This story contains an employer-employee D/S romance between two middle-aged men, with a class power imbalance.
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Feyhr Gielz came to the Ambassador's Reindling's estate with very little to recommend him. But the estate did lack a gardener, and the big orc seemed harmless enough.
Reindling knew it was a stereotype that orcs were brash and warrior-like, but it was a stereotype because it was so often true. Gielz, though, spoke few words, and softly, and looked mostly interested in his own feet. Aside from his massive size and the dusky blue-green tinge to his skin, there was very little typically orcish about the man. Most orcs prized full beards in men, and body hair and large protruding tusks as a sign of virilty in all genders. But Gielz was almost hairless but for his head, and his tusks near-invisible until he spoke. He had a way of standing that, in spite of his enormity, seemed to take up as little space as possible. And yet for all these odd looks, Reindling couldn't find it in himself to think of the strange orc as ugly. In fact, he had a kind of quiet magnetism, and the half-elf found himself offering a month's probationary work on the spot.
Jiorich Reindling was perhaps unusual in his own looks, too. He was tall for his human ancestry-- although still nothing compared to an orc-- and his body wiry and ear points subtle even for a half-elf. His chiseled face was framed by silver stubble and touseled salt-and-pepper waves. Over a career in diplomacy he'd seen little chance for combat, but still kept a lean fighting shape, and despite his age he looked to have at least a few years left in his prime.
Jiorich ran his estate mostly himself, and simply, with a skeleton staff, so he was accustomed to little extravagance. But he was not immune to the small pleasures of a gardener's service that made themselves quickly visible throughout the house. Fresh cut flowers appeared in every room, green herbs manifested at mealtimes, and garden walkways always appeared to have been freshly swept and weeded only moments before Jiorich's arrivial, as if the lord of the manor should never set foot on a single dandilion or dead leaf. But the orc himself was almost never visible, always discretely around the next corner, or behind the hedge, or disappearing into the gardener's shed.
For his part, the Ambassador did his best to make his strange new help comfortable. He arranged for well-made, orc-sized tools to be stocked; and packets of seeds; and for the shed to be repaired and refitted and the door sized to a more comfortable height. He instructed the rest of his staff to treat their quiet workmate with the utmost in generosity and warmth and, his curiosity piqued, began to walk the garden daily in hopes of encountering the mysterious green figure. But if ever he did find Gielz, kneeling on the cobbles or in some flower bed, the orc would swiftly gather his tools, arrange his huge, round shoulders into a bow, and shift off elswehere. Perhaps he's nervous for his job, thought the half-elf, and made a mental note to arrange for an advance of several months of the gardener's pay, if he stayed on. That might at least give him a feeling that his position was secure.
Feyhr Gielz's disappearing act continued for the first week of his employ, and much of the second, until finally one warm, fragrant afternoon Jiorich surprised him in a sunny alcove. Gielz was working among the roses, across from a little bench. Jiorich stopped the orc with a gesture when he started and rose to his feet.
"Please, Mr. Gielz, as you were. Don't let me disturb you."
Feyhr clasped his hands quietly behind his back and seemed to consider the paving stones.
"Would it trouble you if I were to sit here a moment while you worked?"
"No, my lord," the orc said to Jiorich's boots.
"Then, please. I'm not here to appraise you. Continue as you wish."
Feyhr bowed his head slowly to the half-elf, then turned and folded himself back onto his knees. Even kneeling, he was so large that Jiorich, seated on the bench, only just saw over his head. But for one so big, his hands were nimble. It was beautful to watch, in a way, Jiorich thought; those wide hands gently pinching and removing dead leaves and brown petals. The sun brought out warm tones in the man's sea-green forearms. A rolled sleeve brushed into the blue crease of his elbow. His shoulders rose and fell with the work.
There was something delicate about the orc, for all his lumbering size. Something graceful of spirit, beneath the surface. Feyhr Gielz was very beautiful, which was an unexpected thought. And Jiorich felt that he somehow wanted to protect him, which was another.
But surely the long gaze of his employer was making the workman nervous. Jiorich had not been out in his gardens often enough before recently, and the forgotten pleasure of a sunny afternoon was putting warm, melancholic ideas in his head. The half-elf rose thoughtfully to his feet and stepped toward the path. Sensing movement, Feyhr turned and began to rise.
"Thank you for your work, Gielz. Not two weeks and my gardens are already improved by your care. Do inform me if I can aid your labours or your comfort here in any way."
Jiorich made to leave, when Feyhr suprised him by intoning, "Sir?" in his slow, resonant way, like stone grinding quietly against stone. Jiorich turned back to look. Even several feet away, he had to tilt his head slightly to see the taller man's eyes. Fehyr, naturally, did not return the look. After a pause so long that Jiorich wondered if the orc had simply meant to wish him goodbye, he finally added, "The kitchen garden is fallow."
"Ah. Yes, the manor is more humbly staffed now than it once was. Cook recieves occasional deliveries from town for vegetables."
Years of training and political negotioation prevented any quizzical look from showing on the diplomat's narrow face. There was another pause in which Jiorich considered that perhaps his shy gardener wanted clear allowance to speak freely. "Tell me what is on your mind," he added, his voice kind.
At this, Fehyr's shoulders seemed to relax, and he responded a little breathlessly, "I could tend vegetables, sir."
Jiorich noted with a surprising bloom of pleasure how beautifully the orc responded to direct orders. Though he commanded respect, the Ambassador didn't normally ask for much deference from his staff. But something about the way Feyhr's whole face had softened in obedient reply, just now, made Jiorich want to see him make that expression again. The half-elf allowed himself to smile.
"We agreed that you would manage the front and side gardens only, which should still be plenty enough work for one gardener. Are you already in need of more pay?"
"No, sir." Feyhr's voice was just above a whisper. He was really studying his shoes now, and was that hint of a purple flush to his cheeks?
"Then why ask for more work for the same pay?"
"You... may enjoy more fresh food, Sir."
"I may enjoy more fresh food." The seemingly open generosity of this offer was surprising. Jiorich couldn't truly suspect the docile orc of angling for raise. And he did remember enjoying garden-fresh food, long ago.
"Very well. You may report to Cook for supplies out of the kitchen budget. I'll add thirteen silver coins to your pay this month for the extra labour, and for each month thereafter provided you stay on here and the workload remains manageable for you. Does that find you agreeable?"
This response seemed to surprise Feyhr enough that his eyes flicked up and met Jiorich's for a flash. They were deep brown and, in the sunlight, flecked with amber. The orc really was blushing.
"Th--thank you, sir."
"Thank you, for sharing your thoughts. If you have anything else to add, I trust you will report it to myself or my steward."
Feyhr seemed to wait for instructions until Jiorich disimissed him back to work directly-- for which directness, he was rewarded with another soft expression from the orc. Putting an unwelcome flutter in his chest out of mind, the half-elf returned to the house and his papers.
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To Jiorich's gratification, after that afternoon Fehyr didn't always disappear from his presence so quickly. The half-elf often found himself in the gardens watching the gardener work. He even managed to get the orc to speak a few sentences in response to direct questions: little facts about irises, or lillies, or the harvest dates of acorn squash.
It being too late in the year to plant everything from seed, Feyhr acquired a variety of seedlings and young, edible plants, some of which were already producing fruit. And soon, whenever Jiorich approached, Feyhr would as if by magic withdraw some green thing from a basket here or a pocket there, to offer silently to the half-elf. There was sprig of basil one day, fresh tea leaves another, and then bits of dill and chive. Jiorich began to wonder why he had not been in more of a hurry to replace his last gardener. It was so pleasing to take daily walks in the fresh air, to enjoy the sights and flavors of a well-tended property.
When Feyhr managed to present large, ripe berries from a plant barely days in the ground, the half-elf took the opportunity to ask to see their source.
"It's a beautiful plant, Gielz. What are they called?"
"Raspberries my lord."
"And where do they grow best?"
"They're native, Sir. In many gardens and ditches. In the sun. And if they have something to climb."
"Ah." Jiorich touched a thorn with his finger and then drew his hand back. "Show me how you harvest them without getting pricked."
He was playing hopelessly dumb, of course. The half-elven ambassador had spent years as a child, picking wild raspberries among the fields and cliffs of his homeland. But if the gentle gardener suspected this, Jiorich knew he would never say so. Jiorich was just on the lookout lately, for anything he could ask Gielz to do. It was plain to see how much the orc liked to follow directions. And besides, he thought it might be pleasant. To watch those big hands weave around the thorns in the dappled light.
They were both stooped over the berries in such a way that Jiorich saw, but Feyhr did not, when the cook's face appeared suddenly from behind a bank of flowers. She seemed to have been searching for one or other of the two men, but upon finding them together, to change her mind. Jiorich caught her eyes as she backed away, and she gave him an odd look in return. What could she be smiling about, he wondered?
Feyhr rose then, and turned to present a hand full of raspberries. They were luminously red in the late afternoon light, and his palm luminously blue. There was a bit of juice turning purple on his fingers.
Jiorich felt struck again by that same warm melancholia that had been overtaking him so often in the gardens these days, as he reached out, and the orcs head bowed a little, and the elf's finger brushed the other's palm lightly; and then Jiorich was holding a single raspberry; and then he was eating it.
Distantly, he noted that for a moment he had wanted to lick the juice off of Feyhr Gielz's hands.
That was an unexpected thought.
"You've done a wonderful job here already, Mr. Gielz. Bring these to Cook later. No doubt she'll find good use for them."
Feyhr bowed his head again in assent.
