the match. “One,” he shouted, “two, three... GO!”
The match began!
…slowly.
Fenn was flabbergasted that his arm wasn't immediately slammed down onto the table top, an instant victory to the orc. Bit by bit, the orc ever-so-gently pushed Fenn's hand down. What? Recovering from his initial surprise, Fenn resisted Krunck’s immense strength, which didn’t do much but slow the inevitable descent of his hand. He was losing, and his opponent wasn’t even trying!
Fenn was being treated like a baby. Like a child. Normally, that was okay. That usually had some benefits to it. But here, it was practically a slight; the other orcs coughed and looked away, evidently embarrassed on Fenn's behalf. He was being humored, not taken seriously. A distant chill gleamed in Fenn’s empty green eyes. His magic pulsed in response to his frigid irritation, creeping out in a light frost that trickled over Krunck’s palm, up between his fingers, and over his arms.
“Frost tickles,” Krunck said, grinding his teeth together to hold back giggles, squirming in his chair as he did so. His grip slackened and shook, and it was no longer just because he was going easy. “Elf boy, please-”
A ruthless excitement lit up Fenn's face. Literally now, he knew he had the upper hand in a match that had seemed hopeless seconds before. Relentlessly, he shoved with all the might in his tiny body, him at his strongest against Krunck at his weakest. Thwump. It was over in an instant. When the burst of frost flakes around the scene cleared, his hand was pinning Krunck’s down.
For a moment, there was dead fucking silence on Fenn’s side of the room. The orcs on the other side roared as some other intense match met a surprising end.
Krunck stared in shock, his eyes darting between the miniscule Fae and their hands. “What,” he said, his jaw gaping open. A few other orcs around leaned in to get a better look, loudly guffawing and roaring. What a scene!
“Tiny elf boy beat Krunck,” Ludgor grunted back, incredulous. “That is what.”
Fenn beamed slyly up at the orc gathering and hopped off his chair, practically dancing in excitement. His arms flailed over his head in VICTORY, and he eagerly grabbed for the bags of money. “Not fair! Puny elf cheat.” Krunck bellowed, slamming his fists on the table, which splintered and cracked under the blow. But it was too late; Fenn was already scuttling off with his winnings, the bags of money dangling triumphantly from his hands as he streaked towards the bar.
He knew how he was going to spend this!
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