Tryst

Wow.. Long Chapter is... long O.o Sorry again for the wait, guys... I had some issues writing this one. No clue why, but it just didn't want to get done! Hope it doesn't suck to badly D:

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“You know you had this coming.”

I watched, amused and smirking from my chair, as Jazlok whimpered and whined, her leg spasming each time Noth managed to yank a thick splinter from her companion's foot. The foot in question was swelled, nearly purple in irritation. Blood was trickling down from each puncture, which was quickly wiped with a clean, cool rag. She would be able to walk on it within a day, but I had a feeling her complaints were more from Noth chastising her rather than the actual injuries.

“I heard sumthin', Noth! Was I jus' sposed ta leave him to tha mercy of his captors? Ouch!”

Noth grunted, eying the fresh, jagged splinter between her fingertips before tossing it on the bar table and turning her attention back to Jaz's foot, “And just as your darling Atal has said, there was no cause for your timely rescue. He was quite alone in his room, as we both saw. And now not only have you injured yourself, but you've managed to acquire excess fees for repair to the door, all because you didn't want to keep your pants on last night.”

I laughed at that, shaking my head, but Jazlok wouldn't let the reprimand sit, “I was not tryin' ta get laid, Noth! I was worried 'bout 'im! Ouch! Do ya have ta do dat every time I - Owww!”

Noth grunted again, “Every time you speak? Yes. Yes I do. Besides, as talented as your Atal is, I somehow doubt he would be very affective in his profession if he were to lose both his eyes.”

I grinned at that, “Oh, I dunno, Noth. If ya look at it logically, den two eye patches be sexier den one.”

Ice blue eyes focused on me, making my grin a little wider, “You're impossible. Both of you.”

“Yeah, mon. But ya love us anyway.”

“Exactly! Ow, okay dat is it! No more!”

Noth sighed, wiping off a fresh trickle of blood, “Good enough. The rest are too small to reach, anyway. They'll push out on their own once your regeneration kicks in.”

Jazlok whimpered, pulling her foot up to her chest in a show of flexibility, and chewed on the arch, trying to reach some of the smaller ones with her teeth. Noth wiped her hands on a fresh cloth, then deposited the entire mess in a clay basin that the Innkeeper so thoughtfully (and scathingly) supplied to be disposed of later. She crossed her arms, resting them on the tabletop, and from across the wooden platform, sized me up.

“So what are your plans then, Atal? Heading back to Dalaran?”

I shrugged one shoulder, carefully hiding my wince as the stitches pulled, the image of the Elf spread and naked beneath me tickling at the edge of my memory, “Oh, I dunno, mon. Da Guild Master got 'is letter dis mornin' I 'tink. Gotta wait on 'is reply. Also gotta go see da healer for mah ribs later dis mornin'.” I sighed, leaning back to stretch a kink in my back, tilting my face toward the ceiling, “I guess I be stayin' for a while. I hear ole' Katoom could be usin' some help. Keep mahself busy while I wait.”

The Orc snorted, shaking her head, “You Trolls have no sense of self preservation. You garner injuries that would be fatal to most, and needlessly stumble into a situation that will surely cause further damage. Foolish.”

“He's not foolish!” Jaz piped, spitting a tiny sliver from between her teeth, “He be keepin' 'imself busy!”

“Oh? Is that what you were doing last night when your foot shattered his room door? You were 'keeping yourself busy'?”

Jazlok had the good sense to look ashamed, and went back to chewing her foot. Myself, I just laughed, “Ya worry too much, Noth. I be fine. Maybe even 'tink a dis as a vacation. Mah cousin always be talkin' 'bout da fishin' in 'dese parts. Might try mah hand at it.”

Both woman eyed me; Jazlok excitedly, Noth curiously, “You mean Zin? Is he coming out this way?”

I winced, visibly, “Ah... I dunno about dat, mon. Haven't talked to 'im in months.”

“Hm. Last I heard he was in Shattrath, exploiting his leave time from his post in Durotar.”

Jazlok pouted, “Ya didn' tell me dat, Noth! I want ta see my Leetle Zin!”

Noth rolled her eyes at the pouting Troll, while inwardly I cheered. There was good reason she kept the information from her companion; I wasn't the only one Jazlok relished harassing, “I did not tell you because it was not important. We were busy with our missions, and save the random scuffle you assuredly feel is necessary to partake in, a trip to Shattrath would have thrown off our time table irreparably.”

“We could at least send 'im a lettah! Let 'im know where we be!”

I snickered, “I 'tink dat would keep 'im on da otha end a da planet, Jaz.”

She huffed, crossing her arms, “Well, den I'd know where he at, wouldn't I?”

“This conversation is pointless,” Noth grumbled, and stood, taking the clay basin in her hands, “Jazlok, get up and leave Atal to his duties. He needs his injuries healed and you are only delaying him.”

Jazlok whined and complained, but eventually did what she was told. I watched her hop across the room on her good foot, and made quite a show of having Noth assist her up the stairs to their room. Once they left, I exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, and retrieved some paper and a quill from the Innkeeper. Quickly, I scribbled a note and made my way to the mailbox. When Jazlok got an idea in her head, the chances of talking her out of it were slim to none, and I felt I owed my little cousin fair warning; maybe even the chance for a head start on her. While I loved and adored her like a little sister, no one deserved to have Jazlok drop in unannounced.

Thankfully, I was Jaz and Noth free for the rest of the day. I made my way over to the Healer's hut an hour or so before midday, and lay agonizingly as he worked his magic. Healing, while a great thing, was inevitably painful. The Magic was hot, and the feeling of quickened bone and muscle regeneration was never a pleasant one. I had my suspicions that the Gods made it that way so us poor, stupid souls would think twice about running face first onto an enemy's sword. Once his spell was cast, he allowed me a few moments to lay panting, recovering from the pain. When I had caught my breath, he made quick work of the bandages and removing the stitches from my now healed wounds. The little holes that the linen lacing had gone through would heal in minutes, so they were hardly a concern. The Healer laughed, and patted me, assuring me that I would have no new scars to bear. I thanked him, and made my way down to the pier.

As was mentioned, Katoom needed help with the Snapjaws roaming the beach outside the village. Ten killed, and he would be satisfied. While I was really in no shape for it, I agreed to help him. My lies were easily believed, and I strutted out of town toward the shore.

The fog had lifted considerably over the course of the morning, leaving only a fine, filmy white blanket a few inches above the grassy path. The air was otherwise cool and clear, the sky clouded with the promise of rain. I walked with purpose, feeling light and energetic, the last vestiges of the Healing pain flitting away. It felt great to be whole and healthy again.

Of course, I should have learned by then that any thoughts like that were inevitably tempting Fate to intervene. It was, I supposed, absolutely obvious that I suddenly found myself knocked to my back, the weight of a giant blue Turtle pinning my shoulders down. It huffed into my face, the stink of old fish and sea water blasting its way up my nostrils. The stench was so strong I actually gagged and coughed. Once my stomach was finished clenching, I rolled my eyes and relaxed beneath the great beast. There was only one explanation for this, and I saw no need to struggle. If I was to be killed, I would have been Turtle chow by then.

“Very funny, mon!” I called out, and heard an answering chuckle from somewhere behind the Turtle.

“I thought so. What do you think?”

I looked up into the Turtle's cracked, wrinkled face, and winced, “He be a nasty lookin' beast. An' his breath stinks. Ya know, I jus' got mah bones fixed. Do ya like me bein' helpless, or are da bandages jus' a turn on?”

The Elf laughed again, and crooned soft words to her new pet; the animal eased off, slowly backed up, and rubbed his face against his mistress's thigh, “I'm sure you mean those words in the nicest way possible.”

I sat up, taking in a large gulp of fresh air, perversely grateful for the sweet smell, “'Course, mon. Who wouldn't want a giant Turtle on em' dis early in da day?” she laughed again, and I reached out, petting the thing on the flat top of it's nose. The Turtle made a churring sound, and his eyes closed, “What ya name 'im?”

“Her name is Soup.”

I blinked, staring at the Elf, “Soup? Ya named yer Turtle 'Soup'? No wonda' she got an attitude.”

The beast in question hissed, and bumped her face against my fingers, then retreated all four limbs and head into her shell. The Elf laughed again, “See? You've hurt her feelings.”

“Bah. Females be tricky dat way. One a yo' many ways a controllin' yer men.”

She gripped my hand, helping me into a standing position, “Well, when the method is affective, can you blame us for using it?”

I grinned down at her, keeping her hand trapped in my own, and pulled her flush against my body. She stumbled some, her free hand automatically pressing against my chest to keep herself upright. I felt her breath catch in her throat, watched as the color of her eyes darkened in reaction to our proximity. Arousal was quick and clear on her pretty little face.

“Can ya blame me fo' usin' yo' weakness ta my advantage?”

A sultry smile spread across her lips, white little teeth peeking out from behind them, and I had the sudden urge to taste them, among other things, “For whom is this a weakness, Atal?”

I chuckled, the sound low, “I don't 'tink I care much, mon.”

Our kiss was light but deep, the crackle of heat and want between us slow and simmering. When I drew back, her face was flushed and warm, and I couldn't resist the urge to touch, to drag my fingers across her jaw, over her lower lip. Her pink little tongue darted out to lick the digit, making a shiver race across my skin. I knew what wonderful things that mouth could do to mine, and I had to give into the fantasy of what it could do elsewhere.

My thought process must have been obvious, because she laughed, pressing her hips a little closer to mine, teasing my growing hard on with that sultry little body, “You are incorrigible, Troll. I think I actually believe you when you said you would have kept me up all night.”

My hands slid over her back, across the swell of her finely shaped backside, “An' inta most a da next day if ya coulda stayed awake dat long.”

She laughed again, her arms going up and around my neck, “Ah, such tempting promises you make to me. One would think you have more pressing issues rather than seducing the enemy.”

I shrugged, tilting my head, “Mebbe. None a dem are dis much fun, though.”

When she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes roving down to my toes and back up, it was a struggle not to groan. The woman could make a simple look unbelievably erotic.

“What do you say we explore these promises you make, Atal?”

Gods above, I swear to you, my entire body locked tight at the sound of that voice, the mental images she conjured for me, “Not dat ya don't tempt me, Elfy, but we be a bit exposed out here. Don't want no one comin' up and catchin' us.”

Like most women, she, of course, took that the wrong way. I could actually feel doors inside of her slam shut, lock, and probably shove a few items in front of them, just in case someone decided to come knocking. She withdrew a step, her hands lingering on my shoulders, “You don't want anyone to see you fraternizing with an Elf.” It was not a question, a simple statement, and a complete lie.

I growled, and dragged her back to me, making her arch, her back bending as she stared up into my face, “Nah, mon. I jus' don't want no interruptions. I 'tink it'd kill me.”

She laughed at that, and those doors eased open a fraction, “Well if that's the only issue, and if you can keep your hands to yourself long enough, follow me.”

She squirmed out of my arms, taking hold of my hand and dragging me along. She chirped at her Turtle, who popped out of her shell and ambled quickly along beside us, her great head swinging from side to side as she watched for danger. I had to admit, I was impressed with the way the beast had taken to the Elf – I could recall years ago, and how my first pet had reacted to me. Loyalty was hard won, really.

I really have no clue how she had found it, if it was by chance or by earlier exploration, but my Elf drug me toward the rock face of the Overlook Cliffs, into a niche in the stone that was basically invisible from the path. It wasn't a cave by any means, more like an indent, with a narrow shelf of rock hanging over the top. It went in about six feet, was around the same in width, and carried the echoes of the ocean waves. She pushed me inside, and directed Soup to stand guard at the mouth of the entrance. The Turtle grunted, and lifted her snout for petting, to which the Elf supplied, cooing and praising her. I swear, if the Turtle had a way to purr, it would have.

I stood petulantly, my arms crossing over my chest as I watched her saunter back to me, a wide grin spreading on my face, “So. Now ya got me, Elf. Whatchoo plannin' on doin' ta me?”

Her eyes narrowed, half lidded and glowing, the sway of her hips increasing marginally, “Oh, I'll bet I can think of a few things.”

Her hands went to my hips, gently pushing, guiding me back. I pressed against the cool stone wall, my own hands going up to cup her face, to draw her into another kiss. She resisted me, though, laughing softly as she untangled my fingers from her hair. I wanted to question, to ask again what she had planned, but the look in her eyes stopped me. No, I figured, maybe a surprise would be better.

Abruptly, she dropped to her knees, and that immediately gave me a thrill. She leaned forward, kissing my lower belly, the small patch of skin that was exposed between my leather pants and vest. Her tongue followed her lips, licking a short trail below my belly button. I sighed, my hand reaching up again to rest on the top of her head. She glanced up at me, a cheeky grin making her bare her teeth.

“In the mood to rush things, Atal? I thought you a man of patience. You waited ten years, after all.”

I grunted, rubbing my fingertips against her scalp, “Not dat I didn' 'tink a ya, Elf.”

She purred, nuzzling my crotch with her nose, making me hiss my breath between my teeth, “Such sweet words one always wishes to hear.” Her tongue sneaked out, pressing against my growing erection, making my hips thrust out in want. Her disregard of my honest confession stung a little, to be honest, but she was working the laces of my pants, and I decided there were more pressing matters at hand, and my bruised ego could take a back seat.

The salty air around us felt like ice water as she opened my fly and freed my dick, scooping it out with a murmur of pleasure at the sight. Immediately she took to her task, clever fingers wrapping around the base, her moistened lips pressing kisses open mouthed and hot against the head. She looked so pretty down there, happily licking at me, applying suction so softly I had to wonder if I was imagining it. The tingles and pleasure coursing up my cock and into my hips reminded me that yes, she was indeed sucking me off, and I had better stop thinking too much about it unless I wanted to miss out on the best parts of it.

In our youth, the vigorous bout of sex we had shared, I hadn't given her a chance to suck me off. I was young and eager and all too sure of myself at the time, certain of what a woman wanted, and I have to admit that it probably wasn't the best sex of her life. It had been painful for her, I know, with not nearly the amount of discovery that a virgin deserves for her first time. I had taken my fill of her, of course, but looking back on it I realize I was pretty damn selfish. The eagerness with which she licked and tasted now was evidence of that. Idly, I had to wonder how it was she had gotten so good this. Flashes of various, faceless, nameless lovers paraded across my mind, and without any prompting, I felt a rush of jealously course up my spine. My lips curled and I snarled, my hands tangling in her wavy hair, making tight fists.

I tried to cool myself down, to not give in to temper, because really, it was ridiculous to feel jealous over people I had never met. After all, we had been parted for over a decade, and I obviously had had my fair share of tumbles since her. It was only normal for her to seek companionship elsewhere. But my possessiveness fought tooth and nail for control, and as I growled at her, pushing my hips forward, thrusting my cock into her mouth with a severe lack of gentleness, that emotion cheered in victory; instead of drawing away as I had expected her to, nervous of my violence, she moaned deep and low, and her hands stroked up my hips and down. Her eyes fluttered closed, and a healthy flush spread over her face. She was enjoying it.

I smirked, setting a rhythm to my thrusts, “Hn... Dirty, dirty Elf.”

She whimpered at the name calling, the pressure of her suction increasing to something desperate, less controlled. Her little hands retreated from my hips to press against her breasts, squeezing and lifting, rubbing over the thick leather where her nipples must have been. She whimpered again, the armor denying her the stimulation she craved, and through it all, I could smell the heady scent of her arousal. The realization had me groaning, shutting my eyes and leaning my head back against the rock wall, pumping my hips in a faster pace, guiding her head with fist fulls of her hair.

The Elf had other plans for me, though, and before I knew it she had managed to pull away from me, lapping at the head of my dick for a moment before tugging my hands from her hair. She pulled on them, dragging me down to the cold stone ground. I went happily, growling playfully and gnawing on her neck. She giggled girlishly, wrapping those long legs around my hips. I ground into her, making that giggle turn into a low moan, her fingernails scratching along my still clothed back. I huffed against her shoulder, lifting myself up on my hands to stare at her flushed, amused face.

“I tink ya should reconsider da type a armor ya wear, girly. It takes too damn long ta take off.”

She shrugged, unconcerned, one of those clever hands reaching down between us to grip my dick again, stroking quickly and confidently. Her palm was cool and smooth, sliding across me, slickened by the remainders of her saliva, “Perhaps I simply wish to repay the favor of last night? Great pleasure can be found in the simple act of giving, you know.”

Oh, how true I knew that to be. Watching her last night, tasting the affect I had on her as she came against my mouth and tongue... Hells. There was nothing like it, nothing comparable to watching your woman snap like a too tight binding, then unravel beneath your hands. Still, I scoffed at her, shifting so I could squeeze her hip, round over her thigh and press against the restricting laces of her armor, right between her legs, “Ole' Atal gives as good as he gets, Elfy. An' no debt goes unpaid.”

She laughed again, at the earnest, serious expression I was giving her, and offered me a shrug again, “Unfortunately, if you were to try, we would have to take my armor off completely in the process. Then it wouldn't just be a simple trading of favors.”

“As long as we got da armor off anyway...”

She nodded, slowly, “Then why limit ourselves? Hnn...” she made that soft, frustrated sound seem so sexy, I nearly lost my mind at that point, but her eyes snapped open, full of determination, “In our best interest, as much as I would like the culmination of this... whatever this is... perhaps you should just shut up and let me enjoy you.”

Never let it be said that Elves did not posses circular logic. Or maybe that was just a female thing. Gods know I'd been beating my head against a wall for years in trying to figure women out. I couldn't understand why she would choose to leave herself frustrated and aching, when it was just a quick, ten minute chore to get those stupid laces untied and her armor peeled away. I would have waited. I would have been patient. Well... okay, maybe I would just get fed up and rip the stupid things apart, and foot the bill for repairs or a new set of armor later, but who cares? I wanted her, I wanted to feel her again, and she was basically refusing me. But you know what? As much as that hurt, and as much as I understood (sort of) the reasons behind it, I'm still an ultimately selfish creature. I sighed, and moved back to sit against the rock wall again, my legs open and my hands guiding her to me. If she wouldn't give herself to me fully, as much as I wanted to give myself to her, I would still take what I could get. Later, I would allow myself to fall head first into the meaning of that, of the stupid emotions that were coupled with this entire situation, but at that moment, she was leaning over me again, and my cock was taken into the soft, wet suction of her mouth, and I made myself not care.

Sure, cumming in her mouth was a thrill, and it felt great – I can't think of a single person who would claim that a blow job was bad – but it was tainted with my bruised feelings. And that annoyed me, because this wasn't supposed to be about feelings, emotions, whatever. When I set out to find her, it was to scratch an itch, to sate some perverse curiosity. And the fact that she didn't seem to be running along the same line of thought as me was annoying. But, like I said, I'd take what I could get, and let myself be depressed about it later. I guess that's why I kept my eye closed, long after my cock was drained and flaccid. The orgasm was intense, and I guess I wasn't quite up to par with my strength after struggling through the Healing magic earlier. Much to my shame, I fell asleep for a brief time. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, really, but when I twitched and woke myself from one of those stupid dreams where you're falling down a flight of stairs, or tripping over your own feet, I found myself completely alone in the little niche of the cliffs.

I wish I could say I was surprised, but we seemed to be following a pattern now, and all I did was sigh and tuck myself back into my pants. When I emerged, I found that the fog had lifted completely, and the late Autumn sunlight was struggling mightily to warm the ground around me. The cool wind off the ocean battled fiercely against it, giving me a chill.

Of course, the Elf and her Turtle were nowhere to be found. I moved forward without thinking much, heading back to the village. My brain was blessedly silent, filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore. As I loped along, Katoom cast expectant glances my way, but I just ignored him, ignored the confused expression on his face, on the faces of everyone around me. I probably looked like Hell, with an aura to match, and I found that all I wanted was my bed at the Inn. I was just about to make my way up the stairs into the building when I heard shouting at the gates. I looked over my shoulder, and surprise made me almost fall off the steps.

An Outrunner was coming through the entrance to the village, guiding a large Red Raptor by the bridles. She, the mount, was wild eyed and snapping at any who came too near to her, her tail lashing from side to side in agitation. There were long gashes along her shoulder, scabbed but healing. To my surprise, my packs were still securely fastened to her sides, and looked as full as they had been when she had thrown me all those days before.

I made my way forward, and when she spotted me, I could see the fear draining from her bones. She squawked and jumped forward, running to me like a lost child to it's parent. I put my hands around her neck, pressing my cheek against the side of her head, relief washing over me when she churred and hissed, rubbing her body to mine.

“She's yours, I take it?”

I glanced at the little Blood Elf female, her hands on her hips. I noticed that there was a large Bird standing behind her, splashes of impressive colors fanning out along its feathers. The Armor it wore was as impressive as it's Mistresses, and I made a mental note that this woman was no Outrunner – she was, like myself, probably in Service to Thrall and the Horde.

“Ya mon. Lost 'er a few days ago. Where'd ya find 'er?”

The Blood Elf smiled at me, a surprisingly friendly gesture for her kind, though I couldn't help but notice the way she squared her shoulders, pride tilting her little chin, “If you can believe it, she was inside Jintha'Alor. I don't think they hurt her, though. Those scratches look like Silvermane claws.”

I nodded, running my hand along the marks, feeling my mount twitch and pull away. I shushed her, crooning soothing words to her in Zandali, seeking out any other injuries. I found nothing lasting, and patted her neck, encouraging her and thanking her for staying alive. As I stepped back, taking up the bridles to lead her toward the stables, I noticed that the Blood Elf was still standing there, staring at me. Expectantly.

Right, right. Proper gratitude. “Thank ya fo findin' her, Elf.”

She smiled again, waving a hand, “Oh, no, it was no trouble. Just a fortunate happenstance.”

I felt an odd chill race up my spine, and I narrowed my eye. Blood Elves were not, as a rule, this generous, or friendly. It made me wonder... “So... what ya be wantin' for a reward?”

“Oh, do not worry yourself! As I've said, it was no trouble – hey, wait!”

I smirked, hearing her voice rise in pitch and squeak when she realized I was walking away from her. I looked over my shoulder, still strolling toward the stable, “Whatchoo want, Elf? Ya said ya don't be needin' anytin' from me.”

To my satisfaction, her face flushed, partially from embarrassment, partially for irritation, and she hurried after me, “Yes, well, you are supposed to insist, obviously!”

“Oh, obviously.” I mocked, rolling my eye toward the sky in feigned exasperation. I lengthened my step, perversely amused when she had to practically jog to keep up with me, “Aintcha got nuthin' better ta do? Ya weren't in dat city fo' nothin'.”

She flushed a little deeper, her FelGreen eyes narrowing, “Yes, well, I did not actually find anything for Markhor just yet. I thought perhaps returning a lost mount to very ungrateful Troll could be paramount. After all, the bones of his brother aren't going anywhere, and I wasn't sure what they were going to do to your Raptor.”

I wanted to be annoyed by that, by her disregard of the feelings of a fellow Troll, but I found her reaction to the whole situation far too amusing. After all, she was a good distraction from my angst. We reached the stables then, and I quickly dug in one of her saddlebags for my coin, which, surprisingly, was all there, and offered up the Stable Master a few silver for use of the facilities. I knew that he had been trained to care for all Mounts of all kinds, but my girl hadn't seen me in over 3 days; she was scared, sore, and needed some proper care. I led her into the stable, happy to see her flop down on the hay with a heavy, grateful sigh, and shut her eyes. I began to work over her scales, wiping them with a soft, warm, wet rag to clean the cuts and scrapes. She churred, and I smiled.

“So I get nothing then?”

Ah, yes. Elves just didn't go away because you wanted them to. In fact, they all seemed to share the annoying personality trait that made them do exactly the opposite of what you really wanted.

“I give you a swift kick in da ass. How 'bout dat?”

“I don't know why you are so surly. I have done you a great favor. It is unfair to not compensate me.”

Slowly, I tilted a look at her, disappointed to find that it had little to no intimidating affect on her, “Since when life be fair, mon? Didn' ya jus say it was a coincidence dat ya found mah girl?”

She flushed again, crossing her arms, “Perhaps it was, but that does not negate the fact that I had to fight off a group of Vilebranch so I could free her. You should be grateful.”

I shrugged, going back to wiping my mount down, “I am grateful. If ya feelin' da need ta act da Saint for yo deeds, don' be surprised when I take ya up on dat though. Saints don' need no compensation. An' ya said yoself dat ya don' need no reward.”

I had to fight had to hold back the grin when she, of all the blessedly wonderful reactions, fisted her hands and stomped one little foot. She was inches close to having a tantrum, and it was fucking hilarious.

“I did not mean it, you stupid Troll! You were supposed to insist, press a reward upon me!”

I laughed out loud then, tossing the used rag in the bucket of warm water, and patted my mount on the neck again, “Well den dat makes you more da fool, mon. We don play da way ya Elves do; we say what we mean, and if ya feelin's get hurt in da process...” I shrugged one shoulder up, and stood to search out some food for my mount, “Don' come cryin' ta me when ya loose ya game.”

To my surprise, I suddenly felt a tiny little fist smack right into my shoulder. She had punched me. Punched me. Of course it didn't hurt, she hit like a wimp to be honest, but it was still a shock. I looked at her, stunned as she stood there, her small hands up and in a defensive position, her legs spread and bent in a slight crouch.

“I'll show you who will cry! Come on!”

“Elf, don be stupid. Dis innit-”

“I said come on!” and she took another swing.

I sidestepped, gripping her wrist as it came toward my face and gave it a good, sharp yank. She tripped forward with her momentum, crashing right into me. Without missing a beat, I swept one arm around her waist, and tipped her over. Her legs swung up, her head swung down, and I carried her, tight to my side, completely upside down. She screeched, flailing and cursing. Of course, when she noticed I was heading toward the watering trough at the end of the stables, her words started to become clearer, kinder. Desperate.

“Okay, okay! I don't need a reward!”

“Hm? What's dat, Elf?”

“I said I don't need a reward! You thanked me, and that's reward enough! Oh Gods, please don't please don't please dont-”

I moved her out, gripping her calves with both hands, dangling her over the nasty, animal-spit-filled water, and she wailed.

“Oh Gods I'm sorry I ever bothered you please don't drop me it's so disgusting oh Gods oh Gods please please please please-”

“Oh, I dunno, Elf. Seems ta me ya be more trouble den yer worth.”

She whimpered, sobbed, and clasped her hands together like she was praying. Her eyes clenched shut, and I could feel her shaking in my hands, “Oh please oh please oh please anything you want anything you ask it's yours just say it and oh Gods please don't drop me in there!”

Truthfully, by that point, I had every intention of dropping her head first into the trough. It seemed a fitting punishment for harassing me when I was in a nasty mood to begin with. And yes, I was grateful to her for finding my mount, but really, she brought it on herself. But listening to her whimper and cry and beg me not to give in to my temper and darker sense of humor made me stop, stayed my hand. I glanced down at the water, filthy and murky and gleaming with mixed spittle from the various mounts. I suspected the Stable Master often spat in it on occasion, unconcerned for the reaction it would cause to the animals. Really, it was a pretty cruel punishment, even if she was particularly annoying.

Plus, she had basically just opened herself up for something much, much more fun.

“Okays, Elf. I let ya go, but I wan' yer word.”

“Yes, yes! My word!”

“Anytin' I want from ya.”

“Anything!”

I couldn't help the sardonic laughter that escaped me as I eased her away from the edge, “Elf, ya in for a heap a trouble, now.”

I don't think she heard me, or really registered what I had said. I lowered her to the ground, and the little thing curled up on herself, drew her knees up to her chest and huffed out heavy, panting breathes, her eyes wide and wild as they stared at what had almost been her doom. Really, I guess I couldn't blame her for a bit of panic and shock. That water was pretty disgusting.

Still, despite the detour of my brain, my anger and fussing was far from over. I plopped my hand on top of the Elf's head, giving it a less-than-gentle shake, “A'ight, on yo feet, 'oman. We gots work ta do.”

She swallowed once. Hiccuped, and pushed herself to her feet. My hand dropped away as she rose to her full height, dusting off her bottom and straightening her armor. She flipped a loose pile of her long, blonde hair over to her back, squared her shoulders, and pinned me with an intense look. Then, the Elf went and did the most ridiculous thing.

She bowed from the waist, one hand in a tiny fist, pressed against her chest.

“As my oath is sworn, so must it be fulfilled. What is it you desire of me?”

Now, I know what you're thinking: she opened herself right up for some good ribbing, and believe me, under normal circumstances I would have jumped in head first. Elves, be they Horde or Alliance, are too caught up in propriety to realize some of the shit that comes out of their mouths. And, usually, I like to follow along and sweep their feet right out from under them until they're stuttering fools, shocked that a Troll could have skunked them, but to tell you the truth, I was at a bit of a loss.

“Whatchoo talkin' about mon?”

She remained in her pretty little bow, her eyes shut, “I have sworn an oath to aid you, Sir. I cannot renege on it. Honor demands I follow through. What is your order?”

I was quiet, for much too long it seems, because she lifted her face, peering up at me, her brown drawn down in confusion, “Sir?”

“What if I don want no uppity Elf circlin' round mah heels?”

The question was meant to spook her off; I said it on a low tone, hissing it out between my teeth, with a glare sent her way for good measure. But, ya know, I guess between being thrown from my Raptor, my ribs breaking, and taking one too many knocks to the head, I must have lost my edge. The Elf only smiled at me, and straightened, her arms crossing over her heavily armored chest.

“I would say you don't have a choice. My oath cannot be taken back. Until I am able to perform action that would repay you in kind, I follow. I go where you go.”

“I could just drop ya in da water if ya wanna be stubborn.”

She shrugged, though I caught the edgy glance she sent toward the trough in question, “If that is what must happen, then it is what must happen. I will clean myself off and track you down.”

“Ya be plenty scared a it before, mon.”

“That is because I brought it on myself for my own foolishness. To suffer it now would simply be another step on my path to honor. We do crazy things in the name of honor, after all.”

I glowered at her, my patience wearing thin, as well as my energy. She held my gaze like a seasoned pro, never wavering, hardly moving at all. Her armor creaked a bit as she shifted just slightly under my gaze, but she remained firm in her stance. She would not back down. And really, I didn't want to deal with the headache she was causing. I sighed, heavily, and shook my head.

“Fine, Elf. Ya wanna play lap dog ta me, dat be your prerogative,” I turned my head toward my raptor, “Get dat wash water cleaned up an meet me at da Inn. We gots strategy ta discuss.”

She stood at attention quickly, her body snapping into rigid place, and dipped her head in a quick bow, “Sir.” I watched her strut into the pen and begin quickly arranging the hay, picking up rags and generally making everything presentable. I shook my head again, and made my way outside and toward the Inn.

Taking a second with me was foolish, I know. My secrets were mine alone, and I was loathe to share them with anyone, least of all a stupid, hard headed, all too insistent Elf. Just thinking about being near her made my blood boil and my lip curl in a sneer. Likely, she would give me headaches and flares of temper the entire span of time she chose to remain in my company, and I wanted none of it.

Of course, I thought, I was apparently masochistic enough... I had already gone through this, hadn't I?

I sighed as I ascended the stairs and down the hall to my room. Well, if the Elf wanted to help me, fine. I sat on the bed, digging through my pack, glad when my hand came into contact with the hilt of one of my weapons. I withdrew the lengthened dagger, smiling slightly as my reflection was caught in the maintained blade. It was curved and wicked, and made a very satisfying squish and snap when buried into an enemy's internal organs. I drew the pad of my thumb across the blade, testing the razor fine edge that I had toiled over myself.

There was a tentative knock at my door, though I had left it open so the Elf knew where to go. I looked up, spying her standing just at the threshold. She had apparently retrieved her sword from the back of her own mount, and I spied the heavy hilt that peeked a foot over her left shoulder. She was geared and ready, and looking eager.

“Come in, Elf. And have a seat. We'll talk.”

She did as she was told, perching at the edge of the single table in my room, her hands bracing against the top as she leaned back to look at me, “What is it that we are to do?”

I smiled, slowly, and was satisfied to see a slight shiver race up her arms.

“Elf... we be goin' huntin'.”