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Love Has Its Reasons	By : catriana Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 17165 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World of Warcraft, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Blizzard owns WoW, not me.

Author’s Note: My knowledge on the landscapes of WoW is rather limited, so forgive me if it’s
not completely accurate. This story was inspired by a RP chat I did with my friend Chee, who is
splendidly awesome and I think she likes to corrupt me as well, which I don’t mind, because she
gives me lovely bouts of inspiration. I have read the history, so hopefully that will help.
Chapter One
It would seem… Celysel thought to herself as her padded feet treaded the woods silently That I bit
off a bit more than I could chew.
Her senses as a night saber were twice what they were in her natural form, so she had immediately
sensed the danger that was in the distance. There were natural predators in almost every region in
this world, so she had to keep her senses on high alert. Fortunately for her, the danger was quite a
distance away, unfortunately for her, she sensed another presence; strong, quiet, and very, very
dangerous. It was that danger which had her senses roaring, and it was because of that danger that
she dared not turn back into her natural form of the Night Elf, afraid that she may attract unwanted
attention. How on Azeroth did she get into this mess? Oh right, she had insisted on proving herself
by going on a pilgrimage, hoping to show the council that she was not just a child, that she was more
than capable of handling herself, even in battle.
Born in a middle class family, Celysel was raised with high upbringing despite her status, her father
being somewhat famous in Teldrassil for doing small yet significant things to bring the Alliance
along to victory. Her mother had been a dancer, and taught Celysel everything she knew, but the
young Elfling wanted more than just to dance and study books, she wanted to go out into the world
and explore. She was but a child, however, in the eyes of the Elven world, and going out into the
world before she was barely a hundred years old was almost unheard of. She had fought and pleaded
and threw herself into the studies of the Druid ways, training and conditioning herself until she
began to be less of an annoyance and more of a potential asset. She had the skills, and the natural
talent for Druidism, even taking and adapting to shape changing immediately, without any real
proper training. She forced her people to see her as an asset for the Alliance, to the point where they
could no longer deny her desire to venture forth into the world at only the tender age of 85. As she
continued on in the forest her mind drifted back to when she had assigned herself to the first quest
outside of Teldrassil which would take her to the city of Darnassus. That had been an interesting
conversation indeed.
“I wish you would reconsider.” Her father had said. He was a tall and of thick proportion despite the
fact that he was getting on in his years. He was stroking his long white beard as he looked outside,
his back turned to his only child and daughter. Celysel knew that her father loved her more than
anything and was quite protective of her, especially after their mother was murdered by a Forsaken.
And while he was a strong and capable Druid, it was indeed the case that she was his only weakness.
“I cannot Father.” She said softly. She rarely raised her voice around her father, mostly because he
was such a kind and gentle man and didn’t like to see him upset, even though she knew her
departure was breaking his heart. “My heart cannot continue to be caged, it wishes to fly free and
explore, it aches as it is denied this.”
Her father turned to her and smiled, but it was sad and made him look much older than he actually
was. Or perhaps it made him look his age, Celysel was unsure. “You are so much like your mother.”
He said, walking over towards her. With gentle fingers he tilted her chin up to face him. She had
always been a bit short. “You even look like her, now more than ever.” His other hand lifted a few
strands of her silver hair, looking at it with a sadness Celysel hoped she would never understand. “I
shall only ask once more my daughter, stay. Learn and train more in the Druidic ways. There is so
much more you could learn here that you would not have to learn on the outside. In truth, I fear for
you my daughter. In slumber I dream dreams of you, of hardships and pain. I do not wish that for
you. Stay, where you can be protected, where you can grow more and learn.”
She shook her head “No, I can’t.” she turned away, looking out the window “Father, you have been
out there, you know what it is like. Mother, she would always tell me such fascinating stories of her
ventures out into the world. My heart has yearned for this since I could understand words, after all of
my hard work, I cannot be denied now.”
“I know.” He said, and for a long moment, there was silence. Celysel thought that perhaps he had
become so angry with her that he no longer desired to speak to her, but it was then that he sighed and
said: “Celysel, you are my daughter and I love you, but remember this, my power only goes so far
when it comes to protecting you. Remember that when you go on this quest to see the world. May
the Goddess light your way.”
What had he meant by that then? Celysel had no real idea, or maybe perhaps he was talking about
her current situation. She was rather lost and slightly out of her league with some of the monsters
here. She had almost been killed today, it had taken a lot of healing, some potions that she hadn’t
been able to afford losing, precious spring water that she definitely really couldn’t have parted with
and a lot of running which resulted in an exhausted, worn down Druid Night Elf who just wanted
some water and some sleep. At an inn. A comfortable, Alliance owned inn. With a bath. Oh, how
nice a hot bath sounded…
Her body paused, her nose lifting up into the air and sniffing softly, the scent of fresh water having
hit her. So overjoyed by the scent her stiff and tiredness had all but been forgotten as she sped
through the forest, her powerful legs and sleek body making her ideal for moving around in such an
environment. Her ears listened for any nearby threats but picked up on none. Seeing this as a sign of
good luck she continued on until she reached the clearing.
And then her body immediately stopped itself.
Becoming one with the animal could be difficult at times. When one was an animal, they had to
make sure that they did not let the animal inside take over, or it would become difficult to transform
back. Most Druids in training when practicing this technique end up having to have elders transform
them back, as they completely lost themselves to the will of the animal. Sometimes it was
unavoidable, like this when her body halted for her. She was glad that it had, however, because now
as she calmed herself, she heard voices. Well, a voice in any case.
Her sharp eyes allowed her to see in dark as well as in day irregardless of what form she was in, so
when she peeked out to get a better look, she was bit surprised at what she saw. A Troll was sitting
rather lazily by the lake, her lake, laughing. He was tall and lanky even while sitting, his light blue
skin only a compliment to the full moon above them. His hair was dark red, and it looked as if he
had recently cut it. This tusks looked about average from the pictures she had seen of Trolls, perhaps
he was from the Darkspear tribe that she had heard so much about? He wore very little, just enough
to cover the sensitive spots, and his face was painted in white streaks. Beside him was a rather nasty
looking pet, and it was then she realized that this Troll was a hunter and the pet was his. His gun
was sitting off to the side and Celysel concluded that he was either a fool, or he wasn’t afraid of
anything that could possibly be waiting for him out in the wild. As he told a rather corny joke to his
pet and laughed as if it was highly hilarious, the Druid was beginning to think that perhaps it was
the former and not the latter of her conclusions.
As far as her knowledge went, Trolls were a nasty bunch. Creepy and mysterious, Trolls were
excellent fighters and warriors, their Shaman skills were a force to be reckoned with. As a child, she
had been told that they had an awful disposition and would sooner cut your throat than try to talk to
you. They were lying, thieving backstabbers who thought of nothing but themselves, and, as she had
been told on and on again, would sooner cut her throat than talk sense to her. While she was sure
that perhaps some of what she had been told was true, Celysel had learned not to believe everything
one was told.

She was naturally curious, and so instead of simply trying to start a fight and try to kill him, she laid
back, flattening her ears as she watched him. He seemed quite laid back for a Troll, and his pet,
whose name was Jork, seemed to be loyal and devoted to his master, although he didn’t seem to care
too much for his jokes. The Troll was merely talking to pass the time, taking the time to look at a
fishing pole that he had sitting in the ground every now and then and sometimes gazing up at the
moon. Celysel noticed that despite the fact that he was tall and rather skinny, strong and able
muscles peeked through that blue skin, showing that he was indeed no pushover.
If he was a Troll, he didn’t act like anything she had been told growing up. In fact, if it weren’t for
the fact that he was too laid back, he could pass for a Night Elf with his mannerisms. Looks,
however, were a different story. Perhaps he was even civilized enough to hold a decent conversation.
Struck now with the strong desire to try and meet with a Troll for the first time and her aching desire
for water that was again deciding to make its presence known, she slowly creeped out from her
hiding spot in the forest, trotting silently to the lake. She was a good distance away from him, well,
enough so that he couldn’t physically strike her, but unfortunately she was well within range to
receive a bullet. Hopefully he wasn’t the shoot first ask questions later kind of person.
He didn’t notice her at first. He didn’t notice her at all actually, his pet did. He jerked his wolfish
head up and growled, catching his master’s attention. The Troll looked and saw Celysel, and she
heard him make a rather appreciative noise.
“Well now, what we be havin’ ‘ere?” he asked, mostly to himself, as he regarded her in her night
saber form. “Wut a leetl cat like you doin’ all da way out ‘ere?” his voice was thick with his accent,
and she almost had to strain a bit to catch all of what he was saying. Trolls were indeed odd
creatures.
He seemed more curious and amused by this turn of events than anything else. Instead of reaching
for his gun, he leaned more away from it, as if trying to get a better look at her. His pet seemed
furious at the fact that his master hadn’t simply just blown her to bits, and was making his opinion
known by growling rather loudly. Instead of throttling him like she assumed any Troll would do, he
began to scratch the animal behind the ears, whispering something to him in his native language.
“Come now Jork, it just lil cat out fo’ a drink. Watcha so uppity ‘bout?” he continued to try and
comfort the animal, but the growls did not cease. Sighing a bit at his companion, he didn’t notice
when Celysel slowly began to walk over to him, her intelligent eyes being the only thing that would
betray her.
Apparently, the Troll was either oblivious or stupid, because when she began to approach him, he
seemed more intrigued than anything else. She took note at the way he looked at her, as if the hunter
in him was admiring a piece of art. She figured that probably some part of him would like to tame
her, to make her his companion. That made him all the more curious as he was supposed to come
from a race who cared about nothing but themselves. When she approached about arm’s length
away, she was sure that the larger animal was going to strike at her, but his master obviously had a
tight hold on his loyalties, and would only strike when directed to. Celysel sat and looked at the
Troll as he fully sat up, that amused grin of his never fading.
“Brave lil’ cat you are.” he said softly, leaning forward a bit “Ya must be hungry den. Lookin’ fo’
scraps are ya? Sorry mon, I gots none.”
Pretending to seem satisfied with this answer, Celysel turned and began to trot away, in reality
wanting to get some distance before deciding to reveal herself. He seemed pretty laid back and
decent up close, but that was because he thought she was a night saber. The moment she
transformed, it’d be a different story entirely. She needed to put some distance between them so she
wouldn’t look so much like a threat to his person. When she felt like she was at a good enough
distance to not seem threatening as well as talk to the point where she didn’t have to project her
voice, she transformed back into her form stretching her back as she did. Being in one form besides
her own for too long had its effects on her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him stiffen and
within seconds he was on his feet, gun in hand, pointed towards her head.
“Watchu be doin’ here Night Elf?” he asked. His voice that had been light and cheerful just a second
ago was now dark and deadly. He also sounded a bit angry, and Celysel came to the conclusion it
was probably because he was a tad bit miffed about the fact that she could have literally killed him
from right under his nose and he wouldn’t have been any the wiser until it was too late. She would
have been a little peeved too. His pet was now actively barking and growling at her, as if trying to
tell his master ‘I told you! Kill her, kill her!’
Raising her hands in a non threatening gesture Celysel turned to him, her face carefully blank “I
mean you no harm.” She said softly, trying to seem as passive as possible.
She heard his gun click. “Why should I believe ya she-elf?” he asked, his eyes narrowing. She saw
his finger tighten on the trigger and she felt a small rise of panic in her. What if she had been wrong
and her kind right? What if he just shot her without a care?

Then he would have done so already, idiot.
Ah. This was true.
“Because,” she began, crossing her arms and fixing him with a stare “I could have killed you easily
just now, and I didn’t.” she stated the obvious fact, hoping that it’d sink in that she was not here to
kill him. Her father had always told her curiosity would get the better of her one day. Maybe she
should have taken his advice for a change.
Her heart slowly began to beat again when he began to lower his rifle. Not all the way, but still
enough to where she didn’t feel like her life was in immediate danger.
“Dat be tru…” he said a little thoughtfully and Celysel watched as his thoughtful frown turned into
slight surprise and curiosity. “Why is that mon?” he asked of her, dropping his rifle. If she was
trying to have idle chit-chat with him, obviously she didn’t come to try and take his tusks, and that
seemed fine with him. “Neva seen a Troll before ‘ave ya?” his trademark smirk was back and he
leaned against the rifle, his eyes now taking her in a bit differently than before. He looked her up and
down with his eyes and then back to her face, his smirk blossoming into an all out grin. Obviously,
he liked what he was seeing.
Celysel didn’t like it.
“Actually,” Celysel said sharply, getting the Troll’s attention once again off her body and to her face
“I haven’t. I was curious.”
He raised an eyebrow at her, shifting his weight off of the rifle and slinging it over his shoulder
casually, tilting his head to the side. “Curious?” he asked, his face suddenly taking in a look as if he
had finally figured her out, just before he burst into laughter “Never seen…?” he couldn’t even
finish his sentence before his laughter almost turned into howls, as if she had said the funniest joke
he had ever heard. It was insulting, to have him laugh at her like that simply because he had been the
first Troll she had ever seen. The urge to throttle him was becoming high on her list of things to do.
“Leetl’ she-elf you…”
“Celysel.” She snapped, raising her chin at him in her small sign of defiance. It was an old habit of
hers really; she had always thought it made her look rather aristocratic. “I have a name; it is Celysel,
not she-elf.” That idiotic name that he was giving her was beginning to grate on her nerves. Who the
hell did he think he was anyway, to laugh at her?
“Right.” He said, shaking his head, his laughter reduced back to his grin as he regarded her “My
apologies.” He mock-bowed at her. Now he was making fun of her mannerisms, she just knew it!
“Y….” at this point she really did want to go over there and choke him. She was trying to be
friendly and he was making fun of her! How rude! “Why you tall, lanky, idiotic…” she was running
out of names to call him “How dare you make fun of me because I’ve never met a Troll, when
you’re so blind you let a night saber, who’s not even indigenous to this area walk right up to you
without questioning it once?!”
He shrugged “Some idiot let’is pet git away?” he suggested, obviously not bothered at all by their
earlier encounter “Preety common ‘round ‘ere leetl’ she-elf.”
“My name is not…oh why bother with you?” she fumed, completely frustrated with this entire
encounter. This…this creature was insufferable, completely and utterly insufferable. He was rude
and he made fun of her and he did everything but try to have a decent conversation with him. He
overall was just annoying as well, and if that damned pet of his didn’t stop his insistent growling…
“Yah mon, why bother?” he wanted to know. His face still held its grin, but his tone was nothing
less than deadly serious. It caught her attention and she turned to look at him, amazed at how
cheerful he could look and still seem so dangerous at the same time. How had she ever thought she
could have killed this creature?
Celysel found herself at a loss for words. In her shame she turned away from him, not wanting him
to see her face. “I…I…”
There was a sigh and then she heard footsteps. It only took him a few strides with those long legs of
his before he was standing beside her, and she felt thick fingers touch her chin and tilt her head
towards him, and suddenly she felt comforted. Her father always did that with her, it had the same
effect.
“It ain’t safe fer leetl’ she-elves to be playin’ at night ‘round ‘ere.” He said softly “Ya should be
gettin’ yerself ta shelter, if ya know what be good fer ya.”
She could do nothing but nod mutely at him, disappointed at how this encounter had gone. She had
learned nothing about him, except that while playful, he could be serious at the same time. Her mind
began to race as she realized that not only had this Troll warned her of danger, he had also touched
her gently. While not intimate, it was still a total shock. Horde did not associate with Alliance, not
even to this degree. Had she missed something?
And then, without warning, his hand left her chin and he walked over to his pack, hefting the
somewhat large object as if it weighed nothing, and perhaps to him it didn’t. Patting his pet on the
neck affectionately he began to disappear back into the woods from which he came from, but before
he did, he turned his head slightly toward her direction.
“Lorkan.” He said and then fully turned to her, grinning “Da name’s Lorkan. Be seein’ ya.” And
with a slight wave, he turned and was gone.
It was only after many minutes did she finally move, and it was only then that she realized she had
been shaking. From what? He had no intention of killing her during the entire time they had
encountered each other when he knew she wasn’t a threat, so why was she shaking?
Be seein’ ya.
“I very much doubt it.” She said to the shadows once she regained her composure. As she quickly
refilled on water and departed the forest, however, she knew that deep down inside, somehow this
was only the beginning.
Wat ‘n interstin’ girl dat was. Lorkan thought to himself as he walked through the forest. Jork was
still a little annoyed at him for being ignored when he had tried to warn his master, so Lorkan fed
him some extra supper and gave him some extra petting, just to make him feel a little better, and as
an apology. Indeed, he had made a grave mistake today, not realizing that the saber was in fact, a
Night Elf, an enemy. The fact that she was just a fledgling was what had kind of irked him, seeing as
he’d fought much stronger enemies and came out somewhat unscathed. Was he slipping? Nah,
couldn’t be. But despite the fact that he had acted like a pure fool out there in the clearing, he did
find the elf to be entertaining and amusing, not to mention easy on the eyes. Or maybe seeing
nothing but Orc women was beginning to have an effect on him. Nope, Night Elf women were
naturally beautiful, he already knew that.
It was because she was a fledgling, however, that he had even tried to speak to her. Well that and no
sane Night Elf would ever talk to the likes of him, something about Trolls being, blah, blah, blah.
He never much did pay attention to their banter. But he had to admit it was not only that. She had
been naturally curious of him, and he had been equally curious and amused when he saw her. It
wasn’t everyday a Night Elf tried talking to a Troll, and they probably would have had a decent
conversation if he hadn’t been so worked up about the fact that she was so wet behind the ears that
she had never even met a Troll before. She was probably barely over a hundred, still looked at as a
little kid. With that being said, however, how a little girl like her manage to get permission to leave
her village? Didn’t Night Elves keep a tight hold on their children until they were of age? She must
have shown that she was an asset somehow, and that made him all the more curious.
Dun matter now.. He thought. Chance o’ me seein’er again be slim ta none. Pitty though, she was
kinda cute. Kinda prudish, but eh, I coulda worked it outta’er.
Woah. Back up a bit there. His kind wasn’t too picky about a pretty face when it came to bed time
but this wasn’t just a pretty face, this was a Night Elf. That made it a little less okay.
Ya need ta jus’ stop watcha tinkin right now. It’ll gitcha nuthin’ but trouble. And while trouble
was sometimes interesting, this kind of trouble was something he wanted to keep out of.
But why did he have the sinking feeling that this was only the beginning?
Author’s Note:…..Wow. 8 pages in….less than six hours. The inspiration monster has bitten me in
the ass and is so sucking this stuff out of me and going “USE THIS BISNATCH!” to which I am
eternally grateful. Please continue; I will be forever happy.
It also helps that I RP’ed this with Chee, so I did have a basis to go off of this with, even if I did
change some things around and improvised. RP chats help SO much.
I’m not entirely sure how many chapters this story is going to be, so I’m not going to say. There is a
lot that we discussed when I had presented this idea, so the chances of this being long is possible.
Chee is also my slave driver, so I will be able to work on the story. Slave drivers are nice, everyone
should have one when writing.
Um…Lorkan’s dialogue is kind of difficult for me to write, not because I’m an English Major or
anything(because I’m not) but because really horrible grammar like that is hard for me to actually
do, so I was stumbling a bit on the words and really had to sit and think of how I was trying to make
him say things. I had him speaking a little too properly at times and had to change his wording
around. Overall, Lorkan is an interesting character, but then again, Trolls rock, so yeah.
Celysel is actually a Druid I play on WoW, she’s on the Perenolde realm FYI. Her personality is
completely made up and no, she is not a Mary Sue. I promise. She has plenty of flaws in her lovely
little personality. Okay, I’m done babbling, the end.
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Love Has Its Reasons