Mal'jin peeked around the door before opening it all the way, just in case the elf was naked again. He would have felt stupid knocking on his own door. He shut it quickly, in reflex, and then stared at the closed door in confusion. He looked around the village to make sure that he was in fact in front of his own door.
He opened it again. All of the furniture in his hut had been rearranged. His table had been shoved under the window, his chest had been moved next to the fireplace and his baskets stacked on top of it. His windows were open, and it looked like his second best sheets had been chopped into rough curtains. The only thing that hadn't moved was the bed, but almost all of the blankets and most of the pillows had disappeared from on top of it. He stepped inside and promptly tripped over the broom that had been left by the front door, and landed in a neat pile of what looked like floor sweepings.
He swore and sat up, rubbing his tusks. At this rate they really were going to fall out.
"Dah-ree-ana?" He asked, between clenched teeth. He couldn't see the elf anywhere.
The pile of blankets and pillows in front of the fireplace that he'd initially taken for his laundry pile stirred. The elf sat up and yawned, nothing more than a black shadow wrapped in the soft gorilla-pelt blanket.
"Hello Mahl-jin." She said tiredly. "Can it wait until tomorrow?" Her accent was strange, but the words were definitely Zandali.
"You ARE speaking Zandali! Zen'tabra was right!" He said, excitedly. A little pit of dread bubbled deep in his stomach. He had no excuse now.
"Ysera gave me your language in a dream. She showed me what happened to you all. What Zalazane did. Elune wants me to … to help the trolls." Daryana yawned, before saying pointedly, "But we can talk about this tomorrow." She'd really been pretty comfortable in her little nest, and even though she'd intended to talk to Mal'jin when he came back in, she'd rapidly decided that sleep was more important.
"Who's Ysera? And Elune?" Mal'jin asked, confused. Were there more elves on the island?
"Sweet merciful moonbeams, you don't even know who Ysera is?" Daryana flopped back on her pillows. "Balashin'do me! This is going to take FOREVER."
Mal'jin felt that familiar pain starting in his temple that seemed to show up every time he talked to the elf. "No. What's going to take forever?"
"Look, druid classes will start tomorrow morn… afternoon, but right now, I'd really like to sleep. It's been a really shitty week."
Mal'jin tried, "Well, that's good, but I kinda wanted ta tell ya something."
Daryana sat upright and snapped, "Unless you're going to tell me that the hut is on fire AND surrounded by elf-eating monsters, It. Can. Wait. I am comfy, I am tired, and I swear by Elune's left hemisphere that I will listen to whatever you have to say TOMORROW." She flopped back down, and then sat up again long enough to say, "After breakfast!"
"I thought you was a night elf." Mal'jin said without thinking.
"Shut up, troll, I'm sleeping. Also, I say breakfast, but really, I mean lunch." She'd decided that even if she was in a strange place, with strange people, and food, she could still enjoy one of her favorite pleasures and sleep in.
Mal'jin made an irritable noise with his lips. His shoulders and back were aching from the pit he'd inadvertently dug, and the emotional exhaustion of the day was bone deep. Bad news could always wait for the next day. Maybe the elf would be in a better mood after sleeping, and maybe she'd be willing to forgive him easier if he let the cranky thing sleep.
With that happy thought, he got up and climbed into bed. His last conscious thought was how much more comfy the elf's blanket nest looked.
Mal'jin woke up at dawn. None of the trolls ever slept much more than five hours a night. Zalazane had inflicted harsh punishments upon "lazy" trolls, and even after all these months, any troll who overslept often woke up screaming in a panic. He got out of bed, wincing. His back and shoulders were on fire, and he had a splitting headache. He reached down for the water bucket. It wasn't where he left it.
He pried open an eyelid and looked around the cabin. His water bucket was tucked back in the corner behind the elf-pile. He couldn't reach it without treading on the elf. He looked at the broom on the floor and grinned.
He caught the bucket's rope handle on the third try, and the bucket was directly over the elf, when she turned over, an arm flailing up and whacking the bucket. The left-over water splashed all over the elf.
Daryana launched upright from sheer adrenaline, her body not having waited to consult the brain, screeching so loudly and shrilly that he dropped the broom to clap his hands over his ears.
"WHAT IN THE PITS OF RAGNAROS IS WRONG WITH YOU?" She screamed at the top of her lungs, as she shoved wet locks of hair off her forehead, to glare at him. "Do trolls think waking up in a state of shock is HEALTHY!"
"I didn't do it on purpose!" He protested. "I was trying to get the bucket you moved!"
"The BUCKET? You threw water on me to get a DAMNED BUCKET?" He noted unhappily that she had an impressive range of volume, and the pitch of her outrage just kept getting more painful.
"No! The bucket had water in it, and I was tryin' ta get the bucket so …"
"You couldn't WAIT until I woke up to GET THE STUPID BUCKET?"
"No I couldn't! I need tha bucket so I can take a piss!" He yelled, regretting the words the second they came out of his mouth. "Wait, I mean..."
Silence reigned for a few seconds, as she stared at him, and then down at her wet clothes.
"Look, it's not what ya…"
This time he did cover his ears as she screamed, rocketing around the cabin and ripping the clothes off as if they were infested with spiders.
"I CAN NOT BELIEVE YOU DUMPED YOUR TOILET ON ME!"
"I didn't!" He yelled, even as he shut his eyes tightly at the naked elf screaming in hysterical circles around the cabin.
The door burst open, and Zen'tabra, Zanza, and a male troll Daryana didn't recognize ran in, "Mal'jin! Elf!" Zen'tabra said, pausing as she took in the scene, relieved that there wasn't any visible blood. "What the hell is wrong wit' ya!"
"She thinks I dumped a bucket of pee on her, but I just dumped the water bucket, OF WATER, on her ACCIDENTALLY." Said Mal'jin quickly, though in a yell, because otherwise it would have been impossible to hear over the elf's screaming.
Daryana had grabbed the towel from the chair she'd hung it on, and was scrubbing frantically at her head and shoulders. "Oh my goddess, this has to be the nastiest thing that ever happened to me! OH please don't tell me it got in my mouth. I think I'm going to puke!"
"Elf! Calm DOWN!" yelled Zen'tabra. "It ain't what ya think!"
Daryana dimly realized that there were now more trolls in the cabin, and she paused in her scrubbing to stare at them. The realization that they were staring right back eventually dawned.
"It is EXACTLY what I think! He said he needed the bucket so he could pee!" Daryana said hotly, wrapping the towel around her tightly, as a flush darkened her skin.
"Yeah. He needs the water bucket so he can slosh out the outhouse after he's done! Otherwise it'd be a nasty stink. He don't pee in the water bucket!" said Zanza, snickering. She winked at Mal'jin, "Ya don't, right"?"
"Of course not!" responded Mal'jin grumpily, "And I wouldn't have dumped it if ya hadn't of moved all my stuff around! I'd managed ta grab it with the broom, but then ya turned over and knocked it off."
"Well how was I supposed to know?" yelled Daryana. "And don't yell at me!"
"I AIN'T …" Mal'jin took a deep breath, rubbing the vein throbbing in his temple. "I ain't yelling. You the one yelling and throwing ya clothes all over the place."
Silence reigned in the cabin for a moment, before Daryana muttered, "You dumped a bucket of water on me." She tightened the towel around her, and cleared her throat. Her shoulders went back and her spine straightened, as she said in as calm a tone as she could manage, "Cultural misunderstandings during primary encounters of this sort are fairly common. No harm was done, and hopefully we can all put this incident behind us and move forward to forge the bonds of camaraderie and professional understanding. After I get dressed again… and have a bath, hopefully your leader and I may sit and create a productive dialogue regarding my purpose in being here. "
She was terribly proud of the dignity and eloquence of her little speech until Zanza leaned over to Zen'tabra and said, "What'd she say?"
Zen'tabra said, "She says she didn't know trolls don't use pee buckets, and she'd like us all ta forget it happened, and after she puts her clothes back on, she wants ta talk to me. I think."
Daryana deflated. "Yes, that's what I meant."
Mal'jin, his ears still ringing, very ostentatiously and slowly reached over to get his bucket. "I'll be back in a few minutes, if it's all the same ta everyone." He picked up his bucket, and scuttled out of the hut.
Zanza said in a loud whisper, "Zen'tabra, do the elves pee in buckets inside their houses? That's NASTY."
Daryana said sharply, "No we do not! We have special bathrooms with plumbing."
"Inside the house?" asked Zanza.
"Well of course." said Daryana, "But it doesn't stink."
The three trolls looked extremely unconvinced. Zen'tabra cleared her throat, "Well, we'll let you get back ta … whatever it was ya were doing. I'll be available to talk whenever ya not naked." Zen'tabra paused. "Um, I don't know what the elf customs are, but I think I should tell ya, that it'd be better if ya could manage ta keep ya clothes on? If it ain't a festival night, trolls don't run around naked. Not that we're tryin' ta judge, but it'd be less confusin' for everyone."
Daryana managed to say, "Sure." though her tone was a bit strangled. She had a momentary vision of Zen'tabra chatting with the Archdruid. ~Oh sure, we got along great just as soon as we got her ta keep her clothes on!~
Zen'tabra smiled widely, trying to be reassuring, and made motions to push Zanza and the other male troll out of the hut. "Good talk. We'll go now."
Daryana waited until they shut the door, before crawling over to a window and peeking out the curtain she'd made last night. The entire village appeared to be gathered in front of Mal'jin's cabin, wearing various expressions ranging from concerned to wide grins. Zen'tabra held her hands up, and said in a soft voice that still managed to carry across the crowd. "Everythin' is fine. The elf didn't hurt Mal'jin. Mal'jin didn' hurt the elf. Everyone go back ta actin' normal. Go on, shoo!"
"Is the elf gonna teach us Zen'tabra?" asked a female troll near the back.
"She might, Doola, but don't ya be pushing it. Lazlo says the elves are big on formal, snotty greetings and rituals. We don' wanna offend her, so we just gotta be patient."
The trolls slowly dispersed. One of the younger males, older than a child, but clearly not as big as the adults, brought a bucket of fruit up to Mal'jin's door, and left it.
Daryana briefly considered crawling back into her blankets to sleep but reluctantly decided against it. The trolls were all up and working. How would they respect her if she didn't display similar stamina? She limped around the cabin, finding her clothes.
She looked down at her ankle. Let's see if Elune is giving my magic back. Prove the theory. She closed her eyes to concentrate. Find the healing energies in the earth, feel your roots sinking deep into the ground to drink of the life-energy. She focused on the mental picture of her toes elongating into roots and sinking deeply into the ground. It came so sharply and instantly that she promptly lost it out of surprise.
When Mal'jin re-entered the hut, carrying a full bucket of water and the bowl of fruit tucked on an elbow, he found the elf waltzing around with his broom in her linen tunic and no pants, singing something he couldn't understand. He looked down at her ankle, noticing the swelling and bandages were gone. He instantly decided that he was never going to expect the elf to be doing the same thing whenever he came in the door, so he could quit being confused.
"Ya gone crazy elf, or do ya always have these kinda mood swings?" He asked warily.
"My healing spell worked!" She chortled happily. She was so tickled with her success that she felt happier than she had in days. "Look, my ankle's all better! And so are the … the other things." She gave him a brilliant smile, her eyes glowing brightly.
Mal'jin was so still that she turned to look at him.
"Oh come on, are you still mad that I rearranged your hut?" She said irritably. Trolls were so damn TOUCHY.
He stared at her as if he didn't understand her, before saying in a trembling voice, "Druids… druids can do healing spells?"
"Well, of course!" She said grandly, reveling in her success, "Druids and priests both can, though druids use nature magic and priests are all about higher powers, though if you believe in the Aspect theory of …"
He grabbed her hand, and dragged her out of the hut, "Come on! Quickly!"
It would not be incorrect to say that her feet only managed to touch the ground every third or so step of his, as she flailed along behind him. He was running as fast as he could, dragging the elf through the village, ignoring the fact that she was trying to catch her breath enough to demand an explanation.
He dove into a large hut, and dragged her across the room to a pallet in the back. It took her a moment to adjust from the bright sunlight outside to the gloom inside the hut, but she had an impression of a lot of sleeping mats and shelves, and small trolls retreating from Mal'jin's tumultuous entrance.
He stopped, and Daryana inhaled deeply before gasping out, "Seriously, Mal'jin, can you not just take a moment and use your words?" She turned to look around and then down to the small figure lying on the mat. A small troll girl, with the infant chubbiness of limbs indicating she had yet to seriously get into walking or playing, lay far too still. One of her legs was dark purple, and swollen three times the size of the other. Two large puncture wounds were halfway up the calf, red and puckered. An adult troll woman was sponging off the girl with wet cloths, the silent despair needing no translation.
"Oh." Daryana said.
"Big snake crawled in here a couple nights ago. Bit Tiba before we killed it. We tried suckin' the poison, but it travelled too fast. We done tried potions and bleedin' the wound, but the poison just keeps killin' her."
The troll woman didn't look up at Daryana, too far gone in her grief and fear to care about the stranger. But she jerked, when Mal'jin asked, "Is there.. is there anything ya can do?"
"Mal'jin …. what ya askin' her for? Is she. … can she help mah Tiba?" She said.
Daryana stared down at the small troll, uncertainty and nervousness warring in her. She couldn't look at the mother. Theoretically, she knew the cure poison spell. Theoretically.
Mal'jin knelt down next to Daryana, even though that just put his head at her shoulder level. "Please? Can ya help her?"
Daryana swallowed. "I… I can try. I don't know if it'll work." She knelt down carefully next to the child, and put her hand on the baby's skin. She could feel the heat radiating from the small body. "It may not work. I hope it'll work. Oh Elune, please let it work…"
She concentrated on the idea of poison becoming harmless, of the blood turning from yellow to red, and murmured the spell. She felt the tingle of power, and exhaled in relief. The spell had worked. She smiled hopefully at Mal'jin over her shoulder.
"I think it worked. Any minute now maybe?" They waited, but nothing changed. Daryana's brow wrinkled. "I don't understand." She muttered, "The spell worked like it was supposed to, but nothing happened. Why didn't it work? Why wouldn't Elune allow it to work?"
The mother turned her head away, the faint hope dying away in a look that stabbed Daryana to the heart. Mal'jin's head sunk to his chest. "It's ok Dar-ee-ana. We … we hoped."
Daryana started biting her thumbnail, as she mentally started flipping through the books in her head. "Poison theory. Druids must be in tune with the nature around them in order to cure poison from either plant or animal element." She muttered, "Not helpful. Moonglade poisons can be cured by tauren or elf… WAIT!"
Mal'jin nearly fell over as the elf shrieked in his ear.
"What?" He said, almost angrily. A deathbed was not a place to yell.
The elf turned to him with an urgent look, "I've got to teach the spell to one of you! Only a troll can cure this poison!"
Mal'jin stared at her confused, "Troll druids can't do magic!"
Daryana made an impatient motion with her hand, "Don't be stupid, of course you can! But I'm not native to this land, so I can't cure the poison from this land. Druids can only cure poison either from creatures native to their land, or IN creatures native to their land. It says so very clearly in Stormrage's Discourse on Diseases, Toxins, and Pox. If an elf had been bitten here, I could cure them, or if you had been bitten where I live, I could cure you there. So who among you is the fastest learner!"
She put her hands on her hips, "Come on, come on! Mal'jin, hurry up!"
The mother grabbed Daryana's hand, drawing Daryana's attention to her "Teach me!" she said, desperately.
"Are you a druid?" asked Daryana.
For answer, the mother turned into a tiger, and then back again. "Teach me!" she said again, fiercely.
Daryana slanted a glance at Mal'jin, questioning. Mal'jin nodded, "You start teachin' her, I'll get Zen'tabra! She's the strongest of us."
Daryana nodded, and took a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on the linen tunic. "What's your name?" She asked.
"My name is Mani." said the mother.
"Ok. Let's go over the theory first, and then we'll try the spell." Daryana's voice shook a little, nervously. She'd never been trusted to teach anyone anything, much less in a life and death situation. Mani's blind trust in her knowledge was terrifying.
Mal'jin ran from the children's hut, shifting into his tiger form for speed. He found Zen'tabra going over the supplies in one of the warehouses. He shifted back.
"Zen'tabra! Ya gotta come quick! The elf, she's tryin' ta teach Mani the cure poison spell, maybe save little Tiba. If Mani can't learn it, maybe ya can! Come on!"
Zen'tabra didn't hesitate, setting the basket in her hands back down, and shifting. The village stared as she and Mal'jin ran back to the children's hut.
As they approached, they could hear Mani's voice wailing. They slowed down, and shifted back into troll form. Zen'tabra put a hand on Mal'jin's arm. "I'm sorry Mal."
Daryana came stumbling out of the hut, her hand covering her eyes.
Mal'jin swallowed, "Dar-ee-ana, it's ok, we understand ya tried. It just wasn't enough time." He said.
Daryana blinked at him. "What are you talking about? Lady, but it's bright out here."
Zen'tabra nodded, "Don't be blaming ya'self. We didn' intend ta ask ya ta teach us so soon. Figgered on lettin' ya ritualize for ya elfy ways."
Daryana cocked her head to one side. "Ah. I understand." She had a strange look on her face. "You didn't have much faith in my success." She turned and yelled into the hut, "Hey, Mani! C'mere, would ya?"
Zen'tabra and Mal'jin both inhaled sharply, scandalized at the elf's casual treatment of Mani's grief.
Mani came out a few moments later, cradling a small body to her chest.
Zen'tabra said roughly, "Oh Mani… I'm so sorry." The sight tore at the hole in her heart. It didn't seem to matter how often or what reminded her of Baimee; the pain never dulled or lessened.
Mani shook her head, wordless and incoherent tears running down her cheeks. Then Tiba picked her head up from Mani's shoulder, and yawned, eyes sleepy, but aware.
"She's not all better yet," said Daryana, breezily, "But Mani's got a talent for spells. Or she was seriously motivated. Either way, I think she cured the poison. Now it's just letting the kid recover. I think. We're going to keep an eye on her. And we'll work on healing spells next." Daryana's smugness radiated from every line of her body. "Now, you owe me an apology."
Mal'jin gently stroked Tiba's head, where bright blue hair was short enough to curl. "I owe ya more than that. Tiba's mah niece. Zinta didn' know, but Mani told me. I got somethin' left of me brother." He'd felt a guilty stab at her words of owing her an apology. If only she knew.
Daryana stretched, "Now, if there aren't any more life-threatening emergencies, I'd really like to get back to having breakfast and a bath, if it's all the same to you." And maybe I can sneak a nap in the afternoon. Claim I need to meditate or something. She couldn't stop staring at the little baby troll. All her life, she'd wanted to be a hero, to do great deeds to earn the gratitude of the faceless masses. But as she watched Tiba twine pudgy fingers in Mani's hair, she couldn't help but feel like she'd earned a medal, even if saving the life of a troll wouldn't make any list of great deeds of Azeroth.
"Whatever ya want." said Zen'tabra, quietly but firmly. Even her own grief felt a teeny bit lessened in the happiness radiating from Mal'jin and Mani. A tiny spark of hope kindled in her chest. If Mani can learn, we all can learn.