Part 16 – "Talk"
"Talk", reflected Zangah, was easier said than done. She really was out of practice when it came to heart to heart conversations. Think of it – she had never been in practice, really.
Spending most of her adult life on the road, travelling, fighting, exploring, lovers were for a night, or a few nights maximum. She never considered having a permanent mate – although on lonely nights spent in the wilderness she sometimes wished for company to share her adventures with.
Well, the elf fulfilled that role – much as he boasted about his homeland, he certainly wasn't in a hurry to get back. He got the taste of freedom and he liked it, as far as Zangah could see.
Still the question was how to go on once they reach Orgrimmar? The orc capital was now undeniably close, even with their unplanned trip to Ashenvale. Not that Zangah minded it – if she was honest, she was binding time.
She glanced at the elf, standing close to her, flushed with anger and impatience (and probably jealousy as well) looking sexy as fuck. Truth was – she still wasn't ready to part with him. It was a strange feeling – Zangah had never quite bonded to anyone. She had friends, she had lovers, she had a beloved brother, but she never felt the lightest bit of resentment when she parted with them. On the contrary, she always felt relieved to be without attachments. What had the elf, what the others didn't? Zangah didn't have the foggiest idea.
Fed up with her hesitation, the elf tapped his booted food impatiently.
'So troll, are we going to talk or not?'
'Sure we are,' she replied lightly, taking down her chest armor. From experience she knew that she stood a much better chance of winning an argument with the elf if he was busy checking out her cleavage.
'So,' she started, dropping down to the hard bed 'we're to be in Orgrimmar in no time.'
'Will wonders never cease,' he muttered, and didn't look inclined to help with the conversation.
'We been travelling together for long, ain't that right?' she prompted, but got only a noncommittal 'hmm-hmm.' 'So elf, the question is will it be like dis in the city as well?'
He folded his arms over his chest like a petulant child. If he's going to ask what she meant by "like this", Zangah thought, she was going to throttle him.
'That depends,' he said at last 'how many of your past lovers will we meet there? Will I need to stand by and tolerate all of them fondling you and insulting me?'
'Well ya can't expect me to promise dat we won't meet no past lovers. But dat's all dey are. Past lovers.'
'This one wouldn't have minded becoming a present one.'
'Gorthak? Well - he didn't.'
'I don't know troll if I can stomach fighting off your previous paramours at every second corner.'
'Hey, I did not have dat much!' she laughed softly, but he looked deadly serious. 'Ya don't have nothing to be jealous of elf,' she added softly.
'Don't I?' he snapped. 'Well, I don't like others tinkering with what's…' he cut himself of, but Zangah had an inkling what he was going to say, and felt her blood boil with anger.
'With what elf?' she asked in a low voice.
'With what is mine,' he finished, nostrils flaring, looking at her defiantly.
She threw at him with all her might the first thing she could grab, lucky for him it was just a pillow, hard as it was stuffed with straw.
'I'm most certainly not yers elf,' she growled, standing up.
'Than what are you for me troll?'
Tricky question, wasn't it? Zangah, who was all prepared for a fight over ownership and must-do-s faltered, not having the answer for that.
The elf, not less pent us then her, pressed on.
'It is time for you to decide what you want as well. Keep fooling around – or be with me.'
'Be with you? Be with you, elf?' Zangah growled, disbelieving. 'What ya think of yerself for wanting me to… when ya, yerself couldn't make up yer mind for that long… Who you be for wanting to force decisions on me…'
'Well, I have my decision, haven't I? It's now your turn. I'm not asking to you to bear my children and clean my house, damn it. Just want to know, at least for the next few weeks, ..'
He was shouting now, practically standing in Zangah's face. Both of them were breathing heavily, staring angrily, willing the other to back down first.
Zangah opened her mouth to retort, but the elf made an unfair move – he reached up, pulled her head down roughly and kissed her hard. She couldn't suppress a slight moan, so, furious at him for getting the upper hand, bit down hard, until she tasted blood.
Instead of letting her go though, Ardel tightened his hold and kissed her even more deeply. Capitulating, Zangah kissed him back. They stumbled to the bed, missed it, and ended up on the floor.
Zangah took a good look at the elf when they both gasped for breath. He was a mess. His lower lip was bleeding hard and his mouth and partly his face was smeared red. He was breathing hard and his hair clang to his temples. He looked wild, feral, not at all calm and sophisticated as usual. He made Zangah's knees go weak, lucky thing they were lying down already.
She fumbled with his trousers – lot of bloody tricky elfish clasps and buckles that kept his armor together. At least she was more or less undressed, wearing only her shirt and leather trousers. Impatient, she just tried to yank it off, making the elf yelp with pain. He batted her hands away, cursing under his breath as he struggled to uncover his crotch at least. Zangah quickly rolled out of her own trousers.
Ardel managed to free his erection, but was wearing most of his armor still. Zangah licked her lips appreciatively.
Grasping her hip with one hand, he urged her to turn over. She complied, getting on her knees and laying her upper body on the bed. Kneeling behind her he lined himself up and pushed in with a forceful thrust.
She yelled her pleasure, arching her back, trying to take him as deeply as possible. Hard and fast he rutted away, grunting and cursing in his own language. He never got around to teach her those expressions, Zangah thought fleetingly, but the painful pleasure quickly vanished all thought from her mind.
Pushing back to meet his thrusts it soon become a frantic coupling. His plate covered legs slapped against her with every move, an aching but not unwelcome sensation. If all it took was to anger the elf for him to be this passionate - she was more than happy to do it more often.
Keyed up as she was, it didn't take much for her to reach her peak. Fingers digging into the mattress, whole body shaking, she shouted in delight. The elf continued to pound her hard as she slumped, boneless, against the bed. A couple of deep thrusts and he found his release as well.
He lay on top of her panting, softening cock slipping out of her, but otherwise not inclined to move. Enchanted armor or not, he was a dead weight. With the aftershock of her pleasure ebbing away, Zangah felt her knees burning, scraped raw as they got on the rough floor. The edge of the elf's breastplate cut into her lower back and the back of her thighs felt like she was through a stiff beating.
'Move elf,' she croaked and nudged him with her elbow. He grunted as he rolled off, slumping against the bed. Zangah heaved herself up to the mattress. For a while they lay in silence, Ardel sitting on the floor, leaning his head against the bed, Zangah caressing the elf's sweaty hair.
'Ya could take yer armor off at least,' she said after a while, 'and come join me up here. After ya healed me knees.'
'Hah,' he snorted, 'you deserve some suffering,' but did as he was told nevertheless.
Laying snuggled close up a bit later, and listening to her companion's breathing, Zangah reflected it really wasn't time to move on just yet. She certainly wasn't bored with him thus far.
Part 17 – Orgrimmar
Blazing heat, defeating noise and stifling crowd. Orgrimmar was just as Ardel remembered it, or maybe even more hot, loud and crowded.
His first visit here seemed like ages ago. He had then enjoyed the orcish capital immensely, though feeling a bit guilty about it. He had just left Silvermoon, and had never been at Kalimdor before. It had been so different to what he was used to. His hometown was silent and elegant – it had never been highly populated, and was certainly anything but since the attack of the Scourge.
The habitants of Silvermoon always prided themselves for showing a sophisticated, elegant face outwards – never mind that since the destruction of the Sunwell, arcane addiction inspired some bizarre clubs and rituals. But as they said, what happens on Murder Row, stays in Murder Row – it was an unwritten rule of the sin'dorei of not to speak of their addiction even in front of each other, and never before an outsider.
In Orgrimmar however everything all was on the surface. From thieves and beggars to the Warchief himself everyone seemed to be living their lives on the sunburnt streets. Orcs, trolls, taurens mingled with the Forsaken and blood elves and of course goblins were everpresent as well. On many languages and innumerous accents the various races of the Horde lived their daily lives, mostly untroubled by the happenings of the word.
Thrall's policy – All is welcome as long as they are willing to build the Horde – seemed to be working despite its naïveté.
All seemed to blend in here pretty well, even the usual hospitality between the eastern and western races were much less evident. Several of the undead dwelt in the city, run their business here, as well as a few of Ardel's race. He could understand them. Barbarian though the place was, it hold a rough appeal.
He was glad to be back, although after the long journey in the wild it seemed even louder and more packed full than before.
It was a market day in Valley of Strength so they had to fight their way through the mob to get to the Inn. Zangah scowled at everyone who got too close and muttered to Ardel to watch his purse. She didn't seem to like the crowd at all.
They stopped for a drink and for a strategic discussion after they stabled their mounts and got their room. Zangah wanted to check on some of her friends, while Ardel had to report to Master Pyreanor. Like it had been a different lifetime when he had set the elf to find out more about the Twilight Cult activities in the Southern region of Kalimdor.
'Ok then,' he sighed, running his hand through his hair, trying to prepare mentally to meet his superior in rank, 'meet you here in the evening?'
'Yeah, I guess. Sure you don't wanna me to come with ya?'
'No, no go and have fun with your friends. Pyreanor will probably make me wait hours before we can meet, the old bastard.'
And of course he did. Ardel wanted to use the time for some much needed meditation, as he neglected this recently, but ended up daydreaming about the troll. Pyreanor's amanuensis had to call out his name a few times so that he came back to himself and followed him to his master's study.
It was torture. Pyreanor kept asking for insignificant details and hinting that he was keeping back information.
'But surely, Knight Silverblade,' he said in a haughty voice, 'you are able to tell how far from each other the camps have been in Silithus. You certainly spent enough time there to be able to.'
'I'm sorry Master,' replied Ardel, repressing a sigh, 'as I told you already I had to leave the area in a hurry as I was discovered, so I didn't had the chance to get all the wanted intelligence.'
Still the old coot started the questioning from the beginning again and again, unit he was satisfied. What he was fishing for (other than why the journey back took so long, on which Ardel simply refused to elaborate) he wasn't sure, but he felt that if he would be addressed "Knight Silverblade" again in that pitying tone, he will strangle him, damn the consequences.
He finally managed to excuse himself - Pyreanor wanted him to stay for dinner, as he said to spare him to eat out with "orcs and the other lot" - and get back to the streets. The city quieted down a bit since their arrival, and Ardel enjoyed a walk back to tavern.
He stood in the doorway, trying to find the troll, as the main dining room was packed full by guests by now, but only managed to spot her when she stood up and waved.
She wasn't alone. She had another troll, two orcs and a tauren sitting at the table, all looking at him in mild surprise as he approached.
'All,' Zangah said, beaming at him, 'dis be me partner, Ardel. Elf – these be me friends and me little brother.'
Oblivious of how the surprise changed to animosity on most of her friends' faces, she pulled a chair over for the elf. Ardel glanced at her "little brother", who had to be well over seven feet tall, though it was hard to tell with him slouched over the table. He glared back.
'Hi,' said Ardel wearily and sat down. It looked like the day's trial didn't end with Master Pyreanor.