Obligatory disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, or I would have gotten more of the details right.

Ga'vik watched the human warily as she made their dinner by the campfire. Something was clearly amiss. She hadn't tried to speak to him all afternoon - since the encounter with the blood elf. It was understandable that she had been frightened, but Ga'vik had eliminated the danger. There was no need for lingering apprehension.

Ga'vik was angry at himself for stumbling onto the elven hunter in the first place. He'd been distracted by his conversation with Litha, but that was no excuse. Thinking quickly, he had explained to the blood elf in a jumble of Orcish and Thalassian that he had been tracking the human slave since she escaped during a silithid attack in Tanaris. The fel-tainted elf had appeared to believe him, but had insisted that he would assist in returning her.

Even before the elf had made a comment about how much fun they could have with her together, Ga'vik had known he would need to kill him. Since the troll had no intention of returning Litha to the goblins, the Horde must never know of her survival.

It had not been much of a battle, really, though Lujin's efforts to kill the elf had been hampered by his heavy armour, so it had gone on several seconds longer than necessary. Ga'vik did not know how the elf could even hunt, clanking and sweating under all that metal.

Afterward, the human had seemed shaken, though she'd followed him eventually. She had been quiet and distant ever since.

Ga'vik missed her chattering. He missed her teasing smiles. He even missed the Zandali lessons.

"Lid'ta," he said, before he could stop himself. Why had he said that? He couldn't even pronounce it correctly. It did seem to get her attention, though. He hesitated. What now?

"…you okay?" he asked at last, regretting his choice as soon as the words left his mouth. The question was wholly inadequate.

The little human pinned him with a stare, the firelight catching the gold flecks in her eyes. Her cheeks were ruddy from the warmth of the fire, and she held his skinning knife in one hand, the curved blade gleaming red. In her other hand she held a carved hunk of meat, dripping blood. Ga'vik thought she looked exquisite. His heart began to pound.

"Okay," she replied softly, her face a mask. She smelled of fear and anger.

"Not okay," he snapped. "You," he pointed at her, "are clearly not okay. What is it? Why are you so upset?" He flung out his hands, palms upward. "Is this about the blood elf?"

When the human gave no response, he wasn't sure whether she was ignoring him, or if she didn't understand his questions. He was suddenly frustrated beyond reason. He huffed and ground his teeth, thinking hard. Fucking language barrier.

"The Sin'dorei… I killed the Sin'dorei. Is that what's bothering you?" The human glanced up at the Thalassian term, her lips pressed tightly together. She was chopping up some roots, her movements jerky. The troll was certain she was going to cut off one of her fingers (how could she keep track of so many, anyway?), but instead there was only a steady production of neatly cubed tubers. She still did not speak.

"The loa-damned Sin'dorei are all treacherous, and that one wanted to rape you. If he didn't fucking kill you, he was definitely going to turn you in to the goblins. Do you want to go back to the goblins?" Ga'vik emphasized his question by pointing to her slave collar, which made the human flinch. This made him even angrier.

"What have I ever done to make you think I would hurt you? I fucking saved you." The troll stood up, gnashing his teeth. He hunched over her, fists clenched, fuming, knowing he was irrationally upset but feeling even more offended by her continued silence. She was not even looking at him, now.

Finally, he snarled in irritation and turned away, sliding both hands through his hair to calm himself. After a moment, he heard soft footsteps behind him. When he turned back, she was much closer.

Litha had removed her top, and was unlacing the sides of her trousers. While he stared at her in consternation, she stepped delicately out of them, folded them, and placed them on the ground beside his bedroll. She stepped closer still, and laid a hand on his forearm. The touch was as light as a butterfly through his leather bracers and mail shirt.

Ga'vik moved his mouth wordlessly. He was a little baffled by the sudden development, but his body responded immediately. This was the type of overture he would expect from a troll female, and was much clearer to him than Litha's usual, coy flirtations. One of his hands came up of its own accord to press a braid back from her face. There was a ringing in his ears. He leaned down and kissed her, lightly at first: a chaste brush of his lips over hers, carefully angling his head so as not to touch her with his tusks.

The ringing grew louder as she pressed closer to him, shifting up onto her toes to kiss him back. The hand on his forearm clutched a little more urgently, and Litha brought her other hand up to flutter over his tusk, his jaw, his ear, before settling on his shoulder.

Ga'vik discovered his own hands were on her waist. They circled it nearly completely. He brought one up along the smooth expanse of her back, trailing his fingers over the slight bumps of her spine as he traced its curves. His other hand crept lower, cupping the softer curve of her bum. Her skin felt like silk. He groaned.

His kisses became less restrained as he let his head tilt, one tusk dipping down to press into her shoulder, the other skimming her cheek. He pressed his tongue against her lips and they opened easily. Her mouth was hot and wet.

She drew back a little, still clutching at him, drawing him down to the bedroll. He practically fell on top of her, one knee between her legs. Propping himself on an elbow, he let a three-fingered hand drift over one small breast. He could feel her nipple, hard, against his palm. He rained kisses over her face, her tiny shell ear, and down her neck.

When his lips brushed the slave collar, he felt a jolt like lightening. He was not sure if it was real, or merely his imagination, but he jerked his head back at the shock, and pulled away. He blinked several times to clear the haze in his mind. Each time he opened his eyes, he nearly lost himself again to the image of her naked body stretched beneath him, her pink lips open and her legs spread. He closed his eyes completely and forced himself to take deep breaths. He sat back on his haunches. When he opened his eyes again, she had rolled onto her knees, biting her lower lip, her ass lifted suggestively in the air.

He could smell her, though, and as soon as he stopped touching her, he could hear what his brain was trying to tell him. She smelled of sex, yes - sweet and female and terribly arousing, but she also reeked of fear. Even more than she had a few minutes ago.

She's a slave, Ga'vik reminded himself. As brave as she is, she is still afraid of me. I killed a man in front of her, I shouted at her, and she is trying to appease me.

Feeling suddenly ill, he pulled away from her and snatched up her trousers. He held them out to her, unable to meet her eyes. He resisted the urge to stuff her forcibly into them.

"Lid'ta," he rumbled, looking away but still smelling the fear and shame pouring off of her in waves, "I don't want… this. Or, I do, but not like this. You don't have to… I am not going to hurt you." He finally managed to look at her.

She hadn't put the trousers on, but was hugging them to her breasts, still folded. Her freckles stood out against her pale face, and her eyes shone with confusion. She was sitting up slowly, curling her legs protectively to one side.

"Fuck. You loa-damned idiot, troll." Ga'vik ground his teeth. Standing, he moved to retrieve her top as well, and brought it over to her. She was still huddled on his bedroll, but now there were tears brimming in her eyes. The troll hadn't seen her cry before, and the sight made him feel wretched.

"Don't do that. Don't… there's no need. Fuck." As the tears began to stream down her face, he reached out to wipe them away, and she flinched again, making him feel even worse. She made no move to dress herself, so the troll tugged his cloak out of one of the travel bags.

"Lid'ta… fuck. Look… here. Just… you won't feel so naked, if you're not naked. Plus, it's hard to look at you. In a good way. Well, no… in a bad way." He sighed, and draped the cloak around her shoulders, tugging it closed at the front. She continued to cry silently, staring at her lap.

He didn't try to touch her, but shifted carefully to sit beside her on the bedroll, murmuring any soft words that came to mind, many of them curses. He did not think she was listening to him, even if she could understand what he was saying, so he inserted some choice comments about Eikahe, the loa-damned cow that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"Listen, you don't really know the plan, do you? I'm just some crazy troll, dragging you halfway across Kalimdor, and you've just been… playing along. You seemed so calm about everything; I didn't really try to explain to you… fuck."

He looked at her sidelong. She looked very, very small, all balled up with the cloak pooled around her. The tears were still coursing down her cheeks. The tip of her nose and gone red, and it was starting to run. She made no move to wipe it, but sniffed once, discreetly.

"Lid'ta, look at me." When she didn't move, he repeated it more firmly. She turned timidly toward him, gazing up through long lashes beaded with tears. He spoke slowly, trying to make his point clear with facial expressions and hand gestures. "The Sin'dorei wanted to take you back to the goblins. I am not taking you back to the goblins. I am taking you to the Cenarion Circle… the druids. So they can free you. Okay?" He hesitated, then added, "It's what Eikahe wanted," since it felt wrong to take all the credit.

The human's chin tilted up so she was looking at him more directly. "Free?" she repeated, watching him carefully. The troll tried to look as honest and nonthreatening as his tusks would allow. He brought both hands to his throat to grasp an imaginary slave collar, then pulled them down and apart violently.

"Free," he said, "Not a slave."

Litha's mouth dropped open as she stared at him. "The Cenarion… Circle?"

"I hope so," he replied. He was not at all certain that they would help, actually, but he didn't have any better ideas. Besides, his bags were nearly full and he needed to find a trading post.

The human used his cloak to wipe her nose, looking thoughtful. At last she asked, very tentatively, "When?"

Ga'vik was immensely relieved that the crying had subsided. "One or two days. We'll reach Valor's Rest first – we won't really be able to avoid it – and then on to Cenarion Hold. I can give you gold," he held up the blood elf's jingling purse, "You could fly wherever you like. From Teldrassil, you could take a ship to Azeroth, I think."

The human continued to stare at him, sniffing occasionally. Ga'vik thought the snottiness detracted only a little from her beauty. He shook himself and stood.

"Right… well, I'll finish dinner, shall I?" He started toward the abandoned pile of meat and vegetables, but Litha made a small squeak of protest and stood. She shifted in the cloak uncertainly, glancing down at herself.

"Yes, you're still naked under there," Ga'vik said gently, trying very hard not to remember what that looked like. "If my cooking's that bad, though, I'll leave you to it." He sat on the far side of the fire and kept his eyes pointedly averted as she tried to look dignified, dressing herself under the cloak.

She remained very quiet as she finished cooking their dinner, but when she brought him a portion, she used his name, and offered a shy smile. They ate in silence, tidied the camp, and retired to separate bedrolls.

When Ga'vik awoke the next morning, Litha and Jozala were both gone.