Tryst

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You would think that, being a Rogue and all, I'd be used to getting knocked out. Rivalries are at a high point in the profession, so, naturally, people are always trying to get me incapacitated. I'm not as infamous as some, but I definitely have a reputation. There's plenty of glory in the concept of taking me out, so I've had my fair share of knocks to the head. That doesn't mean that I've gotten accustomed to it, though.

Waking up after being knocked out is always the same – painful as Hell. Your head throbs, your eyes sting, and of all things, your nose feels like its some strange sort of bubble, growing out of your face. If you're lucky, the place where you got hit has stopped bleeding, so you're not blinded from bodily fluids. If your luck holds out, the person who hit you managed to miss some key nerve points so you wake up with fully functioning limbs. I've seen the damage that can be done from a blow to the head. It's not pretty stuff.

The Night Elf seemed to know what she was about though, and I tested my fingers and toes to further hammer that thought home. All ten digits were wiggling freely, and I gradually became aware of the fact that I was sitting upright. Of course, my hands were bound behind my back, my ankles were synched together, and I was leaning against the trunk of a tree. There was a loud rushing in my ears, and I eventually realized that I was hearing the ocean beat against a cliff side, not just the blood thrumming in my head. I felt comfortably cool, so I figured that maybe we were pretty near the ocean, or under the cover of shade. I had no idea what time it was, and as I opened my good eye, I saw that the fog had yet to lift. I wondered if it ever would.

The smell of cooked meat met my nose again, and I sniffed the sweet smell. My stomach growled, and my mouth started to water. And I cursed my traitorous senses and reaction when there was suddenly a sharp kick to my ribs.

The sound I made, a sort of half-gasp, half-gurgling noise must have satisfied the Night Elf, because she didn't come at me a second time. Instead, she squatted down next to me, taking hold of one of my tusks and yanking my head around so I could face her. I blinked sleepily at her, trying to keep my face as passive as I could. It wouldn't do me any good to swear vengeance against her, or to beg for my life. The girl I knew ten years ago was apparently gone, in favor of this seasoned warrior who had no sympathies for me. Maybe, back then, I could have convinced her to set me free, to feed me, to mend my bones, but now? Now I'd be lucky if she let me lick the grime from the bottom of her boots.

I tried to convince myself that I felt nothing, let alone disappointment.

“Nothing to say, Troll?”

I just kept staring at her, trying so damn hard to remain unmoved by this turn of events. My silence seemed like a damper for her, and she nodded, a small smirk tilting the corner of her pretty little mouth.

“Good. That just means the Sentries will have more fun with you.” She released my tusk with a rough shove, and stalked back toward her fire.

And again, because I'm apparently an idiot, I couldn't keep my mouth shut, “Ya mean ta' turn me inta' tha' authorities?”

Oh Gods above, thank you for your moment of clear speech!

She halted, her back turned to me, and afforded me an over the shoulder glance. Her brow was lifted, as though surprised I would ask such a question, “I do. So you had best get comfortable, Troll. They will be along before the day is through.”

I sighed, leaning my head back against the trunk of the tree she had propped me against. My toes curled – they were starting to fall asleep. Stupid thrills of pins and needles. I've had needles stuck beneath my skin before; it's not an experience I'd care to repeat.

“So whut' makes you 'tink I need ta' be turned inta' yo faction, Elf? Maybe I's jus' a harmless travellah'.”

Personally, I thought the question was valid. But she laughed at me; a full on, out loud, head thrown back laughter that gave me odd trembles in my stomach. I have to admit that seeing her smile like that was almost worth the broken ribs and threat of imminent doom. Too bad she had to open up her damn mouth and ruin the fun.

“You? With all those lovely little daggers hidden all over your body? I somehow doubt you're without guilt.”

Ok, what would you have done? Seriously?

I grinned at her, more of a leer, really, “Found mah' stash, didja'? Ya see anytin' else ya liked, Elf?”

I was glad to see that she was not as dense as she was bitchy. Her smile fled, her eyes got huge, and that pretty little flush spread across her face like a wild fire. She only allowed a drop to her guard for a moment, though, and quickly replaced it with white-hot fury. Again, to see her be normal, similar to the girl I had known for a single night, was worth the second kick to my ribs.

I was still laughing, even when the force of her boot knocked me over onto my side.

“Shut up! Just shut up, you depraved pig!”

She stomped around me, having what you could call a tantrum, I suppose. I could guess why, too, you know.

Of course, by that point, I had my suspicions that she didn't realize who I was, though I had pegged her from the start. With her behavior so far, though, I wasn't sure I wanted to just outright try and jog her perceptions. She was more than ready to stab me in the face and leave me to bleed out, and I wasn't positive that she would change her mind, even if she knew whom she was currently cursing at.

But, as I'm sure you can tell by now, I have a hard time resisting temptation. And there's something irresistible about poking an angry animal with a big stick. Plus, the concept of her feeling me up seemed to really strike a nerve, for reasons I'm sure you can guess.

I squirmed until I was on my back, laying on my hands. Uncomfortable, yes, but it afforded me a pretty good view of my raging victim.

“What's tha' matta', girly Elf? Mad dat I caught ya molestin' me?”

She sputtered, her face growing a darker shade of lavender as her blush intensified, “I would never do such a thing!”

“Nah, maybe not. But now ya tinkin' a me naked, aren't ya?”

I laughed again. She screamed again. I got a boot to the ribs again. It was good times.

The ten minute coughing stream I suffered after the fact was not, actually, a good time, though. I could feel my ribs rattled beneath my skin with each push of air into my lungs, and the pain made me growl, which caused more coughing. I actually rolled back onto my side, curling in on myself; an instinctual reaction of protection. When I finally calmed the fit down, wheezing to myself, I heard her snort.

“That serves you right.”

I chuckled a little, letting my eye dropped close to conserve my energy, “Maybe. Suffocatin' from a punctured lung I ain't appreciatin', though.”

I'll admit, by that point, I was feeling pretty exhausted. My injuries felt like they were festering, and though I fully endorse the fact that I brought it on myself, her retaliations to my teasing weren't helping my situation any. Exhaustion coupled with the whole idiocy of the situation made me kind of sullen. My mood must have projected well, because she was silent for a time, letting me recuperate.

“Dare I ask where it was you received your injuries, Troll?”

I opened my eye a crack, watching her through my eyelashes. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, turning the spider on its spit. She was being very careful not to look my way.

“Would ya believe me if I told ya?”

She snorted again, “No, probably not.”

“Den I prolly got thrown from mah' mount and dropped in a ditch. Den a cranky girly Elf prolly decided ta treat me like bouncin' ball, even though I didn' do nuthin' to her.”

Ok, sure, I sounded bitter. Wouldn't you, though?

“There is no need to chastise me, Troll. I have only done what was necessary to ensure my continued safety.”

That time, I was able to snort, “Ya hafta beat and tie an already injured person? Damn, mon, I could barely walk when ya found me. Now I know I can't. Mah feet be sleepin'.” I wiggled my toes at her, grinning as I did, and I was afforded that little smirk she seemed to have developed over the years.

Before, when I knew her for that one single night, she had smiled fully and freely. I found that I missed that freedom in her.

“Can you not take this seriously? You are in a very precarious position, you know.”

“Oh, I knows. I be tied, remember? Kinda hard ta forget.”

She shook her head, and returned her attention to the spider over the fire. It seemed that it was an unspoken agreement between us that our moment had passed, that whatever connection we were building was to be halted. She didn't become nasty again, but she wasn't friendly, either. She didn't even seem all that curious about me, which was kind of bothersome. If I were in her shoes, I would have been spilling over with questions.

I guess, somewhere, at some point, I must have fallen asleep, because before I knew it, I was woken up by that horrible, uncomfortable feeling of stabbing pins when someone pokes a sleeping limb. I gasped and stared wide-eyed at her, pulling the offended foot away from her poking boot.

“Wake up. We need to sit you up so you can eat properly.”

I stared at her, but let her shift me around. She was careful of my injuries, for which I was obscenely thankful. Of course, again, I just couldn't keep my mouth shut.

“Why you feedin' me? Aintcha' jus' gonna hand me ovah?”

She shrugged as she knelt down next to me, a small plate of chopped spider meat in her hand, “I still intend to, yes, but I see no harm in filling your belly while we wait. Besides, I get the feeling that if I were to eat without sharing, you would simply whine until I went insane.”

I grinned at her, she rolled her eyes, then offered me a fork skewered piece of meat.

The meal was dry, the meat having been overcooked and not spiced nearly enough, but it was sustenance. I chewed thoughtfully, piece after piece, thinking over the odd parallels in the situation.

“So ya not even curious about how I can speak da language, Elf?”

The fork halted in mid-air for a brief second, then continued on its path to my mouth, “I did wonder, though it is no great leap of logic to think that perhaps your faction is now teaching Common to its soldiers for spying purposes.”

I laughed around a mouthful of meat, and swallowed it down, “Dat's a good one. Has da merit. I'll pass dat on later. But actually, I taught mahself.”

That surprised her. She set the fork down, my meal only half finished, and leaned in closer to stare at my face, “You taught yourself? How? Where did you find texts to learn from? Surely you required help?”

Now there. That right there. That was the girl I had known. Her eyes were huge, glowing against the dimness in the fog. Her lips slightly parted, her brow relaxed so the skin of her face was smooth and beautiful. Her smell had hardly changed at all, the only difference being the new scents lingering around her natural odor. The leather of her body suit, the oil from her gun, the spiked tang of sulfur and gunpowder. There was the smell of sweat, as though she had not had a chance yet to bathe, but I found it more delightful than freshly cleaned and powdered skin. Most of the races, including those in the Horde, had forgotten what it was to go without the perfumed water, to live freely without concern. There was nothing more beautiful than one's own natural scent, the scent that defined them, made them who they were. A man could get lost in her smell.

“Ya, I needed some help. But afta' I got da basics down, it was a breeze, mon.”

She moved in a little closer, setting the plate aside. She was close enough now that I could feel her breath on my face, the warmth making little tingles along my cheeks, “Can you speak it fluently? I mean... is it like a second nature to you now? You don't have to consider what it is you are trying to say before you speak?”

Her voice had lowered in pitch, becoming soft, nearly a whisper. I don't know why she did, but I saw no reason not to accommodate the changing mood.

“Nah, mon. I still gotta 'tink about it; specially if ma thoughts be complicated.” I slowly lowered my gaze, down from her eyes to her mouth, then back to her eyes again. The corner of her mouth twitched, so I knew she caught the underlying meaning. She showed no outer disgust as she had earlier, and my ribs cheered in relief.

Her brow quirked up, though, and her smirk started to grow, “Are all Trolls insatiable flirts, or is it just you?”

I grinned at her, liking where the game was headed, “Naw, mon. Bein' a Troll aint got nothin' ta do wit' it. I jus' like bein' tied up. Mah jailer bein' in skin tight leather ain't a bad perk, neithah'.”

Thankfully, she laughed at my joke, shaking her head. And she smiled, ear to ear, her white little teeth showing, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She moved back, sitting on her heels, and picked up the plate again, offering me another bite of my dinner, “You are insatiable. I'm convinced, now.”

“Ya don't seem ta mind.”

She hummed a little, skewering another piece of meat, “To be honest with you, I don't have anything against Trolls personally. I find your kind to be fascinating.”

I quirked a brow, chewing thoughtfully, “Oh? Is dat why ya haven't killed me?”

That stopped her. Her smile fled, and her eyes burned a hole through the ground, “I have my reasons.”

“Oh? So it's not jus' because ya 'tink I'm cute?”

Unfortunately, my jesting didn't sit well with her that time. I mentally kicked myself when she looked back to my face, a strange pain showing in her gold eyes, “I owe a debt to one of your kind; a quest that will most likely never be fulfilled.”

“So ya pay us back by sendin' me ta slaughter? Funny way a repayin' dis Troll ya knew.”

She stiffened, her spine going straight, her nose tilting in the air just slightly, “I am not the one who will kill you.”

“Even if ya ain't da one, ya still responsible. Ya handin' me over ta dem. It's still murder, mon.”

She sneered and stood, taking the remainders of my dinner with her, and tossed the last few pieces into the coals of the campfire, “I do not need you telling me what is right and wrong. I know my way.”

While she stood with her back to me I shifted, twisted my hands in their bindings, “Ya know yer way? Funny, Elf. Seems ta me ya be walkin' blind.”

“You are in no place to lecture me. My personal dogma is none of your business.”

She could not see me, she did not notice me moving, and could not catch the leer that twisted my lips. It was to my great satisfaction that she gasped, frozen in a strange panic when my arm wrapped around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides. My other arm came up, the spring loaded dagger, hidden beneath my bracer fully extended, the serrated edge pressing against her slender little neck.

I pressed my cheek against her hair, trying hard not to put my full weight on her despite the throbbing in my bones, the blood seeping from freshly opened wounds. I could smell the infection, small still though it was, but I did not want to lose advantage here. To show further weakness would be my downfall, and she would assuredly take her chance should I give her a single inch.

“How- You-”

I breathed heavily against her ear, satisfied to feel a shiver race up her spine, “I guess ya didn't molest me well enough, Elf. We Rogues are tricky when we need ta be.”

“You bastard. You unbelievable-”

“Shush now, Elf. We's gonna have a good time, you and me.”

I took a half a step back, and with what strength I had left, I repaid her in kind. She was out cold before she even hit the ground.