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The Man I Love	By : lalolita Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 2434 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own World Of warcraft , nor I make any profit nor money from this story. !

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Key and Zeyhan ran up the stairs, and right in front of the room’s door they stopped,

"I need to ask a favor of you…" he looked deeply into her eyes, his look pleading her.

"Wat is it?"

"Please, please…’’ He panted ‘’I beg of you that you help my friend."

And with that, he entered the room with her following his steps.

Crikton was still resting in the bed, he had not moved from his initial position, not even an inch.

Keyrna gasped at the sight of the human, instinctively adopting a defensive position.

"Dere’s no fucken way, Zey. Dis I cannot help ye wit “the shaman spoke as her eyes were locked on the warrior. A look of disgust and sole fear ran across her face.

"Wait" Zeyhan spoke rapidly, taking her by the wrist "Please!" he begged. “he is my friend, Keyrna... You wouldn’t understand but-

"Of course I dont. He is de enemy. His kind killed ma fatha’ an-

"I saved your little brother. “he bitterly spat out the words. “You owe me at least that favor."

She looked at him with the most killer and hateful of the looks that her reddish eyes could manage, and slowly approached the human; trembling a bit in fear. The man was down, yes, he was hurt and probably out of consciousness, but still, the shamanic troll sensed in him a power far stronger than Zeyhan’s or hers.

"I hate ye, Zeyhan" she muttered. "So, wats wrong wit him?"

"He has very bad looking injuries in his head and torso, I bandaged him for the blood to be cut off from flowing right away from his body, but he has lost too much already-

       His voice broke with a sudden sob, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing this man. Not after everything that they had gone through together, not after having shared almost all his life with him in a way that would have seemed strange to others, but that to him, was sacred.

"I’ll zee what I can do for him" and with that, she sat beside him, her hands over his head. The troll's lips softly murmuring words to the ancient spirits and asking for help. Her eyes were tightly closed and her almost invisible eyebrows frowning and wrinkling her tidy white tattoo that she had around her eyes, cheeks and nose. Zeyhan thought of the Light, but he knew that he couldn’t have done much with the healing powers that he knew he had left within him, so instead he thanked the Light for sending Keyrna in his aid.

Once she finished lighting a faintly yellowish glow over Crikton, the shaman raised and looked at Zeyhan.

"I tink he will be fine, mon' "she kindly rested one hand over his shoulder and looked into his eyes with worthiness and a reassuring smile on her lips.

" I don’t know how to thank you enough, Key-

"Don worry, havin mah brotha wit me is enough of ye, Zey. Be seein' ya... get well, rest. Don´t worry too much. Goodbye."

"Bye Key. Thank you once again" he hugged her tightly and then, after a few seconds, let her go.

        The female troll instantly vanished with a few quick steps to the exit and a slamming of the door.

Exhaustedly, Zeyhan sat on the edge of the bed, praising Crikton with his eyes and slowly wandering over his body. The strong defined muscles of his arms and legs were tensed and hard, still in motion of the battle. His torso, in spite of the several injuries that he had, was toned in heavy muscles, his abs strongly standing out. "He was older than before but he did keep in shape" Zeyhan thought with half a smile across his lips.

             Crikton's face was slightly cut and bruised, a thin beard coated the skin around his mouth and chin, of a whitish color; just as the silvery strands of hair that were stuck against his cheeks. His face had no wrinkles, yet the skin looked rough and tanned; clearly showing signs of hard work and hours of being outside under the burning sun. Unlike that of Zeyhan, which was pale and soft.

         He was not old, but fighting and being constantly exposed to hard and tough things made him appear older than he actually was; pressure and stress made his thirty five years look like ages.

Crikton was a handsome man; he had always been charming and mysterious; strong- molded personality with a rather boily temperament, but he was kind and caring. He had taught Zeyhan everything that there was to know, everything that he could teach to his younger friend despite of being supposedly enemies because of the different factions to which they belonged.

              They knew each other since Zeyhan was fifteen years old, and despite their difference in age and sides, they had become very good friends. Crikton had twenty-five at that time, and life had been hard on him, having lost his parents to the mercy of the Horde, but he never kept any hard feelings towards them; he was a man with no grudges on him, his life and the chain of unfortunate events had driven him to grow up sooner than expected, and he became a man of patience and trust.

Their first encounter had been out in Elwyn forest, where Zeyhan had been foolishly going out with his friends, near the city of Stormwind, one of the main cities of the Alliance faction. They had a foolish idea of being superior, of feeling completely powerful and invincible, but a pair of patrolling guards spotted them one of those days and the incident developed and turned out to be a violent, if not what had been expected to be, encounter between horde and alliance members that had taken the life of some of his blood elf mates, and he was badly injured, being incapacitated to run back to the rest of his fleeing friends. Crikton had first considered him a threat, but seeing him young and weak like he was, curled up against a tree, injured and unable to move, his heart told him otherwise than the cruel destiny that awaited for the youngling below him. So, out of trust and a good and kind heart, he lent him a helping hand which Zeyhan, naively and out desperation, took with arms open. After that, knowing very little of common and using it to communicate in between them, they began a strange kind of friendship in which they learnt about themselves and the other. Originally, the encounters started off as defensive training; Crikton taught the elf everything that there was to know about the Alliance, and likewise did Zeyhan. They taught each other and supported each other. Both men kept company to each other, and in times of desperation they supported the one and other. They began to grow fond of the other and in no time Zeyhan began to feel strange in the presence of this man; he felt small and insignificant, like the world was immense and so frightful, but that the human standing in front of him would protect him from anything that would harm him. He began to develop feelings for him, feelings that were not yet defined but that made him feel funny inside each time they saw each other. He thought of himself as weak if he would ever let those emotions show, so he hid them deep inside of him, though he couldn’t nearly forget what he felt, it only made him feel worse.

           There were times in which months could pass without seeing each other because of personal projects or other chores and trips that they had, but despite that, Zeyhan always remembered him. The Blood Elf also remembered the hatred that his family and lineage held for alliance scum like Crikton, but the ideas and descriptions of horrid, merciless monsters, thirsty of blood and craving to kill, did not match Crikton at all, in fact, they made him look like one of them, like a honored Horde member of the Blood Elf race if he thought about it. However, his family and friends would never accept the idea of his friendship with this man, so they both kept their meetings a secret.

          This was the first time that they had encountered since the last two years that they hadn't seen each other. Zeyhan wished with tears in his eyes again that the circumstances of their encounter had been different. Why a fight? Why against him without even knowing?

"I’m so sorry..." he whispered sadly, placing a warm gentle hand over Crikton's right ankle. ”I hope you get better..." his words trailed off. He knew Crikton couldn't hear him at that moment, but he just felt that the words flowing out of his mouth straight from the heart could ease his guilt and pain. ''You.. my only friend.. hang on...''

He raised himself and went to the bathroom, dragging his feet along, heavy and unwilling to move his body across the room, and he began undressing slowly, putting some water to heat for a bath.
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The Man I Love