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The Price of Gratitude	By : Mayamahal Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6057 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Blizzard or World of Warcraft. I make no profit or money for writing this.

Chapter List
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Maia woke from an exhausted doze with a start. She was leaning sideways against the door of the cage, feet tucked under her, cheek and shoulder pressed against the bars with the later numb from her hands being bound behind her back for days.

Bleary eyes opened as she wondered what had awoken her, going stiff when she heard her cage shift, the sides flexing from side to side; something heavy and large was on top, and she suspected that its sudden arrival was what had roused her.

She remained still, adrenaline burning off a little of her exhaustion, holding her breath as she strained, listening. A ribbon of light and fire darted across the expansive, star-strewn sky, illuminating her prison, sending shadows dancing across the dirt. It was this that gave the answer; by the silhoutte cast across the ground beside her cage, there was a person crouched above her, hunched over with large shoulders, elbows braced on squatting knees, and a head crowned with a large, feathered mohawk. As she watched, her eyes wide, the dark figure seemed to lean over, and she heard a voice hiss.

"Ya be in a bit of a tight spot, mon. S'no good when yer stuck in the middle o'no where, no way out, no place to go. I think I know a bit how that feels, mm?"

Maia closed her eyes and released her held breath in a long, weary sigh. She didn't know what to say, so she said nothing, and she didn't want to insult his intelligence by stating the obvious, but the barest hint of hurt in his voice was draining the last bit of energy she'd had left.

The silence was allowed to stretch from moments into minutes.

"What be ya doin' here?" Koda asked at last, quietly.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she whispered, her voice a shadow of what it was, her mouth dry, her throat sore.

More silence.

"I heard about that book o'yours," he said, his words edged with impatienc. "S'not a bad bit of work, if I say so. Be a good bit in the way o'teachin' folks about Trollspeak. Zandali ain't easy to learn, not like Common," he snorted. "A few of the officers in the Horde that are Troll are very, very curious as to why a little bit o'human like yourself be havin' this knowledge, written down an' so very easy use. It be dangerous, that kind of information, especially in the wrong kinda hands." Her cage creaked as he leaned over further; she could see a few slender braids peek over the edge. "So I wanna know, little brownskin: why is it that ya had this?"

There was a thump, and a cloud of dust on the ground by her prison. It was Jensen's notebook.

Maia felt the despair sink in a little further; she should have known better than to follow her passions. Tharrah always said it would just lead her to trouble, and it looked like her sister was right.

"Eh?" Koda grunted. "What was that?"

She realized she'd been thinking out loud and bit her lip to silence herself, resigning to stay in that silence if she could no longer control her mouth.

A few more moments passed, and it seemed Koda realized this as well. He hopped down onto the ground behind her, saying, "The commander wants to know, mage, an' he will be gettin' the answers he wants from ya, whether ya want to give them or n-"

His voice cut off, and she shifted on her hip, turning her head a little towards him. Is he still there? she wondered, as the silence stretched on.

A creak of leather told her he was indeed still there, and the musky scent of him told her that he was crouching very, very close to her.

His voice, a sharp contrast to his snappish sarcasm from moments before, was soft, barely a whisper: "Woman. Why be ya here?"

She felt pressure on the shoulder she had pressed against the door, and it took her a second to realize that he was touching her. She held her breath, stubborn and willful, determined to keep her silence.

But then he cheated.

"Maia." A shudder rippled through her; his breath feathered against her cheek and brushed her ear. She exhaled shakily, closing her eyes again. "Tell ol' Koda why you're here, an' why ya had that damned book with ya." His voice was so hushed it would have been impossible to hear if he hadn't bent so close, his lips practically pressing against the iron.

Breathing deep and willing herself to do so slowly, she struggled to gather her thoughts. What should she say? Should she tell him the truth? Would he believe her? Why should she even bother?

Damn it all to hell, she thought, exasperated. If I'm going to die here anyway, I want someone to know the truth. She bit her lip, fear settling cold and deep within her, that last bit of hope draining away. Even if he doesn't believe me.

Even so, she also wanted him to understand what she'd done, too, before he left her to her fate. Shifting against her cage, she licked her lips and did her best to clear her throat.

"I came here," she whispered, "to find you, and to get you home."

Koda said nothing.

"I didn't know the permenant portals weren't working," she continued, seizing her chance to set the record straight. "I just wanted you to be safe, and away, and Shattrath was the only place I could send you without... without you being killed on sight. Or easily followed." She shifted again, wincing as a bolt of pain shot through her shoulder, her wrists wedged between her back and the bars of her cage. "They thought ... They thought you and the other Troll were in league with other, that you'd lured me into the hidden market to attack me-"

He spat out a nasty curse, and Maia knew enough of the language to flinch at the meaning.

"They didn't know," she sighed. "They didn't know you weren't of his tribe, and I had no way to prove that you weren't either, or that you were trying to protect me..."

This was the most she'd spoken in days, and it was taking a toll on her. She licked her lips again, eyes closing as she continued.

"As for the book..." Again, she sighed, weary to the bone. "I did a ... a favor for a friend, and she couldn't pay me in money, so she paid me with knowledge instead, and she wrote the book as a way for me to continue learning." She pondered, then, at how much she should explain. "I wanted ... I needed..."

How do I even say this?

While she struggled to put her thoughts in some kind of order, there was a little bit of commotion at the main building. It must be midnight, she thought. They're changing shifts...

Her attention came back to Koda, as he finally came into her view. He bent over the lock at her door, something glinting in his fingers, concentrating on it. Maia frowned, a memory tugging at her as she watched him.

That's... I know what that is. That's...

An image flashed through her head, of her frantically cutting her hair and stuffing it into his palm before shoving him backwards; a hairpin tangled in her severed tress, of crystal and black faceted jet-

The lock clicked and the door sprang open. Koda caught her as she toppled supportless and sideways, using a free hand to jam the hairpin into the mechanism on her side of the door. Glancing backwards while he worked, he gathered her against him and slung her over his shoulder, and she bit her lip to keep from shrieking as his dagger dug into her bandaged thigh.

The change in position after being crammed in that pen for so long sent blood flowing to all parts of her that she'd ceased to feel days ago, and it did not feel comfortable. Her head swam as it hung upside down, the pins-and-needles tingling in her shoulders graduating to daggers-and-shards-of-glass within a matter of seconds. Everything below her hips experienced a similar effect, though not nearly as intense. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself into silence lest she give them away.

With a grunt, Koda threw Maia over something warm and large; she heard a rustle of leather wings and a reptillian croon. In her blurry vision, she saw scarlet scales under her cheek, before nausea had her closing her eyes again.

Time passed, and she couldn't say how long, before she felt him leap up and tuck himself behind her, rolling her over and pulling her to him, her cheek against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, a rapid, steady sound, and opened her eyes once more.

He was pulling at the reins of his mount with his free hand, the other holding her close and steady against him. He hissed a word (she was fairly certain it translated as both 'up' and 'quiet' in Zandali), and with a stealthy leap, she felt the world fall away.

She didn't question the change of fate, or her good luck, because she was too weary to even consider it. With a tired sigh, she shamelessly squirmed against her Troll, rubbing her cheek to his shoulder as she curled into him. Let him think what he likes, she thought distantly, feeling him go still and silent as she moved. I think I'm beginning to care less what he thinks about this...

More at ease than she had been in weeks, Maia finally let herself drift away, letting the true sleep of absolute trust envelope her.

She dreamed of red dirt and an endless field of stars, stretching below and above her as she floated between spheres. The air smelled of blood and restless magic, sparks crackling from her fingers and skipping along the strands of hair that curtained her face. She tried to move in this vision, but she was kept immobile, trapped in her body. Distantly, she heard the slow waft of wingbeats, and wondered if she was being carried by predator, or bourne on the back of some sacred bird to paradise.

Her dream shifted into green, and the world turned inside out in that familiar way it did when she stepped into a portal. It was enough to tip her mind back into the abyss, and she knew neither dreams nor reality for an unnumbered eternity.

There was a distant roar, like a crashing wave that never ended, pouring from the sky and pounding into the surf forever. The air was clean, fresh, and smelled of pine smoke, wet rock and moving water, clinging to her skin like mist made cloth.

It hurt to open her eyes, grit making her lashes stick together, the light that seeped through them almost blinding. She was laying on her stomach, her cheek against something soft, a blanket covering her from shoulders to feet. Pain stabbed through her head when she moved, and the throb from her leg coupled with it to tell her she was very much alive.

She groaned, clutching her head, fingers feeling tangled wet hair. Shifting, she tried to sit up, nausea rising to greet her in a rush, convincing her it was better to lay back down. It was then, covering her eyes with her hand, that she realized she was unbound and no longer caged.

She tried again to open her eyes under the shadow of her fingers, carefully peering out.

It appeared she was in a tent, a spacious structure of thick wooden beams and pale canvas, with a hole in the center of the high roof to let the smoke out. A pit had been dug out and lined with river stones, cradling wood that crackled cheerily, small flames licking across the surface. Besides the primitive hearth was a large flat stone, a knife sheathed atop it, bowls, cups, ladles and other eating utensils piled next to it. There were leathers stretched in wooden frames to be worked supple, leaning against the far wall, stacked back to back behind a pile of freshly cured skins, tanning tools scattered nearby. Several packs and satchels were neatly tucked away here and there, along with a few full quivers, two bows, and a large, wicked looking rifle.

Other than that, there was another sleeping area a little away from hers, made up neatly and unoccupied. She imagined it to be Koda's.

The light that had woken her was spilling through a window cut into the canvas, the excess fabric pulled back and pinned to the side. A mesh of open-weave, thin fabric was stretched across the opening, letting in air without letting in too many unwanted pests.

Completely unable to comprehend what had happened and how she'd gotten here, Maia's mind was completely blank. No panic, no hysteria, no questions, but also no acceptance. She was balancing on the edge a knife, silent but aware, poised and still.

She tried again to sit up, slowly, pushing her hands beneath her chest against the bedding, slowly lifting her head. She gasped, a wave of pain rushing through her temples, and her arms wavered beneath her weight.

"Careful, girl, you'll undo all the work I've done."

The low voice, familiar in sound but strange in tone, caught her off guard. She spun her head to see who had spoken, only to wake up face down, a calloused hand pressing against her bare back. In the darkness that peeled back from her spinning brain, memory crept back, and she recalled their escape.

"Stupid girl," she head him mutter, another hand brushing the hair back from her face. "I told you."

Koda's gray eyes were somber, his mouth set in an unhappy line as he pushed back her hair to lay across her shoulders instead of tangling around her throat. "I don't even understand how you manage with all this hair; it's liable to get caught, pulled, or set on fire, if you don't garrote yourself in your sleep..."

At first she was completely confused, hearing his words but not understanding how she knew what he was saying. With a start, she realized why: he was speaking Zandali.

"Where ... are we?" she finally whispered, using his tongue, twisting the syllables into obiesence.

The Troll's hands froze, his eyes focusing upon her gaze with an expression of ... well, an expression she couldn't place. He didn't respond as he settled to set cross-legged next to her, pushing her easily to her back as he pulled aside her blankets to expose her legs. The draft of air told Maia what she had neglected to notice earlier; she was quite naked.

Without understanding why, she jerked and gripped the blanket, keeping it in place and staring at him with wide eyes.

The shadow in his gaze lifted a little, an eyebrow arching in amusement. "Really?" he asked. "After all we've done, little Maia?"

Why does everything he say sound different in his native tongue? she wondered, trying to focus on his words. Her ears rang, and she resisted the urge to stick her fingers in them. Richer, coy... and some what... She got lost, looking for the word.

"I just... it's not that... Just answer my question," she replied, flustered.

Ignoring her feeble attempt to block him, Koda yanked aside her blanket and poked her in the thigh.

Pain, sharp, red, and very angry, flared through her leg and up into her hip, making her jerk again and grit out a very nasty swear word.

"We are in Stranglethorn, in the mountains near Zul'Gurub, " he murmured, using her sudden paralysis to loosen her bandages and ease them aside. Whatever he saw satisfied him, and he redressed the wound swiftly. "It's been three days since I accidentally broke open your cage, and accidentally made it look like you'd picked the lock with a rather sparkly hairpin they'd failed to take from you."

Maia blinked.

"I did not, I'm sorry to say, get all of your belongings," he continued, gesturing to a small pile of gear in the far corner of the tent, "but I thought you'd appreciate your life more than a few bags and baubles."

Maia's mouth worked a minute.

Before she punched him sharply in his well-muscled upper arm.

He grunted, eyeing her.

"You didn't accidentally do anything, troll," she mumbled, stating the obvious. "I was there, remember?"

His mouth twitched. "So you recall that?"

"I remember everything."

He moved to the fire and the pot above it, silent for a time as he checked the contents and stirred it. She watched him, noted the line of his back as he crouched before it, saw how hard he was thinking.

We made lo- ... had sex for almost three days straight, have seen parts of each other that most folks haven't, and have indulged in a desire that would probably get us both burned at the stake. Why does it feel so awkward now, after all this?

Her thoughts were interrupted when he turned back to her, bowl and spoon in hand, and Maia suddenly realized she was ravenous. Reaching for the food without thinking, she blinked at Koda as he drew it back. He nodded towards her hands, and she immediately understood; she couldn't be trusted to dress herself, let alone put food in her mouth, with the way her hands shook. She winced, looking at him askance.

There was no choice but to let him feed her, an act that had her blushing harder than anything he could have done to her. It was a kindness that he said nothing, patiently offering her spoonful after spoonful, waiting for her to chew before giving her more.

He picked up on her feelings of irrational humiliation, glancing at her cheeks and snorting at her expression.

"Don't be upset, mageling," he murmured, offering her a bit of cloth to dab at her chin with. "I've done the same thing with both my sisters, after they spat out fat, squalling babies. Two at once, three for one of them." He grinned at her. "Feeding the babes was easy, but themselves? Not at first."

He sat back on his heels while she mumbled her thanks, still unable to banish her shame. He leaned over to a pack near a tented wall, dug in it, and brought out a folded pile of garments. He set it by her bed, threw a towel over his shoulder, and held his arms out to her.

Again, she could do nothing but stare at him. After a moment, he gestured, arms still outstretched.

"You stink, brownskin, with ancestors' know what offal you humans excrete," he stated bluntly.

She colored darkly and swore at him. "I couldn't exactly bathe let alone go any-"

Taking that as permission, the Troll scooped her up effortlessly, blankets and all, and strode from the tent.

Fearless that he wouldn't drop her, she didn't restrain her wriggling in the slightest, but was concered at how little she could actually flail. He seemed to sense it was mostly for show, said nothing, and continued on.

They were in a discreet bit of forest, camped besides a large pond fed by a healthy waterfall across the way. Large trees grew high and thick with foliage, intricate root systems exposed and partially submerged in the clear, blue water. The clearing that had the tent and living space seemed to be the only bit of flat land here, the lake bordered primarily by grass-covered cliffs and hill-hugging, thick-trunked trees strewn with vines.

Koda followed a path of stones the short distance to the water, to large boulders that rose above the waterline. Smooth from erosion, the rocks were nearly flat, large enough for a Troll to sunbathe on but no bigger. One had what looked to be a seat cut out of it, somewhat under water, and it was here he placed Maia, with all gentleness.

Ignoring her prostests, he plied wet blankets and bedding from her, even her bandages, saying nothing until she was completely naked. Then, without ceremony, her dumped a large bowl of water unto her dark head. While she spluttered, he did it again, and again, until her tangled hair was soaked and she was half-blinded by water.

He disappeared from her view a moment, though her soon had hair well in hand, with what seemed, to Maia's nose, lavender soap. He settled behind her, feet in the water, with her back wedged between his thighs. Wiping wet strands from her face, she glared at him over her shoulder.

"You're enjoying this," she accused, doing her best to ignore the hands that massaged her scalp, the back of her neck, and across the upper part of her shoulders... ...ah... Against her best intentions, she felt herself begin to relax.

The grin he gave her was almost infectious, his gray eyes daring her as he gazed down his hooked nose. "I have no idea what gave you that idea, brownskin," he replied cheerfully. And then he lifted up a wicked looking haircomb with large teeth, carved in ivory.

Weak as she was, she put up a decent fight, trying to scramble away from further tortures.

He was still bigger than her, and her condition helped nothing. Soon enough, still dripping in soap and water beneath the beating sun, he kept her in place with his powerful legs, snickering softly as she winced, silent, beneath his patient grooming.

After what seemed like hours, and certain she probably had bald patches at this point, her thick, long hair was finally combed and clean for the first time in weeks.

He moved around to the front of her and drew her into the water, strong hands gripping hers as he guided her to him. The water made her bouyant, and soon she was up to her neck in the cool, clean lake. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight literally peel from the world, and let the Troll finish the job.

He scrubbed carefully at her arms, her belly, her legs, carefully to be professional around certain areas (much to her disappointment), and gentle especially around the healing hole in her thigh. Finally, he came to her throat, wrapping his large hands around it, rubbing gently with soap and calloused palms.

Oddly, it was one of the more intimate gestures she'd ever known from him at that point, and she opened her eyes to find him staring down at her. Gray eyes half-lidded, generous, tusked mouth curved in a small smile. Without knowing completely why, Maia shivered; was it just her, or did the temperature of the lake water go up by a few degrees?

The moment passed, and, breeches still damp, Koda gathered the naked mage into the dry towel nearby, and carried her back to the tent. He dried her brusquely, rebandaged her, braided her hair ("...'m not going to waste all that hard work by letting you sleep with loose hair-"), and put her in a loose, comfortable cotton dress.

At this point, the sun was low and Maia was lethargic from food and bath, and could barely keep her eyes open as Koda helped her pull the sleeveless garment over her head. Drowsy and near drunk with exhaustion, she was having difficulty keeping her mouth shut.

"...thank you... don't know what I would've... an' I know you owe me noth-" Here she yawned. "...ing..." She rubbed at her eyes, and heard him chuckle from the child-like gesture.

She hadn't even realized she was no longer speaking in his language, but he didn't seem to mind, responding in Zandali: "Hush, brownskin," he said, laying her back down. She burrowed under the blankets he laid over her. "I didn't aid you to pay off a debt."

Maia yawned again, tucking her hands under her cheek, trying to focus on him; her heavy lids made it difficult. "Then... why...?" she mumbled.

The quiet that followed her question stretched on, and was soon filled by her soft, shallow breathing; a telltale sign of her true slumber.

For a long while, Koda said nothing, did nothing, looking down at the sleeping woman in his home, her much-leaner shape beneath the blankets, contemplating the pang of fear that echoed deep within him. As his eyes wandered across her lines, watched her breathing, his gaze was eventually drawn to her sleeping face, and the hands tucked beneath.

He looked at the bracelet she still bore, the only thing he did not remove from her when he had first peeled her filthy clothes from her. It shown pale; blue, red, and yellow matte-surfaced glass beads glowing faintly, reflecting lamp- and firelight.

He had seen it in the Outlands, the human wedged in her cage, arms bound cruelly behind her back. Never before had he cared about the treatment of Allied prisoners, for he knew they treated Horde-kind far worse, most of the time. He had expected his encounter with the woman to be a fluke, a random accident or some kind of revenge offered to him for his prompt banishment after what happened in the dregs of Dalaran City.

Even though, he thought, I did know better. Somewhere.

His memory of that incident in the sewers was cloudy, tinged with fury and red mist and blood and a ferocity he'd never known he could feel in a Beserker-rage. The clearest memory was after, when he clutched the dark mageling to him and inhaled her living scent, she unharmed, the threat abated...

And then kicked backwards into a port-broken Outland city-

His irritation flared and melted swiftly, and he came back to the moment to find his hand on her wrist, his thumb stroking the braided bracelet, the rough beads.

He had seen it after he was relishing the predicament, and he had felt every last bit of hurt and anger drain from him in that single moment. At the time, he was stunned speechless; why had she still worn it? She had to have suspected what it meant, even if, at the time he'd given it to her, he'd done it more out of misplaced gratitude than anything else.

Protection, he thought. It was a means of protection... a thank-you ... A sign that she was favored by one of the Zandalar.

And it would have granted her safe passage. Should have ... Except the Troll in the sewers was not whom that message was there for.

He stared at her again, the curves of her face more angular than last he remembered, and vowed to himself that he would not be so petty in the future.

Finally, he brushed her cheek, frowning to himself, and answered her question.

"What else would I have done, Maia?" he whispered, contemplating what the Spirits had in store of he and this strange bit of human.
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The Price of Gratitude