Obligatory disclaimer: World of Warcraft = not mine.

Thanks again to all my readers & reviewers. You are the best, and all your comments are very kind, and though I am as slow as molasses, I swear this fic is not abandoned.

Litha had not been in Valor's Rest for long before she began to have doubts about her actions.

The night elves were hardly an effusive race, and she had not expected to be fawned over like a lost child (Oh you poor thing! He did what? Unbelievable! You were so brave to escape!). When she had poured out her tale, letting real emotion show in her shaking voice and hands, she had not initially been concerned about the blank expressions all around her, the coolness in the white eyes. A niggling sense of unease had sprung up a little later, once she'd finished her story and started taking questions, but she had stubbornly persisted in letting herself believe that she had done the right thing.

The questions they had asked were oddly specific. They had wanted to know where exactly she was from, and had she been there long, and when and where had the troll taken her, and how many days ago was that, and so on. Litha had been both evasive and inventive. She was a fluid story-teller, but she sensed that the dramatic re-enactments and brief fainting spell had not lent the necessary realism to her tale that she had hoped. She had begun to feel doubt, and her old enemy, regret.

It was not until they were on the road toward Cenarion Hold that she had numbly realized the mistake she had made. Obstinately, she told herself that she was no worse off – the troll had said that he was taking her to Cenarion Hold anyway, hadn't he? All she had done, really, was hasten her own arrival. Her own fate. Without him.

Alone.

Ga'vik, she thought dejectedly to herself, but stopped short of admitting fault, even in her own mind. Who knows what he would have done with her, anyway? Or what she would have done with him, she heard a coy voice the back of her mind. Shut it, she told the voice, and bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. I do not need him, and I do not miss him. I'm not sorry I stole his raptor and lied about him to some stupid druids. Sure, I would have slept with him if I'd had to, but as it turns out, I didn't. Which is good. Because he is a troll, and it probably would have been awful. Worse than the goblins, even. I bet he bites…

At that thought, Litha had a mental image of his teeth, flashing sharp and white in a playful grin, and shivered on Jozala's back. The raptor glanced back at her with one beady eye, and Litha thought she looked reproachful. She patted the scaly neck absently, and forced herself to focus on their journey.

Jo had not wanted to travel with the druids – she had tried to turn back several times, and return the way they had come. They'd had to tie her to one of the other mounts with a length of rope. She was bearing it with dignity, though Litha sensed a great disappointment in the raptor, and it was directed squarely at her rider.

Litha sighed and glanced around – another day, another desert. She had not told the druids about the silithid attacks, and wondered if that had been a mistake. Both attacks had been in Tanaris, on the other side of the crater, but this was Silithus after all, and they had seen several of the large, shiny insects already. Most had been wise enough to keep their distance from the mounted party.

Despite her misgivings, the journey was uneventful, and they arrived in Cenarion Hold that evening. After a brief meeting between the druids and the master of the hold, to which the human was not privy, Litha was led into a large guest chamber and unceremoniously locked in. A short tour of the room revealed a steaming basin of warm water for washing herself, a large comfortable feather bed, clean druid robes, a hot meal and wine, and absolutely no escape routes.

For the second time in a long time, she cried.

Over the next few days, night elves came and went from her room, usually announced only by the soft click of the lock on her door. They replaced the food on her table with fresh meals, whether she had eaten or not, refilled the small basin in the corner of the room with clean water, replaced her chamber pot, asked her coolly if she needed anything – to which she did not respond – and left again with a soft click of the lock as farewell.

In actual fact, it may have been the same night elf each time. Litha wasn't sure. It felt, however, like the same continuous, infinite stream of strangers through her life – people who did not really see her, and did not really care.

She let herself lie in a salty, crumpled heap of misery in the centre of the bed as the night elves (elf?) came and went. The hard desert sunlight streamed in through several high, barred windows, and Litha let her eyes focus on the dust motes that danced in it as it traveled slowly across the room, disappeared, and reappeared again.

When she discovered that this latest catastrophe had, once again, failed to kill her, she rose. She bathed, combed out her ragged hair, and pulled on a plain linen robe. She sat at the small table and ate the meal that was laid out there. Then, she clasped her hands in her lap to watch the dust motes again.

Litha felt a little more prepared for interaction, now that she was no longer a sweaty mess on the bed, so she felt oddly pleased when the soft click of the door announced another visitor. She was poised neatly at the table, and she turned slowly as if she had been expecting someone. There were two druids this time, a night elf and a tauren. Litha realized with a start that she had seen the tauren before, in Valor's Rest. The brown and white markings across her ample bosom were unmistakable.

A moment later, the vague curiosity turned into a traitorous leap of her heart as the third visitor slunk in noiselessly behind the druids. Ga'vik.

It was a long moment before anyone spoke. Both of the druids were examining her closely, while Ga'vik seemed fascinated by the room itself. He appeared intent on inspecting the windows, the neatly-made bed, the small basin of tepid water (now soapy) – everything but Litha.

Finally, after directing several uncomfortable looks at the oblivious troll, the night elf cleared his throat.

"You are… Litha? Human, and… former goblin slave? Cherished friend of Eikahe the Gentle, he who walks with Elune; may the stars guide his path?" He spoke in tentative Common, almost every word quirking up into a question. His face and pale eyes were as calm as still water, but his voice quavered with doubt.

Litha hesitated, glancing at Ga'vik, but there was no help from that quarter. The troll was hunched just inside the doorway, half hidden behind the imposing form of the she-tauren. He had his head tipped back and appeared to be consumed in a close inspection of the ceiling.

Biting her lip, Litha tried to prepare an equally formal response.

"Yes, that is… um, I, Litha. And Eikahe was… indeed… someone I knew." She found herself unable to lie about her relationship with Eikahe in front of Ga'vik. The tauren had been kind to her, but she was not sure she would call herself his cherished friend. To lie about him seemed, somehow, a more serious betrayal than anything she had done so far. He had, after all, clearly been a cherished friend of the troll's.

Abruptly, Ga'vik looked down and caught her eye, and Litha squirmed in her seat. Usually, during the rare instances that he looked at her directly, his emotions were written out plainly for her to read. This time his blue eyes were as dark and opaque as the sea during a storm. She was able to discern, however, a tension in the muscles along his jaw that communicated a warning to her. When he flicked his eyes once at the druids, Litha understood that she was to be careful what she said to them.

Fortunately, her answer seemed to satisfy the night elf, who relaxed slightly, and turned to say something to the tauren that Litha couldn't understand. They muttered back and forth until Ga'vik interjected with a sharp grunt of annoyance and flash of his teeth. It was not the smiling flash that Litha remembered, but the tauren only chuffed through her long nose and rolled her eyes at him. The night elf turned back to the human.

"We came only to assure ourselves of your wellness, and to inform you that we are here to continue Eikahe's quest."

Litha opened her mouth, closed it, and looked again at Ga'vik. The troll was scowling at the floor tiles, as if counting them. His lips were moving.

"Ah," she replied eloquently. When the night elf continued to gaze unblinkingly at her, she added, "…and you are?"

"Tiadonaolos Swiftshadow, Druid of the Cenarion Circle and Master Herbalist, ever at your service. At my side, Bruim Mistrunner, Druid also of the Cenarion Circle, and Expert Enchanter. I believe you have already made acquaintance with, er, Ga'vik…" Here, the night elf trailed off with a gesture in the troll's direction. Ga'vik gave no acknowledgement, but began to kick sullenly at the uneven flooring.

"Currently, further actions in our quest are pending news from Commander Mar'alith, of which we will keep you apprised." At that, the elf gave a slight bob – more of a curtsy than a bow, Litha thought bemusedly – and turned to leave, the tauren following closely.

Ga'vik did not leave immediately, but continued to glare at his own feet. After a moment he clicked his teeth and ruffled his hair furiously, as if losing some internal argument. Litha stood slowly, gripping the edge of the table.

"Ga'vik…" she started, but he cut her off with a sharp look. Suddenly alert, the troll held one tri-fingered hand up to silence her. Leaning back, he used one long finger to crook the door open slightly, glancing this way and that down the hall. He pressed it just as carefully back into place and drew close to her in three long strides. Litha had forgotten how tall he was. Even in his usual slouch, he towered over her, his usual grim expression directed down his tusks at her. Litha sat back down, causing him to lean closer.

Litha found suddenly that she was unable to meet his eyes. She had wanted so badly only yesterday for someone to see her, to really see her, and now she couldn't bear it.

She felt heat rising to her cheeks, and ducked her head in confusion. Her chest felt tight, and she belatedly recognized the sensation as guilt. She deserved his anger.

"Did you something something the Zandali?" His voice was always low, but now it was soft, barely a murmur, though he enunciated carefully for her benefit. She screwed up her face, trying to guess the meaning of the words she did not understand. She had been expecting shouting.

"Wha…?"

"Did you speak Zandali to the somethings? Even a something? Or tell them I taught you?"

Litha gaped at him in astonishment. There was urgency in his voice, but not anger.

"Lid'ta…?" He leaned closer, his tusks nearly alongside his face. "Are you… okay?"

"Yes," she gasped finally, feeling oddly breathless, "Yes, I… okay. No, I not speak Zandali, not…" she gestured vaguely in a way that she hoped indicated tell the druids.

The troll nodded slowly and eased back from her, his expression still guarded. He seemed to be considering her, and she waited as his eyes took in her clean appearance, her neatly combed hair, the soft linen robes she wore. She crossed her arms self-consciously and waited as his eyes searched the room and found the dirty leather trousers and vest he had fashioned for her. She was glad she had folded them, feeling oddly sentimental, and left them neatly by the washing basin.

He stepped further back, and started to move toward the door.

"Ga'vik," she started, and then dropped her voice to a whisper at a look from the troll. "What is… Eikahe's quest?"

The troll ran a hand through his hair, back to front, and made a sound halfway between a laugh and a growl. His voice was barely audible when he replied.

"To save you, of course."

Then he slid out the door, and it clicked behind him.