Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.
.
.
One Week a Month, or: Asric and Jadaar at the Faire, Chapter 3
by silverr
.
For the second time that day Jadaar charged toward Silas Darkmoon, flyer in hand. "This?" he demanded. "This is the Important Person we are to protect? This … this …"
"Purveyor of amazing amulets?" Asric finished, reading from the flyer.
"Why yes, " Silas said. "It's ideal! As his bodyguard you'll be able to monitor his every move!"
"But why do you allow … " Jadaar started to demand, so hotly that Burth bared his teeth.
"He provides a service," Silas said.
"What kind of service?"
"An exchange service," Silas said. "For magical items."
"Does he buy or sell these items?"
"He does both, I believe."
"So," Asric cut in, "he's a fence."
"Well," Silas stroked his chin. "I wouldn't go that far. I am assured that his merchandise is acquired legitimately. He buys items that the current owners are no longer interested in possessing, and sells them to new owners. From what I can tell it's been an entirely legal service. For the convenience of Faire patrons." Silas said. His jolliness was fading. "He's contractually obligated to pay me 15% of his income. Tell you what – you collect that for me –"
"But, Silas!" Burth protested. "That's my job!"
"Now now, these gentlemen are completely trustworthy." Silas patted Burth's enormous calf. "And you have enough on your plate as it is." He looked back up at Jadaar. "Now, I've got a lot to do, so let's just finalize the details so there's no confusion. And then we won't have to talk about it again. Number one: monitor Griftah's sales – discreetly, of course. Make sure he keeps everything legal and above board. Number two: collect my commission from him after every transaction. And number three: keep half a percent of what you collect as your wages."
"Half a percent!" Asric was outraged. "That's – "
"The more he sells, the more you'll make," Silas said smoothly. "Really, we all benefit – "
" – some more than others," Asric muttered.
" – Griftah gets protection," Silas continued, unfazed, "I get my fee, you get wages immediately without having to wait until the end of Faire week, and Burth has a little less bookkeeping to do."
"Burth hates taxes and amortization more than Scourge," Burth said wearily.
While Asric looked up at the sky and did math on his fingers, Silas said to Burth, "Let's give them a little advance. Tide them over til their troll gets here."
As Burth reluctantly handed a few coins to Jadaar, Silas said cheerfully, "So, welcome to the family! Settle in, and have a great week at the Faire!"
.
"It might not be too bad," Asric said. "Assuming there's someplace decent to sleep."
"Ellie said that all the tents are spoken for, but that there's plenty of space under the bleachers in the arena." Jadaar glanced at the entrance to Blastenheimer's cannon, where the inebriated dwarf he'd seen earlier near the tonk game had apparently wandered too close to the fire jugglers and was now standing befuddled as people swatted at his smoking beard.
"I slept under bleachers at the Tournament!" Asric said. "I'm not doing that again. Always half frozen."
"The bleachers here are out of the wind and weather. And Northrend was much colder to begin with."
"You keep saying that." Asric said. "But it's also noisier and smellier here."
"Return to Northrend then," Jadaar said stiffly. "In fact, here is fare." He held out the coins he'd received from Burth. "Go."
"You always get so mad," Asric said, turning his nose up. "It's ridiculous." He was only half-looking at Jadaar, as something further down the midway had caught his attention.
"I have tired of your complaints."
"Well, I'm tired of being criticized," Asric said. He walked past Jadaar toward the dock.
"Fine!" Jadaar turned away.
"I'm ... finer!" Asric tossed back. "Find someone else to look down on for a change, Peacekeeper!"
Just then the dwarf erupted screaming from the cannon, his beard on fire.
.
After Asric left Jadaar wandered around. The Faire was now fully set up, and the late afternoon sun shone on a midway packed with Azerothians eating, drinking, talking, laughing, holding hands, gawping at the performers, and shaking their fists in triumph at the games.
And then there was the figure in black armor, motionless with fury, pointing a gun into one of the stalls.
Jadaar began to run, but slowed as he realized that it was only the drunken death knight he'd seen earlier at the tonks, now taking part in Rinling's shooting game. After squeezing off several wildly inaccurate shots the dwarf threw the gun at the target in disgust.
"Hey mister." There was a tug at Jadaar's hand. "Did you see the cannon?"
Jadaar looked down. Four small boys – a human, an orc, a draenei, and a blood elf – were staring at him. "Yes, I saw the cannon."
"What do you think would happen if you got shot out of the cannon and hit a bird?" the blood elf boy asked.
Although the lad appeared to be entirely serious, Jadaar had been around Asric long enough to develop an ear for suppressed sin'dorei mischief and mockery. He was framing an answer when the four boys laughed and ran away.
Brats. He was surrounded by brats.
.
With nothing better to do until Griftah arrived Jadaar decided to keep an eye on the dwarf death knight. The stout white-bearded figure was now standing by the Whack-a-Mole booth while Mola patiently explained that using an army of ghouls to whack was not allowed.
The dwarf chewed thoughtfully on a strand of beard as he listened, then threw up his arms. "Well then, woman, there's nothing left for me ta do but drink, now is there?" He marched off.
Jadaar followed. "Excuse me, sir. Might I make a suggestion?"
"Eh? What's that?" Close up, the dwarf's eyes were even eerier than the blood elf felglow.
"Perhaps if you took a short break," Jadaar suggested, "closed your eyes for a few moments, your gaming prowess would return in full force?"
"Hm. Could be. Where I kin catch a kip?"
"I believe," Jadaar said, "there are some excellent locations under the bleachers in the arena."
.
After getting the dwarf settled Jadaar looked around for Silas. He wanted to ask where Griftah was intending to set up, as that seemed the best place to wait. He walked slowly up and down the midway, scanning the crowds, but found himself checking too often if any of the Darkmoon tabards that went by had an auburn head. Just past the fireworks stall he heard odd sounds behind the pavilion tent … coming from about the same location that the wagon with the damned elf and the troll had been.
He would have kept going, but then there was a loud clatter, as of crates falling to the ground and breaking, and so he hurried to investigate - and found Asric draped shirtless and face-down over a stack of crates. A male human stood behind him, his hands on Asric's back, rocking back and for –
Jadaar clapped his hand over his eyes and turned to run out.
"Hey! Come back!" the human called. "Are you Asric's friend the peacekeeper?"
Jadaar peeked between his fingers: as the human moved away from Asric he saw that not only did the human have his trousers on, they appeared to be … unopened.
"How you doin'? I'm Rodney. Can I call you Ja for short?"
"No." Jadaar put his hand down and stared at the human's hair, which was combed up and cut flat across the top, as if he'd been hung upside down and then subjected to a saw-blade.
"Whoa, whoa," Rodney said. "Looks like Miresha has competition." He turned to Asric – who was now propped on his elbows, smirking – and said in an all-too-familiar way. "I'm gonna hit the beach. See ya later."
"Of course," Asric said with a smile.
The human clapped Jadaar's shoulder as he ran past.
"Who was that person?" Jadaar said as soon as Rodney was out of earshot. "And who or what is Miresha?"
Asric pushed himself up from the crates, and Jadaar couldn't stop himself from checking that the elf's leggings were present and undisturbed as well. "I met him when I helped the crew that's repairing the dock," Asric said as he shook out his tabard and pulled it over his head. "We started talking. When we were done he offered to re-align my back or adjust my energy flow or something. Anyhow, he needed a firm surface to do it, so we came back here."
"Obviously."
"He also," Asric said, "offered to share his prime sleeping space with us, which is a covered wagon in the quieter half of the Faire. Bedding provided."
Yes, of course there was bedding involved. "How tastefully put."
"I thought you'd be pleased for once." Asric looked sulky. "You'll have the bed all to yourself from dawn to early evening."
Jadaar was astounded at the elf's casualness. "And you? You will now spend the nights there with that ... human scrubbing-brush?" He shook his head. "And before him you were dallying with that troll woman! If you change lovers every hour you'll run out long before the week is over."
"Since when is it your business if and how much and with what I dally?" Asric asked, flaring up. "Quite a pedestal of moral superiority you've got there, Peacekeeper. Ignoring that I do what I have to do so that you won't have to sleep under the bleachers."
Jadaar laughed. "Have to do? It's amusing, how you pretend to act from altruism."
"So now you're calling me a liar?"
Jadaar shrugged. "After so many years, I know you well enough. You are what you are."
"And that is?"
"An amoral narcissist. Hardly driven by noble motives."
"And you're a miserable prig," Asric shot back. "I haven't even met her yet, but I'm certain you out-snob Miresha by a factor of ten." He brushed past Jadaar toward the midway.
"Where are you going?" Jadaar asked, surprised that Asric seemed so angry.
There was no reply: the elf's tabard stormed away, across the midway, between Sayge's path and a pavilion tent, and then out of sight.
A crackling hum and a blare of sound to Jadaar's right signaled the start of the hourly concert. As people hurried past him to their seats it underscored to Jadaar how out of place he was here. Alone in a crowd, as the humans liked to say, and while it was true that being wandering exiles, eternal outsiders, was part of his people's heritage, he knew that what he felt now was beyond that. He had become so detached, so alienated, that he was now only an observer of life, not a participant.
How had that happened? He still remembered his confessor shocking him many years ago with the comment that perhaps Jadaar's tenuous connections – to people, to places – were the result of unconscious choice, that perhaps Jadaar's spirit had been so shattered by losing what he cherished most on Draenor that ever since he had tried to bulwark further losses by forging only superficial bonds to people and places of little value. Jadaar had long since accepted this insight as a valid assessment of his failings, as it explained both his restlessness and his reluctance to enter a domestic arrangement with any of the perfectly acceptable draenei who had expressed an interest in him.
What it did not explain was the unpleasant sinking sensation in his chest at the thought that his association with the troublesome elf might be at an end. Which was odd, because that should have been a relief. Asric was nothing special, and, aside from the occasional enjoyable banter, rarely pleasant company – but then that was true of almost every blood elf. Really, Asric was little more than an acquaintance, a traveling companion, and as it clear he didn't consider Jadaar a friend it was in every way an ideal connection for severing.
It should have been, at any rate.
.
Behind the pavilion and into the back areas of the Faire … and no idea where Asric might have gone from there. The ground was dry packed earth, the black trees and sterile gritty soil of the woods tolerated no delicate underbrush, and as there was no outer fence or barrier of any kind, Jadaar had no idea which way Asric had gone.
It was too bad, Jadaar thought, that the elf wasn't bleeding. It would have made him easier to follow.
Jadaar was walking and thinking when a gravelly voice startled him. "Can I help you?"
Chronos, the Faire's chief medic.
"I'm looking for someone," Jadaar said, "Elf. Shoulder length reddish-brown hair. Darkmoon tabard. Came through here 10 minutes or so ago?
Chronos lifted his arm, pointed a bony finger due east, and said. "Red earth. Batcave. Keep your tabard on or you won't get in."
Puzzled, Jadaar headed through the woods, and after a few moments he saw an area of ground ahead that did look quite red compared to the black volcanic soil. As he got closer to it he thought he caught, just barely within the threshold of hearing, faint sounds under the waves as of far-off laughter and conversation, but every time he stopped to listen more carefully it vanished.
He went to the cliff's edge and looked down, but below him were only rocks. Off to his right was a small beach that adjoined the east end of the dock. No sign of a "batcave."
He turned around, looking closely at the red earth, and though it was most likely just a trick of light and shadow it seemed that there was a magical symbol of some sort in the middle of the area.
He started to walk toward it, but ran into an invisible something, as if the air had thickened to the consistency of water. Before he could panic or stop there was a strong hand pulling him forward, and suddenly he was on a beach. All around him were people, laughing and talking, sitting on blankets around small cookfires.
"First time bad," an orc in a Darkmoon tabard – the one who had pulled him through, and still held his hand – was saying to him in heavily-accented Common. "Second time easy."
"What is this?" Jadaar asked. "How did I get here?"
"Phasing spell," the orc said, letting go of Jadaar's hand to tap his chest. "Magic in tabard and amulet. Amulets by cave."
Jadaar looked around and yes, almost everyone was wearing the tabard: the few that weren't – like the squealing children playing in the shallows – wore large green-and-purple medallions.
"
"Tourists no see," the orc said. "Silas people only." He pointed to a row of cook-fires at the south end of the beach. "Eat fish."
"Thank you," Jadaar said, and, though it seemed strange, he bowed slightly. The orc reciprocated with a big-tusked grin.
Jadaar noticed two carnies filling buckets with sea water. One of them was was Rodney.
"Hey, Jaa – daar!" The human hefted two sloshing buckets and ran up to Jadaar. "C'mon, you're just in time! After this the ladies take the cave over for an hour."
"In time for what?" Jadaar muttered as he followed Rodney to the cave.
At the back was a large sunken firepit, heating a huge black cauldron. Flanking the fire were two large tin washtubs. The washtub on the right was half-full of steaming water and a night elf wearing only a medallion. He stood as Jadaar and Rodney entered and began to towel himself dry.
Bath-cave, Jadaar told himself. Chronos was saying bath-cave, not bat cave.
The washtub on the left contained a certain auburn-haired brat, also wearing only a medallion.
"Ironman!" The naked night elf jovially punched Rodney on the arm.
"Ren, my man, getting good at the juggle," Rodney said as he emptied his buckets into the cauldron. "You only burned yourself, what, twice today?"
"Three times, but that's still my best day yet," the night elf said, pulling on his leggings.
"Give me a hand?" Asric asked, holding up a dripping sea-sponge.
Jadaar, who felt out of place amidst all the activity – and somewhat scandalized by the casual nudity – thought for a moment Asric was asking him, and hesitated, but then Rodney said, "Sure thing."
The night elf put on his tabard, and only then fished his medallion out from under his tabard. He hung it on a hook outside the cave on his way out.
"Ironman?" Jadaar asked, annoyed by Asric's knowing smirk.
"One of his many nicknames." Asric leaned forward, resting his arms on the edge of the tub, a position which allowed Rodney to wash much further down his backside than was necessary. "Another is Iron Rod."
Jadaar had had it with the elf's need to flaunt every detail of his debauched personal life, and was turning to go when a garishly-dressed – and familiar – figure blocked the cave entrance.
"Griftah'jin!" Rodney was beaming.
"Hoosh, I told ya, don't be calling me that," Griftah said. "Leastways not here, wit' all da beasts be listenin'." He winked. "So what you be doin' here?" he asked Jadaar.
"Silas hired us as your bodyguards," Asric said. Rodney had put down the sponge and was now massaging Asric's lower back with intense concentration.
"Oh, look and see, da rooster be here too!" Griftah said, laughing. "I shoulda known. Ya still be peckin' up at de clouds, elf?"
Asric glanced over at Jadaar, but as soon as their eyes met Asric made a point of looking away. It was very childish.
"And what is all dis, now?" a female voice demanded.
Trix, Ellie Goodnup, a Tauren, and several blood elf and human women carrying buckets stood behind Griftah. "You lazy men be soakin' too long, cuttin' into our bathtime!" Trix said.
"It's incredibly rude," said a brown-haired blood elf.
"That's Miresha," Rodney told Asric in a stage whisper. "She's the Faire's star fire juggler."
The Tauren said shyly, "Hello Rodney."
"Oh, heya, Clover," Rodney said. He looked down at the cave floor.
Trix elbowed past Griftah and carried her buckets to the cauldron, glancing into Asric's tub as she passed. "Dat mus' be some cold cold water," she said, cackling. "But den ya boy Rod, him can still write a long poem while holdin' a short pencil, I be thinkin'."
Asric hunched over and scowled as the rest of the women passed, giggling.
"Best get ya movin'," Trix commanded. "We comin' back when water be boilin'. And we be tossin' out any jellyfish lef' behind."
Griftah said fervently, "I brought ya some soap on rope, mah girl. Special made."
Trix shook her head. "Las' batch ya make smell it up like shark bait in dis place," she said, holding her head high. "Ya mus' be reading ya ol' granny's scratches wrong, mon."
Then she sauntered out, followed by the others.
"Ten minutes," Miresha told the men sternly. "Not a second more."
"Yes, ma'am," Rodney reassured her. "We'll be gone before you even know we were here."
Miresha exhaled in exasperation, then left.
"Ah, my girl Trix, I know she happy to see me," Griftah said, clasping his hands and sounding unexpectedly smitten. "I da only man at the Faire she wanna wine up on."
Asric snorted and got out of the tub, turning his back to Griftah as he dried off.
"She was in the wagon with Asric earlier," Rodney said, apparently trying to be helpful.
Griftah laughed. "Oh, ya a funny one."
"It's true!" Rodney said, then appealed to Jadaar. "You saw them, right? Tell him!"
Jadaar shrugged.
Griftah worked his jaw. "Well, my girl, she ... she a goddess. She ain't no serious givin' de glam to no skinny elf."
"Your girl," Asric murmured as he got dressed. "Hm. I see. So is she your wife or your girlfriend?"
Griftah stood tall and rolled his shoulders. "I too much troll for her."
"I thought so." Asric tossed his towel on the drying rack. "She's not even remotely your girl."
"I look over dem who be courtin' her," Griftah said. "Ya want, I can put the good word, give ya some exaggerate. Tell her you hung like a gronn, say what she was seein' it all be a trick of da water!"
"I don't need exaggeration," Asric said, then turned to Jadaar. "He's all yours. I'll take over at dawn." Ignoring Griftah, he started to follow Rodney out of the cave.
"And you're going off to – " Jadaar asked.
Asric turned, his eyes narrowed.
" – sleep well?" Jadaar finished.
"I intend to."
Griftah watched Asric leave, then looked sideways at Jadaar. "So, that's how it be?" he asked. "Scratchin' de corn, but still peckin' de sky – ya no see it?" At Jadaar's frown he nodded slowly. "Well, when eye no see, heart no leap." He stretched. "Best we go from here and eat roast fish 'fore the women get vexed."
.
.
~ To be continued ~
.
.
A bit rushed, and un-betaed. Chapter 4 soon! (And there's still room for a few more cameos - see my Dreamwidth.)
.
(05) 11 Jan 2013
.