Zaljaf's larder was a maze of empty tins and cobwebs. Glass jars sat hollow on the shelves, stained with the crusty remains of some stew he'd already eaten. A spider wove its web between two empty cans on the highest shelf. Stomach growling, the jeweler rummaged through the pantry. He grabbed for containers, shaking them and listening for the telltale rattle of food. Nothing. Even his jerky tins were empty. Pushing unfilled cans out of the way, his eyes locked on coffee canister toward the back of the shelf. With a swipe of his arm, he grabbed it and pulled back the lid. A sickly sweet smell wafted up from the can. The coffee grounds had to be a month old at least, but they were better than nothing.

Setting the coffee canister on the table, Zaljaf lit a fire in his stove. A cool night breeze blew in through the open door, causing the small flame to sputter and cough. Zaljaf sighed. He tended to leave his door open, even at night, in the vain hope that a customer would show up. The sign was right there on his door – 'fine gems and quality jewelry'. Slipping his flint and tinder in his pocket, Zaljaf pulled the door closed. The flame went out anyway.

Once he got the fire started again, he set his coffee pot on the oven to heat. Gold coins jingled merrily in his pocket. Fishing the coins out, Zaljaf spread them on the table and counted them. Fifty…sixty…one hundred gold coins. He smiled. Not a bad profit. Normally, he was lucky to make half that. Having that girl model his jewelry really made a difference. Tomorrow when the Orgrimmar market opened up, he'd have to buy himself some fine meat to celebrate his discovery. A model brought in customers. Of course! It made so much sense. A piece of jewelry was beautiful just lying on the counter, but it was even lovelier when worn. Yes, tomorrow he'd have to start looking for a full time model – someone pretty, but not pretty enough to outshine his gems. There was no guarantee that today's model would return.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Frowning, Zaljaf looked over his shoulder. "Door's unlocked, mon!" He called. The door creaked open and there stood the very troll girl he'd been thinking of – his model. His pearls hung luminously around her neck. Zaljaf beamed when he saw her. "Oh, yer here!"

She hovered in the door, standing on the threshold and clutching the handle uncertainly. Zaljaf hobbled over, ushering her inside and closing the door behind her. The fire in the oven spluttered again. The troll girl bowed her head. "Sorry fer droppin' in." She muttered.

"Nonsense, girl. I invited ya." Zaljaf pulled out a chair for her. The girl stared at the chair as though she'd never seen one before. Impatiently, he gestured for her to sit. She did. "So! Dis mean yer acceptin' me offer?"

The girl peered at the mass of gold coins on the table, then looked up at Zaljaf. She fingered her pearl necklace nervously, frowning. "I…" She began, biting down on her bottom lip, "I…I dunno what ta do, Mistah Zaljaf."

He blinked at her. "Whatcha mean, mon?"

"De priest trainer sent me away." She murmured. "I dun have any gold. I dun got nowhere ta sleep." She shrank into herself, face down. Her long yellow hair fell over her face.

Zaljaf frowned. He hadn't expected this. "What's goin' on, mon? Whatcha mean ya dun got a place to sleep? Where's yer home?"

"I dun got one, mon…I-I runned away." The troll girl whimpered, digging her fingers into her forehead. Zaljaf stared at her.

"Yer a runaway?" He repeated. Head still down, she nodded. "Wha…Where's yer family?"

"I dun got one." The girl replied, shaking her head slowly. She refused to look at him. "I dun got nuffin'. Dey said to go ta Orgrimmah, but even de priest trainer wouldn't have me."

"Wait, wait…Hold on dere, girl." Zaljaf held up his hands. The girl slowly turned to look at him. She was dirtier than he remembered her. Her eyes were red and puffy. "Yer an orphan AN' a runaway? How old are ya? Ya gotta have some family somewhere…" His coffee pot began to steam. Zaljaf turned away from the girl and went to pull his pot off the stove. He pulled two empty cups from the larder and filled them with coffee. One cup he plunked down in front of the girl. Gingerly, she lifted the cup to her mouth and sipped. She grimaced. Zaljaf smiled hesitantly. "It's bitter, mon. I know. I'm outta sugar, so it'll have ta do." He sat down across from the girl.

"I dunno de word in orcish." She said quietly. "Mastah Gadrin didn't teach me de high numbahs."

"Den say it in Zandali."

The girl cleared her throat. "I'm eighteen years old."

"Yer younger than ya look." Zaljaf replied. "Dun mind me speakin' in orcish. Me Zandali's a lil' rusty."

"It's fine." She answered. She spoke in a rough, country dialect, but the lilting, deep, musical quality of the troll language still came through. The sound was pleasant. Zaljaf hadn't heard proper Zandali spoken a long while. "My mama is dead. I came to Orgrimmar because there was nowhere else to go. And then the priest trainer rejected me."

Zaljaf sipped his coffee. "Sad." He replied. "So yer ma's dead. Where's yer papa? Ya dun got a daddy, girl?"

The girl shook her head. "No."

"Hrmph. He dead too?"

"I never met him." She answered. "Mama always told me he was dead."

"Ya really are an orphan, then." Zaljaf shook his head. "Shame."

"I don't know what to do."

Zaljaf looked up from his cup. Across the table, the troll girl was gazing at him pleadingly. Her eyes were big as saucers. She didn't look like much of a model with her plain dress and uncombed hair, but perhaps with the right clothes he'd be able to use her again. Just by wearing his gems, she'd brought in a good profit. If he cleaned her up and fixed her hair, maybe she'd bring in even more money. "I'll tell ya what ya can do, girl." He grinned. "Ya stand by me kiosk tomorrow an' model me jewelry, jus' like ya did today. I'll pay ya part o' what I make. How's dat? Not a bad job! All we need ta do is clean ya up, maybe dress ya in sometin' a lil' prettiah. Easy."

"I don't have any pretty dresses."

Zaljaf chuckled. He rose creakily from his chair and limped to the battered old trunk sitting in the corner. "Yer a lucky girl." He said, kneeling down and lifting the lid, "I still got some o' me mate's ol' dresses." Sifting through the rumpled piles of clothes, he pulled out a long, colorfully patterned skirt. He tossed it at the girl, who caught it deftly. "Wear dat…an', er, dis." He yanked a light tunic from the trunk and threw it to her. The troll girl caught it and folded the clothes neatly in her lap.

"Tanks." She mumbled in orcish, smoothing the wrinkles out of the tunic with her hands. She glanced curiously at the trunk. "Where's yer mate?"

"Oh…er…she ain't here anymore." Zaljaf turned faintly purple, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not dat she's dead or anytin'…well, at least I dun fink she is. Been 'bout twenty years since I last saw 'er."

"Oh."

"Eh, good riddance, mon. We neva got on dat well. Bu'…she's 'bout de same size as ya, so de clothes should fit awright." Zaljaf turned, smiling a little. "Glad ta have ya on board, miss."

"Jenxa."

"Right. Dat was it. Jenxa." Zaljaf nodded. "Cute name."

Jenxa blushed, staring down at the clothes in her lap. "Tanks."

Zaljaf stood and hobbled back to the table. His leg muscles ached painfully. Standing for hours behind a kiosk wasn't easy on his joints. The healers would probably scold him, but it was worth it. He scooped a handful of gold coins up off the table and proffered them to Jenxa. "This is fer an inn. Get up bright an' early tomorrow an' meet me at the kiosk. Ya know where it is, right? An' comb yer damn hair, mon. Looks like a rat's nest."

Jenxa's blush deepened. "Awright." She replied, taking the coins. Rising from her chair, she half-bowed to him. "See ya tomorrow, den."

Jenxa did as she was told. She combed her hair out and wore the clothes he gave her. She showed up at the kiosk just as the sun began to rise. Pale pink light washed over Orgrimmar. Somewhere, a rooster crowed to welcome the morning. Zaljaf appeared soon after, carrying his jewelry in a sack on his back. He walked with a pronounced limp favoring his right leg. Jenxa had only just noticed last night. Although his trousers hid it well, his right leg was thin and desiccated compared to the left. Not wasting much time on words, he emptied the sack on kiosk counter. Gold and gems spilled out on the wood, all in a bright, winking tangle. Silently, he began to sort them. He selected a few shimmery gold bangles, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a plain gold circlet. Dutifully, Jenxa took the pieces and slipped them on. "Yer gonna hafta stand today, mon. Dat awright?" He said finally once Jenxa was fully decked in gold.

"Because of yer leg?" She asked. Zaljaf grimaced. "Oh…sorry."

"Best not ta mention de leg." He answered, dropping down on his rickety stool. "Bu'…yah. Standin' too long hurts." Jenxa nodded. She wanted to ask what had ruined his right leg so badly, but she held her tongue. She posed, letting the morning light sparkle on her bangles. She peered at Zaljaf out of the corner of her eye. He was odd looking for a merchant. He had to be at least twenty years older than her, but there was a certain youthful cast to his face. His chest and arms rippled with hard, small muscles that stood out under his shirt. Even his left leg looked strong – it was just the right one that was wasted and decayed. He didn't look like a merchant. He looked like a warrior. One didn't get muscles like that designing jewelry. He caught her looking at him and cracked a smile. "Lift de right arm a lil'. Let the customers see de goods." Jenxa lifted her arm.

The daylight grew strong and soon, the customers were out in force. Before the morning was over, Zaljaf had sold three of the bangles Jenxa wore on her wrist. Around noon, he let her have a break. Dropping a few gold coins in her hand, he sent her to get lunch for the both of them. She picked up some cheese, bread, and ale from the nearby inn. The two of them ate at the kiosk. Jenxa's stomach hurt with hunger. It had been a full two days since she'd last eaten. When Master Gadrin told her to leave, she left. She didn't take any money or clothing. All her possessions were back in the hut at Sen'jin, if someone hadn't already looted them.

"So…" Zaljaf said suddenly as they ate, "Yer from Sen'jin, right?"

Jenxa nodded. "Yah."

"Nice place. A lil' too quiet for me."

"Yah."

"When'd yer mum die?"

"Couple o' days ago."

Zaljaf bit off a chunk of bread. "Oh…Sorry. Ya prob'ly dun feel like talkin' 'bout it, den."

Jenxa shook her head. "Nah. Not really."

"Dat's fine. Hurts when sometin' like dat happens."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jenxa looked up at him. "What happened ta yer leg?" She asked. Zaljaf heaved an annoyed sigh.

"Folks always gotta ask 'bout de leg." He groaned, wolfing down the rest of his lunch. "'I was out in de Barrens some years ago. Slipped on some loose dirt an' broke me leg. It was weeks 'fore I got back to town an' found a healer. But by dat time, the bone healed wrong. Now I have a limp. Dat's de story, mon." His words were clipped and hard. Jenxa frowned into her bread, eyes downcast.

"Oh." Jenxa mumbled in her food. "It looks like it hurts."

"Let's drop it fer now, mon." He sighed. He gestured to her bread. "Hurry up an' eat. We got customers."

Jenxa obliged. She ate quickly and got back on her feet, posing for the crowd that moved by. After a few minutes of posing, she looked back at Zaljaf. "Is dat why ya became a jeweler?"

The older troll scowled. "Yer fulla questions, aren't ya? An' here I thought ya was a nice, quiet girl. I asked ya ta drop it."

Jenxa blushed. "S-sorry."

Zaljaf pinched the bridged of his nose, closing his eyes in exasperation. "Dey won't let ya fight in de army wif a gimp leg." He grumbled, not looking at her. "Since yer so keen on knowin' my private business."

Jenxa frowned down at her feet. "I didn't mean ta pry."

"Well, ya did. Now hush. People are lookin'."

Jenxa hushed. She kept still, holding her pose like a mannequin. She was good at keeping still, if nothing else. Every now and then, Zaljaf would glance over at her. He no longer smiled. His deadpan expression was like a knife against her skin. Her face burned with shame. Only after he sold the earrings and the circlet Jenxa wore did he start to smile again.