Orin

Orcs were a warring race. They were a tough race. They were the kind who thought that a male loving a male was lowering himself and weak.

Snow Elves were beautiful with pale skin and silvery hair. They were also arrogant with any race outside their own. While most races were conservative with their lovers. Elves were free about loving, inside their own race but didn't love outside it.

What happens when an Orc Warrior falls for an Elven Prince?

Excerpt:
"Damn Elves. Think their are better than everyone. I could break one in half with two fingers." my brother says.
We watched the long procession of them winding through the city. These were ice elves. They were tall, lithe, silver hair and pale skin. Eyes every shade of blue that could exist. Clothes of white that made their skin look shimmery. Unlike my brother I thought they were beautiful. Something that none of my race would like me thinking. Being an Orc I was raised from the time I could walk with a sword in my hand. Our natural desires made us great warriors. I had been a soldier since I was sixteen years old. Orcs weren't known for romantic notions such as beauty, unless it was to describe an ax throw. We ate drank and breathed war. With the race wars centuries past we all mingled freely with each other but there was still those that didn't like each other. My brother was one who thought that humans were decent and Elves were arrogant. Though most any Orc didn't like them because they had a tendency to insult us the first chance they got.
"Someday one's going to hear you and going to shove their slim little dagger up your nose." I tell him. He laughs and scratches at his chin.