Chapter 6

Later that day, Veren Redmorning stepped out of a burrow with a peon in tow.

"It's a brilliant idea," Veren said. "If the spider can survive on what you're tossing in there, we've got a guard on our food supply and we've got silk for more clothes and blankets."

"Yeah, they don't eat mushrooms," the peon said. "We working on a loom, too, now we got enough guts to string it. Pretty soon we be able to make yarn outta the hair we got off the wolves. Warmer blankets."

"Excellent. Tell Merd he never ceases to amaze - "

"Chieftain!"

Veren turned to see Lev running through the fresh snow, leaving large footprints behind as he went. He pulled up in front of Redmorning. Like all the other Orcs, he now wore a tunic and cape made from patched-together animal hides.

"One of Kerd's raiders found an Elf out in the woods," Lev said. "We think it's an Elf, anyhow. It's really tall and it's mostly naked and it's sort of purple."

"Lev," Veren said wearily. "I thought I told you not to eat the local mushrooms any more - "

"I wasn't," Lev said in a tone of injured virtue. "Come see for yourself."

"All right. See you later, Giv." The peon bowed and trotted off.

"Pouncefaster won't let me forget the thing with the mushrooms, either," Lev said, as they walked toward the two new watchtowers by the stream.

"How are you and Gedu?"

"She never shuts up," Lev said. "Guess I knew that when I picked her."

"It looked to me more like she picked you," Veren said mildly.

"If you say so," Lev muttered. "They got the Elf inside the great hall, trying to get it warmed up. I've got to get back to patrolling."

"Fine. Go on, Lev." Veren pushed aside the rough curtain and walked into the hall. The word "great" seemed somewhat less than apt in describing a building no larger than the barracks. So far, the hall's only furniture was a set of chairs carved out of tree stumps. Veren used it when he needed to talk to several Orcs at once, since it was now too cold to stand around outside for long.

Shel'yin, Kev'ran, and Kerd Bladeleaper knelt close to the fireplace. The larger warlock fed dry sticks into the growing flames. On a pallet closest to the fire, wrapped in a lizard-hide blanket lined with fur, lay the Elf. It seemed to be unconscious, blood streaking its dark hair and the side of its face. One of its long ears was distinctly notched in several places.

Lev had not exaggerated: its skin was indeed a light violet, made paler by the cold.

Kerd looked up as Veren came closer. "You ever see a Blood Elf this tall?" she said in her gruff voice.

Veren looked closely at the Elf. She's taller than I am. Not that that's saying much. I think Kev'ran is the only one here who isn't. "The Stormrage is that tall. And about that color, if memory serves."

"She is a Night Elf," Shel'yin said. He watched as Kev'ran used a silk rag to daub off some of the blood from the Elf's face.

"She? How can you tell?"

"Only Night Elves are this color."

"No, I mean how can you tell it's a woman? They all have those narrow faces."

Kev'ran flipped back an upper fold of the blanket, revealing the Elf's scantily-clad upper body. Many small bandages covered her skin, but certain features were still quite obvious.

"Oh," Vern said.

The Elf stirred at the draft of cold air, groaning something in a language that seemed to lack any gutturals. Kev'ran covered her again.

"Did anyone understand that?" Veren asked. All present shook their heads.

"None of us had time to learn the Blood Elves' language before we left," Shel'yin said. "I doubt it would help us with this one."

"I am speak… Orc-tongue."

Veren blinked. The Elf opened eyes the same color as her skin as she turned her face away from the fire.

"Did she just say something in really bad Orcish?" he asked.

"Not bad," the Elf said hoarsely. "Talk to spies from Orgrimmar all time, get plenty practice."

"I think it's some kind of dialect," Kev'ran said. "We have not seen the Orcs who left Draenor for a long time. They no doubt have their own languages by now. "

"Or she just doesn't speak it very well," Kerd Bladeleaper said dryly. The Elf frowned muzzily at Kev'ran's hand as she wiped the side of her face.

"You hand… Is red?"

"Did she hit her head on something?" Veren asked.

"Not sure," Kerd said. She lifted her horned helmet and scratched her head, then smoothed her black hair before replacing it. "Medi Snapfang found her tangled up in some roots. We think she might have fallen out of the tree. There was a broken weapon on the ground close to her. It's over there."

"That would not explain her other bruises," Shel'yin said, as Veren rose and went to look at the thing which lay on one of the chairs. "She also has several small wounds which could have come from weapons like that one. Kev'ran bandaged her. She does not seem to want me to touch her."

"This looks like some kind of big throwing star," Veren said. "I've never seen one this size. I've only seen one or two at all, for that matter. Most clans don't use them."

"Glaives are difficult to forge," Shel'yin said. "The Night Elves have had thousands of years to perfect the technique."

"So… Some other Elves attacked her, then left her to freeze to death in the snow? Some kind of clan infighting, do you suppose?" Veren set the weapon down and came to kneel beside the Elf again.

"I do not think so," Shel'yin said. His eyes reflected the fire with a green glow. Kev'ran's still seemed black. "Nel'hesh told me little of how they organize themselves, but I had the impression they are very different from Orcs."

"Ha," the Elf said, apparently understanding at least the last part of this. "Orcs don't kill you slow. Quick, quick."

"Some do," Veren said. "Torture is not an Elvish invention, I'm afraid." He tried to speak slowly so the Elf would understand. "Were you tortured?"

The Elf looked up at him, ignoring the question. "You Chief here?"

"Yes. I'm Veren Redmorning. What's your name?"

"I am glaive," the Elf said. Her voice began to fade, so that Veren had to lean forward to hear the rest. "Blade is broken. Good for nothing."