Darn you, FF dot net and your not allowing NC-17-ness. It will be a chore to make this suitable for "Mature" or "T." What is up with these new ratings, anyway? Bah. I was rather disappointed to find there were lots of stories of trolls and elves out there after I had already written half of this. Ah well. Enjoy.
Providence
Part One
Chapter One
Plink. A few bits of copper fell into the grass. Plink. There was a sound of wire snapping and a curse ensued. Plink. Plink. Plink.
Hanzar slapped his knee tossed his contraption into the grass. "Bah! This is ridiculous. These blueprints are just too difficult," he said with a slight lisp when he licked one tusk in irritation. The odd mechanical thing twitched on the ground and sputtered. The troll kicked at it with a two-toed foot and squinted when the metal wires pinched him.
A low groan came from the large pile of fur and armor lying a few feet away. Hanzar got to his feet and wiped the dirt from his light blue skin, then proceeded to kick his sleeping friend. The tauren moved a little, but seemed no closer to consciousness. "Banik, let's go." Landing another kick right in the big animal's hide, Hanzar adjusted his mail and fixed his bags into place around his waist. The unfinished mechanical squirrel lay forgotten. When the tauren did come to life, he dragged his weight up only with significant effort and faced his friend.
"Ready, Ban? I'm in the mood to kill." The troll rubbed one curved tusk. "Then, when we're done killing, I'm going to shop for a new sword." Banik stared lazily, not showing a single drop of emotion on his large, furry face.
"Okay," he replied in his usual low, grumbling tone. Tauren Orcish was rather difficult to understand, but Hanzar had long become used to the thick, heavy tones of his friend's voice.
Though the beating sun of midday had long proven an opponent to comfortable travel, the desolate mountains of Stonetalon were pleasant that day. The pair had gone there early in their careers to kill the vile harpies and practice cleaning their blades of blood at the peak, and returned now for the sole purpose of seeking out fortune and fame. What had once been almost completely uncontested Horde territory had become victim to an infestation of Alliance scum, who paraded around in their fancy clothes and declared their fight for righteousness and justice—or whatever it was they did, Hanzar never really paid attention. They were pests to the two warriors, and like rats, it was only their fate to be annihilated. The troll was comforted by this analogy.
They passed by a deep ravine, one which Hanzar knew led to the Charred Vale, and on a whim he decided to overlook the opportunity for mining gold veins—his sights were set on the uppity dryads of the peak and all the young, keen humans waiting to be slaughtered. The troll had every grudge against the humans, though he didn't mind the occasional punting of a gnome. He licked his lips when he thought of the yellow-haired human grunt he had put his dull blade through just the other day.
Banik stopped suddenly, and Hanzar took a moment to stop as well and look at his friend. He looked curiously at the tauren that stared around as if the breeze had blown wrong about his ears. "What are you spacing out about now, Ban?" He stalked over and whapped the big ox on the arm. He was about to say more when Banik put one thick finger to his mouth and made a low noise. The breeze squealed lightly against the rocks overhead and then Hanzar saw it—a shadow, circling them, moving slowly but surely and stopping only to breathe. The tauren and troll locked eyes, and suddenly Hanzar was gripping a wiry night elf in one large hand.
What was obviously a stream of curses erupted from the creature, whose body was slowly returning to normal view. She almost wriggled herself free from the troll's grasp when she stomped down on his big toe, but Hanzar quickly grabbed her other arm, as well, and held her out for Banik to see.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, laughing some. "A rogue trying to catch us off-guard, are you? Thought you could take two of us at once because you're so good at walking in the shadows?" Banik let out his usual bellowing giggle. It was an odd sound. "Well, after we decide who gets to kill you, we'll see how well you can hide!" Hanzar laughed again as the rogue tried to stab at his arm with the dagger she still held in her captive hand. Without much effort he lifted the elf by her two hands and held her up so her feet dangled. She moved to kick him, but he held her away so she only struggled in mid-air.
"Kill with hammer," Banik grumbled out while he peeled his two-handed mace off his harness. "Pretty elf blood!"
Hanzar looked at the cute thing and said, "indeed." Her skin was a dark pink, almost red, and her blue hair was short and wild around her face. Her mouth and nose were covered by a red mask that she had obviously stolen from the corpse of some low-class thief. Her glowing eyes were decorated by deep blue, almost silvery markings, and her roguish looks were complimented by her mismatched, patched clothes and large black boots. She let out a growl when Hanzar dropped her back to the ground, confiscating both her tiny wrists to the grasp of one hand. He used the other to draw his sword and hold it to her throat. She looked absolutely wild and rabid, like a caught beast with a mad disease. Her body was so slender she reminded him almost of a boy.
"How? I want to," Banik said and held the immense hammer like it was a twig. He rotated it in one hand. "I want to kill it, Hanz."
"Just a moment," the troll replied thoughtfully as she struggled in his grasp. He had a feeling that if he let go of her, she could easily drive her rather nasty-looking dagger right into his chest. He was in no mood for mortal wounds. "I think this could prove useful for us."
Banik gave him a curious look. "Come on. You dangle this pretty thing from a ledge with a knife at her throat, don't you think some big boy elf will come for her? We could kill quite a few antisocial elf pests with one stone," he told his friend. The arms warrior slowly nodded his head. Hanzar leaned down to look in the woman's small face. "Are you scared of the big bad tauren?" When she made no reply, he shook her. She merely sputtered something in her odd tongue and the troll laughed. While he looked at Banik for his reaction, the elf suddenly tilted her dagger just right and dragged the jagged point right into the exposed skin of his hand. Reflexively his fingers released her and as she dropped to the ground, both her sword and dagger instantly drawn, Banik's gun was at her head.
The situation had quite suddenly turned nasty; Hanzar raised both hands, the tall, muscled troll at the mercy of a rather psychotic-looking, well-equipped night elf, whose only restraint was possibly the cost of her life. Hanzar knew that should any gun be fired, she could rip out his heart and eat it in the time it took for one of Banik's hand-crafted bullets to impale her brain. At the same time, however, if she made a move, she was guaranteed death—the only matter of the situation that worried Hanzar was whether or not the wild creature placed any value at all in her own life. If she had managed to stab him from behind, the troll thought, neither he nor his hairy friend would still be standing. It was an unpleasant thought.
"Okay, elfie," Hanzar said in the softest tone he could manage. "We can be reasonable about this." She only stared at him. He had never quite considered the language barrier before, for he always killed first and asked questions later. His knowledge of Common was limited to "die" and "eat dirt, you human scum," and the elfish language was beyond anything he cared to even contemplate. He would have to do something rash, something unexpected to diffuse the situation.
So he did.
Hanzar slowly dropped his left hand to his side and dropped the sword he still held. He was capitulating, and she would have to do the same if she planned to live. If not, he was doomed, but he supposed he would be all right with that if Banik landed his shot—which shouldn't be too hard, considering the horn of the blunderbuss was pressed against the side of the night elf's head. With his sword on the ground, Hanzar stared intently at the small creature who obviously wanted to kill him as desperately as he wanted to kill her. The decision was hers now. Banik cocked the gun and it startled the elf, who lowered her blades and looked over at the tauren. He took a step back, still keeping her in his range. One false move, Hanzar knew, and he would be victim to the rogue's quickness.
Slowly, so she could see his movements, the troll picked up his sword and sheathed it. Her long eyebrows were still drawn and her eyes glowed brightly even in the daylight. Banik looked at his friend for a sign of what to do next. "Okay, elf, we'll leave if you do," he said, emphasizing the key words in hope she would understand. She merely watched him suspiciously. "We," he repeated, gesturing to he and Banik, "will leave," he gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, "if you do," he pointed to her, and made a shooing motion with his hand. Just when it looked like she was about to become frustrated and Hanzar began to wonder at the intellect of night elves, she laughed. It was a bell-like sound, rich and almost mocking. Her whole body relaxed in that moment and the two warriors stared at each other in utter confusion. Still laughing, she reached into her pocket and Hanzar tensed for any tricks the rogue would pull—however, she pulled out a small bag, which she untied. From it she pulled what looked like an insignia, and when she offered it to him, Hanzar saw it was the badge of a well-known Corporal from Orgrimmar. He stared at her with disbelief, and took the insignia to show it to Banik.
"Small thing killed Corp Argamon?" the tauren asked, holding the badge between two enormous fingers. The elf didn't look very proud, though, when Hanzar took it back and stuffed it in his pocket. She pressed her hands together at her chin and made a whimpering sound, then drew her finger across her throat. Immediately Hanzar understood.
"No, I don't think she did. He begged, and was still killed." He looked at her. "We do that all the time. What's wrong with it?" He shrugged his shoulders, and with a slightly open mouth she shook her head and made a disapproving face. Hanzar laughed. "Funny thing. I guess his wench will want it." Banik took another step back and put his gun back in its holster. The warriors looked at one another and Hanzar nodded.
"Let's go." Just as he moved to walk away, he felt tiny fingers on his wrist. He stopped, surprised, and turned to look at the small elf—before he could react she had jumped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, and without a moment's hesitation she took off running back the way they had come. She disappeared into thin air and they saw her shadow weave into the mountains above.
Hanzar stood very still, unsure whether to vomit or hold his hand over where her lips had touched his skin. Banik was staring at him and they locked eyes. "What?" Hanzar demanded, and the arms warrior shrugged his shoulders. "I want to kill some dryads."