A/N-here is another little story I wrote years ago that I had long since deleted from here for reasons, and have recently decided I'd like to revise and share it again. It originally was going to be a multi chapter story, but I have since decided it's just fine like this for now. I am pretty sure it's complete as is, but if inspiration hits, I may add to it! Also, Kharaz's voice is almost a dead ringer for Zuni, the dude that follows new troll players around the first few levels of the starting zone. Every time I wrote his speech, I wrote it in Zuni's voice lol
On another note, I just want to disclaim that I do NOT condone drug use…at all, in any shape or form. I am keeping the rating a cautious T for that reason. This is just a bit of silliness from my brain. And for you die-hards that may read this, I KNOW only blood elves can use Bloodthistle in-game. But that game mechanic does not translate to my story…otherwise there would be no story! Enjoy!
The shimmering shape of a wolf lay stretched out on the cool fragrant grass of Sunstrider Isle and appeared to be dozing. In fact, he was wide awake, letting his sharp senses absorb his fair surroundings. He was taking a short break from his gathering, indulging in a well-deserved rest. The shaman was elf-watching.
They scampered about, here and there, so serious and aloof. This particular portion of the elven lands seemed to be reserved for the training of young neophytes, paladins, magus, and wielders of the darker arts. The ever watchful Silvermoon Guardians efficiently kept the area clear of any of the wretched that had succumbed to their addiction. The island remained blissfully free of any real danger, the fresh faced young recruits kept sheltered as they honed their fledgling skills. The place was a paradise teeming with arcane energy, which was, in large part, why he was here.
The ghostly wolf cut his eyes to the south, his snout resting on his long forepaws. He could see the magnificent edifice of the academy where young elves learned their craft and also to learn to manage their dependence on arcane magic since the destruction of their Sunwell. He never ceased to be amazed by elven architecture, which in places defied all that was natural and in harmony with the land.
Kharaz was alternately repulsed and intrigued by this.
After all, these were the high elves of old, who for thousands of years defended their homeland from the Amani Empire. Never mind that they usurped land which belonged to the trolls to begin with. What magic they wielded must be terrible indeed to still hold fast against onslaughts from two separate fronts, the Amani and the Scourge. The elves were a formidable force, even so weakened.
His eyes were mesmerized by the mana wyrms' slithering shapes, their serpentine bodies held aloft by the same force that likely gave the architecture it's unearthly appeal. No matter how zealously the elves tried to exterminate the pests, their numbers never seemed to wane. The sinister looking creatures themselves fed on arcane power, aimlessly drifting, but always seeking, drawn like moths by the same hunger that plagued the beleaguered elves. The lynxes and wandering treants seemed lulled even by the peaceful bounty which they called home. But whenever the shaman came here, he felt a subtle unrest. It was easy to ignore for a few days but he always felt tangible relief when he would finally be on his way. Perhaps his connection with the timeless elements, which drew from a wholesome power source, was an unwelcome presence here. He didn't ponder on such things long enough to be too bothered by it however.
Being a troll almost guaranteed suspicious glares if not outright hostility from the locals of Sunstrider Isles, regardless of his Darkspear heritage. He was still a troll, and a reminder of their long-time enemies, the Amani. If it were not for his easy-going smile, politeness, and solicitous personality, he was sure he would not be welcome here at all. When asked what his business was, he would simply explain that this place was most conducive to his meditations with its tranquility and lovely surroundings.
He conveniently neglected to add that he was gathering Bloodthistle.
Somehow, Kharaz didn't think they would take kindly to a foreigner harvesting the bounty of their lands, especially since the herb he sought was of such a…delicate nature. The troll grinned to himself. Delicate to the elves, maybe.
The locals, however, seemed satisfied with his explanation and so they left him alone during his visits. He liked to think he'd gained most of the inhabitants' acceptance of his frequent presence not by outright lying to them, but with his supreme skills in diplomacy.
The shaman took a deep pull of the air, savoring the innocence of perpetual spring. He inhaled the seductive sweet tang of tender new blossoms as they sprouted in the trees. It truly was spectacularly beautiful here, if even deceptively so. It was such a welcome respite from the harsh climes of the Kalimdor deserts and steppes, which in his travels had become his home away from home. The grass here was always cool and inviting beneath his feet, the air warm and fresh on his skin. And the view from where he lay was certainly agreeable...he chuffed softly in appreciation and his eyes hooded as they spied a nubile red-head clad in the rich scarlet of a warlock in training. Kharaz surmised that she must be new as he'd never noticed this beautiful flower before.
His upper lip curled slightly. Her pert nose was stuck in the air with self-importance as she dashed gracefully from one of the training facilities to speak with one of the bored looking magisters. After a dramatic round of theatrical hand waving and loud complaints, the pretty little thing flounced off, leaving an exasperated elder standing there rolling her eyes. The troll grunted in amusement, thinking the girl seemed well used to getting her way, by her actions.
He noted with a mixture of annoyance and amusement that she was heading straight for him. He sighed with long-suffering irritation when the disgusting demon cavorting at her heels chattered out a warning to his mistress, turning flips and pointing wildly at the shape-shifted troll. The shaman positively hated those things. He let his eyes slide shut. Perhaps she would ignore him and continue on her way. The laziness that washed over him brought on by the warm sunlight made him hope to be left in peace.
That hope was in vain. His eyes still closed, heard soft footfalls and his keen nose picked up hints of peacebloom. A rustle of silk in front of his face and a fresh waft of her clean scent confirmed her presence.
"By the sun, a wolf!" she exclaimed. Kharaz released a marvelous yawn and offered her a generous view of his sharp canines and long curling tongue. She peered at him, her face a mixture of curiosity and concern. He realized by the way she was looking at him that she thought he was just a regular wolf. He tamped down a growl.
"Are you ill, wolfie? Shall I fetch a healer?" Kharaz began to wonder in that moment if the herb for which he had come to this idyllic paradise was indeed worth this aggravation. Wolfie? Was he that harmless looking?
"Where is your master?" the young blood elf cooed. So she thought him a hunter's pet? The salacious leer he gave her with his 'wolfie' eyes should banish that notion.
She stood up straight and huffed, planting her hands on her hips. "Well, now that I get a good look at you, you don't look ill. What are you up to?" she demanded imperiously, even though it was apparent to the shaman that she didn't expect him to answer. Enough of this, the shaman thought to himself. He allowed himself to shape-shift into his troll form. The look on her face was most satisfying in its shock and wonder. He did so love getting that response from people, particularly beautiful young females.
"I be mindin' mah own business, girlie. It be sometin' dat seems ta be a foreign concept ta ya elves."
The petite warlock gasped and her head followed the upward progression of his transformation. Kharaz was taller than the average jungle troll and he was gratified that she had to crane her neck to look at his face. He saw a subtle change in her haughty features. Her nostrils flared, one eye twitched, and her rosebud lips tightened ever so slightly. He grinned down at her and spread his hands in a gesture of peaceful greeting. The expression on her face was unsettling. Her glowing eyes seemed almost frantic for a split second and they flared brighter, seeming to devour his features. He wondered briefly if she were having some sort attack related to her people's magic addiction. She composed herself admirably and continued drilling him with a withering glare.
"Ok…so you are not really a…wolf," she stammered "You have still not provided me with a sufficient reason why you were simply lying about in the grass."
The troll raised one hairless brow. "Dere need ta be a reason for a troll ta rest his tired feet?"
It was obvious to Kharaz that this elf was not just going to let it go at that; she wasn't going to let up until his answers satisfied her. He sighed.
"Well, first of all, there is the fact that you are a troll, a shaman if my lessons were correct. And though you are clearly not kin to those vile Amani fiends encroaching upon my people's ancestral lands, a troll of any variety in Eversong Woods is cause for question, even if you are an ally," She sneered, "This isn't orc and troll country you know." Kharaz stood up to his full height to intimidate her. It worked, because her voice wavered slightly with her next words.
"I'll ask you again, shaman, what are you up to and why were you lying about in the grass?"
Kharaz saw her eyes dart to his hand, which was holding a bundle of plants with blood-red blossoms, the scent of which was unmistakable with its sour sweet notes. Only one plant smelled like that. He inwardly cursed himself for forgetting he'd been holding the Bloodthistle he'd already gathered when he'd shape-shifted hours ago. He quickly stuffed it into his pocket. The elf narrowed her eyes dangerously.
"You are here...to gather herbs? I assume you have a permit for that!" She held out her hand as if she expected him to produce such a document, and that she alone could verify it's validity.
Kharaz snorted and favored her with a suggestive smirk. "Da magisters know I be here meditatin' and doin'...ya know...shaman things." He sneered back at her, imitating her demeanor. "Dey don't care bout one peaceful troll keepin' ta himself, so...whatchoo tink you gonna do about it?"
"If they knew you were stealing plants, I'm sure they would certainly care!"
"I jus' told ya elf, da magisters over there alreadeh know of my business here...dis island be perfect for...meditation." He proceeded to withdraw a pouch from his other pocket of his worn leathers, his eyes watching the elf's face carefully...sure enough, she looked hungry...and was trying mightily to hide it. She wanted the plants in his pocket. His lips quirked around his tusks as he started to casually roll a cigarette comprised of his own special blend. "I ain't hurtin' nobodeh."
The elf bristled, clearly vexed. She was at a loss for words apparently as she sputtered. His shoulders shook with mirth as he brought the joint to his lips, drawing the edge of the delicate paper across the tip of his tongue, sealing it. He made a point to make his actions deliberate and slow, amused with how she simply stared, her fel green eyes flashing, her pretty little mouth gaping open like a fish. Chuckling, he stuck the freshly rolled joint behind his ear.
"Dis troll ain't breakin' no laws girlie...s'far as I know."
She pointed accusingly at the joint he'd just rolled, her face reddening in indignation. Kharaz would also bet all his totems she was thinking about the rapidly wilting Bloodthistle stuffed in his pockets. It was no secret that blood elves had a love/hate relationship with the abundant herb that grew plentifully around the sanctums of the Eversong Woods. Consuming the plant reportedly aided them with their magic addiction, leaving them almost euphorically high, though at a cost. The withdrawal symptoms elves experienced if the effects of the plant wore off could be rather embarrassing. Kharaz hadn't met an upstanding elf yet who openly admitted a craving for the sweetly cloying herb.
Trolls were immune to the stronger effects of Bloodthistle...but for a troll, the herb had many medicinal uses that were little known and still argued about amongst his tribe's witch-doctors. It was used for it's anti-inflammatory effects for arthritis and other minor aches and pains. He'd thought his grandfather would appreciate more of it, even if it was an afterthought. Kharaz himself enjoyed immensely smoking his own blend of Bloodthistle and Wildvine. The effects of the two herbs smoked together was pleasant, leaving the imbiber in a heightened state of awareness while rendering them completely relaxed and content. Yes, that was a mild way of describing the effects. He liked to compare his little vice to one enjoying a strong alcoholic beverage: the effects could be fun but only if taken in moderation. He knew he was not the only troll who enjoyed smoking Bloodthistle.
His eyebrows lifted slightly at the simmering elf pointing at him.
"I know what you have there in your pockets and I will not hesitate to report you to the proper authorities for...for stealing!"
"Now hold on there, elf! Dis troll ain't be no thief!"
She smirked smugly around pursed lips and glanced boldly down his body. "The contents of your pockets would prove otherwise, troll."
Well, she had him there. Hmm...how to turn this situation around in his favor without losing the precious plants he'd already gathered? By the looks of her, he was pretty sure she was moments away from shrilly calling out to the pair of guardians that patrolled not far off. That sure would cut this little jaunt short, and most definitely get his herb confiscated. Inspiration hit him suddenly. Kharaz schooled his features carefully and his face fell in sadness, his shoulders drooping in surrender. He sighed in defeat.
"Ya be right, elf. I took da weed..."
"W-what?" she looked momentarily confused but recovered quickly. "Yes, I know you did! If you hand it over to me now, I will see that the magisters get it and forget I ever saw a troll in these lands herb-poaching!"
"...for my dyin' grandfatha."
The shaman struggled to maintain a straight face. Herb-poaching! Elves were so over-stuffed with their own self-righteous importance that he simply couldn't resist playing her. He had no problem sharing a bit of his Bloodthistle with her but he felt a perverse desire to make her squirm a bit. It was obvious her craving for the sweet plant warred with her elvish pride...she wasn't about to admit that she wanted it for herself...herb-poaching indeed.
Her face softened immediately at the mention of his grandfather. Perfect, he though to himself, trying not to smile in triumph. She was soft-hearted under all that bluster.
"Oh...dear...I am sorry. I-I didn't know." she murmured.
"It's okeh elf-girl. Da weed, it helps ease da old troll's pain."
"By the sun then why are we just standing around here! Come! I'll show you where the Bloodthistle grows in particular abundance..." she had begun striding off at this order and then stopped short, her face turning red when she realized she'd given herself away.
Kharaz smiled sweetly at her. "So ya have ya own spot ya like ta gather it?"
"No! Absolutely not! Only low bred elves with no self-control abuse Bloodthistle! I only mention this one place because you practically trip over the stuff because it pops up everywhere..." she trailed off and huffed, crossing her arms mutinously and turned partially away from the troll, but she glanced furtively at him beneath thick lashes. Bratty as she was, she sure was a cute one. He moved right in front of her and held out his hand.
"Da name be Kharaz."
She ignored his proffered hand and lifted her nose a bit higher. "Allerah. Now do you want me to show you this area I know of or not?"
"I nevah said ya abuse da weed, girlie. Ain't no shame in a bit o' recreational use…"
Allerah fidgeted a bit and glared daggers at her minion who cackled madly at her. "Granted. And yes, I do enjoy the flavor of Bloodthistle on occasion." The elf stressed the last two words. She then began chanting the spell to dismiss the annoying minion.
The troll snorted and her glare transferred from her demon to Kharaz. He offered her a knowing, lopsided grin and snatched the joint he'd just rolled from behind his ear and slowly passed it under his nose, inhaling deeply, his eyes drooping closed as if in ecstasy.
"What in all of Azeroth is that?" she asked in distaste.
"Ya said ya like da flavah...would ya care ta partake of dis herb wit me?"
"No, thank you." she replied, her voice dripping with acid but her eyes were glued to the cigarette.
"Ah. Well I heard ya elves love ya incense and ya air fresheners and breathin' in fruity flowers. It probably be for da best anyway dat ya don't. A tiny leetle elf like ya wouldn't be able ta handle Bloodthistle if ya actually smoked it."
Her brows shot up at the challenge. "I beg your pardon? Elves are connoisseurs in the art of hookah. I have smoked plenty." She neglected to add that she had never in her life dared to smoke Bloodthistle. "I'll smoke with you, if only to educate you. But not here. Magistrix Erona over there is looking for any reason to have me thrown out of the Academy." She flipped her hair arrogantly and threw a glance over her shoulder and the troll saw indeed the good magistrix was glaring right at them, her arms crossed and hips cocked. "She's had it in for me since the day I arrived here to train."
"Yeah good idea elf...Erona might need some convincin' latah..." He couldn't resist referring to the glaring magistrix by her first name to this fiery elf, knowing him using a familiar to refer to another elf would gall her. He smiled winningly at the magistrix and bowed gallantly and then held out his arm to Allerah in an over-done display of gentility. "Lead da way, elfie."
Allerah scowled and swept past him, ignoring his offered arm. Kharaz laughed behind her, following at a safe distance.
. .oO
Being of noble blood, Allerah was not strictly required to choose a class within the Academy. She could spend her days in her father's sprawling estate near Silvermoon, being waited on hand and foot, slowly dying of boredom. The spirited young elf had no liking for that fate, however. That is why she found herself here on Sunstrider Isle, much to her mother's horror. She was sick of being cosseted and pampered!
Allerah and her family had been fortunate to have survived the war and in the ensuing years, the young elf had been fairly insulated from much of the ugly aftermath. Allerah herself had barely reached womanhood when Arthas and his scourge army had nearly annihilated her people and they had defiantly renamed themselves blood elves. When the Sunwell was destroyed in an act of desperation by Kael'thas, they had had to learn to cope with their glaring weakness that claimed even more to a fate of wasted wretchedness.
Her older brother had trained with the Blood Knights and had joined with Lady Liadrin herself with the Shattered Sun Offensive against the Prince, curse his black traitorous heart! Allerah had begged her father to allow her to train in the Academy so she could defend her people if the need ever arose again and saw no reason whatsoever why she shouldn't be given the opportunity as well to prove herself. It's not like she wanted to join those wild Farstriders! The arts of the warlock held a far greater appeal for the spirited and high strung elf maiden. It had taken her years of cajoling and wheedling. Recently, her father had finally relented and through his extensive connections with the Sunstrider Magisters she was given a spot among the other young elves of similar breeding. Allerah was no fool, she knew her parents saw this as a phase, a passing fancy that she would soon grow tired of. So it was a bit of a shock to her overprotective parents that she surpassed all of her peers in her training. She had no intention of quitting.
The work was becoming monotonous and she couldn't help thinking that she was ready for bigger challenges, but she had only been a student for a month. She had to keep telling herself to be patient. However prepared she thought she was to move on beyond the cosseted walls of the Academy's training grounds, her instructors clearly felt otherwise judging by the menial tasks she was still being given. Oh well, it was better than lolling about her father's estate listening to her mother go on endlessly about the Regent-Lord's cousin's nephew's son...or whichever nobleman was in fashion this week. Whoever it was, Allerah was definitely not interested. Her mother's ability to block out everything outside of her luxurious social life was mind-boggling.
Like most blood elf women of the aristocracy, Allerah possessed creamy, fair porcelain skin, an attractive by-product of a life of sheltered luxury. Her hair was the color of rich reddish honey and she took great pride in the way it shone in the sunlight. She knew she was a delicate beauty and was well used to being admired and worshiped by elvish and non-elvish men alike.
That was part of the reason this troll was such an interesting anomaly. He did neither of those things.
Aside from that, it had been a while since Allerah had been this entertained and distracted from the drudgery of her existence. She had never been so tempted to answer the niggling call of her hunger with the familiar plant that grew where arcane energies were most potent. Oh, she knew what Bloodthistle was capable of. She'd read about it and heard whispers of peers getting hooked on it, to the point of being unable to function without it. Allerah herself had learned to cope by tapping the energies of beasts and mana wyrms, and in fact all elves were required to submit to an extensive training seminar teaching them to tap beasts and surrounding flora and fauna, even if they wanted no other training. It was essential with their new weakness. That was the acceptable, safe way.
Having only tasted Bloodthistle once recently at a party, she'd loved it. She had felt a clarity of mind and strength of body she'd never in her life experienced, not since the Sunwell's demise. She wanted to feel that confident and witty all the time, Her mother's dire warnings about the dangers of the herb had rang in her mind...however, being away from home for the first time in her life made it easy to silence that annoying voice. This troll, Kharaz, had a huge wad of the stuff in his pocket. The fragrance was pungent and strong making her almost dizzy with the temptation.
Kharaz, with his pockets full of tempting herb, was a living breathing example of everything she had been taught to run away from screaming in terror.
The warlock's steps slowed as they neared the Shrine in honor of the high elves' first king. She paused and turned to face the troll, letting her eyes move over his long serpentine form. Only in her secret thoughts would she admit how pleasing she found his appearance. He wore soft, well-loved leathers that seemed to hug his muscular physique. His shoulder armor was worn, yet the patchwork design of the leather still matched the rest of his armor, as if he took great pains to coordinate every component of his gear. Despite the fact he was a troll, he was meticulously groomed, his long deep purple hair gleamed in the sunlight and lay in a thick neat plait on his hunched back. Even his ivory colored curved tusks appeared well cared for the smooth surface polished to gleaming. As if to go along with this uncanny coordination, his eyes almost exactly matched the eggplant color of his hair. His skin was a light greyish blue and she noticed upon closer inspection he was actually covered in dense, very short fuzz. This discovery awakened an unwelcome urge alongside her disgusting Bloodthistle craving...that she thought she wanted to touch his fuzzy skin.
Up close, these trolls were not so frightening. This one was nothing at all like the pictures of the Amani monsters in the books of the magister's library. Quite the opposite indeed. He looked almost cuddly, what with the fuzz. She frowned and rolled her eyes. She was practically begging for all that was taboo and illicit, she thought sourly. He was so different from everything and everyone she was used to. He was a welcome breath of fresh air in the midst of all the sameness and tiresome expectations that went along with a life of privilege. Thinking of her mother she bit back a smirk. The woman would be apoplectic if she knew what she was about to do.
Allerah feigned boredom and glowered at her new diversion, huffing a sigh through her bangs. "By the sun, why would you ever smoke Bloodthistle?"
She was actually giddy with the excitement of doing something so naughty as running off into the woods with a troll. Granted, it's not like they were going anywhere remote, just out of sight of the nosy magistrix. Gods, she was so bored with the Academy! About time something interesting came along to entertain her!
Kharaz gently rapped her on the head. "Cantankerous thing, aren'tcha?"
She jerked her head away from his bony knuckles. "Do you make it a habit to answer questions with more questions?"
Kharaz nodded, grinning in good humor. He gracefully lowered himself to the ground and leaned against the large stone structure of the shrine and looked out to the sea. He patted the grass next to him and his lip curled slightly when he noticed her throat work in a nervous swallow. "Have a seat girlie. Since ya keepin' me from what I came here for, den why don'tcha tell me a story?"
Allerah bristled at the troll's cavalier disregard for this sacred place, the shrine to their first king! She huffed, crossing her arms. "Do you mind not sitting there like that? This is the monument to an extremely important person in high elven history!" she said pompously.
Kharaz looked up at her with his head cocked. His elbow was resting on one bent knee. His grin was rather mocking. "Lighten up, girl…he don' care, bein' dead an' all." He patted the grass next to him again.
Allerah huffed in annoyance and mustered all the cool she could and folded her legs underneath her as she sat beside him, her spine ram-rod straight. She pointedly refused to lean against the stone of the Shrine. At the fore front of her mind was the fact that he seemed to be in no hurry to light up his newly rolled cigarette. Her eye twitched.
Kharaz smirked at her expectantly, the mocking not altogether gone, having morphed into amusement. "Well, whatcha got?"
"I'm afraid I don't know any stories."
"Sure ya do. Tell me da story of da leetle elfie named Allerah."
The warlock scrunched up her face in consternation. "How very odd you are."
The troll laughed and flicked the joint that had be resting behind his ear into the air and caught it smoothly in his palm. She watched raptly as his nimble fingers made it disappear by sleight of hand only to reappear between his razor sharp teeth. By some mysterious bending of the elements, the shaman produced fire of some sort from out of nowhere and leaned into his cupped hand that shielded the tiny flame from the sea breeze. She could not tear her eyes away as he took a deep drag, a moment later exhaling through his nose. His rumbling voice and the intoxicating fragrance of the smoke made her shiver.
"Ya not da first to tell me dat, sweet thing."
Allerah's eyes widened when he passed her the joint. She held it between her thumb and forefinger gingerly, suddenly unsure of herself and wondering at the wisdom of traipsing off into the woods with a troll to smoke his ill-gotten Bloodthistle. She stalled, pinching the item in question tightly between nervous fingers.
"Th-there isn't anything really all that interesting about me," she hedged, shifting uncomfortably.
Kharaz's expression had become somewhat languid as he leaned forward, closer to her. She leaned back in response, the Bloodthistle cigarette still pinched awkwardly between thumb and forefinger.
He purred, "First rule when sharin, girlie...take a drag, den pass it back."
She gasped and brought the joint to her lips. Here goes nothing. She inhaled the sweetly pungent smoke into her lungs and immediately began coughing and hacking. Her eyes watered and she clutched her chest. She turned her face away, mortified. She suppressed a growl when he patted her on the back. "Easy there, elf...Bloodthistle ain't playin!" He cackled at her.
She spluttered, her fel-green eyes watering and her ears drooping as she coughed. She glared at the laughing troll, her face red and her stomach roiling as the powerful herbal blend assaulted her system. That jackass! He knew this would happen! He was waiting for me to make a fool out of myself! She seethed.
She forgot her embarrassment, however, when a sublime warmth slowly began spreading throughout her limbs and body. All of the tension she'd been clutching onto previously seemed to sort of...somewhat loosen...gently. She almost didn't notice, her glare being replaced by a dopey stare at some point in the distance over the troll's head.
Kharaz blinked slowly and grinned widely at the elf. He leaned back, taking the cigarette from her and helping himself to another delicious hit from the wonderful blend.
The shaman felt that familiar relaxed contentment fill his being with the next drag of the herb, and with it a pleasurable sharpening of his awareness. The elf's delicate scent seemed to surround him and he couldn't bring himself to feel guilty for openly staring at the delightful way the bodice of her robes strained and protested over the swell of her breasts. He hummed lowly in his throat.
He was definitely not prepared for the uppity little thing to lean into him and begin stroking his forearm. He swallowed hard.
"It's like velvet!" Allerah exclaimed, turning her face up only inches from his own. Her eyes were wide and a bit bright for his comfort level. He was suddenly doubting the wisdom of sharing his herb with her.
"Wha?" he responded, none-too-intelligently.
"Your fuzzy skin! I was wondering what it felt like." She continued to run her fingers up and down his arm, bringing to his mind other, not so wholesome thoughts, causing him to shift uncomfortably. Allerah thumped rather gracelessly onto her bottom with a soft "oof!" and scooted right up against him, her previous recalcitrance all but evaporated.
"Hmmm," she cooed, her fingers still twirling on his arm, "let's see..."
"Let's see what?" he asked, his eyes still glued to her chest.
"I'm thinking!" she pouted, "You asked for a story, gimme a second!"
"Hmph," he grunted, shivering at her touch. He opened his mouth to protest when she snatched the half-smoked joint from his fingers, but quickly clamped his mouth shut when she inhaled the smoke like she'd been doing it for years. He decided right then that she'd definitely had enough.
"Once upon a time," she began dramatically, "there was an adorable princess who lived with her parents, the king and queen of all things boring and not fun." She enunciated very carefully and Kharaz had a difficult time holding in his amusement. "This princess was dying for adventure and danger but apparently such wonderful things were only reserved for ridiculous older brothers."
"Dat a fact?" he asked, playing along.
"Yes. It was all wickedly unfair and the poor thing languished, her considerable skills going to waste while she wiled away her youth attending painfully boring social events, having everything done for her, and quite against her will being groomed to be the wife of a nobleman."
"Da poor ting!" Kharaz deadpanned.
"I know!" she practically shouted, nodding her head vigorously. Kharaz now readily admitted to himself that he was quite enjoying having the soft, tiny, sweet-smelling elf crowding his personal space. She was practically sitting in his lap now, her cheeks flushed and her pupils dilated. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her more fully onto his lap and resisted the urge to nuzzle her neck. She'd gotten distracted from her silly little tale staring at his tusks, murmuring to herself while sliding her fingers along the smooth surface. He grunted when she wiggled and turned around to fully face him. He shook his head chuckling when her robes rode up, exposing a nearly indecent length of smooth creamy thigh. The herb had completely switched off her inhibitions. It was one of those embarrassing side effects. It was very lucky for this foolish little elf that he had at least a token amount of honor. Lesser trolls wouldn't have hesitated taking advantage of such a situation, especially with how delectably tempting she was. His fingers tightened minutely on her waist and she squeaked.
"Don't laugh at me, troll! I'm not finished!" she barked at him but he could see a tiny hint of mirth in her eyes and the corners of her full lips turned up ever so much.
"Go on elf, dis troll ain't laughin' atcha." he purred, while surreptitiously slipping the joint from her fingers and extinguishing the cherry at the end. With the way she was affecting him, he figured he'd had enough as well. This situation had the potential to digress into something very interesting and unexpected. Somehow he had the feeling if the girl were sober she would definitely not appreciate it. And although he himself would certainly welcome any advance she made, he would not take advantage of her while she was in this state of mind. Kharaz sighed.
As if reading his mind, she leaned forward a bit and slid her fingers up his neck. Oh shit. Kharaz whined slightly in the back of his throat at her touch. She seemed oblivious to the decidedly dirty turn his thoughts had taken and prattled on, unaware of his growing distress.
"Well, the princess finally left the home of her overbearing parents to study the arts of the warlock..." she purred softly, touching her nose to his ear, her breath catching, "...and she finally found all sorts of interesting things to occupy her..." her voice trailed off and she sat up awkwardly in his lap and blushed crimson, biting her lip, her eyes darting to his.
Kharaz forgot the warning bells clanging in his mind at her innocent demureness. He rationalized that one little kiss would not be taking advantage, and his hand moved from her waist to cup the back of her head. His chest rumbled in quiet approval when her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted in invitation right before he covered her mouth with his own. Her feminine whimpers called to his baser instincts and he deepened the kiss, growling. She tasted like heaven.
"Oh yeah? What could hold her interest?" he breathed between kisses.
His mind was trying mightily to remind him that she was a young lady that was high as a kite on Bloodthistle and unable to make intelligent decisions at this time. His rational common sense told him that she was a tiny little thing and he shouldn't have any trouble dislodging her from his person, his honor demanded it, and what was he waiting for? There seemed to be a short circuit connecting his good sense and his fine and large motor function, however. He groaned.
"Ooohhh, nothing notable..." she murmured as she kissed a trail of hot lava along his jaw, "until she met a...," her breath was hot on his ear, "...wolfie." Kharaz panted uneven breaths.
You better stop before this little girl burns you up. Snap out of it! His conscience was screaming at him. He groaned loudly and gently pushed her away. That's it, no more blood thistle for a long time. He'd crossed a line. She whined and looked into his eyes, clearly hurt. Her own were dilated pools of swimming desire and tears.
"Why don't you want me?" she whined. She was petulant, and already leaning closer to capture his lips again with hers. He let out a pained growl and stopped her advance with great difficulty, pushing her out of his lap. Her wide watery eyes were nearly the end of him.
"Ya tink I don't wantcha? Ya even more baked den I thought." he groused, trying mightily to pull himself together. She didn't give him the chance however, as she crawled promptly back into his lap, muttering to herself crossly about flirtatious trolls and their false bravado. Allerah wrapped her legs around his waist, effectively trapping him. He whimpered when their lips met. He nearly lost his mind when he tasted his special blend on her lips. His arms wrapped around her seemingly of their own volition and he couldn't help it, he pressed her small body to his and plundered her mouth hungrily.
He resolved to just indulge in one more little kiss. In moderation, of course.
THE END