Providence

Part Two

Chapter Two

Hanzar had mixed feelings: while he really wanted to do with the pretty elf now what they had done the night before, he actually found the lesson to be rather interesting. She had completely taken him by surprise in the bar with her request, and he had to look over it once more before he agreed—just to be sure. But he couldn't resist giving back as good as he got, so when she began with that vile human language, he decided it was only fair she learn his language, as well.

After they had gone over the more basic words, Garoul launched into real sentences. She had written some words in the rather elegant Common scrawl in her book, and using her pen she put them together in a way he thought did make reasonable sense. The structure of it seemed easy enough, Hanzar thought, and he found it rather simple to put the words together in a way his elf approved of. She would smile and nod, and at that small acknowledgment he felt almost... proud. He was like a child waiting for each word of praise from his teacher, and he hated it—but who knew when his new knowledge would come in handy? The possibilities were endless, and he had always liked the sound of that.

It was when they reached the more complicated words that he saw Garoul begin to have trouble. More abstract concepts she could not relay, and Hanzar thought it humorously ironic that their language had become so sophisticated that body language was now nearly obsolete. Instead of letting the elf fret over her attempts at drawing, he instead took the reins of the lesson and pulled himself fully onto the bed. Facing her, he grinned at her surprised expression when he grabbed one of her hands in is own. He began with her finger.

"Finger," he said, rubbing her tiny index. She repeated the word to his satisfaction. He moved up and held her palm. "Hand."

"Hand," was her response.

They moved around her thumb and wrist, up her arm to her shoulder and over to her neck. From there he made a beeline down to her stomach, where he hooked one finger under her shirt and said, "Shirt."

"Shirt."

He lifted it then, and she raised her arms without protest so he could draw the sleeves up over her hands. In one smooth motion he flung the garment across the room and smiled—a hungry smile, barely concealed by the tusks protruding from his upper jaw. Her eyes were now wide as he touched her face and said, "beautiful."

She looked confused for a moment and asked, "Beautiful?" He touched her hair and cupped her chin in both of his palms.

He leaned forward and nodded, lightly kissing her nose, and said, "Beautiful."

--

Garoul didn't want to breathe for fear of ruining the moment. His eyes, reddish in hue, were focused on her so intently she felt almost self-conscious.

Slowly she reached up and touched his nose, whispering, "Nose."

He replied, "nose."

"Cheeks."

"Cheeks."

She ran her fingers over his lips and murmured, "Lips."

Garoul leaned forward and just before they met in a kiss, he whispered, "Lips."

The paper on the bed was discarded and found itself on the floor, along with the rest of their clothes. While the previous night's encounter had been slow at first and rapidly degenerated into something primal and hasty, their touches were tentative and curious, and their movement slow and deliberate.

It was dark when they sat on the bed, naked, talking.

"I have a cat." The elf made a meowing noise and Hanzar laughed. "He is mine." She pointed to herself.

"He is mine," he repeated and she laughed, shaking her head, and said, "No, he's mine."

Instead, he pointed to her and said, "You are mine."

There was no laugh. She stared at him, and the troll took a bit of her soft hair in his callused hands. "Mine." Garoul gulped. She couldn't read his expression when he shook his head and looked away.

"Hanzar?" Her fingers brushed his cheek like a feather, and ran up the length of his smooth tusk. She used the Orcish word and said, "Beautiful."

At this, Hanzar laughed. He shook his head, pointing to himself, and said, "Handsome." Then he pointed to her, "beautiful." Garoul blushed at her mistake, but feeling cheeky, she shook her head and said, "No, beautiful." He gave her a mock scowl and she chuckled.

--

The troll had to admit she was smart, for an elf. He knew the Alliance boasted some of the more famous minds on Azeroth, but he was convinced that many of the Horde were far smarter than the average moron human or snobby night elf. They had logic and reason while the elves surrounded themselves with books and magic. Of course, he knew he was prejudiced, and not as informed as he could be—but already he was discovering that this particular elf was nothing like anything he could have expected. He very distinctly got the feeling she wasn't much like a usual elf, either.

It had become dark outside and Hanzar was relieved to see that the snow had let up and the night was clear, with stars dotting the sky, and the moon shed a pleasant glow on the white world outside. He was teaching her how to write "worg" in the chicken-scratch Orcish script. Compared to the orderly, block-like letters of Common, Orcish had very few standards for written language. He spoke as she wrote.

"The worg howled at night," he told her. To demonstrate, he walked to the window and let out a howl. Garoul jumped, and let out a loud, ringing laugh. She pointed to him and laughed again.

"Silly?" he asked. She nodded her head and with a snort she said, "Silly. Much silly."

She stood up as well and walked up beside him, one hand touching the cool window. "The worg howl in night," she told him.

"At night," he corrected. "In happiness."

The elf raised her eyebrows. "Happiness?"

Turning to her Hanzar wrapped his arms around her naked middle and looked down, lifting one hand to run it down the length of her back. Her head barely reached his shoulder. "Happy." He used one finger to draw a smiling face on the fogged window, and she nodded her head.

"The worg howl at night, in happy." All he could do was laugh and nod his head.

"Good job."

--

Garoul awoke with a start. It was still dark outside, she noticed with puzzlement. When had she fallen asleep? Noticing a very comfortable, large warmth on her backside, the elf saw an immense blue arm slung casually over her where she lay beneath the blankets. She turned over and examined the troll's sleeping face. He was on top of the blankets, and it looked as if he had tucked her in before falling asleep himself. Their stack of papers lay at her feet, and the small tin of ink sat on the window sill. She wondered briefly if his tusks pressing into the pillow was uncomfortable.

Not knowing what time it was, she carefully removed his arm from her and he snorted a bit, shifting but not waking up. The room was rather warm, she noticed, and she rose from the bed to open one window. She wondered how on earth she was sleeping with a troll like they were old lovers. The idea of it boggled her; only days before he had looked ready to shove a knife into her throat.

She laughed at the thought that first came to mind: sex solves everything. Reich would agree with that, she knew. When she turned back to the bed she saw Hanzar awake, head propped up on one elbow, eyes watching her curiously. Garoul walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. She was wide awake now, for they had drifted off much earlier than was usual for her. She would have work to do tomorrow to make up for a rather unproductive evening. She had forgotten to remove a stretched boar hide, she remembered suddenly and jumped to her feet.

The troll said nothing as she bustled over to her stretchers, pulling on a pair of pants on her way. There she carefully pried open her wooden clamps and pulled down the raw leather. She shook it, some dust floating up, and laid it down with a stack of other hides on the floor nearby. Garoul knew there was some bear leather she needed to stretch, but she would have to fetch her smaller wooden contraption from the leatherworking shop later. The expert worker, a rather obnoxious gnomish woman, was out on a gatherer trip. She would hopefully return with a wagon of new hides, for the elf found herself running rather low on materials for her next shipment of boots to Ratchet.

She heard a voice say in Common, "Sit now." Garoul laughed at the brokenness of his vocabulary and turned to the impatient-looking troll.

"One minute." Taking some salt from her chest of supplies, she sprinkled her hides and rubbed them together, lips pursed with thought. She would have to get working early tomorrow in order for the bear leather to be ready by evening. Once she was satisfied she made her way back to the bed, climbing up to find herself pulled into his lap. She was still rather sore from earlier and she tried to scramble away, but he held her by the forearms and forced her to look at him.

He opened his mouth to ask a question, but pausing, he took the papers and lead pencil, scribbling a bucket of water. He pointed to himself, then the water, and said something in Orcish.

"Bath?" He nodded his head.

"Bath." She laughed.

"Isn't it rather early?" she drew a horizon with a sun just peeking over the top, and shrugged her shoulders.

"Not," he said.

"Not early?"

"Yes." They both laughed then, and he pointed to the bathroom.

"Bath now." He pointed to her and waved one hand over his nose, as if she emitted some terrible odor.

Garoul gaped. "Stinky! I do not stink!" Hanzar said something in Orcish that she was sure meant the same thing, and so she repeated it with clear annoyance in her tone. Huffing, she got to her feet and walked to the bathroom, the troll in tow.

Hanzar admired his view as he walked behind her. She had a rather pleasantly round butt, he admitted, wanting to grab it but wanting to clean himself from the salt lingering on his skin. He had sweat so much before that his skin itched.

The elf leaned down to turn on the oven, using a match to light the fire. She lifted two buckets of cold water onto the burner and indicated to him to sit down in the large wooden bath. He obeyed and after only a few minutes she removed the two buckets and carried them herself to the holding container. With a clear view of her legs Hanzar watched her remove her pants and climb into the bath as well. There he steered her to his lap, an action which she attempted to combat but his firm hands prevented objection. He reacted, naturally, but ignored it as he wet the sponge and began washing her smooth, pink back. She hummed with pleasure.

For the troll, it was completely new. He never stayed the night, lounged naked, bathed, or flirted; but he found it all to be quite entertaining and a fabulous way to spend his idle hours waiting for the boat. He wondered if elves were trained as pleasure machines, for he had never received as much gratification from sex as he did from this small, soft, gorgeous creature. She knew all the right spots and though he tried to give back as good as he got, he found himself to be too large and rough. This simple fact seemed to please her, though, for the less gentle he was, the more she liked it.

He reached under her arms and, lifting them, began to scrub her chest, a heady gasp escaping her lips when he scrubbed her breasts and they bounced. He immediately felt her nipples harden under his fingers but he refused to give in so easily; waiting was more worthwhile. He scrubbed her stomach, hips and thighs.

"Foot?" she asked, wiggling her toes. She remembered, Hanzar thought with a snort. He nodded and she turned around in his lap, crossing her legs as she did so; he took her calf and foot, scrubbing them thoroughly. Her feet were so soft, he mused—she always wore shoes, unlike him. Unless he had custom-made boots, he hardly bothered with shoes. The soles of his feet were black and rough, so he stopped for a moment to rub his hands once more across the bottom of her foot before moving on to the other one.

They were both like young children in their attempts to communicate. But they were trying.