Vol'jin had never in his life felt such fury as he did in that moment, slowly circling Garrosh. He could hear Cenahria behind him, screaming at him to stop, Thrall frantically trying to stop her from getting between them. As they circled each other, Vol'jin briefly stood opposite her, and could see the bruises Garrosh had left on her side. Garrosh had a look of dangerous malice on his face, and Vol'jin's lip curled back in a low growl.
Without warning, Garrosh struck, lunging forward to bring Gorehowl down in a wide arc. Vol'jin dodged nimbly, bringing his glaive around to cut Garrosh's arm. The cut was superficial however, and it did not take long for Garrosh to recover. Vol'jin had heard the stories about the new Warchief. He was brutal, and relentless when fighting. But orcs were not known for their intellect, and Garrosh was no exception. Vol'jin had commanded many battles, and knew how to trick an opponent. Plus, Vol'jin had something that Garrosh did not. Cenahria's screams had dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs, and each one hardened Vol'jin's resolve to punish Garrosh, Warchief or no.
The fight continued like this for some time, troll and orc testing each other, searching for weaknesses. Vol'jin managed several cuts to Garrosh's torso and arms, but neither had managed to inflict serious injury. Cenahria was now completely silent, and Vol'jin kept flicking his gaze to her. She was on the ground, in Thrall's arms, both looking on in shock and concern. The spectators were shouting, mostly for Garrosh, which came as no surprise to Vol'jin. The noise was so great, that Vol'jin did not hear Garrosh muttering to one of the Kor'kron, the guards to the Warchief. Vol'jin was so intent on the battle, that he did not see the guard slowly move through the crowd, towards Cenahria, and Thrall.
Garrosh lunged for Vol'jin again, eyes narrowed in concentration, as he feinted to the side, trying to cut Vol'jin's side. A loud scream, and all Vol'jin's attention spun to Cenahria, and Thrall who had caught a knife in mid-air, in a small burst of wind. Immediately, Vol'jin moved to Cenahria, to check she was safe, the battle, and Garrosh, forgotten in his bid to protect her.
Garrosh struck again. Hard.
White hot pain carved its way into Vol'jin's side. He was vaguely aware of Cenahria calling his name, and Thrall standing up, fury on his face. Sinking to the ground, Vol'jin dropped his glaive. He could feel the air shifting around him, and turned his face to see Thrall, who had stepped between him and Garrosh, weaving the very air to create a protective bubble around Vol'jin. He fell to the side. The ground felt so cold. He could hear the blood rushing to his ears, and the sound of Bwonsamdi calling to him was seductive. The world was starting to darken, as the blood drained from his side, and Vol'jin felt tired. Closing his eyes to the sound of Cenahria begging him to stay awake, Vol'jin went to sleep.
Cenahria had never felt so scared, not even when Garrosh had had his hand on her side, surrounded by orcs who wanted to hurt her. Vol'jin was just lying there, on the ground, and he had closed his eyes. Scrambling to his side, Cenahria ignored her surroundings. She was sobbing, begging him to stay with her. She rested her head on his chest, and she began to memorise every inch of him, from his fiery red hair, to the deep blue muscles that made up his body. The rise and fall of his chest began to slow, and a thick, green arm tried to pull her away.
"Cenahria. The cut, it is deep. We should get him back to the Isles. He would want to spend his final moments with his people, not here." Thrall's words were like daggers in her heart, despite the gentle tone. "No. I can fix this. I will not let him die!" Resolve lent her strength, and she shoved Thrall's arm away. She looked up, and through a veil of tears could see that it was dark in Orgrimmar. She was alone, but for Thrall and Vol'jin. "Cenahria. I understand that you care for him but" "No, Thrall. Vol'jin defended my honor. I have to try to save him." Thrall sighed, and stopped trying to get her to stand. Instead, he knelt beside her, and began cleaning the blood from Vol'jin's side with water that seemingly came from nowhere.
Swallowing her pain, Cenahria studied the wound. Vol'jin's entire side was crimson, and the wound was slowly pumping deep blood. Raising her face to drink in the light of the moon, she gently placed her hands over Vol'jin's side. She said a small prayer to Elune, and began to draw upon her own energy, guiding it into the wound. She started deep, siphoning energy into the gash, slowly repairing it from the inside out. Thrall gasped as faint, green light emanated from her hands, and she smiled slightly as the power of nature itself coursed through her veins, and into Vol'jin's. Slowly, painfully slowly, the wound closed. Cenahria fell backwards, suddenly faint. Thrall looked at her in concern, and she waved him away. "We need to get him someplace safe, somewhere we can wash and dress the wound" Thrall nodded, and gingerly picked Vol'jin up from the ground.
Cenahria staggered to her feet, and swayed. All her energy had gone into repairing Vol'jin's wound. She barely had any energy left. But she needed to stay strong, for him. Raising her eyes to look at Vol'jin's unconscious body, she forced herself to follow Thrall, through the streets of Orgrimmar, until they reached Thrall's home. Thrall's home was small, but cosy, with several rooms. Thrall had set up makeshift beds on the floor of the first room, and he lay Vol'jin down on one of them. He turned, and motioned for her to follow him, stating that she could sleep in the second room, but Cenahria barely heard him. Energy ebbing away, she stumbled toward Vol'jin and sank down next to him. "I will not leave his side. Not when he saved my life. Again." She muttered to herself.
Giving in to the sweet embrace of sleep, the last thing Cenahria was aware of was Thrall pulling a blanket over her body. As he did so, she reached out an arm, using the very last of her strength to take Vol'jin's hand in her own. Sleep took her over, and she sank into blackness.
Vol'jin opened his eyes to faint light streaming through makeshift curtains. Turning his head, he could see the first rays of sunlight filtering through a window, and he briefly wondered where he was. He became aware of something resting on his hand, and turned to see Cenahria lying next to him, sleeping quietly. Her hand was gently entwined in his, and she had clearly gone to sleep holding it. "She refused to sleep anywhere else. She collapsed next to your sickbed, and I thought it wise to leave her where she was. It is good to see you awake, my friend." Trying not to wake Cenahria, Vol'jin slowly sat up to face Thrall, who was seated across the room.
"What happened? Da last thing I remember is Garrosh hurting Cenahria. Dis be why she collapsed?" Grunting in pain, Vol'jin took the small cup of water Thrall offered him, and listened to him recount exactly what had happened during his fight with Garrosh. Remembering what he had done to Cenahria brought back the fury, and his veins burned with hatred once more. "I am sorry I did not come to your aid sooner, Vol'jin. I was concerned that Cenahria would get between you both, and I felt you would rather me keep her safe." Vol'jin nodded. Cenahria's safety came above anything else, in his mind. He looked at her, and smiled softly at how peaceful she looked. He looked at his friend, who was watching him, smiling. "How is it dat I be alive?" "Cenahria. She refused to believe you were dying, and she healed you. I have never seen anything like it. She used her very life energy to repair your wound, instead of taking it from the area around her. She is very skilled, although I have a feeling her dedication was not down to her being a druid." Vol'jin flushed slightly, and sank back the floor. Cenahria had used her own energy to heal him? It could have killed her!
As if she somehow knew they were talking about her, Cenahria began to stir. Muttering an excuse about needing more water, Thrall quickly exited the house, leaving them alone. Vol'jin shook his head, and gently squeezed Cenahria's hand. As if struck by lightning, Cenahria sat straight up, completely alert. "Vol'jin! You are awake! You're okay! Oh, I am so glad…" Her words faded as she hugged him fiercely, burying her face into his chest. He grunted slightly at the pain, and she immediately sat up again. Vol'jin laughed at her look of concern, and gently brushed away her hands as they began moving to his wound.
"Don't ya be worryin' about me, Cenahria. I hear a very skilled healer managed to save my life. I think I be okay from now on." He smiled as she blushed at the compliment. She ignored him, however, and began to untie his bandages, to assess the wound. Her touch was gentle, and sent tiny shivers down his spine. He liked it, and settled back to watch her work.
Her face was framed by her dark hair, and the ends of it tickled his side. Her eyes held a look of concern, but the light in them was bright. He found himself staring at her eyes, and he began to feel hot. Moving his eyes down her body, to look at the bruises Garrosh had left on her side, the heat worsened. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but his eyes kept being drawn to this woman who had saved his life by nearly giving her own. Her pale green dress was cut to show her stomach, and, caught in the moment, he reached out and pulled her closer. The feel of her skin made the heat worse, and a small voice in his head told him to stop, that it was inappropriate, it was wrong, screaming that he was a troll, and she an elf.
Her eyes did not lose their light at his touch. Instead, a fire took over them, and the intensity caught him. She saved my life, Vol'jin told the voice in his head, and he moved his hand to brush her hair from her face. All thoughts vanished, and Vol'jin lost control as those eyes gripped him. Sitting up, Vol'jin pulled Cenahria even closer, and did the one thing his head screamed at him not to do.
He kissed her.