Setting Out Again

It seemed Fentulk had hardly closed his eyes when he felt someone nudging him awake.

"Hey," a gruff voice said quietly in Orcish, "gotta get up."

For a moment, he thought it was his father, urging him out of bed to go hunting before the sun was up, while their quarry was still lazy with sleep. He hadn't let himself think of his parents very much; it wasn't until now that he was hit with how much he missed them, and was looking forward to seeing them again.

Opening his eyes, Fentulk found himself looking up at Trukk. The green-skinned Orc grinned.

"Yuh sleep like the dead," he commented good-naturedly. "Thought I'd get yuh up early, so's Nazgrel don't shit a brick."

Fentulk grunted a laugh as he sat up stiffly. Looking beside him, he saw that Joanne was beginning to stir. His heart nearly leaped out of his chest, seeing her lying there... almost in his own bed. Almost like she was really his.

Tearing his eyes away from her lovely form, he met Trukk's gaze and swallowed. His look of longing wasn't lost on the other Orc, who offered a sympathetic half smile.

"Got some shi-... some stuff for yuh," he said, glancing at the yawning woman sitting up on the far bed. "Water and some jerky we make round here from them ugly fu-... ugly pigs that roam about."

"I'll pay you back for all of it," Fentulk vowed as he stood. "I swear it."

Trukk waved his hand dismissively. "Next time I'm takin' a message out to Garadar, I'll look yuh up."

"Name's Fentulk," he said. "You come by, and I'll show you around."

The green Orc shrugged. "Just make me wanna leave this place more, like I don't already. Nah, I'll just settle up with yuh. Wish I could get yuh a wolf, but Nazgrel'd have my ba-... he'd get pretty mad."

"She don't speak Orcish," Fentulk said with amusement. "But thanks. Don't worry about the wolf; you done enough. I don't know how to thank you proper for it."

"Don't speak it, huh?" Trukk asked, glancing past him. The woman sat with her knees drawn up, her head resting tiredly on her arms. "How d'you talk to her, then?"

"I speak common," Fentulk shrugged, then chuckled. "About as bad as I do Orcish."

"Hmph, who fuckin' cares, eh?" Trukk grinned. "Long as you get yer point across, don't matter how you done it. So... she's just a friend?"

Fentulk closed his eyes, bowed his head, and nodded. Trukk thumped him on the shoulder.

"No she ain't," he said quietly. "Come on," he went on before Fentulk could respond. "No time for chatter. Nazgrel'll be stormin' in here with his mouth full'uh shit, ready to spit, if you don't get a move on."

Turning to Joanne, Fentulk said, "You ready to go?"

Lifting her head, she blinked at him for a moment. The two Orcs had been speaking their own tongue for several minutes and she'd drifted off. "Yes," she said, and scooted off the end of the bed. "Quite ready."

Taking her hand, Fentulk led her out of the inn in Trukk's wake. The Orc slowed a bit so he could walk beside Fentulk.

"So, uh," Trukk ventured, this time in common, "where you headed from here?"

Fentulk replied, "Gotta pay my respects to the captain of the Mag'har here, so we'll be stoppin' there first."

Trukk nodded. "Don't get up there myself much, but I hear things. Them fuckers... pardon, miss, folks at 'Honor' Hold keep nailin' the place, takin' out their warriors. Better keep yer eyes peeled for Alliance bas-... sorts."

"They at war with the Mag'har, then?" Fentulk asked worriedly.

Shrugging, Trukk said, "Hell if I know. It ain't their 'finest' neither. Any stupid son of a bitch what wanders in off the sands gets a list of shi-... stuff to do, and fuckin' with the Mag'har's one of'em. Mind you, Nazgrel ain't above doin' the same, but leastways he's sendin'em out to put a dent in the demon population, not murder a bunch of folk who ain't doin' nothin'."

Fentulk scowled a bit, but let it go. The last thing he wanted to get in the middle of was a fight between his people and the Alliance. He just wanted to fucking go home. Maybe after he'd had a chance to settle back in and rest... sleep for longer than five minutes without someone or something giving him a hard time, he'd do his part to help them out.

Shaking himself, he smiled a little, but Trukk was still looking thoughtful.

"Better watch yourself goin' up there," he warned. "Draenei got a temple not far away, and they patrol a bunch in the area. Maybe not shoot yuh on sight, bein' as you're Mag'har and all, but I wouldn't put it past'em."

"They don't go after Mag'har?" Fentulk asked, surprised.

Trukk shook his head. "Nah. Not so much as the Honor Hold hangers-on. Them folks'll kill anything that moves." Snickering, he added, "Saw a few of'em thinkin' they had the balls to take on a fel reaver. That big bastard used'em to oil its gears."

Fentulk chuckled appreciatively. Joanne winced and paled.

"Yuh know... they ain't gonna be too happy to see her," Trukk said soberly, nodding toward Joanne walking on Fentulk's other side. "On account of all the shi-... trouble they been gettin' from the Alliance."

Frowning, Fentulk asked, "You think they'll... they'll hurt her? The Mag'har?" He exchanged a worried look with Joanne.

"Dunno," Trukk shrugged. "Probly wonder what the fu-... what yer problem is, sniffin' round the Alliance for... you know. Anyway, your, uh, your folk's different. More... peaceable, like." Slowing to a halt, for they'd reached the gates, the green-skinned Orc muttered, "Guess it's cause... you lot didn't drink the blood, eh?"

Fentulk was too young himself to have been around when the Orcs fell prey to the Burning Legion, and Trukk looked to be younger still. Sighing, he dropped a hand on the green Orc's shoulder. "You didn't drink it either. And you're a good man."

Trukk smirked a little. "My folks did. Shit runs downhill."

Shaking his head, Fentulk said, "Not always."

Trukk chuckled and clapped Fentulk on the arm. "You take care'uh yerself. And your woman."

Glancing uncomfortably at Joanne, who did not seem offended by Trukk's comment, he said, "I will. You come out and see Garadar."

"Next time I get leave," the green Orc promised. "I'm thinking my gal might wanna see it too."

Parting ways, Fentulk led Joanne back onto the dusty path, his well-provisioned pack a comforting weight on his shoulders. Glancing at Joanne, he furrowed his brow.

"Somethin' wrong?" he asked, for she was walking with her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed. She looked quite tense. Granted, this was not a place that inspired relaxation, but she seemed out of sorts beyond what was normal.

"I do not speak your language," she said quietly.

Wincing, he hastened to apologize. "Sorry. I didn't think..."

"I feel very alone among your people," Joanne continued stiffly. "An enemy, an outsider. That is made worse when everyone speaks a language I do not understand."

Frustrated with himself for not realizing how at a loss she must feel, he said, "I promise I won't do it no more. I'll... I'll tell yuh what's bein' said. Ain't hardly nobody round here speaks common, specially not among the Mag'har. I'm what you call a special case." Touching her shoulder lightly, he said reassuringly, "I'll teach it to yuh. At least, I'll help yuh learn it. I don't speak it so well myself. Never, uh... never really cared." Dropping his hand, he sighed deeply. "Something Kora... Ghakora always let me have it about, like me not speakin' good enough for her was an insult to our people or somethin'. Like I was the worst kinda thing that crawled the ground cause I never gave much of a shit."

Glancing over, he saw that she had a half smile on her face.

"You speak common well enough for me," she said. "I do not mind... anything about the way you speak it."

"Still oughta have someone teach you Orcish who ain't gonna make yuh sound dumb when you do," he insisted. Tilting his head thoughtfully, he mused, "My da set me up with some bad habits, so he's no good. Ma's a right bitch if yuh don't pick shit up fast. She had soldiers under her command, so she'll lay into yuh hard. And she don't spare yuh a good tongue-lashin' when she's got her back up, neither." Chuckling, he added, "Runs outta breath and goes for the strap, my ma. I got good at out-runnin' her."

Joanne, who had never been struck by her mother in her entire life, looked at him incredulously. "Your mother beat you?"

Arching his brow, he glanced at her. "Only when I asked for it by bein' a little shit. Da's pretty relaxed, specially since he retired from huntin' for the village. Out fishin' for his own family nowadays. Not so worried about bringin' down a clefthoof to feed half of Garadar. One or two good-sized trout, maybe a bluefish on a good day... Course, most of the time is mudfish." He made a disgusted face. "Bottom-feeders, them mudfish."

"You miss them," she observed with a smile. "Your parents, not the mudfish." He snorted a laugh, then sobered.

"Like I'd miss my arm if it got cut off," he said thickly. "Didn't write so much while I been gone. Always a big fuckin' hassle, findin' someone willin' to go to the Blasted Lands and cart a sack of mail through the Portal." Glancing at her, he ventured awkwardly, "How about you, eh?"

"My mother died... oh, seven years past, I think," Joanne replied. Fentulk fumbled an embarrassed apology, and she waved him off. "I have long since moved past her loss. I do miss her, though. She taught me so much about herbal remedies."

"And, uh... what about yer da? You remember him?"

Shuddering, she looked away. "My... father... was warden of the tower before Mr. Dorath. He was not a kind man."

"Warden?" Fentulk asked suspiciously.

Joanne nodded stiffly. "He... visited my mother. When he wished it. I do not like to think about what she endured; how she must have wept. She felt such... shame, even on her deathbed, when all such humiliations should be put to rest."

"Fuckin' bastard," he snarled. Then he bristled and stared at her. "Dorath didn't... he didn't come after you or nothin', did he?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "He prefers men."

Startled, Fentulk almost tripped over his own feet. "Yer kidding."

She smiled wanly. "He is not particularly discreet. I have walked in on him several times while going about my duties. While Derek may visit many a brothel and boast of his prowess with the women there, he also obliges Dorath when the mood takes him."

"Well, fuck me," the Orc huffed incredulously. "Didn't expect that."

The sun was high and beat down on them relentlessly as they trudged across the red desert. The swirling grit of sand burned their eyes. After a few miles, he was able to make out the mountain on which the Mag'har had established an outpost. Another couple of miles, and he was sure he'd start seeing their scouts and watchers keeping a sharp eye out over the sands.

Heat from the sun and the wind seemed to drive most thoughts from his head. All he could concentrate on was moving forward, getting them around that outcropping and through the breach in the wall that extended from the Citadel. Once they made it past that obstacle, the path up to Mag'har Post would be there.

Joanne hadn't said a word to him for quite awhile, likely as focused on getting to their destination as he was. Glancing beside him where she walked with her head bowed to shield her eyes from the glare, he couldn't help admiring her strength. She had lived a sheltered life in a tower in the mountains of a rather mild region of Azeroth, and here she was, marching without complaint across a wasteland where something hideous and foul lurked behind every rock.

When they stopped in the shadow of the wall to quench their thirst, Fentulk looked carefully at her.

"Gotta ask, Joanne," he said. "If you knew we'd be comin' through a place like this... would you still have come with me? Outta that tower?"

Joanne didn't answer for several moments, nor did she look at him. Finally taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yes. I believe I would have."

Reassured, he smiled and nodded. "Good. Wouldn't wanna think... It'll get better when we're outta here. I promise."

Smiling wanly, she replied, "I trust it will, Fentulk."