Ganked V 2.0

AN: I hope I don't lose any readers with this chapter. It's a transition chapter between the ganking at Winterspring and the action that will occur in the next couple of chapters. It has a lot of dialogue, delving into a character's back story and motivation, as well as clarifying a certain relationship. OP

Chapter 9 Regret and Resolution

Neiana woke the next morning in a spacious, wood planked room, aglow with emerald tinged light. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a lamp, a small table, a stool, and her bed, which all seemed to be organically attached to the wooden walls and floor. Despite its Spartan decor, it was quite soothing. She shifted and murmured, alerting the person in the room that she was awake.

"Nina! Yer up! I shoulda let ya sleep longer!" Skinflint declared.

She groaned softly before sitting up with some difficulty. Besides a splitting headache, her muscles ached. It was as though she'd finished running a marathon.

"Where am I?" she asked softly.

"Ye were taken ta Starfall Village wi' them 'lves. A proper dwarf doctor woulda been better, but one can't be picky 'bout it now."

The outburst produced a chuckle from Neiana, but it was barely audible. After a few moments of silence, she sighed.

"I am so sorry, Skinflint. I should have listened to you. I was a fool."

"There, there lass! I am not 'ere ta scold ya! There is nothin' I can say that ye haven't said ta yerself, I'm sure."

The door burst open and there was Cyrus, in plain clothes, looking like he hadn't gotten much sleep.

"I heard voices! Is she awake?"

He turned to the bed and saw that she was sitting up. His eyes hardened, glistening with anger. She looked up for a brief moment, but refused to make eye contact. Instead she glanced to the side, embarrassed. Skinflint caught the tension between them and decided it was best to leave them alone.

"Eh, per'aps I should be goin'. I need to tell tha rest that yer up. They were all worried ya know."

She nodded slowly.

"Thank you for everything, Skinflint."

"'Tisn't me ya 'ave ta thank. If Cyrus 'ere 'adn't found ya when 'e did, there is no tellin' if ye'd be 'ere or not!"

As the old dwarf passed Cyrus, he gave him a hearty, appreciative pat on the shoulder. Cyrus replied with a slight nod before closing the door behind him. He shut the door with no small amount of force. Neiana winced, but the expected scolding never arrived. Instead, he stood by the door, his arms crossed, leaning against the wall for what seemed like a long time. The reality was that it was less than a minute, but Cyrus needed the time to compose himself. There was so much he was feeling at the moment: happiness, anger, hatred (for a certain Blood Elf), and frustration that he needed the time to settle himself.

It was then that he broke the silence.

"If you ever make me worry like that again, I will never forgive you."

His voice was calm and even. It was not at all like the temperamental flares that he was sometimes known for. For some reason that made it worse.

"You don't have to worry about that. That foolish girl is gone for good, I guarantee it. If I ever see him again, he will die!" she snapped.

Cyrus smirked at her reply. She didn't see his face, for she was still looking down at her beautiful, soft, blanket. If she had, she would have seen that his eyes communicated disbelief. The door opened again, and the diminutive gnome entered. She was hauling a bag with her, although it was barely half full.

"Neiana! What were you thinking making your brother worry so much?" she said as she burst through the door.

"I wasn't," she replied ruefully.

"Well, I managed to save a few things that I found on the snow. I hope I got everything!"

Neiana thanked her and took the bag. As she rummaged through her things, she became deflated. All her potions were broken, a few of the herbs that were left were now rendered unusable, torn and trampled flat. Only a few pieces of lead were left of the ore they collected and she didn't find any of the items that had been scavenged from the fallen demons. The only thing that was left of any value was the simple green pendant. She gingerly removed it, clasped it close and turned her face. Wigget noticed that she was shaking.

"Neiana, are you OK? Is there anything you need me to fix? I am great at fixing things, you know," she asked innocently.

"No, I don't see anything that can be salvaged here, but thanks," she said with a chuckle.

"We should go, Wigget," Cyrus said, who saw she was crying.

He motioned to her go. With a last regretful look to the woman, Wigget followed Cyrus out the door.

"Cyrus, wait!" Neiana called just as he was about to leave.

The man turned around.

"I'll join you in a bit, Wigget. Tell Lorenna I'll be late."

"Sure thing," Wigget said.

He closed the door, approached and sat on the bench beside the bed.

"What is it?"

Neiana sighed and offered him the pendant, still not looking at him.

"Here, take this now. I don't want it anymore."

At first he was so shocked, he didn't reply. He merely leaned back and looked perplexed.

"Just take it!" she demanded again, this time more forcefully. "He doesn't exist! And even if he did, he wouldn't remember me. Why would he remember some little, dirty girl from Elwynn Forest? So just take it!"

Cyrus sighed and scratched the scruff that was growing on his face. He'd recently tried to grow out a beard. Lorenna had teased him, calling him a pretty elf, and he hadn't liked it.

"I don't think I can do that, sis."

"Oh? And why not? Don't you think that it's caused me enough problems, wishing, thinking that somewhere..."

She stopped, unable to find the words to continued as she felt them smothered by a sob.

"I won't take it because you're not really letting go. You're just passing your burden on to me," he said simply.

"What?"

"It's quite simple. The day you let him go, is the day you will simply throw it away without giving it a second thought, not pass it on to someone else," he explained.

She was taken back by his explanation and she withdrew her hand. She looked at the Malachite Pendant with skepticism.

"Just promise you won't get yourself almost killed like that again," he continued. "Or I'll..."

"Never forgive me," she interrupted with a smile. "I got it. So...are you and Lorenna an item?"

He shrugged with a smile, amused at her obvious deflection.

"Nah, she just hasn't seen a real man in months and I just happened to come on by. Besides it's been a while..."

One of her eyebrows rose. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued.

"I think you're too young for this kind of talk. Maybe you should ask Skinflint."

"Why you..."

She gave him a playful slap on the arm, which he took with a laugh before rising.

"At any rate, just get some rest. You should be fine by tomorrow," he said.

Then he startled her by ruffling up her hair.

"Just get some rest and promise you won't do this again."

After he left, Neiana was left alone, with her thoughts and a pendant. She tossed it back in the bag and let the bag slip to the floor. She laid back on the bed, frustrated that they were making her stay and rest. Still, her heart ached. Even though she knew -she just knew- they would betray her, she'd hoped that he would not. He'd been so kind to her. That warmth she felt before from him, had it been all an act? It must have been.

Tiredness washed over her once again. She closed her eyes. The last thing she saw was a Sol's cold green stare as he laid judgment on her.

Sol and his group arrived at Irontree Clearing without much problem. Once there, they were lucky enough to run into a Forsaken Mage, who was more than happy to open a portal to Undercity for a nominal fee.

Once they found themselves safely in Horde Territory, they were about to seek out an inn, but Bill insisted they stay at his place. He had a small apartment beside the canal, of course the animals needed to be housed at the inn. Although he hadn't been in there for over a year, he was sure it was all in one piece. The apartment was located in an alley overlooking the Apothecarium. The arched doorway encased an iron door, decorated with spikes and chains.

The interior was no less ominous. It was dark and damp, with overhanging cobwebs and plenty of spiders. It consisted of two rooms, a common room with a furnace, several chairs, and a small bed that had seen better days. The second room was a small kitchen that saw little use. Both rooms were heavily covered with dust. There were no facilities because, as Bill explained, the Forsaken did not need them. On the walls hung small, faded tapestries, depicting scenes from famous romantic tales featuring knights and dragons. The empty spaces between the tapestries were covered with shelves. Each shelve housed books on various subjects, mostly relating to the art of war, fencing, and the budding skill of glyph writing.

After they laid their bags on the floor, Sol collapsed on to a chair and allowed himself to relax.

"It would be a great honor for me to treat my guests to a dinner," Bill said with an unnecessary bow.

"Not at all, we are much too tired. We shall merely unroll our beds and go to sleep," Sol replied indulgently.

Lucilin rolled her eyes. She didn't know why he patronized Bill's childish chivalrous fancies. Lucilin thought they were silly, and she knew that Sol didn't believe in them one bit.

"Besides, the last thing we need is Forsaken cuisine. We can't all live off grub-worms and giant fingers, you know," she said.

Bill became very offended.

"Well, I say! We Forsaken are perfectly capable of cooking. Why, one of the Horde's most renowned chefs, Eunice Burch, lives right here in the Undercity."

"Well, then, can you explain why you can't cook worth a damn!?" Lucilin demanded.

The Undead man merely pointed to his slack jaw.

"No tongue."

The next morning Guntag announced that he would be heading for Ogrimmar. There he would prepare for their expedition to Outland and spend time with his family. It was agreed that he would return in three months, and from there, they would travel to Outland. After he left, Sol gathered up the jewels he collected and began to examine them. Two velvet towels were laid on Bill's table. One carried the jewels he collected at Winterspring, while the other was placed before him and used for examination. He wore green goggles, which were affixed with various magnifying lenses that he could lower or raise as needed. Before him was a candle, for even though it was morning, one would not know it in the underground apartment. Each piece was lifted and examined carefully with a pair of tweezers. After the inspection, each would be placed in one of two small velvet bags. The lesser jewels he placed in a blue bag. Those he would sell, uncut, and still make a tidy profit. The best, however, he kept for himself for further use. Those were placed in a vivid red velvet bag inlaid with golden thread. The process was tedious and time-consuming. Lucilin had no idea how he had the patience for it.

Bill sat on a chair adjacent to the bed, his back to the wall. He was writing down the previous day's events with much embellishment. He would occasional pause his narrative, tapping his chin with the quill of his pen, thinking of a proper word that would match the scene, before continuing.

This left Lucilin pacing about the floor, bored out of her mind. She'd given her leather work to the Auctioneer for sale, and now all that she had left to do was wait. After a few minutes of her pacing, Sol could not take it anymore.

"Don't you have something better to do than pace around the floor?" he asked tersely.

"No, I don't..." she paused and crossed her arms, staring at him.

He knew her well enough to understand what this meant. She wanted something from him. Specifically, she had something on her mind and was waiting for the right opportunity to reveal it.

"Why you don't just ask," he demanded.

"I am thinking of staying in Quel'Thalas until we are ready to go. Why don't you join me? My sister has a place in Eversong Woods and she's a jeweler. She's got plenty of space where you can work and it's bright! It isn't like this dark, damp, hole where you have to work by candle even during the day!"

She glanced at Bill, who was busy writing.

"No offense," she said offhandedly.

"None taken," he replied, not bothering to pretend he couldn't hear.

Sol sighed as he carefully placed down the tweezers, removed the goggles, and stood to face her. His face was completely void of feeling. This was not a good sign. It usually meant that he had something serious to discuss.

"You should go on your own. I will go to Silvermoon City at some point, but I will not join you."

"I don't understand. Why don't you come with me?" she asked, feeling dejected.

Sol sighed before replying.

"When I first met you, you were nothing but a young pick-pocket barely over the age of maturity. The war took your family, and your home, and you were forced to live on your own and learn how to survive..."

"Yes, I know that. What does that have to do with anything?" she demanded with impatience.

"It has everything to do with why I took you in. Do you know why?"

Lucilin shook her head.

"For the same reason I refuse to kill children, Lucilin. Every day I think of the daughter I lost to the Scourge as they tore their way through Quel'Thalas and annihilated everything and everyone in their path."

"But I thought she was a half-elf. Why was she there?" Lucilin interjected without thinking.

She bit her lip, embarrassed. That sort of thing carried a great deal of shame. Some elves tried to hide any half-breed children, blaming youthful indiscretions. He merely smiled.

"And so she was. Ildri, my daughter, lived in Lordaeron, with her half-elf husband and two children, twin boys Aton and Avis. When the Scourge attacked, they did not flee like most, but went north. They heeded our cry for help despite being hated for their nature, which is more than can be said about the so-called High Elves, who fled like sniveling cowards!"

Sol clenched his fist with rage but held his peace. He didn't relish the idea of wasting two hours searching for scattered jewels, but at the moment he would have liked nothing better than to have smashed the chair, table, and every derelict wooden item in that room into smithereens.

Lucilin didn't know how to react. He had never been so candid with her, not even when he told her he'd been pairbonded. The only thing he said was a curt, "I've pairbonded. Go to sleep." But this speech sounded suspiciously like a refusal. He was completely rejecting her at last, and it hurt.

"I don't know what to say, Sol," she replied hastily, trying salvage her chances. "I have lost much too. Everyone but my sister died, and that was only because she was traveling abroad at the time. I didn't even know she'd survived until a year ago..."

Sol raised his hand, silencing her.

"I am telling you this Lucilin, so that you will know once and for all what my feelings for you are. I am not a young elf. You can see this, even if humans cannot. It is not fair for you to spend your youth waiting for me to see you as something other than my lost Ildri. You even have her temper, by the Sunwell, her temper...I don't even know where Ildri got that from. Her mother, Adelle, was quite gentle and sweet natured."

Lucilin giggled at his personal blind-spot, although her eyes were brimming with tears.

"And spoiled rotten, like a barrel full of rotten apples. It was my fault, she had me by the nose," he continued with a wry smile. "I was rather relived when I married her off. Let another man deal with her, I thought. I wondered if it would last. But Balin managed it, somehow."

By this time Lucilin could not hold back her tears and they fell freely down her face.

"I should go then," she said hastily as she began to gather her things. "I have a lot of planning to do. We must prepare for Outland and…it's supposed to be very dangerous. Even Guntag said he wouldn't take me if I were to..."

Sol approached her, clutched her shoulders, and gave her a hug. He patted her head gently, reassuringly.

"I am a right bastard, I know. Can you forgive this old fool?"

Bill tried to become very small at that moment. He knew that he'd been forgotten, and wanted it to remain that way. For once, he was not caught up in the drama. He'd been around them long enough so that feelings of comradeship were beginning to chip away at his cold, silent heart. He may not have felt very sad, but he didn't like watching Lucilin cry. It was all too grave a scene. The episode never made it in his book.

Sol helped Lucilin as far as the portal to Silvermoon. There, before she left, he told her,

"If you can accept my feelings, as they are, then return. But if you cannot, I will not blame you."

She did not reply as she gathered her things and placed her hand on the orb. Exiting the dark gloom of the Undercity, into the bright, welcoming spires of Silvermoon.

When Sol returned to the room, there was a heaviness that hung in that dark space that would not disperse. As much as he tried, Sol could not concentrate on his work, so he put his jewels away carefully and began to pack up his things.

"What will you do now?" Bill asked.

"I will spend a few days here, with your permission, and then travel to Silvermoon. Work should be easier there. We will meet here in three months, and go to Outland together," Sol replied.

"Do you think she will come?"

Sol paused a moment before replying.

"I really don't know. It's for the best, really. I am no good for women. The truth was that Adelle kicked me out. We lived in a cottage, away from the city of Lordaeron. It was all well and good at first, and little Ildri kept me company. But after a while, it all became too quiet...too domestic. So, I would leave, traveling for years on end. She tired of it," he smiled softly before continuing. "And she couldn't bear to see her aging face reflected in my youthful eyes. I don't know what happened to her, to be honest. She may have died with the Scourge, or fled Lordaeron. Either way, she made it clear that she didn't want me around."

"I see," Bill said. "And if I may ask sir, just how old are you?"

"I am 160. I suppose if I were human, I would be in my mid-thirties. Not young, but not quite middle-aged."

"Sir, you don't look a day over twenty-five," Bill observed. "Or act it, if I may be so bold."

"Oh, I don't know. I think I can be mature at times," Sol said with an unabashed grin.

Guntag returned three months later with GlubGlug, ready for the expedition into Outland. This time he came with a fierce Swift Timber Wolf. As he explained to Sol, he was in no mood to run the length and breadth of Outland on his feet. He also brought with him a fifth person, a giant Tauren Shaman named Huron Whisperwind. He was extremely dark. Both his glistening fur and long luxurious, braided mane, where pitch black. Large, crimson, gold inlaid ribbon were wound around his impressive horns. Guntag explained that he would be the fifth person so they would never have to recruit another member for dangerous missions again. Sol happily accepted him, although he figured that the real motive had to do with Guntag being tired of hanging around two "snooty elves" and a very strange Forsaken. He brought him along for the company.

To Bill's surprise, Lucilin also returned, although just in time. Her Bloodfang Armor was buffed and sparking.

"Well," she demanded in her usual impetuous way. "Aren't we about to go now, dad?"

"Impatient as always, are you, child?" Sol observed wryly.

Guntag gave Sol a quizzical glance.

"War makes sudden orphans and reluctant parents," was the amused reply.

"Hrm, well, we should go. Let's not spend more time in this gloom than we must," Guntag said.

South of Undercity, in a much brighter capital city, there was another group that was about ready to make their expedition to Outland. After Neiana's ganking, Skinflint thought it best to leave Winterspring as quickly as possible. They took a vote and it was decided that they would travel to Outland.

Like the Horde party, they spent the time planning living apart. Daela and Denevell stayed at the Park in Stormwind. Skinflint and his niece had found living spaces in the Dwarven District. Wigget visited family in Ironforge. Cyrus perceived that Lorenna would tire of the more provincial Eastvale, so he rented out a room at Stormwind's downtown Inn. Every Friday, they met together at the Blue Recluse to plan the expedition.

This left Neiana on her own. At first, she thought about her old home but decided it was not her time yet. Instead, she traveled west and lodged in Darkshire. There were things she needed to investigate but she didn't want others to know. So she didn't participate in the travel plans, content to let Skinflint and the others worry about the details.

It took them about three months to prepare. During that time, it occurred to them that the group was entirely too large. Since the three women they ran into at Winterspring had joined them, they ran into logistical challenges. Food was the primary concern. Carrying food for four or five parity members was hard enough, but feeding eight people with their mounts, plus two pack mules and several pets was too much to handle. Besides finding lodgings and other accommodations was almost impossible for all of them at once. So it was decided, after some haggling and argument, that Cyrus and Wigget would join Lorenna and Daela, while Geldie would take her place with Denevell, Skinflint and Neiana.

So it was that on the day the first group was going to leave, only four were dressed in armor and ready for the expedition. Neiana returned from Darkshire to see them off.

"I 'ope yer 'appy," Geldie whispered to Lorenna to the side. "Yer not tha only one who 'as a sweet 'eart."

She motioned to Daela, who seemed rather forlorn as she prepared her Mistsaber Mount. She would occasionally give Denevell small sad glances when she thought no one was looking.

"Elves practically live forever. We don't. I'm allowed to be selfish," Lorenna replied with a sniff. "Besides, you're not the one stuck with Cyrus' pet gnome!"

"You girls ready?" Cyrus called from atop his mount.

They would be the ones to leave first, with a two week head start, to give the other team party enough traveling space, and so prevent the very problems they were trying to avoid. Their plan was to travel the length of Outland for six months taking separate routs, and then meet at Shattrath. From there, it was anyone's guess.

"Yeah, we're going," Lorenna replied, as she mounted her horse. "That is if Daela ever finishes up harnessing her cat."

"I got it," Daela said curtly.

They waved goodbye to the four left behind one last time, and then headed to the portal.

"You better keep the ladies in line, brother!" Neiana, teased after him.

He turned to her and gave her a cheeky grin and a wave, before turning back around. At that moment, as she watched him head to the pass, she noticed just how broad his shoulders were. He was quite handsome, his curly auburn hair now hung loose, touching his shoulders. The beard experiment had failed, and he was once again clean shaven, but his jaw line was set and strong. He didn't need it. Whatever problems that he'd had in Theramore with self-confidence and women, seemed to have evaporated. Wigget confided with her that Lorenna kept sharp tabs on him, on account of the attention he was receiving from other girls. It briefly occurred to her that they weren't related and she flushed pink.

"Oh, I'll take good care of your big brother. Don't you worry," Lorenna called back, taunting her with their familiarity.

"Oh boy! I can't wait. I wonder what kind of schematics I'll be able to find. Cyrus, I have to tell you all about my trip to Ironforge. It was incredible! I met with all the family..." Wigget began, forgetting that they were supposed to be dead.

Neiana did not get to hear the rest of it. She watched the group enter the portal to the Blasted Lands and disappear.