What was the point?
It's all I could ask myself as I stared up from my bedroll at the sloped tent ceiling. Admittedly, a nice tent. Some kind of plush red velvet, with gold trim. A lot bigger than it had looked from the outside. The pad was soft too, despite being thin as a blanket.
Elves took lots of care with everything, even shoddy two-man tents you bunked refugees in.
Again, admittedly, I wasn't really a refugee, just a soldier lucky enough to get posted to the Stratholme Garrison, in far north Lordaeron and unlucky enough to say he'd keep fighting. Wasn't no Knight of the Silver hand, but I was a knight. Hereditary, unlanded, won by my father during some battle against the Orcish Horde a long time ago. I had a minor commission, oversaw a squad of armsmen. Patrolled the city, saw to occasional difficulties with bandits.
People hadn't believed it, even in Stratholme, a city he'd razed previously, many hadn't wanted to run. The prince? He couldn't have killed his own father. Arthas was overzealous, foolish, going up north as he had. But what they said he'd become, and that he was bringing towards us?
It wasn't like a normal campaign, where great throngs of refugees preceded an army, straining the defenders. There was just…silence.
First, I heard the captain argue with Lord Commander Dathrohan in the barracks head office. The messengers hadn't made their usual deliveries from the neighboring province. Captain, as commanding the secular forces of which I belonged to, was sure it was just a guild squabble, pay or something. They were always demanding more, even though they were glorified note-passers in his opinion.
Dathrohan disagreed, had heard of ill tidings through whatever connections he possessed, wanted to lock down the whole of the city. He hadn't won out in the end, but by the time I left, he'd shut the gates to his quarter, with all his men.
I left because the surrounding towns, the ones who supplied the city, stopped sending their shipments. No grain from Felstone Field, no apples from the shore of Darrowmere Lake, then finally no word from Darrowshire. The city was getting hungry and restive, as were the merchants, so I was assigned to escort some back down the highway, along with four of my men. I'm not a man of great diligence, but after a long time of garrison duty, I admit I relished the opportunity for some movement.
We only got as far as where the road forks up to Northpass that night. I held up my glove, because I heard something. Chittering, slinking, numerous but far away. The creaking of wagons, but no light to guide their path as our party had with ours. It sounded like a rock, sliding down here, a stick, breaking there. A slow avalanche, all out of the torches' view
I would have fled back to Stratholme, abandoned the wagons and spurred my men and our charges, on foot as they were, to follow me back, but in that gloom, that liquid mass of the dead, eyes glowing, and stinking, which I noticed once the wind turned, had flanked us. They had forewent the road and came up behind us, leaving just north to run to.
So we did.
My horse, gray colored and striped when he got wet with sweat, screamed and whined at being made to keep a pace with the men, who were running beside us, for I wouldn't leave them, not yet. Sedge was no noble steed, just an uncommonly svelte bastard of a draft horse and who knows what else I'd gotten for a few gold pieces in Westfall years ago. My father would've liked him, had a commoners sense about him, one that I lacked at that point. No cowardice in wanting to flee the horrors we could hear rattling at our heels. Not for a horse, anyway.
The merchants fell first, snatched into the dark by long bone-white claws, despite their advantage over my men, who were in half-plate. They were in top shape, my men. I shouted those encouragements that were expected of me. The threats, the pleadings.
"Look ahead, boys. Look ahead while you run, damnit." "I don't believe in nightmares, do you?" "A mile further and the elves'll fill em full of arrows for us." It must've been obnoxious from up atop my horse, but I was fighting Sedge every step of the way not to take off and leave them.
I cringed as Jofur was taken from beside me with a grunt. Always insisted the armorer bolt on a few extra plates at key areas. Poor fool, protected as he was, got grabbed first among my men. Then, with a scream, the loudest sound I'd ever heard him make, went Vrolt, from Alterac. Stoic, but sly, I'd always suspected him of misappropriating material from the store-rooms, though I'd kept mum because he always showed for drill, and once he'd unlaced his trousers to show me a Syndicate tattoo he'd had on his arse.
Arse, damn, I thought to myself as I rolled over onto my side in the tent. That was a better thought than the constant recriminations from my past I tortured myself with.
I'd ignore a lot for a nice arse, and Vrolt's had been spectacular. I hadn't made a move then, I kept my proclivities out of barracks. Once you got that kind of reputation, you might as well join the priesthood. I could never remember the chants.
Always remembered where my cock was, my hands did, though. I'd leaned up in the past weeks of rearguard action, so my thighs weren't as thick as they had been, but my cock hadn't lost weight. A handful, a grinning stableboy, when I was 18, had said to me one night while holding it bedded in a hayloft together. Mouth-full, arse-full, too, he'd gotten it all that evening, showed me the ropes. The memory was only slightly tarnished by the fact that he probably said it to every man who came by his village, for a couple weeks later, I had to make a sheepish visit to the apothecary to clear up a rash.
Why'd I always do this, try and ruin a good wank? I was proceeding along, hands down my own trousers, pulling the skin over my 9-incher, wracking my brain for images of asses that weren't poxy or likely reanimated by now, when an interruption not of my own making burst through the tent flaps.
"By the gods, I don't care if they're knocking nicely at the Gate for tea and crumpets, I'm trying to…," sleep, I would've lied as I continued my growled complaint, but once I rolled over I saw that the interlocutor was an elven teen, on the older end, if could be judged correctly, dressed in fine mage's robes, short enough not to have to stoop coming in the entrance, with hair as red as the velvet tent, and freckles. I hadn't known elves could have freckles.
The flaps closed again, dimming the space, giving me plenty of cover to get my hand out from under my drawstring and to sit with my legs folded to hide the rest of the evidence in time for him to tap one of the magic lamps and douse the space in warm light.
He looked a little surprised at my vehemence, his big green eyes still clearly visible were watery. In my brief stay with them I'd learned elves weren't big on familiarity or rough talk. He turned his head away quickly, shrugged and shed the pack that he'd brought, and collapsed into a sitting position on his bedroll. All folded up with his knees to his chin, I could've carried him on my shield. I hadn't said anything that bad, had I?
"Come on now," I tried to smooth the coarseness out my voice and scratched my stubbly chin," It's alright. I wasn't expecting any company, that's all, thought I'd have the place to m'self. I'm glad for it now, actually."
He wasn't warming up, didn't even look over, just stared down at the floor matting. After a few moments of silence, I deduced it wasn't adolescent sulkiness, or snobbishness. Kid had a frown that'd break anyone's heart. His ears were even droopy.
"Hey, hey," I scooted forward and patted his bony shoulder with a hand. He didn't flinch, which was a good sign, and I continued, bringing my arm back to my lap, "Whatever it is, it'll be alright. Is it the war? I'm not that much older than you, 27, but I've been in my share of battles. If you have any questions about soldiering…?"
Those ears pivoted towards me, so I knew he listened, but he didn't look up as he mumbled an answer, words sounding like he could hardly believe himself," I was...conscripted."
Things must be bad for Quel'thalas if they were calling up kids like this. The dead weren't quaking in his sight.
"Seems a rough deal at first, but soon you'll be back wherever you came from, little gold in your pocket," I wasn't sure which pep-talk to give, but the hard-nosed sergeant wasn't my style if I could help it," I've made a life of it."
Looking up, his eyes narrowed in some small fury at my words, but as he spoke, he quickly deflated into a whine," I don't...want to be a soldier. I had just matriculated, into the Mages College. I had a page position, to help pay my way. They sent me as a representative, to the front, after we were called for aid, with a letter."
It was a little halting, his high voice crackly with youth and angst, but it piqued my interest. Us pawns weren't usually a party to big events, although I'd always learned to keep my own dull ears open. The Mage's College in Silvermoon was second only to the Kirin Tor in prominence.
"Just the letter," I commented, catching hold of the right thread, which helped him along.
"Yes," He looked as low and as miserable as could be," I was in the gatehouse, asked for the ranger general. She wasn't there, but Theron was...and...and..."
"Wasn't to his liking, was it?"
"The..the Mages College regrets to inform you that no mages beyond what have already been appropriated will be sent to aid in this latest incursion. The Sunwell, and Silvermoon proper, must be our primary concern," he enunciated well, but as he droned out what must have been the memorized text of the letter, it was robotic.
He jumped when I whistled out the side of my mouth, an alto tone that fit the grim mood and let some of the pressure I felt escape. It wasn't my interrupted wank, or my own feelings and fears about war, for as a soldier for nearly ten years, I'd accepted I was fodder waiting for grazing day. It was him, and the delicacy of his distress. Made my heart hurt.
"And so you're here," I stated, sparing him explanation of how exactly he'd been impressed.
"You know," Suddenly showing signs of a backbone, he put one thin finger in my face, furrowing his brow angrily," I'm not going to be any use. I worked so hard, so hard to qualify for my fellowship, where most of my classmates rely on nepotism. Of course they'd send me to deliver the cowardly news. They all turn up their noses every other day. I thought this task was an honor, thought I was announcing the imminent arrival of all magical forces."
Not many humans would be so transparent around a stranger, with elves it was unheard of. Shifting in my seat, I was made uncomfortable by its rarity, and by my reaction to it. I wanted to inch nearer, wrap this sad little kid in my arms and make his problems go away. Whether or not it'd be well received, my motives weren't pure. He was damned cute when he was angry, as much as he had been while sad.
"I'm just a scholar, you know. C-can't even cast a fireball, without…," I was put on alert as he held his hands forward, but he only meant to mime the spell, which otherwise would've blown through my stomach. He seemed a mercurial sort of person, for his anger was over with already, decayed into self pity. A tear, like a bit plopping raindrop, ran down his face.
"C-closing my eyes and looking away…" managing to choke it out, the elf threw up his elbow, covering the aforementioned big green eyes and sobbed into it, bending over into his lap.
"Ah, now…," inconsolable, he was stone to my clumsy words and even tried to pull away when I began rubbing his arm and thigh. They weren't honest, instantly recoiling gestures, but only happened a half second after he leaned into them to begin with.
"It's...It's…," I felt helpless for a moment, worrying over his balled-up crying form to no effect, but then I moved myself closer, and slid my arms underneath and behind him, lifting him with a little grunt into my lap. I hoped to hell my erection stayed behind my drawstring. I didn't want to cause him one bit more of pain by betraying the moment.
"Not as bad as they say, war," I lied, settling my head over one of his shoulders. After a moment of stiffness, he relented and clung against me. His sharp little chin dug into my collarbone.
"Been in lots of battles. I should have, back in Lordaeron I was...I am, a Lieutenant," I didn't think it was the time to quibble about whether my commission was still active or whether there even was a Lordaeron anymore, and I massaged his skinny back as he wailed muffedly into me, getting my tunic wet," but don't call me that. I'm Avey, m' friends call me that."
"What's yours friend," He fought me a little, but after giving him some time, I tugged his face away from my shoulder and held it in my hands, bringing him more upright. His pale skin was splotchy-red and glistening damp where my thumbs wiped the tears away," I've gotta know that if I'm gonna watch out for you tomorrow."
"Elidyr, b-but El will do," he mumbled, only moving his pretty pink lips while keeping his eyes downcast as his jaw was propped up by my palms.
Some, in times of difficulty, need away-time to reforge themselves, alone and with their own council. Others needed companionship, reconnection with severed lines. Did he seduce me into providing the second remedy? Was he aware of it? Did he know I'd been trying the first for myself ever since arriving in Quel'thalas, to very poor effect?
If someone could so captivate me in the first fifteen minutes of company, I was willing to ascribe to them any number emotional abilities.
He was still unselfconsciously hung there, and if he felt embarrassed at all, he didn't show it. Maybe he felt the unevenness of the situation, for he put his hands to my face too, glancing up. Delicately, much more so than with what I supported him. The fleshy parts below his pinkies grazed my cheek, unshaven for a couple days, while his fingertips fluttered at my temple, and up into my short-shorn brown hair, tingling their roots with massage.
"I didn't think it'd be this scratchy," a curious wrinkle furrowed his brow again and I had the feel of being a subject of examination until he smiled, giving me an approving pat on one cheek," But I like it."
How was it I was the one looking away like a schoolgirl, flattered by attentions so vague they could've been given to any human male adult. I turned my head, trying to look brooding in a silly effort instead of flustered.
My half of the mirror broken by the pivot, he sat up straight. I couldn't let him go completely, so my hands slid down to rest on his shoulders. Rough and huge where he was soft and small. The difference in height was the better part of a foot, I judged him around 5'6" to my 6"3". But more than that, I was a big fucker, and he was slight.
He seemed no more concerned about my hands around his neck than he had trusting me with his feelings, I saw when I brought my gaze back around.
"Hghhhow old are you," what started as a growl somehow mangled itself into a useful question, and I added, gruffly," I really can't tell."
"Twenty-two, by solar reckoning," El gave knowledge freely and gladly, so unlike most mages, full of suspicion and covetousness, but he gave me a little knowing smirk too, letting me into the fact that he knew what I meant by such an inquiry, and didn't mind," Too old?"
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd kept in and shook my head in relief and to tell him no, it wasn't. I'd worried that his openness was immaturity born of age.
"I fought before that," I didn't mean to shame him, but reassure him as I shared," a knight at fourteen. Didn't live up to it for a while yet, lots of better warriors watched out for me in the meantime."
He chewed that over, looking down and folding his arms between us, and I really hoped he wouldn't ask me how it'd happened I'd ascended so young. My pledge to protect him was fraught with enough feeling.
"So it's Ser Avey," After a moment of contemplation, El went for the lowest, least bitter hanging fruit and raised one hand with a pinky outstretched, wiggling it, mocking my nobility. Comforting that such prole gestures of derision crossed races.
"Shite, at least you believe me," I let my hands slip from his neck and stroked ribs through his robes, close to where it might tickle if he was indeed ticklish," Most make me drag out the paperwork to prove it."
"I would like to read that actually, not much interest in human titles or their documentation among elves, I'm afraid, but...," His eyes got big with academic curiosity again, but he drew his arms back in a protective gesture and gave me a fierce look that on his sweet face made me laugh as much as going through with the motion would have," I'll freeze you in place if you so much as try."
I didn't believe he would or could fulfill that threat, but now it was my turn to act as if I was impressed and surrendered, cowering my shoulders, dropping my hands through the opening of his cloak to the bend between his thighs and hips. It was hardly disarmament; a move with potential for a different kind of stimulation, but I wanted to see how it'd go over.
That he'd be distressed, or sad again was a greater fear than rejection, and I was about to retract them and pretend like I hadn't tried when I saw a little flicker cross his face, his bottom lip finding its way between his teeth. Of what, I didn't know, but he stopped me, laying his hands on top of mine with no obvious intent to get me to remove them.
"I'd...like to share your bedroll tonight Avey," His words got scholarly-precise again, a tool I guess, because his voice was nervous," and be intimate. Mutual touching, nothing further."
They weren't orders, and I was glad he hadn't called me Ser again. Just slightly tremulous assertions of boundaries. That he had to be so explicit and inartful with them meant they must not come easy. He was an odd one.
"Aye," I couldn't say anything else and held there, before adding, trying to match his directness with modest honesty of my own," I'would too."
"Also, your arse," I added, trying to expand the parameters to include what I wanted, as I planned to hold to them," I want to feel that as well. Not going to stick anything anywhere, but…"
"Yes," He nodded seriously, but cut off my trailing sentence and stood up, stepping backwards and shed his robe before squatting and folding it on top of his bed carefully, smoothing out what I now saw were lots of pockets before stacking on top of it the doublet he'd been wearing and his tights, after he unlaced his boots.
I felt a little awkward because of the formality, but stood up too, giving him his time. I leaned over to the lamp and touched it along its rim, which was supposed to dim the light but I'd done it clumsily and near-darkness returned, faint starlight and campfire glow shining through the seams of the tent, just enough make out outlines within the tent.
"Damn, fucked it," muttering and fumbling at the device, I tried to reset it, but El was suddenly beside me, and put his hand lightly on my wrist.
"It's...fine Avey," He spoke to calm me, his lips near one of my cheeks, his breath brushing it," Sometimes in observation, we rely too much on one sense, and miss other, just as important things."
"But I want…" To see you, I was going to say. To watch those green eyes water with pleasure and panic as I wheedled my way up his arse with a finger, pushing him slowly enough to let me take him all at once, visual cues consenting where it otherwise wasn't forthcoming, until I had all of him, no matter what said he wanted. It was a pattern. The kind of rapid, rulebreaking action that would hold someone for a night, but would them give them no choice but to discharge me from any obligations tomorrow. Cowardly.
They were on me, soft, wet suckling moving up to the curve of my jaw, until his little nose tickled my ear. Then back, in light chase kisses across my face till he turned my head with just the temptation of a kiss that delivered once our lips met.
My hands were on him, feeling him through his underclothes. I wouldn't have called him impressive, but the robes gave him a sense of authority in my mind, at least over the arcane, that I'd never know.
Now though, his sternum almost felt like it could give way under my thumb, and off to the side of it, a little way did give, his flat breast moving to the side under my touch. Just barely, I could feel, through it all, the outline of his nipple.
"Ugh," inside the kiss he let out a little gasp, and my other hand went to his face, to his brows, which were tight and furrowed. I massaged them until they unbunched, beneath the little strips of hair that didn't have the same red color in the darkness, and around his face, finding temples.
In doing so, such a tightness developed in my chest, such emotion stiffed the rest of my body, that he noticed. Dragging me by the wrist, but keeping his arm outstretched beside him so we didn't have to separate, he pulled me to my bed.
Suggestions, more like, I doubt he could have budged me had I not wanted to go, but he managed it, slipping his body beneath the folds and I followed him, rather more clumsily, until we were both prone, still kissing.
"Y-you don't have to, you know, protect me," Now, backwards on the pillow, he withdrew, giving me the out I'd sought to take by force earlier.
He didn't want me to take it though. Trying to be mature, he still couldn't cleanse his voice of the tremulousness I thought I'd banished earlier. I'd done it by planting a little dream in his heart, an audacious, outrageous thing that a stranger had no right to offer another if he really meant it, as I had in that moment.
"I do," Protesting, I still held back on the pillow, because if I moved forward as I was urged, I'd not get the words out for who knows how long, and I didn't want to hang such an axe over his head," Gave my word. I don't want anything in return you don't want to give."
That was a lie, of course I wanted it. I'd stand by his side even if he merely toyed with me, for a while, anyway. I had pride, eventually it'd rankle, and I'd leave, somehow discharging myself of my vow.
"And, more'n just tomorrow," Binding myself further with my words, my hand gripped his thigh, a little too hard," However long...However long you want me. If I'm not satisfactory, y'can…"
"Ser Avey," Suddenly we were nose to nose, and and he used my title, but earnestly this time, not a hint of jest in his voice, but wonder and admiration," You're a knight. You protect others, by instinct. Your offer was pure, you're just afraid that the rest of the world can't live up to it."
I thought the lights had returned at that, for all my vision was white. With what first felt like anger, but it was surprise. Didn't stop touching him though, my hands shakily tugged at his drawstring, and mine, until our penises met. His head was as wet and sticky as mine, but much smaller, as was our pattern. I held them both, pulling our foreskins up until half my palm was filled with them, then lowered.
This was a dangerous sort of person, he could see right through me, see the contradictions within me and within a few minutes of conversation, ensorcel me so. It made me want to say all kinds of ridiculous things, to swear myself to his eternal service, that I'd die for him, that I was already in-
"Ahh," His shoulders contracted in a moan, and he gently bucked against me, gasping against my face, warning me," If...you don't grab me from behind soon, you'll loo-se your chance, because I'll…"
Following orders, I slid my forearm between where his ribs and hips sat on the bedroll, his skinny frame making it easy, and filled my hand with one pert buttock, that was smooth and raised above his leg with a definite crease that said it'd be the most voluptuous part of him.
"Didn't think it'd be so nice," Shying away from the fraughtness of earlier, I joked, sliding my cheek over his and scratching him with it.
"Rooobes arent very flattering," sounding like he was being flattened beneath me, I still didn't let him go and moved closer until I could feel his breathing hit the bottom of my collarbone.
"By the light, you're wet, 'El," I found myself neglecting myself in favor of focusing on his cock, which must have been around five inches or so. He was so easy to explain things to, I continued to talk, breathily by now, my chest rumbling against him," Usually I don't care what's up front. A handle at best, but you're you're…"
"Shut up, Avey," I was stung for a moment, but out of his lips it wasn't a rebuke, but a plea, and the whole of his little body started twitching. Whimpering and moaning as I stroked him more intently, delicately pushed him over the edge.
And then he was there, wetness earlier just a prelude, and spurts like the squeeze of a bottle shot out the top of my hand, pooling between our stomachs with nowhere to go.
He was practically kicking now, his shoulders shuddering, and his lips couldn't hold firm, but I kissed them, pushed my tongue deep as I could. I made out with him till he stilled, helped him along, stroked him, squeezed his ass.
I was so entranced, it took me a while to realize he'd fallen asleep, that this wasn't post coital repose, but an exhausted little mage collapsed in what he thought was safety.
"Damn," I muttered so quietly it was nearly a thought, and adjusted my arms to hold him less amorously, abandoning a vain attempt to clean between us and just squeezed him closer, both of my forearms around his back.
This was a fine position I'd landed, but it was my fault. Had I been a little more selfish, I would have come too, and I doubted I could manage to get there without waking him. Still rock hard, I chuckled slightly, even those little moments nearly too exciting to take.
It probably took an hour to wean myself down from that point, so close together were we, but eventually I found sleep, as he had. Lots of thoughts and doubts swirled inside my head, but I knew once he woke up they'd be gone again, but I'd suffer till morning, for him, and the promise he brought.
* * *
(Note: In trying to stay in-universe, I have altered and embellished some of the events in this chapter where it comes to Warcraft lore. Specifically the actions of Dathrohan and their order chronologically. I don't account for this, other than to say that Ser Avey, being on the ground at the time, does not have the full retrospective knowledge that players in WoW receive. There are also inconsistencies in the geography of the Eastern Kingdoms relating to the difference between the Undead campaign in WC3 (From which my primary knowledge derives) and how the zones were portrayed in WoW. Facts in Warcraft media have never been consistent or particularly in depth.)