Into Moonglade...Into the Past

They had been settled in Moonglade for a couple days now. Little had changed at their arrival. The dew still formed and fell from the lush vegetation, the winds still brought various bouquets of Felwood and Winterveil’s embrace about it. The Warden’s all sized Grozzkralzul up at first glance but seeing the little druidess by his side their gazes were all always simple and complementary. There had been more inquisitive stares however from those who were not druids and just worked there. Shy titters and washing looks from head to toe. Lanme only linked her arm tighter with Grozz’s as she walked, her head held high with a calm smile upon her face. When people saw he was with Shari, the gazes melted away like butter on hot toast.

Lanme was in her element when in Moonglade. Her companion would have noticed this instantly. He would also have noticed the respect she seemed to glean from every single soul. It was not the sort of respect that one expected from others and carried themselves thusly, the respect she was given was pure in essence and as gracious and loving as a mother’s breath upon a childs forehead. And, the power of it seemed to elude her smiling eyes and gracious manner.

In the back of the troll’s mind, perhaps caught once or twice in the corner of his minds eye he may have noticed or sensed a presence. Not one that was a threat- instead it was a watchful guiding presence.
At her request they had been placed in one of the old quiet burrows that surrounded the glade. She had figured Grozz may prefer the less invasive stares (that he may be concerned about) and more quiet nature they would offer.

Although they were just tunnels dug deep under the ground their support beams mostly the large tree roots from above, there were special chambers that had been selected for actual dwellings. Lanme chose one deep down within the labyrthnth with a bridge leading to it. It had two rooms, as burrows go, one with a porch. There was not much left for furnishings, hollows ground out in the walls to place glowing candles, nesting bowls and some stones that could be used to sit on.

The air was rich with the old scent of earth, chilly, but not cold. A simple fire kept things quite toasty.

One afternoon, Lanme had left Grozz to get some supplies and when she returned about an hour later her little arms were overflowing with fur blankets, pillows a change of clothes for him should he wish as well as a bundle of both dried and fresh things to eat with a full wine flask. She had almost fallen off the bridge in her excitement before Grozz ‘s large laughing form had appeared, wrapping his warm embrace easily around her and her new items. She could barely see and trusted him to lead her into the dwelling. Once there she carefully placed everything on the floor like they had just discovered a wonderful treasure. While sitting on her knees her arms spread out wide tilting her chin up to gaze at him in the dim lighting. “Oh just look what they gave us to use! They are very understanding about us wanting to use the burrows but still insist there are perfectly comfortable beds in the inns we can pop into at any time.”

Grozz used a single finger to hook up an elvish made shirt of a rich green, simple yet embellished with characteristic elven design. His raised brow gaze went from it to her. Lanme giggled then cupped both her hands over his one, her eyes suddenly earnest, “I am very sorry I took so long. I saw some… very old friends where were surprised to see me, and then others worried about my back, and still others whom I didn’t’ know so I just had regular old questions for them. I did tr—“The large troll dropped the shirt and pressed a fingertip to her lips to silence her. She fell quiet with a small squeak her eyes widening.
“Jo did fine. Brought back all dis….stuff. Jo did good.” His eyes shone with twinkles of pride as he gently reached up and gripped her shoulder enough to turn her around to study her back. “But now you lay back down, and no fussin ‘bout da cream for your back.”

The little trolless nodded quietly digging through the items she had dumped on the floor. She pulled out a circular glass vial that fit in the palm of her hand and placed it in his. “They offered that ointment to help. Not that what your using is terrible at all, but they meant well. It is what they used on me before to heal my burns … a long time ago.” With a smile she gathered up an armful of furs and laid them out in the sleeping hollow. The lighting wasn’t the best yet in the burrow, one could see more the outlines of things then actual items just yet. Without a hint of modesty, she removed her leather halter top and dropped it carelessly on the floor before settling down upon the sleeping furs. She was still for only a second before she shuffled a bit her lovely heart shaped ass poked up in the air before it too slipped back down into the shadows, her leather shorts now lost on the pile with her top. There was such a contented purr that rolled out of her throat it may have truly reached him to his core. Within seconds she was face down her long hair spilling out all about her, arms down by her sides, her legs slightly bent…. fast asleep.

Grozz barely glanced at the stuff she had dumped on the floor, his eyes had fallen upon her. He stared at the way the glowing firelight caressed peeks of her flesh, some of it smooth and perfect, some twisted and molded by fire long ago. Quietly he moved closer and placed the glass vial on top of her clothing. He hunched down his back against the wall, an warm wrapped around her, one finger just lightly grazing at the curve of her ass cheek. She was still purring, but otherwise entirely out. The big burly troll coughed in his chest and he was struck with odd emotions watching the little thing sleeping naked beside him. He reached for the vial on second thought and opened it up, carefully tugging at the cork stopper while gauging how much strength to use as to get the job done but not shatter the glass. Silly elves. Why they couldn’t just put stuff in hollowed out bones was beyond him.

The scent that hit his senses was floral and mossy it made him snort and shake his head. The longer it breathed the less potent the smell became. It was much different than the ointment of roots and troll spit he had been using. Why would he want her to smell like a flower? She was troll, she should smell troll. A good strong troll musk was the best scent of all in his world. He sniffed at his armpit reflectively wondering when the last time it was he bathed. The scent was poignant and sharp. Made him smile. The smile faltered however as his eyes fell to Lanmae’s matting hair and dirty flesh.

A sigh passed his lips. Somehow it didn’t seem right that she be in this state. He chose the Elven ointment, and as he gingerly rubbed it upon the feral slash wounds across her back he decided he would take her down to the lake later for a good swim. That should make her happy.

Since meeting they had not shared any true tender moments that either had been fully aware of for one reason or another. They had mated once in such a flurry of primal violence and rage that even that act was partially closed off within those secret animalistic parts of his mind. Still, he was discovering feelings he didn’t think he’d had before.

His ear twitched. Somewhere within the burrow a pebble had gotten knocked off a ledge. It didn’t sound right and instantly Grozz’s eyes flashed. Without looking he dropped the vial upon her clothes as silky feline fur encased his body. He lithely moved toward the sound, carefully sniffing along the way a warning growl on his lips.

He stopped once in the doorway of their burrow to look back at the sleeping form of the trolless. He had no doubt that no matter what she would be safe here. With a flick of his tail he continued out along the pathways his large paws making no sound until he picked up a vaguely familiar scent. With a snort he puffed up his chest and stalked proudly out from under ground into the yawning twilight of the glade. One of the Glade Wardens, a lean looking female tauren barely looked at him.

Grozz murred lowly knowing he didn’t exactly fit in with his tiger stripes and long curved tusks, but he owned that feeling at the moment. He raised his head and inhaled a deep lungful of clean air, then shook his shaggy mane, the bangles and trinkets in it jingled mutely.

He could see perfectly without the sun, his senses infinitely heightened in this form. One long ear swung around and his head followed it. In the distance was a very large figure, a figure that even at a distance told Grozz he was practically equal size to himself. It was just standing there, staring at him from one of the boulders that lined the lake.

With another snort Grozz padded forward. The stranger wasn’t a threat, and the closer he got he was surprised to catch a slightly familiar scent about him. Soon, Grozz came to see as he neared ten feet from him, the man was a Kaldorei, leaning on a very thick gnarled staff that was graced with a mass of the most impressive six inch long thorns.

Being a male with tattoo work, Grozz naturally noticed it on others, and upon the left wrist, on the underside of the druid that gripped the staff was a circular thorn tattoo, in blood red. Upon the elves broad muscled shoulders was an old bear pelt, its head resting over his own almost doubling his size. He bore belts of flasks and potions about his hips, necklaces of bone, claws and teeth. Looking at this elf it was hard to believe a man was even under there. His grizzled beard was a deep purple peppered with grey. The most brilliant thing about him beside his very humbling, commanding presence was the powerful glow of his honey gold eyes.

The two males just stared at each other. For an hour they sat in pure silence until Grozz finally gave the subtle act of granting acknowledgement of his entire submission to the Kaldorei with a yawn and flick of his tail.

It was then the elder chuckled. The sound was so deep it sounded as if it echoed off the mountains about them and skipped weightlessly over the lake. “You are young,” he nodded his head and knelt slowly upon the rock, “…but not so foolish.”

Grozz tilted his head and watched the elf carefully. So many questions had begun welling up in his mind suddenly. How familiar so many of the druids seemed to be with Lanme, how others whispered ‘Shari’Adune’ when they didn’t think he was close enough to hear. There were so many mixed emotions from those here in her precious Glade, none however were hostile.

The elf raised a gnarled hand to still the young ones mind. “Focus your thoughts clearly, see the words, you will be able to speak them in that form soon enough.”
When the elder spoke, each word seemed to be carefully thought upon breath, the ancient accent of Kaldorei much richer and much less tainted and muddied that what Lanme’s had become. When he spoke, it was as if nature itself was speaking to him. Calm, unhurried, gentle.

“I have been watching you since you arrived in Moonglade, perhaps even a little before then. There is little that happens here anymore that escapes my knowing.

Interesting choice of lodging. She used to live down there. In that very barrow with the porch and the bridge. Last I knew her old wooden chest was still hidden away in its shadows. “ his molten eyes blinked once slowly as if to smile but then they dimmed, “What I am to tell you, will stay with you. That little one you have in there, “ he nodded toward the barrow where Lanme slept, “is much more special to me, then you could ever imagine. If what I tell you, does not sit well, you will leave here tonight, unharmed. And you will never, ever, find her again. But if you do, and lay one claw against her to end her life, I will end yours. You may wonder why I am going to tell you all that I am about to… but I feel you need to know. To truly know and understand.”

There was such a grave finality in the way the elder spoke Grozz had to swallow. What had he gotten into?

He gave a very careful nod of consideration.

The elder druid snorted like a bear and shifted slightly. “I have known her, all her life. Despite what you think you know or see, she is, 364 years old. Her name is Shari’Adune, roughly translated in your tongue, Seas Whisper. She is Kaldorei. If you are as wise as I have come to determine, you will have already had suspicions about her. Noticed things didn’t quite add up. The truth,” he paused and inclined his head toward the troll a moment, “is in her eyes. They may look as blue as the ices of Winterspring but when one looks deeper, there is an effervescent sheen that the magic hiding her true form cannot fully deal with.

It is hard to tell a story, when you don’t know where to begin, the chicken or the egg…Which is which?”

Grozz was blinking, “She not troll? How’s dat possible?”

“Shhh. She is Kaldorei. Her current appearance matters little when you know how to see –inside-. She was born to serve. Not serve Elune, like many naturally say, it is more…less… different. Although all races, cultures, breeds have their own names for it, and those within it, all, ALL are connected by The Black Vine. You, Zandalari, your people have their own thorn that vine some a little more prominently then others. “ His gnarled hand tightened on the staff again this time turning so that in case the tattoo had been missed, It was noticed now. Prickles of having seen the same tattoo may have begun to spark deep within

Grozz’s mind.

“Slaves.”

The Elder nodded gravely, like his head was so very heavy he had to be careful not to drop it from his shoulders.

“Shari’Adune’s branch is small and called Servants of Cenarious. Very beautiful, very captivating maidens meticulously chosen to be bred to the Sons to produce what you call…slaves. In the Servants circle however, those bred are strictly for pleasure pets. For entertainment, enjoyment…for something beautiful to have beside you. Only females are born, and once born are taken from their mothers to their care givers. Where they are taught from the moment they can walk, see, speak, understand… the moment they truly breathe, to be the perfect mate for only the most elite of our kind…” he sniffed and tried swallowing down a hint of disdain from his mouth, “or whatever race they may happen to end up with.”

“Jo say mate, but jo speakin slave, like ting you OWN, ya?”

The elf’s grizzled features were almost invisible lost in the shadows but his eyes narrowed a bit slowly, “Yes. They are sold, traded, given like prized pets and kept as thus. Likely as slaves from your Thorn. I have…heard those from your thorn of the vine are more menial task laborers , unpleasant things, mating toys….”his lip curled in disgust and he waved a dismissive hand, “ A Servant girl however to them, they know NO different. All they know is that they are specially raised to be the ideal mate. Anticipate an Owners wants, needs, desires and fulfill them with joy and happiness. In the care of the Servants they are spoiled, they are lavished with all good things. They go to the most pristine homes- since it is those that can only usually afford them. They are specially marked with their particular Thorn. They never know what they are. What Shari’Adune is. I’m sure - you- must have gotten glimpses of her special training.” His tone soiled for a moment like something foul was filling his mouth.

“Oh- oi oi nudding like dat yet! Not like jo be tinkin mon, slow down.”

“Her back.”

The tiger fell silent then rolled his shoulders, “Dat…wasn’t what yo’ tink needer.”

The elf grunted.

Grozz tilted his head, “I aint not seen no weird marks on her body. No inks like you got. No inks at all”

“A Servant gets marked discreetly, on her inner ankle. And the design is not like mine, mine is that of an Owner. Hers would have been of property to be owned, that showed her breeding. Every Thorn marks their servants differently. The Servants of Cenarius are of a stags horns and then the markings of her breeding.” The Elder shook his head, “Her identification was burned away however. Which is just as well. Once a Servants body is marred in any way they lose value and become unwanted. Part of their appeal is that they are seen as mirrors of Elune… perfection and beauty.”

“However as fate would have it, Shari’Adune wasn’t as ‘perfect’ as the others in form before the fire. They watched and hoped as she grew that she would fill out properly, that she would become more beautiful,” a ghostly smile touched his lips for a moment, “ that those little freckles would fade away. But her beauty was almost entirely inside. Where almost all couldn’t see it.”

“But joo see’d it.”

“Yes. I saw it the first moment I laid my eyes upon her. I was in full dire bear form, bloodied from battle, slashes across my maw and this little girl ran toward me with tears in her eyes. She buried her little pure face into my neck and begged for them to help me. She would have been very, very young then. She had slipped away from the rearing group somehow,” he was chuckling at the memory, “But she had made her way into our camp. I wasn’t really hurt, no one was. We were actually relaxing after a successful battle.” He paused then and drank in the night blanketing around them, “ Then Krae’Sharel Forestsong appeared from his tent where laughter and groans from enamored women followed out after him. He was a massive sight, something like you,” he raised a brow that resembled the long moss that grew on trees, “actually. Only larger, black as night eyes as bright as the moons. He roared and sliced his tail through the air startling her enough to fall back from me and fall on her bottom. She stopped crying instantly and just stared at him. He then stalked up to her, slightly annoyed from being disrupted from his play by a child’s crying of all things and pressed his face along her from foot to the tip of her ear, taking in deep lungfuls of her scent. And I watched him fall in love with her then when she suddenly laughed and grabbed both his ears in her hands to jerk them straight up like a rabbit.”

The elders golden eyes dimmed and shimmered. He was quiet for a time before he shook his shoulders and coughed, “She would have been sent to a normal home before that night due to her …average appearance, but soon as he met her, he wanted her. And, Krae’Sharel was the High Captain in the Guardians of Cenarius. I was…. Just part of his muscle. Outside the battlefield I was his brother. He chose her and requested she be trained for him specifically. Even though he was told she would not be as beautiful as all the others currently in the Servants care, he would not consider any other.

You may have noticed she does not flinch or shy away from animal forms, -any- animal forms. They are as common to her as the water and air that she loves. As was also made known to her the pain they can all bring… and how to appropriately react to that as well.”

A flock of bats chittered and skimmed over the lakes mirror like surface below them, swirling and diving. Grozzkralzul watched but didn’t see them. All he saw was the little Kaldorei that had entrusted her life to him time and time again.

“When she came of age at her first bleeding,” his tone became heavy, “ they went under a binding ceremony like any truly in love mated pair. She was Collared with a magical Collar, with matching bracelets and anklets. She was gifted to our mighty Commander and he pridefully accepted the mark of the Black Vine. She never left his side- except while in battle. Otherwise he would parade her around like she was a prized jewel. He would take her without shame in front of all campfire groups and gatherings, in animal form or not. She knew the cue and would instantly get into position and take her Masters gift. He wanted there to be no question she –belonged- to him, and show to any who would dare mock him for having a purchased mate how –perfect- she was and what things she would do that made her better than anything any could ever have. He did love her though, he loved her as much as his own breath. And the day she gifted him with a daughter his whole world changed.”

The elder stared into the stars, “Krae’Sharel left the battle field, I took his charge. He took charge of his new family. Jewel’nathel, their daughter, was a vicious little spitfire. She was just like her father at that age, wouldn’t stay in her clothes, wouldn’t stay out of the forest, would stand up to a boar with nothing more than a twig in one hand and her teeth bared. However, when Shari’Adune smiled and called her to her, the child was soothed as if the very hand of Elune touched her. Jewel, despite being as wild as her father in looks and action, inside…she so resembles her mother. When I wasn’t away at battle, I was with them. “ His eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Both…. so precious.”

A chill picked up in the air and touched upon the elders voice, “The afternoon of the fire I was out sparring with Krae’Sharel. We didn’t hear anything above our savage play. Except her scream. “

He looked back to the barrow with shimmering eyes, then shook his head as his hands tightened upon the staff, “Never in all my life could I recall Shari’Adune ever speaking above a whisper. But that day I knew it was her. It all happened at once then. We heard her scream and smelt the fire. We came pounding through the brush to see her standing about twenty feet from the burning hutch, a flower basket petering on the tip of one finger, her other hand up to her mouth. She turned to face us, her visage twisted in horror. She only whispered one thing before she collapsed in my arms. “She’s in there.”

“Krae’Sharel … I never in all my years in battle had ever seen him move as quickly as he had that afternoon. Nor as rashly. I had only caught Shari in my arms when I looked up and saw his blurred form about to leap into the house. It was nearly engulfed, his shoulder broke through a pillar that had fallen in the doorway just to get inside. It was too late, I knew it was too late.” His voice broke and his massive shoulders began to shake.

It was a battle to find his voice again, “Shari came to, in time to see him break in. And that’s when she lept up and ran toward the house. I was never one for speed, in my anguish I was clumsy, slower,… I was in Elvish form yet moved like some drugged ape. I was calling to Shari, calling to Krae’Sharel… even little Jewel. I think I was. No one ever answered.” He shrugged weakly.

“I caught up to Shari, she was standing IN the fire,” his face twisted up and he stared blankly being forced to rewatch the scene in his mind again. His large hands raised in a shaky manner, the staff slipping to rest in the knook of his arm,” This little thin waif of a woman, standing in the doorway trying to pull away that broken pillar.” He looked at Grozz with a haunted look, and reached out with a large hand into the air and swung it, “The pillar was at least as wide as I am… I reached out and scooped her around the waist and pulled her back. Her dress was singed off, her hair was burned and burning like angry wicks of candles, her legs…her hands… oh her hands…melting… And she kept crying for Jewel’nathel. Crying for Krae’Sharel to get her out. To save her.” He pressed the back of his hand against his nose, “The smell of the burning bodies. Nothing in battle had prepared me for something like that.”

“Why jo tellin me all dis mon?”

The Elder snarled and jerked a clawed finger toward the barrow. “Because you NEED to KNOW what you have in that girl.

When she woke up after the accident it had been days. She had lost her will to live. I had sat with her for endless hours trying to get her to eat to drink…just to breathe. Many didn’t understand. Those who knew what she was, just saw her as some ownerless pet now. A little kitten that had its home burned down. Anytime anyone tried to heal her, she refused them. For weeks she wasted away in bed…then one day she turned her beautiful eyes on me and began to cry. From there, I had been able to convince her to allow me to heal her with my meager abilities just enough on her hands and feet so she could walk. The rest though, she wanted to let heal on its own. She wanted to remember. She nursed her scars as badges of failure. She was raised to be perfect…and in her mind she failed. She may be able to smile today, with a laugh that makes it feel like springtime raindrops are hitting your face…but for those who can see inside…know she is still next to death.

So then she wasn’t really part of society, no one could speak of it, so she took it upon herself to want to learn to be a healer, and follow the druidic ways to honor her mate. “
“Joo love ‘er mon. I can tell.” He snorted bitterly, “Why din jo take ‘er? Take her now?” His tone rose as his claws scraped against the stone. He felt himself actually wanting this elder to dare and TRY to take her.

He sucked in a sharp breath, then let it out slowly. “I had thought about it …once… the first day she had healed and I heard her laugh again. It was like the sun had finally come out after a frigid winter…I savored that moment and her smile as if it were all just for me and in that moment she had been –mine-. But only a moment. “ His shoulders slumped and he gripped the staff again twisting at it, “Over the years I have watched her try to find a real relationship, with the things she has been taught, and not taught. With the things she knows… and does not know. I have watched her come so close to touching the sun, only to be burned all over again.”

He snarled suddenly and had Grozz gripped by the scruff of his neck holding him like he was nothing more than a little kitten. He hissed through pointed teeth in a pained voice, “I will –never- can, never…be one to burn her.” With that, all strength left him and Grozz was plopped harmlessly back onto his haunches. The elders arm fell lifelessly to his side. His tone was defeated.

“You, little Zandalari troll own her now. Your mark has claimed her superficially.” The elders deeply glowing eyes turned and bore down onto the troll, burning like dangerous pits of fire, “When you fully decide to claim her, you must do so properly. You must take your place on the Vine, bare it’s mark for those who know to see. Collar her properly, treat her for what she is and she will blossom.” his eyes became warmer then and began to stand, leaning his weight heavily upon the stave. Bones creaked and popped as he shook like an old bear, “And treat her for all she -could have been- and you might learn what love really feels like. A true love, little troll, only happens once in ones lifetime. Trust in that, coming from a once immortal.” He snorted, “If it’s love you want from her.”

Grozz shifted then, filling out- and up to his full troll height. Turned out he was a foot taller than the Elder. He fixed his sharp emerald eyes on the male and jerked his chin toward the elfs hand. “Joo part of da Vine?”

The druid turned his back to the troll. If any reply was given the night swallowed it up.

Irritated, his mind now overflowing with information, he threw out his arms, “If I wanted to, where I get dis magical Collar n’ sh*t?”

The looming form paused, straightened a bit and cast an approving look over a furry shoulder, “You join the Order of the Thorns.  Once you pass you are presented with a Collar and adornments that are magically bound to you and your will."

The troll looked down a moment then took a breath to ask more but his words were stolen by the sudden beating of massive raven rings as the elder druid took flight and slipped into the night.