Last chapter woo! Will there be a sequel? Probably not, even though I started one. Maybe more WoW stories? There's a good chance. And if I do, they will be longer, sexier, and less stupid at the end. Haw.

Thanks for all your support, dudes.

Providence

Part Three

Chapter Four

They developed a sort of combination of Orcish and Common between them. Adelian and Reich found it difficult to follow their conversations and much didn't try due to Hanzar's nearly incomprehensible Common accent.

What they did learn was the reason Hanzar entered the war to begin with.

"When I was a child, my sister, who was much older, was killed by humans. This would not have bothered me to the extent it has if it weren't for what they did with her: they placed her head on a post outside the village and threw her body out to be eaten by their foul dogs. The head was there for weeks until it was completely destroyed by vultures and weather. When I went in at night once, to try to get it back, they shot me." He gestured to a scar in his shoulder and rubbed it. "I give back as good as I get. Every human I have ever killed I beheaded and left it where those who knew him would find it."

Reich kept his mouth closed for Garoul's benefit. Adelian merely looked on, clearly ashamed—as he always was. He was not one for the unsavory.

The troll traveled with them to the border of Ashenvale. Reich was not surprised by their decision there—he had overheard their late night conversation, and understood enough of it to know.

When they saw the ruins ahead that marked the boundary of Ashenvale and Darkshore, Garoul and Hanzar nodded to one another. "Adelian, come here." The druid looked confusedly at his fellow elf but did as he was told. There she kissed him on the cheek, much to his delight, and gave him a tight hug. The tall druid hugged her back tentatively. "Hopefully, I will see you again." He gave her a quizzical look, but when he turned to ask Reich the human only shook his head.

"I saw this coming," he said with a slight laugh. Before she could ask he enveloped her in a hug, despite her overlarge belly and kissed her on the forehead. "Oh Gari, I'll miss you," he said quietly. "If he does anything to not take care of you, just call me and he'll be dead by morning." With that he squeezed her one more time.

"Thank you for everything," she said, and not wanting to make it any worse, she waved and walked back to where the troll stood, waiting. Taking her hand entirely in his, he guided her back into the forest, where they disappeared.

Adelian looked at his warrior friend. "Do you know where they'll go?"

Reich nodded his head and said, "They'll be fine."

--

Though it had taken some work to get there separately, for both of them were relative refugees, they managed to arrive in the Arathi Highlands without too much delay. Hanzar was loathe to leave his life as a warrior, but with his leg healed and still very much a hindrance, he could do very little but kill the slowest of animals. They had decided on a place before they left Kalimdor, but solidified their plans on the boat ride from Ratchet to Booty Bay.

"Just outside Refuge Point," she had told him. "There are nice plots of land near the mountains there." And so it was they met at a farm she had mentioned there, and set about building something reasonable. They both had large bags of money, unspent for various reasons, and pooled their money to buy a house—the wood, the labor and the plan. They were nearly toppled by the cost of rushing the project, but they kept enough to stay at their respective inns.

After no more than a few weeks the small stead was complete. It all seemed rather surreal to Garoul, who found the place quite comfortable. There was no more than a bed, a bath, an oven and a table, but there was little else she could think of to need. Hanzar erected a few signs in the dirt yard saying "Keep out," and "Danger," in both Orcish and Common, with pictures of skulls and crossbones just to make the message clear.

Their first night Garoul sat in the bath, stretched out rather ungracefully when Hanzar joined her. Leaning forward he inspected her belly again and sighed. "You're right—too big."

"I can't really walk anymore," she said, then laughed. "Sort of like you! We'll both be cripples." The troll rolled his eyes, but nodded his head.

"I don't want to be worrisome but this isn't looking that good," he said with a sigh. Garoul could only agree. Carefully weaving his arms around her backside, Hanzar pulled her into his lap and grunted a little with the effort. "Rather heavy, I'll admit," and she laughed.

Life had become like this: they were comfortable with one another and began to find things they rather liked about the other. Hanzar found his elf to be smart and quick, with a stubborn side about her work. For every animal he brought in to be cooked up, she skinned it, stretched it, and worked something sellable out of it. With the profits they bought vegetables and bread, household items and more working supplies. Garoul had begun doing the shopping in the nearby Pointe, but when she could no longer walk, Hanzar instead made a trip every week to Hammerfall.

One evening nearly two months after they had arrived, the elf was propped up on a pillow soaping a finished glove when she felt a searing pain race from her hips to her chest.

"Hanz!" she yelled. Hearing no reply, she shouted, "Hanzar!" There was the sound of stomping outside and the troll ran in.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Something's happening!"

For some weeks he had heard the increasingly loud sound of a heartbeat and Garoul often complained of movement, and it was only a matter of time. It was far earlier than either of them expected, but nevertheless Hanzar fetched more pillows and set about to the arduous task of waiting.

He had rather grown used to his somewhat domestic life, for most of the time it was his elf taking care of him then the other way around. She managed herself extremely well and he admired her for that; it wasn't long that he knew he loved her. That was all right with him.

Hanzar had been carrying her to the bath when her water broke. Quickly she washed and they removed once more to the bed, which he had changed to old sheets. Neither of them knew what to expect, and the troll invested his faith in nature to keep Garoul safe.

The process had been brutal on her, he knew, at the end: she had tried to keep back her cries of pain, and he wondered if she would burst. But it had passed without incident.

The boy was of a light purple, and his round face was decorated by long blue markings that ran from his forehead to his cheeks. He had been born without tusks, but his jaws were wide enough that Hanzar knew they would grow soon; the child's hair was a vibrant, deep purple and he was much smaller than the average troll baby. His ears were impressively large, the troll noted, and smiled.

Hanzar had to admit, seeing his elf tiredly nursing the child, he had no real fault with it.

--

"Loren!" Garoul yelled outside. "Get in here now! Dinner is ready!"

Hanzar looked up as the boy stomped his feet and dashed inside. The troll followed suit, wiping his feet at the door before coming inside.

He usually cooked but tonight, his wife—as he had come to calling her—took it upon herself instead. Afterwards, he decided she didn't get to cook ever again.

Loren, the vibrant and energetic boy, had grown much more quickly than either of his parents expected. When he wanted to go outdoors his mother applied make up to his face to cover his markings and then sent him out to play. His tusks were also rather impressive, though he lacked the usual strong facial structure of other trolls. He often went to Hammerfall to look around, but his father kept a close eye on him when he was out alone. He knew a human would find it the greatest sport to kill a young troll wandering around the highlands, so he kept the boy close when he went hunting. His leg never healed and so he trained his son early to use a bow and sword, making him into a rather impressive fighter and hunter.

Garoul would often travel with her finished goods to Booty Bay, where she sold them to the gnome woman that owned the shop there. The elf's goods were known to be some of the best around, and she made a decent profit from her sales. They grew a yard and a small vegetable garden, which Hanzar managed while Garoul did the shopping and worked in the leather shop she had arranged to have built beside the house. They had become rather clever in hiding that both of them lived there: all of Hammerfall believed the troll lived there alone with his son, and due to the signs that still remained outside, no one visited them. It was a lonely life, but a good one.

Loren was asleep when Hanzar went to extinguish the lamp and instead saw his elf on the bed, wearing very close to nothing and giving him a 'come hither' look. One eyebrow raised he leaned over her and kissed her, then lay down beside her. Making sure to keep the sound down, they made love for nearly an hour before they collapsed, exhausted. Garoul, giggling, pressed her hands to his chest. "I'll never get tired of that," she admitted, and the troll could only stare at her.

"I don't know how you're still so delicious," he replied, licking her face like a dog, which caused her to laugh even harder.

"You know," she said, running her hand down his stomach to run her fingers over him. He jumped, not expecting her to go twice in a row. She seemed to be merely exploring, though, and she continued. "Loren's getting older. Do you think, maybe... we should let him out?"

Hanzar blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

"Maybe you could take him to Booty Bay with you sometime. Somewhere he can meet others like him."

He laughed. "I would have to drag him all the way to Durotar for that." Suddenly, he blinked. "You know, it might not be a bad idea."

"What do you mean?"

The troll sighed. "To see Banik. I sent him a letter the other day. I told him some of it, but he still has questions. Maybe we could visit. If we wrapped you in a hooded cloak and gave Loren his makeup, we could pass as a refugee family."

"We'll see," was Garoul's reply.

The Freakin'-End