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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Oranna and Bargrimm journey from Theramore to Gadgetzan and back to get Bargrimm new engineering skills and schematics from the goblins. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Camping 101
The sun was touching the edges of the mountains surrounding the Barrens, the day still hot with it, as the wind blew lazily around the two dwarven hunters, the dust sticking to their clothes still damp from the swamp they'd trudged through most of the day. They'd made careful passage along the gold road through the afternoon. Aside from an encounter with a few hecklefang hyenas that had been overly optimistic about their chances against two dwarves and their companions, they had made easy, steady progress. They had stopped for a moment, in the shade of a wide branched tree, to drink and plan the next step of the journey. Befound rested on the ground with a huff, clearly uncomfortable, her normally white fur a dusty yellow.
Oranna looked at the map Bargrimm held, frowning a little in thought, absently wiping at the sweat on her brow with a hand, shifting a little in place. “Here, ye mean?” She pointed at where it was marked on the map The Great Lift. “So, if we need ta go around…” With a sigh, she looked around them, noting the growing shadows with a small frown. “We willna be able ta stay on th’ road, then.”
Keane's tongue was hanging out of his mouth with the heat as Bargrimm nodded, his goggled eyes searching the horizon. "Aye, best we be findin' a spot t' pitch camp an' rest. Normally I'd be recommendin' t' set fires t' ward off th' local predators, but wi' them quillboar an' who knows who from th' Horde roamin', I'll chance it tha' Befound an' Keane can serve for warnin'." He poured part of a waterskin over Keane's about, letting the wolf lap up some of the water. The hunter pointed southeast. "Think I spy a re-entrant comin' down tha' slope. Shelter o' th' terrain nearby migh' make a good spot."
Oranna made a sound of agreement, and sipped another mouthful of water from her flask. She waited for Bargrimm to start walking to set off in the direction he’d indicated. Befound reluctantly rose and followed her, making a low sound in her throat.
“I’ll trust yer judgement on tha’,” she said with a smile, matching his pace. “So, this is where I’d jus’ sling a tent o’er a bush an’ call it a day, but if I remember correctly, ye did promise tha’ if I called fer help, ye’d come runnin’ ta save me from a figh’ with a tent.” Her grin grew as she spoke. “Good thing yer within easy shoutin’ distance. Won’t need ta wander the Barrens hollerin’ helplessly with a tent draped o’er my arm.”
Bargrimm gave a wink, forgetting that his eyes were imperceptible behind the green lenses, and cast about for a likely site. "Savannah campin's goin' t' be a touch different than if we were in Hillsbrad or th' Loch, but a lot o' th' principles hold." He kept up a light running commentary as they found a small knoll with a flattish top, reasonably sheltered from what he assumed were prevailing wind patterns and nodded with satisfaction. The next half hour was spent helping Oranna wrangle lines and poles to ensure proper orientation, and Bargrimm went a little heavy on the tent stakes, cautious of how strong the overnight gusts might be. Keane sniffed around the perimeter but didn't find any evidence of animal trails.
"There! Tha's a fine set." He craned his neck up to gaze at the reddening atmosphere above. "I reckon stars'll be fair magnificent tonight wi' th' size o' this sky."
She glanced up with a quick smile, and then returned her gaze to the campsite, her eyes scanning it again as though she were memorizing it. She ran a hand over her hair, trying to tuck pieces back that had escaped the braid from the travel and battle with the tent.
"Well, so. Tha's shelter done then. Food now, I hope," she said with a tired smile.
Bargrimm pulled out a small shovel (not from his leg, perhaps surprisingly) and dug a short trench in the soil, banking the sod up and around one end to serve as a makeshift chimney. "This'll keep most o' th' fire's glow below ground level," he explained, "an' I'm sure ye know tha' spottin' a smoke column should be a bit harder in th' dark than daylight. Do ye want t' tend th' flames or prepare th' food?" He indicated the short-chimneyed end. "Best heat focuses there, but ye can wrap things in broad leaves sometimes t' cook in the coal bed."
Oranna laughed a little. "Ah, should best leave th' food tha' needs anythin' more than peeling or slicing ta ye, I expect, if ye'd like it ta be edible. I once burned water," she said cheerily, with a shrug.
"But I can tend a fire well enough. Been a spell since I had ta start one in open air, but I think I remember th' way of it. Should still ha' flint somewhere in the bottom of a bag." She nodded her head at her bags. "I have some more apples, bread, an' cheese in my pack, as well."
She looked for Befound, who was curled up in a ball, her tail wrapped around her legs, asleep. Oranna sighed affectionately at the sight. "I'll feed her later, when she's awake again."
With a smile, Bargrimm pulled a few shanks of preserved meat from his bag and wove together a lattice of green sticks from one of the fatter nearby trees. Placing it over the mouth of the chimney, he laid the meat upon the woven platform and began the process of half-roasting, half-smoking the day's ration. The smoke corkscrewed upward, carrying a few sparks into the darkening sky. He pushed his goggles back and began securing the rest of the food from a hanging bag some twenty feet above the ground and far enough from the camp that any smell would keep curious creatures well away. Dusting his hands off, Bargrimm walked back toward the ground oven to see how Oranna and the meat were managing. "All righ' there, lass?"
She sat by the fire, out of the direction of the smoke, a half eaten apple in one hand. Her face was solemn, and there was a look of near pain on it, her brows drawn in. At the sound of his voice she looked up, her expression relaxing a bit. She smiled at him, although some sadness from some thought still lingered in her eyes. "Aye, doin' well. Though, ye migh' want ta check on th' food. I canna tell if it's supposed ta smell like tha.'"
Eyebrows rising in alarm, Bargrimm hastened to the fire and pulled the meat away, eyeing it with concern. "Ahhh, yeh, tha's fine. Nothin' burnt. An' I toasted some bread an' cheese for ye, wi' a few o' th' herbs I found in Theramore. Hope it suits well enough, aye?" He lifted the entire woven rack off the chimney and brought it over to her wholesale, turning it so the bread was facing Oranna.
She smiled at him warmly, removing her gloves, and testing the temperature of the bread carefully with a knuckle before picking it up. Her eyes fluttered in pleasure at the first bite, and she made a soft sound. "Yer a treasure," she said enthusiastically. "E'er since Menethil it feels like I've been livin' on apples an' plain fare as what I can find." The toast vanished with possibly alarming swiftness, and she licked her fingers a little of the remains before dusting them off before leaning back with a contented sigh.
She removed her cloak from her shoulders and spread it over her right side, mostly on the ground, and dragged a small bag over. Stretching out her legs, she took out a wide toothed comb and a small container. "So," she said. "Tomorrow is th' Thousand Needles stretch, aye?" As she spoke, she pulled her braid over her right shoulder and began to slowly undo the strands.
Bargrimm tried not to stare as Oranna disentangled her hair, focusing on their upcoming traversal instead. "Aye, all sources say they have th' Lift installed t' get in an' out o' th' canyons, but unless th' Horde's all twelve shades o' stupid they'll have tha' locked down tight. We migh' be lookin' fer a steep climb down ourselves. Dry place like Thousand Needles we migh' need t' be cautious o' weather; sounds like a perfect place t' get caught in a flash flood."
She nodded thoughtfully, a slight frown on her face as she undid the last of her braid, reaching behind to take out several pins from around the crown of her head that she tucked into a bag. "D'ye think we'd be able to stop briefly at Bael'dun Keep then? I might…send word ta Sir Elohad. I…" She sighed and glanced at a bag. She began to gently comb out her hair, starting at the ends, carefully spreading it out on the cloak.
"Ye mentioned ye saw us talking ta a gnome, yesterday?" She looked over at him. "It's no' a secret, no' any ye dinna already partially know."
With an assenting nod, Bargrimm began to stir the remnants of the lattice into the coals, burning away the last traces of food scents. “Aye, could no’ hurt t’ drop in, see what’s what. Migh’ be able t’ pick up some advice on what t’ expect southward, too. But yeh, spotted th’ fella when I was gettin’ Keane off our vessel. I figured prob’ly had somethin’ t’ do wi’ what brought th’ Company t’ Theramore in th’ first place.”
She watched the fire, shaking her head a little. "No. Tha'…it wasna related, exactly. It was…had ta do with th' delay of it, really." She took a breath and blew it out hard. Befound twitched in her sleep at the sound, but didn't wake.
"Ye remember, when I told ye I'd had a person…investigated? I…it had ta do with her. Tha' gnome ye saw us with is Finnegan J Sharpgear, apparently th' Company Investor." She paused and smiled briefly. "He was the one who saved me, afore, from th' Forsaken. I…he did say tha' night tha' he'd been watchin' us. An' he, well." She ran the comb through her hair. "He found out that Kenna was part o' th' Defias, and who she had really been. An' came ta tell us."
Bargrimm let out a long, low whistle. "An' I'm guessin' she dinnae join up t' mend her ways an' make friends, aye? Tha' sort o' thing can be devastastin'. I reckon ye'll have some as want t' kill her, an' some as want t' learn more, an' some as can no' decide wha' quite they feel."
"Aye…somethin' like tha'. I dinna know why she… joined." She bit her lip. "Ye remember, when I told ye Kenna was Defias, ye told me ta trust Sir Elohad's judgment on it? Tha'…I couldna be sure which way she'd fallen on it, but, ta try ta show her tha' she could…" Oranna trailed off, looking up at the sky, where the stars had come out beautifully against the inky expanse above them.
"She went by Stingers then. Tha's how we knew her. She…threatened us. In letters. I…" She closed her eyes, set a hand on arm, and tapped out a rhythm as she recited it. "'Continue with Cobalt Company, and even you won’t be able to escape the oncoming storm. The safe exit is NOW. And the door is rapidly closing. Try to support them, and you’ll end up forgotten alongside your family.’ Tha' was mine. It wasna th' worst of them. She threatened th' others families an' loved ones mostly. I…" A shadow of some emotion passed over her face and she looked away. "There was no one fer her ta threaten in my case, except myself. Maybe it's…part of why I…see it differently."
"Well. Threatenin' seems t' put it lightly. There's some well-directed venom in tha' message. Seems her perspective shifted, I reckon. Ye dinnae join a mercenary group an' try t' kill 'em all one by one. Tha's just foolish; tha' sort o' work ye do from th' outside, stayin' hidden." Bargrimm prodded the coals again, stirring the embers lower. "I'm no' surprised t' hear ye have a different view, lass. If ye asked me a few years back, I'd likely been t' sayin' just t' put a bullet in her an' have done. But people are no' errant design flaws; bein' 'round yerself always reminds me that folk is still folk. Ye dinnae always just melt 'em down if their ingot warps."
Oranna smiled gently, her eyes sad as she looked out at the stars, her hair a dark curtain over her shoulder. "I jus'…we dinna know her reasons fer it. An' tha' matters ta me. Why she joined the Defias. Why she stayed. Wha' she wants now. I…dinna know her story, but I know wha' it's like ta be alone, no friends, no family, an' take a gamble on a Company led by a person ye dinna know." She ran a hand through her hair, and drew a shaky breath.
"I jus' want ta give her a chance. Ta tell her to her face, I know who ye were, an' at least somewhat of what ye've done, an' I still believe ye can leave it behind ye, an' walk a different road." Oranna closed her eyes and pulled her legs in closer to her body. "But I…I already know tha'…Ivri won't. She…she told me she'll try ta kill Kenna. An' if I dinna want tha' ta happen, I better find her afore Ivri does." A look of pain crossed her face, and her eyes went bright with tears in the low light of the fire.
Bargrimm extended his hand to Oranna with a sympathetic sigh. "Well, I'm guessin' ye would have said somethin' if ye weren't comfortable leavin' tha' t' wander off south wi' me. But we'll keep an eye an' ear open in case we hear anythin'. Stranger coincidences have happened, aye?"
She took his hand with a soft sound, and looked at his face. "There’s nothin' I could do there aside from askin' others fer favors." She glanced at her bag again. "But, I thought…" She blinked rapidly. "I asked Ivri direct if she cared enough about me ta give me tha’ chance ta talk ta Kenna. She said, no. She didna." She closed her eyes, pain flitting across her expression. "I jus'…didna realize until tha' moment tha' she felt like tha'. I love her like a sister. But, I forgot. She has…a real family still. She doesna need someone…like me," she said with a sad smile, a tear rolling down the side of her face, her eyes still closed.
"It doesna change how I feel. I didna start ta care about her on a contingency tha' she'd return tha' carin'. I jus'…I thought she did…" She ducked her head, shaking it. "An' if she doesna care, wha' are th' chances Kenna does, enough ta listen?"
Bargrimm gently placed his arm around her shoulders, pulling Oranna a little closer. "Hard t' say wi' tha' sort o' thing, love. Lot o' times we're close t' folks an' then somethin' out o' th' ordinary shows how different people can be. I dinnae know Ivri tha' well, but some folk are bound heart an' hip t' their families, even if I dinnae kenntha' mindset meself. But if someone like Kenna threatened ye an' Befound in tha' manner, I'd like t' be — well, they'd best be sleepin' wi' both eyes open. Migh' no' be I'd kill 'em, but they'd have a fear o' fangs an' fire set in for certain."
She leaned in closer, taking a deep breath. "I know tha'…fear. I was angry at th' time, same as Ivri, afraid fer wha' tha' threat could mean. But, tha' was all it ever was—a threat. She's ne'er struck direct against us. An' make no mistake, if she does, if she tries ta hurt anyone I care about," she said, moving a hand to touch Bargrimm’s arm. "I won't hesitate. But, we didna bother with a even a warning growl. We jus' went in and killed - " She placed her hand on her face, pressing it against her eyes, her voice dropping low.
"She's no' yet done anythin' unforgivable, an' if we could jus' talk ta her…tell her tha' we're no'…tha' we aren't th' monsters any more than she is, then maybe…tha's all I want. To try." With a sharp inhale, she brushed at her face. "I have ta tell Sir Elohad tha' if he wants a chance ta talk ta her, he'll have ta convince Ivri. I wasna enough of a reason ta stop her hand jus' by askin'. I should ha' remembered tha'. Even with my own mother, I wasna…" She trailed off, curling inward.
“Would Ivri really jus’ go spare like tha’? Seemed she respected Ference as Commander t’ me, but ye know her better than I do.” Bargrimm’s mouth twisted slightly. “Cobalt fracturin’ under division like tha’ would worry me more than wha’ Kenna migh’ be up t’ directly, honest. But aye, talkin’ wi’ him an’ lettin’ him know — if we can send him a message from Bael’dun, tha’ migh’ be best.” Keane flopped down nearby with a yawn, and Bargrimm stifled one of his own.
Oranna shook her head. "I dinna know. Ivri…she works fer Shaw an' SI:7 now, at least as much as fer Sir Elohad. She even said tha'…if it came ta th' point where Shaw ordered her ta kill me, she would, without hesitatin'." Something flickered across her face, but she ducked her head lower. "But, if anyone can convince her it would be Sir Elohad." She sighed and shrugged. "I thought I knew her, thought she cared abou—but…I think she's changing faster than I…"
She took a deep breath and forced a smile, looking up at the sky, as she pulled away from his side. "Ye were righ'. They look lovely out here. The stars, I mean." With quick movements, she reached into her bag, taking out a small boar bristle brush, and began working on her hair once more, her face obscured by the long waves.
Bargrimm stirred the fire down to ash, ensuring the remnants wouldn't blow into the savannah grasses. He was half-tempted to pull out his concergearta, but decided against possibly attracting unwanted attention. “One o’ th’ biggest skies I ever seen, aye. Reminds me almost o’ the voyage, I think. Lotta beauty out in these plains, for certain.” His eyes rose to take in the rising moon as it soared overhead. “Evenin’, Miss Elune.”
Oranna nodded in quiet agreement, although she did not look back up the sky, and tucked the brush back into the bag after one last swipe across her scalp. Quickly, she rebraided her hair into a loose plait, and made a quiet, sibilant sound when she’d finished. At it, Befound snapped to attention from her nap, and came to sit beside the hunter, who sorted through one of her bags, and removed several fish for the snow leopard. Befound ate with a cat’s discernment for fine food.
Standing, Oranna shook out her cloak, and gently dusted off her clothes, frowning down at them a little. The company tabard had already been carefully packed away before they had left, but she wore her usual leather armor over her clothes. “Should we stay in full armor, d’ye think?”
Bargrimm poked his head out from behind the tent where he was unbuckling his chest piece and spaulders. "D'ye usually…? Nay, lass, I'd no' recommend tha'. Yer goin' t' want yer rest, no' be trapped in a cuirass all night. I never sleep in armor, unless I'm doin' a doze-watch an' expectin' a direct fight." He stepped out from behind the tent, clad only in shirt and trousers. Keane scrambled upright and came to sniff around the border of the tent, curling up a bit to the side of the entry flap.
“Aye, if ye think it’ll be alrigh’ out here,” she said, and began to undo the straps that held her armor on by feel more than sight, staring into some middle distance a little lost in her own thoughts. Under the armor she wore a simple red shirt that had obviously been mended many times, missing a great deal of fabric. In the dark, it looked more black than anything, showing against paler skin. She carefully tucked most of her armor away into a bag, leaving the larger pieces on top of the larger backpack.
When she’d finished she walked to the tent, pausing outside it for a moment, before heading inside. She took several deep breaths, looking at the two bedrolls, and a small amount of panic showed in her face that she was clearly trying to master. Her breathing sped up a little, and she wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes.
Stepping up behind her, Bargrimm carefully placed a hand on her shoulder. "Easy there, lass. No need t' worry. Look here." He pulled the entry flap partly open, weighting it with a pair of stones, and then turned to do the same for the other end. The Barrens breeze drifted through the interior, bringing the nocturnal sounds and smells of the outdoors inside. "No' goin' t'see rain tonight, I reckon. Bit o' shelter t' keep off most o' th' dust, but almost as open as th' savannah itself, aye?"
Oranna watched, and smiled gently at Bargrimm. When he'd finished, she stepped closer to embrace him lightly. "Thank ye," she said gratefully, resting her head against his chest for the moment. "I…jus' need ta remember tha' I'm here, with you, no' back there." She sighed and breathed him in. "I'm no' back there," she repeated softly.
Bargrimm answered her with a reassuring squeeze, and then gave a fake snore to ruin the moment.
She stiffened a little, backed away, and ducked her head to hide her expression. "Aye, I know, it's been a long day," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. Dinna worry about me. I'll be fine." With agile movements, she lay down on the bedroll, curling up into herself on her side, her back to him. She stared at the tent wall. "Goodnight," she murmured.
"Night there, lass," he replied quietly, and took to his own bedroll immediately after. He laid awake in thoughtful silence a while, but eventually was claimed by the dark and the flames.
Gadgetzan Nights
Two days later, in the waning afternoon of the desert sun, the two hunters finally caught their first sight of the goblin city of Gadgetzan. The smoke from the churning mechanisms that spun wildly over the large entrance of the city was faintly visible against the bright, shimmering heated sands surrounding the walls. Faint sounds of gears turning mixed with the sounds of crowds, the voices blending into the hum of a hive, carrying over the dry, still air of Tanaris.
As they approached, Oranna stifled a yawn, blinking her eyes hard several times, the dark circles beneath them obscured somewhat by the bright flush of color on her face from the heat of the day. Befound padded close to her side, looking a little worse for the wear, her normally white coat a mix of orange dust and dull gray of the desert sand.
"Thank the Light," Oranna muttered as they closed the last remaining distance to the city.
Bargrimm's eyes sparkled at the Gadgetzan's appearance below the mountain pass. "Aye, tha's a sight an' no mistake. Goblin tech all over, fer certain. No' pretty by any measure, but fascinatin'! Best we find some lodgin's before sundown, aye?" He shot Oranna a wide smile before noticing her aspect and sobering. “Need t’ get us all out o’ the sun an’ into some water, I reckon. Rest o’ th’ business can wait ‘til everyone’s recovered a bit. We all did a damned good traversal; ye should be proud.”
She forced a smile and nodded, one hand on Befound's head, not meeting his gaze. "Ye did most o' th' work. I jus' hope I didna slow ye down too much," she said in a quiet voice as she looked down at the sand, walking a bit quicker towards the city.
"So," she said a little louder. "Find an inn, get some water an' shade, an' resupply, aye?" The wider smile she aimed at him didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was clear she was attempting some measure of enthusiasm. Without waiting for much of a reply, she made her way to the entrance of the city emblazoned with large letters spelling out Gadgetzan, ready to locate the nearest inn.
Bargrimm’s brow furrowed with consideration as he followed Oranna, allowing her to lead the way into the goblin town. Keane, panting heavily, brought up the rear as the quartet made their way through the streets, maneuvering within the pedestrian traffic toward an inn in the northeast section of the city. Haggling with the innkeeper got them a room at a reasonable rate and a meal and drink at eye-gougingly high prices, even for goblins.
“So what should we do first, Sunbeam?” he asked, once the initial business was concluded. “We have th’ whole o’ a new adventurous city in hand — anythin’ catch yer fancy?”
She tucked some hair back into her braid, and looked down at her bags. “I think, maybe, I’ll jus’…take a some time, get…refreshed a bit, maybe. Get our money’s worth on this room,” she said. “I could use some food though, if ye think tha’…maybe they ha’ somethin’ here tha’ isna jus’ more meat-on-meat sandwiches.” Her lips tipped up in a tired smile. “I’ll jus’ be a few minutes I think.” She hesitated, and brushed a hand over her eyes. “Ah, if I’m no’ out in a few, maybe come get me. I migh’…lose track o’ time,” she said as she looked down at the ground. Befound huffed, and pushed against her legs. With that, she made her way to their room.
Once in the room, she made her way to the bed, and flopped down upon it for a moment. After giving herself a few seconds to appreciate the relative coolness of the space, she set about trying to pull herself into some semblance of normalcy. Hesitantly, she pulled the light gray dress Cress had made for her from her pack, and considered it for a moment, before changing into it. Befound set about thoroughly washing herself clean of the travel.
Oranna undid her usual practical braid, and redid it in a soft twisted ponytail at the top of her head. Hoping that the water would not cost as much as the room, she spared a little to repeatedly splash her face, trying to cool off. When she was finished, Oranna made her way back to the bed, sitting on it with her eyes closed, drifting a little, telling herself that she was just resting her eyes for a moment.
Bargrimm scoured the inn for something non-meat-centered, which they had aplenty in stoppered bottles. With a sigh, he moved into the street to look for something Oranna-friendly and managed a quick purchase before returning to the inn. Carrying the items up to the room, he rapped on the door before carefully entering. "Lass, all righ'? Found ye some… cactus fruit, I think. Either fried or dried; lad sellin' 'em did no' seem real clear on th' difference."
Oranna came to with a start, blinking rapidly. She rubbed a hand over her face twice, and stood up. “Aye, I’m fine, jus’ got, ah, distracted,” she called out.
With a deep breath, she fixed a smile on her face as he opened the door. The smile grew more genuine seeing Bargrimm with the fruit, and reached out to take one. “Thank ye. Tha’ sounds lovely ta try, at least.”
"Hoped so!" The hunter smiled at her. "Ye look right smashin' in tha' dress, Oranna. I was thinkin' on gettin' a look 'round but I'd rather do it alongside ye than jus' me an' Keane? Saw a fightin' ring catchin' a fair few eyes, but there's a lot more t' see too: shops an' shows an' th' like?" Bargrimm couldn't quite determine why these were all coming out questions rather than statements, but he forged ahead regardless. "Heard a bit o' music comin' from a hall a bit closer t' th' south wall; migh' be worthwhile?"
Oranna flushed a little pink at the compliment, a genuinely happy smile on her face for at least a few moments, as she smoothed a hand down the side of the dress. “I know it’s no’ practical, but, well, I thought…from time t’ time, as ye said. It’s cooler ta wear a’ least, an’…no’ likely ta be anything ta fall off this time. Sir Elohad did say it’s no’ entirely safe here, but tha’ it’s no’ dangerous so long as we stay outta trouble.”
She tilted her head a little. “Music? Tha’ migh’ be nice ta hear. I’m curious wha’ they migh’ be playin’. I’ve ne’er heard goblin music, or—” She paused with a small sigh. “Or it migh’ be Horde music, an’ tha’ migh’ be interestin', if tha’s wha’ they’re doin’. Or some travelin’ folk, d’ye think? I dinna know about th’ fightin’ ring.” Her eyes dropped down a bit, but she looked back up at Bargrimm with a small smile quickly. “But, I would like ta see th’ city, I think. Maybe add somethin’ ta th’ journal. I think…tha’ would be good righ’ now.” Her voice went low for a moment, a flash of sorrow on her face before she ducked her head a little to try to cover it.
She smelled the fruit, before taking a tentative bite. At the taste of it, she made a thoughtful noise, and took another small bite. “This is actually quite good, though I think it migh’ be both dried an’ fried, honestly. It’s nice, almost like a melon, but no’ too sweet. Ye should try it.” She offered it to him, a soft look in her eyes as she looked at him. “Thank ye fer gettin’ it fer me. Maybe we could get another few o' them fer th' return trip?”
Bargrimm nodded, noticing her still-weary aura. "Tha' sounds a grand plan. Tell ye what, th' city's still coolin' down, so why dinnae ye rest up a bit, an' I'll see if I can find me contact for the engineering nonsense. Everyone seems t' hold tha' th' real celebrations happen well after dark anyway. I'll tend t' me business an' then we can do a proper explore once they turn th' lights on, aye? I get th' sense we could set off a whole crate o' fireworks in th' middle o' th' street an' nobody'd bat an eye."
Oranna's smile froze on her face. "Oh," she said. She dropped her hand holding the fruit. "I…no, ah, oh course. It'd be easier on ye if I—" Her voice was quiet, and low. She turned away, staring at the floor of the inn. "I'll…wait here then. Good luck."
Bargrimm nodded and slipped out, letting the door latch close behind him. He sighed and shook his head at his own clumsiness before heading out to find the right goblins that could teach demolitions for the proper price.
A few hours later, there were a series of raps on their inn door. Bargrimm's hair was tied back under a brightly-colored kerchief and he was clad in a loose white shirt to weather the residual warmth that still baked the streets after sunset. He'd managed to find a bath after his workshop endeavors, removing most of the blasting powder from his skin and fingernails.
Oranna opened the door, and smiled warmly at Bargrimm. Her eyes were a bit red rimmed and swollen, but she looked as though she'd recently woken from a nap, her hair slightly mussed on one side. She swept her gaze over him, and her cheeks went a little pink.
"Ye look like ye stepped out o' a Claybourne Gritgrind novel," she said, her voice a little husky from sleep. She cleared her throat self-consciously. "Did ye get what ye needed done then?"
Bargrimm reached for her hand and gave Oranna a gentle little spin out into the passage. "Oh, will I have a few new tricks t' get started on makin'! Lass, I'll be tellin' ye all about it, an' if I can whip 'em into fireworks for ye — see if I don't! Now, who's this Gritgrind fella?"
Her smile grew as she spun, her skirt flaring a little. “Tha’ sounds excitin’,” she said with a laugh. “I didna bring any fireworks with me. Thought they migh’ be too much like signal flares out in th’ travel, an’ I was runnin’ out o’ room in my packs with all the extra things Niris gave me.”
“I dinna know tha’ ye’d want ta read Gritgrind, but he’s fun sometimes. I’ve read most o’ his things. Easy ta get in Dun Morogh, usually. Dwarven writer, romance mostly. Most o’ his leading men are dashin’, brilliant dwarves o’ th’ forge in some way.” She chuckled merrily. “No’ Steelbloom, mind ye, but I like him well enough. Interestin’ metaphors, tha’ one.” She nudged him with her arm, her face going bright as she spoke. “‘Course, with yer double axes, ye could be Arnathorn Firststone, the handsome, magnificent hunter no one can e’er defeat.”
Bargrimm bowed slightly. "Long as he's no' any sort o' prat about his winnin' record, I'll take th' compliment. Who does tha' make ye, then? Does he have a clever, pretty lass what keeps him from runnin' off into foolhardy endeavors alone an' watches his back so he dinnae lose any extra limbs or say anythin' too foolish?"
Something flickered across Oranna’s face before she covered it with a smile. “Ah, no. Mostly, they jus’ end up in bad situations tha’ he has ta rescue them from. Often tied ta trees, fer some reason, frequently kidnapped, tha’ sort o’ thing. An’ there’s always a new one in each book,” she said with a shrug, looking away for a moment. With a small sigh, she moved to close the door of the inn, taking one last peek at Befound sleeping on her rug, and looked back to Bargrimm.
“D’ye mind if we hit th’ shops first? I’d like ta get somethin’ fer Cressidha, if we can find somethin’ interesting she migh’ like fer her tailorin’.”
Bargrimm chuckled, offering her an arm. "If there's one thing a goblin city has, it's shops. We can probably find any number o' things Miss Cress would be able t' use." The pair left the tavern and moved into the busy streets of Gadgetzan, browsing kiosk after vendor after peddler in search of whatever the Azeroth Trade Cartels had on offer. Supplies of all sorts, curios and gadgets, food and drinks aplenty were available in the wheezing, blinking, creaking, flashing spectacle of the night markets.
Oranna carefully selected several things for Cress, arranging them to be sent by mail back to Theramore. The goblin trader made an attempt at a hard bargain, but Oranna simply kept asking questions about the materials, going into deeper and deeper specifics until several other browsing customers left. With a scowl, the vendor barked a final price that was well within reason and Oranna smiled brightly, agreeing to it.
She tucked her arm back through Bargrimm's, looking slightly pleased with herself. "That almost ne'er works fer tha goblins I run into on th' road. Need the others around for it ta work, really. Otherwise, it can be a bit odd. Tried it with one in Duskwood, an' jus' ended up hearing his life story. I think he wanted someone ta talk to, maybe."
She leaned in closer to Bargrimm, glancing around them a little. "Ye said th' music was south? Tha's, ah, a direction from here…"
"Righ' this way, Sunbeam!" Bargrimm tugged Oranna by the hand through the alleys until the strains of melody could be heard coming from a street cafe. A flat patio was cleared with tables nearby, and the knot of musicians — sporting pipes, strings, and a series of small drums — kept a lively sequence of jigs tripping across the open area. Some eight or so dancers were widely spaced throughout, with others relaxing nearby and occasionally switching out from their stools and tables to join in.
Oranna grinned at the sound of the music as they approached it, closing her eyes briefly to savor it, trusting Bargrimm to guide her to it. "Tha's lovely, tha' is," she said once they got within range, squeezing his hand a little. She eyed the dancers, and some emotion moved across her face, before she turned her head with a bright smile to look at Bargrimm. "Could we get a table maybe, d'ye think? Ta stay fer a bit?"
Surveying the premises, Bargrimm spotted a vacant corner and led Oranna to the table, ordering a small plate of food as a placeholder just in case. After a few minutes watching the musicians, he stood and held out a hand during a break in the songs. "Migh' I have th' honor, Miss Sunbeam?"
"Oh," she said, her eyes darting between his hand and the dancers, her own hands clasped in her lap. "I…dinna know how ta dance." She looked down for a few beats, then back up and forced a smile. "But, if ye wanted ta go dance, tha's all righ'. I can stay here, an' watch. I wouldna mind." With one hand she gestured at the food as though to imply she'd simply stay and eat.
Bargrimm's un-goggled eyes sparkled down at her. "I may be no great shakes on th' floor meself, but I reckon Wildhammer honor migh' be at stake if I dinnae at least try an' show ye th' basics, then. C'mon, lass — two turns an' then if ye dinnae choose we'll just be appreciative spectators, aye?" His hand beckoned encouragingly as the band once again tore off on another reel.
Her eyes dimmed further, and she shook her head. "It's okay. Ye…should jus' go have some fun. Ye've earned it. Ye shouldna have ta jus' spend this whole time teachin' me." Her smile wobbled a little, but she pushed it wider. "I'll be fine."
His tone took a slightly more serious cadence as Bargrimm resumed his seat for a moment, nudging his chair closer to Oranna's. "Lass, teachin' ye an' learnin' from ye has been nigh th' best thing o' these past months. Maybe it's a bit blunt, but I'm no' just in this town t' learn blastin' theory from some folk; I like bein' wi' ye, tryin' new things an' discoverin' what's about alongside ye. Ye're no' just a sunbeam for th' Company; ye're my Sunbeam personally — an' if a lad can't get up th' courage t' ask a lass like tha' t dance eventually, well, he barely deserves her company, I reckon. I'll no' be enjoyin' meself by meself tonight, so wherever ye choose, tha's where I'll be, an' glad of it, aye?" Bargrimm's smile resumed and he tilted his head toward the floor once more.
The forced smile melted away, replaced by something vulnerable and hopeful all at once, as she scanned his face looking for something as he spoke. What she found made her eyes go soft and warm, a small, sweet smile forming on her lips. For a moment, she just looked at him, affection showing clear in her eyes, before standing and shyly extending her hand, palm down, ready to place it in his.
"All righ' then, Mr. Rocks. Lead th' way."
The pair found a spot on the floor, slightly out of the way, and Bargrimm started off leading with a very simple step. His left foot hit the floor heavier than the other, but his balance apparently didn't suffer too terribly. The hunter smiled at Oranna, watching for any hesitation or need of guidance. The music kept pace and as the song continued he increased the tempo, feet staying in rhythm and adding a dwarven flair to the goblin tune.
Oranna mirrored his movements hesitantly at first, a slight frown of concentration on her brow until the steps began to repeat. She grew more certain as the pattern became clear, until she matched his rhythm with near flawless accuracy, down to the slightest delay from when he moved to the left. As they danced, her face began to light up with joy, until she was beaming at him, her eyes locked on his face, looking at him as though he were a firework in the sky.
Bargrimm grinned widely, spinning Oranna around and accelerating his steps, heels pounding the floor as the dance continued. He hadn't done this sort of thing since the First War, but time hadn't dulled his muscle memory so much that the Hinterlands would be ashamed of him. The hunter could almost smell the pines in his mind, but Oranna's smile still grounded him firmly in the present.
The night settled around the hunters as they danced in the goblin city, until the air grew cold enough as a warning that it was growing late. Oranna sighed, and in the space between songs played by the seemingly indefatigable musicians, suggested they should head back to the inn. As they walked, she held onto his hand as well as his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Well," she said softly. "Tha' is goin' in tha journal for sure."
Death Spread Her Wings On The Blast
The hunters set out early the next morning, Oranna looking brighter than she had in days, their rations and resources replenished. They made better time than they had getting to Gadgetzan, crossing the desert of Tanaris to the Thousand Needles nimbly, taking the southwest route for much of the afternoon. There were still several good hours of daylight when the animals tensed; it was all the warning the hunters had before a leap of crag stalkers was upon them, emerging from the rocks almost as though they'd materialized from the hot, dry air itself.
Bargrimm's first reaction was sparking a fuse off while Keane leapt to the forefront. One predator stumbled back, shaking its head and pawing at its dazed ears after the makeshift bomb detonated. It wasn't subtle, but it broke up the leaps' coordination enough that a few shots could find their marks. Keane's howl echoed through the canyon, causing the felines to back up with open, hissing mouths for a moment.
Oranna pulled back, sending Befound to Keane's side, directing the snow leopard to prevent the crag stalkers from flanking the wolf, as the hunter carefully began to work on the crag stalkers that had begun to consider retreating. Her first few shots deliberately missed their marks, hitting the ground a breath away from the large cats on the edges of the fray, sending a spray of rock to pelt their fur and a suggestion that their intended prey was not worth the loss of energy and life to get it. Her next shot hit one of the beasts whose fangs came too close to Befound, the bullet striking against the crag stalker's shoulder in the joint, not yet a killing hit, but enough to take the beast out of the fight. She was utterly focused on the skirmish, her attention divided between the two companions and the crag stalkers not yet engaging in the fight.
Backing away from his initial front-line position, Bargrimm scrambled to an adjacent location, covering an overlapping field of fire with Oranna's. His approach was far less focused on deterrence, as round after round found direct vectors to a lung, a liver, an eye, a heart. The goggles swept back, forth, and up, keeping an eye out for any additional lurking threats.
Three shadows swept overhead.
Bargrimm wasn't extremely experienced with the Kalimdor harpy; reports on their capabilities and the peril they posed varied. But he knew a predator's scream when he heard it, and while Oranna had taken excellent cover from the stalkers, the aerial approach was entirely unobstructed.
"ORANNA!"
At her name, she lifted her head, but she looked at Bargrimm, not up to the sky.
He might not have ever earned a gryphon's loyalty, but Bargrimm could still calculate a raptor's descent within seconds. He slung his rifle over his shoulder, diving to cover Oranna with his own body as a pair of bird-women plunged down, talons outstretched. Everything collided at once: Bargrimm into Oranna, arms desperately trying to keep her from splitting open against the stones — harpies into Bargrimm, jagged claws ripping at the armor, looking for flesh beneath — Befound and Keane into the remaining stalkers, sending the cats scampering back into the cliffs, away from the new foe.
Arcs of pain sizzled through Bargrimm's back as talons dug deep into his shoulder blades. He could feel the wind and dust kicking up around him as the pair heaved upward, yanking him free of Oranna and hoisting his frame skyward.
This en't good.
He grabbed for his axes, trying not to lose them even as his hands felt dull and heavy. The dust clouds cut the visibility to a fraction of normal, but Bargrimm could vaguely make out Oranna's prone form, mercifully uninjured on the ground some fifteen feet below and rising.
Oranna scrambled to her feet, her eyes moving quickly trying to process what had happened, her right arm bleeding from a small scrape where she'd taken most of the fall, her left hand still holding her gun in an iron grip.
The moment she saw Bargrimm in the harpies' clutches, her face went utterly blank. Boomstick was up on her shoulder faster than a gasp of breath. A shot rang out, the bullet ripping into one of the harpy's eyes. Bargrimm finally got his right axe free, hacking at whatever part of a harpy he could reach. Four more bullets severed the taloned feet holding Bargrimm. In an exact timing rhythm, she fired shot after shot, her face an unmoving mask as she breathed with a sniper's careful, smooth cadence.
Bargrimm tumbled out of the sky, pinwheeling into a slope of scree and sliding to the canyon floor. Blood stained the gravel near his head, which was ringing from impact. His eyes swam as he blinked up into the azure sky above. "… Oranna — ye… righ' there?"
The moment the harpies were dead, she turned, firing killing shots at anything that moved that was not Bargrimm, Befound or Keane, including a small, harmless snake that had been moving away from the commotion.
The dust-covered dwarf tried to push himself up and instead settled for slithering the rest of the way down the alluvial fan. "Lass — ye safe? Best we get… movin'…"
Oranna moved to his side at the sound of his voice once everything was dead, her face still blank, looking at him as though she couldn't understand him, her eyes oddly unfocused. She knelt next to him, her breathing perfectly regulated. One hand briefly reached out and touched his face tenderly; something flickered in her eyes before she seemed to shove it back.
When she spoke, it was in Dwarven, her voice flat. "We need to get away from here. We need to camp. I don't know where to go. I need you to show me a place to stop. Can you show me a safe place? I'll get you there." With one hand she shouldered her gun, and moved to help Bargrimm up, wrapping an arm around him. "I have bandages in my pack. I can help. Can you stand?"
Bargrimm blinked hard, sucking his teeth as he tried to clear his head. His response came back in the same language. "Not much between here and Theramore, I'm afraid. We need to… find somewhere above. Climb. Best to get out of the canyons."
"We just need to find somewhere to stop." She shifted her arm around his waist, careful to not move his arms too much, using her relatively smaller height to not aggravate the wounds. She gestured to Befound who went out ahead of them, her fur standing on edge. Oranna scanned the rocky environment, looking for the easiest possible climb. The canyon walls created difficult lines of sight, and she walked them forward looking for a better angle. She found a slight incline leading up and away from where they were to the north, far enough away that they would be well out of the harpies' range, and began moving in that direction with purpose. Her face remained blank, but she made a soft sound in her throat when she felt a trickle of blood touch the arm she had wrapped around Bargrimm.
The incline led eventually to a small rocky area, with an obstructed view into the canyon, a large overhang of a rock that only seemed precariously balanced above them. It was not quite a cave, but it was shaded, and the points of entry for an attack were limited. It would have to do. Oranna directed Befound to hold a point, and pointed to another for Keane, hoping the wolf would obey. She moved to a small boulder that had a relatively flat top. "Here, sit," she said.
Moving smoothly, if somewhat mechanically, she put her pack down, and took off her bags, arranging them in some order that made sense to her, if not necessarily to an outside observer. She straightened and moved to remove Bargrimm's armor. "This has to come off. May I?"
Bargrimm's face was even paler than usual, and the sweat beading on his brow spoke to the shock and blood loss. He nodded quietly to Oranna's inquiry. "I think… my armor's kind of holding things together back there. Might want to be sure…" He reached out a hand to brush across her cheek gently, losing the thought partway. "You're a little smudged, Sunbeam. I'll be… fine."
Her breathing quickened briefly before she caught it back into the steady, calm rhythm, holding his hand on her face for a moment, some of the emptiness of her expression fleeing, replaced by barely restrained distress. She closed her eyes, and leaned forward, touching her forehead to his. "Don't worry about me. Just…let me take care of you."
Without letting go of his hand, she pulled away and reached into one of the packs, pulling out a vial. A quick glance assured her that she'd selected the right one and she placed it in his hand. "Take this. It's one of Niris' tonics for pain. I'm so sorry. It's going to hurt when I take this off, and it's going to get worse before it gets better. I'll be as gentle and fast as I can."
Swallowing the contents, Bargrimm placed the small bottle down gingerly, watching as it tipped over with a clink on the stone. Fragile thing. Something wet was running down his back. He could feel the wound shifting.
She undid his armor carefully and quickly, deliberately not sliding it off his back immediately, letting the weight of it remain until she'd picked up her pack and moved to the other side of the boulder, kneeling on the hard rock where she had access to the wound. Oranna moved with speed that spoke of familiarity, cleaning and bandaging the wound, murmuring softly as she worked. When the bandages had finally stopped soaking through, she began to wrap the wound in linen strips to hold the bandages in place. "I'm almost done."
He could feel the excruciating stabs of pain through the tonic. There was an odd sense of cold from having air deeper inside one's back than was strictly traditional. A faint, distant scream sounded in his ears, but he couldn't tell if it was coming or going or real. Bargrimm shivered.
Oranna moved around to his front, pulling the light blanket she used at night around him as she moved. There were tear tracks through the dirt on her face, but she appeared utterly unconcerned by the tears still occasionally running down her cheeks. She made a quiet shushing sound, stepping in close to Bargrimm, putting her hands on the sides of his face, her thumbs moving to stroke his temples. With him sitting on the boulder, they were of an even height for once.
"I'm right here. You're all right. I have you," she said, her voice soft and soothing. Gently, she moved his goggles off his eyes, pulling them down to set them lightly around his neck. Once cleared, she looked into his eyes, checking for something, and she swallowed hard at what she saw. She stepped closer and carefully put her arms around him, placing her hands on his shoulders, pressing her cheek against his. "I'm right here, love."
With a start, Bargrimm's focus returned to the peril, his fists clenching. "We need to get… moving. I doubt they'll let their prey rest for long. Best not be near where they left us. Let's get back toward home. The wounds will keep. No one left behind."
Oranna nodded, calling for Befound as she pulled away, looking into Bargrimm's eyes for a moment longer with a soft look of compassion. With deft hands, she collected Bargrimm's armor, and tucked most of it into a bag, heedless of the blood, maneuvering the larger pieces on top, securing them with a bit of string pulled out of a side pouch. "We should try to get out of the canyon. I think if we keep going north, we can find a place out of the way enough to take shelter for the night." She took out a harness that she'd used for Befound in Gnomeregan, and buckled it around the snow leopard. She loaded up Bargrimm's packs onto Befound, before turning back to Bargrimm. "You ready?"
Bargrimm's eyes flicked back and forth and he shouldered his rifle, leaning some of his weight on Keane, who whined slightly, nosing at the dwarf. "Aye, prep t' march," he answered, back in the Common tongue once more. "Let's leave these damn scavengers chasin' their tails. Company forward, aye? Climb for Northshire." The hunter's gaze moved to the trail ahead, apparently searching for a path up the canyon wall.
She put a hand on his shoulder briefly, and moved forward to take the lead. "This way," she said, switching to Common. "Follow me." Her voice sounded certain and sure, and she turned her face away so he could not see her expression. Cautiously, her ears attuned to the slightest sound of Bargrimm falling behind or faltering, she led them first back down the incline, then pushed them north at an easy pace, as the sun began to dip in the sky. Befound padded on the other side of Bargrimm, carrying the weight of the packs easily.
Finally, as daylight began to fade, she spotted an area that looked as close to what she'd come to understand was safe to camp—out of the direction sun, shielded from most of the wind, tucked out of the way enough they wouldn't be an easy target. Checking briefly on Bargrimm's status for the hundredth time in the past few minutes, she directed them to it. "Here, sit down. I'll get camp set. Think yer ready ta eat an' drink?"
Bargrimm nodded, eyes closed, regulating his breathing. The orcs had swarmed out of the underbrush, terrifyingly silent for their burly stature. These weren't the usual grunts. He fumbled for his own flask of water, wincing as he tried to move his arms. Keane gave a plaintive whine and licked his fingers. "Good lad. Held th' line. Proud o' ye." The hunter blinked, festering swamp giving way to arid terrain. He held his head, feeling the pounding headache throb through his temples again. "…We all righ'? Oranna…" Bargrimm made to get to his feet, feeling the familiar weight in his left leg. Not in Deadwind. Right.
She was at his side instantly, leaving the last stake she'd been pounding into the ground for a moment. She put two hands on his shoulders, gently preventing him from rising. "It's all righ', don't get up. Jus' rest. E'erythin' is fine. I've got everythin' handled." She knelt in front of him, moving one hand to press against his forehead, checking for any sign of fever, dropping her hand to cup his cheek when she didn't detect anything out of the ordinary. "How are ye doin'? D'ye need anythin'?"
He sat back down heavily, nodding slowly. "Maybe… migh' need t' kill a few more harpies when I get a chance. Tha' wasn't a favorite." His hand rose to cover her own for a moment. "I think I'm back now. Had a few — rough memories there. Reckon I'll be sleepin' on me stomach t'nigh'."
Her eyes went stone hard for a second at the mention of harpies, but she blinked it away. "Aye," she said softly in agreement to all of his words. "I have a few more tonics fer pain an' anythin' ye migh' need. Niris' work, so th' best ye can get." She smiled warmly at him, scanning his face a little in the waning light. "I was jus' about ta start th' fire an' see ta Befound an' Keane. Ye should eat somethin'."
With her other hand she pulled one of Bargrimm's bags closer that she knew he kept his food stores in. "I'll be righ' back. If ye need anythin', or if ye start ta…if things get bad again, I'll be righ' here." She leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to his forehead before straightening, and returning to finishing setting up the camp.
Bargrimm let the waves of pain wash over him, his breathing shallow and quick. The bag of food might as well have been held in Elune's alabaster palm for all its apparent accessibility. The dwarf eyed it like it was mocking him personally before realizing he wasn't much hungry after all. "Daft." Bargrimm flexed his right toes experimentally and was pleased to discover they, at least, weren't immersed in flensing pain.
Befound made a huffing sound, padding over to Bargrimm, before picking up the bag with her teeth and putting it in his lap. She nudged it with her face, giving him a feline scold of a stare for a moment. Oranna looked over with a frown at the movement, having finally finished getting the camp set, hurrying back over, realization in her face.
"Ach, I'm sorry, I should ha' realized, of course—" Her cheeks burning red, she picked up and reached into his pack, looking for something she figured was likely fully cooked, settling on jerky. "I'm sorry, I…" She offered it to him, her words trailing off helplessly.
Bargrimm gave a wry chuckle, half-shaking his head before the pain made its disapproval known. "Nay, love, 'tis just th' nature o' th' thing. Ye do fine, promise. I'm proud o' ye, ye ken? Jus' need t' get me hands cooperatin' again is all. Migh' take a bit, no matter."
She shook her head, her face going pale. "I…" She looked down for a moment, then back up. "Ye need ta eat something, if ye can. And…more water," she said as she looked around for the flask, picking it up and frowning at how full it seemed. She lowered her eyes a little. "Can I…tha' is, will ye let me help ye?" She asked softly, holding up the flask and the jerky.
“Aye, that’d be grand. Tha’s good advice; eatin’s a — we’ll get there.”
She nodded with relief, holding the water flask to his lips and tilting it very carefully, tucking the jerky back in the bag for the moment. "Water will do th' most good. An' ye should probably get another tonic in ye afore ye try ta sleep. Everything's set up, in th' tent. As soon as ye feel up ta it, we should get ye lying down."
Swallowing, Bargrimm grunted an assent, and within a few minutes he was slowly making his way toward the tent with Oranna's assistance.
The bedroll had been doubled up; she had placed her own on top of his, to create as much extra padding between him and the ground as possible, her blanket folded to create a pillow for his head. She looked between it and him, and bit her lip a little before calling for Befound. The snow leopard pushed through the tent flap into the small space, looking at Oranna, who directed Befound to Bargrimm's other side in case he needed the secondary support. "Jus' go slow an' easy," she said half to Bargrimm, half to herself. "I dinna how we're doin' this without some hurt, but between th' two of us, I think we can get ye down."
Bargrimm apparently had other ideas, and unceremoniously flopped face first onto the bedroll with a pained groan, relying on the padding to catch him. Which it did. Mostly. His voice was muffled between his beard and the blanket. "Migh' as well jus' get it done quick." The dwarf tipped himself sideways slightly. "If ye won't take yer bedding, make sure ye use my cloak for yerself, at least, aye?"
Befound mimicked Bargrimm, flopping to the floor next to the hunter. Oranna sighed at both, and knelt next to him, gently moving his hair away from his bandages, her touch feather light. "I'll be fine. Dinna worry about me," she said. "D'ye want anything on ye, a blanket?" She shifted her weight off her knees, to sit next to him. "I dinna know wha' ye need ta…fall asleep like this. D'ye want me ta do anythin'? Talk ta ye?" She paused for a beat. "Sing ta ye? Or jus' sit here? Leave? I could leave if ye needed space or quiet or—"
His hand reached out and slowly clasped around hers. "Stay, if ye would. Helps, havin' ye close. Glad yer safe, lass. Had me worried there…"
She covered his hand with hers for a moment, and a small sound escaped that sounded dangerously close to a sob abruptly halted. She took a deep breath, and laid down on the ground next to him, reaching out a hand to brush against his cheek. "I'm no' goin' anywhere. I'll be righ' here." Her lips moved into a wobbly smile. "I'm jus'…glad yer still here, too. I promise, I'll get ye back safe. We'll get ta Niris, an' ye'll be fine." Her hand moved gently to his hair, stroking it back from his face. "Ye'll be fine," she repeated in a near whisper.
Love Doth Those Sweet Eyes To Earth Incline
"I think we need to stop here," Oranna said. The edge of the Dustwallow was tantalizingly close as daylight waned, but the thought of trying to set up camp within the swamp was another incentive to call it for the day. They had made it through the southern Barrens at a steady pace fueled by pain tonics, Befound carrying Bargrimm's packs to reduce the strain on the injured hunter. The wind blowing through from the west had brought some clouds with it, not quite enough to cool the savannah itself, but it had cut down some of the relentless heat. Oranna was grateful for the slight relief, as she rationed her water carefully, reserving half for cleaning the wounds and her hands for each time she changed Bargrimm's bandages.
She looked back at him again, clearly fighting the urge to check on him once more, her hand half rising to reach for his forehead to feel for any sign of fever. "And it's probably time ta change yer bandages," she said, attempting to appear ready to help, rather than hovering with worry. "How are ye doin'?"
Hair bound back and goggles firmly planted against the sun, Bargrimm was pale but seemed to be maintaining his upright posture mostly out of spite. Traces of sunburn were evident across his forehead and arms from the Barrens trek. He managed a slightly convincing grin. "Point me at th' Legion; I'll chase 'em back t' th' pits they crawled out from. I'll let ye after th' wrappin's." He spotted a nearby stone and slowly took a seat, waiting for Oranna.
She smiled at him warmly, a touch of worry lingering in her eyes, as she walked up to him. "I'm fresh out o' Legion, but I do have a water flask I need ye ta conquer, an' some jerky tha' looked at me funny tha' I could use yer help vanquishin'." She set her bags down next to him, and began taking out her supplies, adding the sunburn salve to the mix. "Jus' let me get ye sorted, an' you scratch those two off yer list, aye?" As if she'd been doing it for years, she leaned over and brushed a light kiss to his forehead, before moving to his back to begin the process of changing his bandages.
Bargrimm dutifully began downing the food and drink, holding as still as possible to allow her to get the process underway. Chewing jerky gave him something to focus on and regulated his breathing. "Halnir's goin' t' be proud his work stood up t' claws. He's th' lad what did my tattoo ink. Good artist."
Oranna made a small humming sound in her throat at it, as she finished tying off the linen strips holding the bandages in place. Almost half the tattoos were covered, but she spotted a bit she hadn't noticed before.
"Oh, ye have runes in there," she said, reaching out a finger to touch it for a beat. "I didna notice, ah, afore." She smiled a little to herself, reading the meaning, and her eye caught on another on his shoulder. She walked back around him, studying the tattoos. Her smile widened reading the one she could see enough that wasn't covered by a harness of linen. Drawing in close, she reached out a hand to trace it, before pausing, and looking at Bargrimm. "Ah, is it all righ - tha' is, can I touch—ah." She cleared her throat, looking oddly self-conscious.
He nodded, trusting that she wasn't inclined to be unnecessarily invasive. "Go righ' ahead, lass." Bargrimm chuckled. "I've no further appointments t' keep today."
She smiled at him, pressing her fingers to his chest, moving her fingertips across the tattoos. Her index finger traced the rune, before exploring the pattern of the knots. "They're beautiful," she said, some warm emotion infusing her voice. "They suit you." Her hand moved across the lines, almost lazily, moving from one pattern to the next, a slight flush of color rising in her cheeks.
"No' half as well as ye do." It had started as an internal thought that came out fully vocalized. Not at all the proper statement for the moment, but there was no unsaying a thing once it hit the air. Fortunately, the sunburn hid any of the reddening that might have been visible otherwise. Bargrimm cleared his throat. "Eh, ye ever thought o' gettin' inked yerself?"
She blinked at his words for a second, her cheeks going a little pinker, a happy smile spreading across her face at the compliment. She shook her head a little at his question. "I never have, afore, at least," she said, her eyes still on her own hand. She spread her fingers a little, pressing her palm against the design. "I've ne'er seen them like this though. I migh' think about it. Some jus' like this, on my arms, maybe, if I did." Her smile grew a bit wider and she glanced at his face. "Then we'd match."
She smiled gently, looking back down at the tattoos beneath her hand, a light pink flush on her cheeks still as she continued to trace the patterns with her fingertips. She sighed a little, her expression soft, as she followed the sharp lines in the center of his chest. With no noticeable hesitation, as if by its own accord, her hand left the lines of ink, drifting lower to trace the upper contours of his abdomen just below where the tattoos ended.
As though waking from a dream, she stopped suddenly, her hand halting in its path. She looked up to meet his eyes for a scant handful of heartbeats, her eyes burning with a mixture of surprise and lust, clear and hot. She dropped her gaze, ducking her head, her cheeks burning a bright red, and did not quite snatch her hand away, but moved it quickly back to her side, her left hand coming up to grasp her right arm.
"I - ah, I. Should see ta…ta Befound an' Keane. An' f-finish settin' up. Camp." Her voice was a little over loud, and she stood as she spoke. "I—ye jus' rest." She turned and walked towards the animals, not quite running away, but only just barely.
Bargrimm watched as she hurried away. That had been quite a look on Oranna’s face just before she left, and it certainly recontextualized the last few — months? Had it really only been months? Bargrimm had assumed whatever emotional ties he had idly considered were likely one-sided, or at least arising in comparative isolation, and most of Oranna’s conduct seemed to be entirely without hidden objectives or ulterior motivation. The rest he could easily chalk up to her secluded upbringing and lifestyle.
But that had unquestionably been a Look - the sort of Look those romance novelists she occasionally mentioned probably wrote several pages about. Bargrimm had roughly the normal experience with romance as any other sestercentenarian he knew, which consisted of a few flirtations every couple decades, but unless a wedding was in the offing, everyone generally smiled and moved along with their lives.
So he watched her walk away, but the room in his mind metaphorically labeled “Attractive (Romance)” suddenly only held one occupant.
“Huh.”
One might have been able to chalk up the relative speed at which camp was set up to growing expertise and familiarity, but it was hard to credit it fully to that with the amount of noise Oranna was making in the doing of it, or how studiously she avoided making direct eye contact with Bargrimm.
Periodically, when she was relatively sure she couldn't be observed, she looked at her hand as though she hardly recognized it. She brought it up to her face and groaned softly, muttering something about flexibility.
There came a point where she could only avoid the other hunter for so long, and her concern was clearly growing, as her glances over at him were increasing in frequency. She approached, eyes somewhere on his right shoulder, hoping the growing gloom would hide the heat she could feel on her cheeks. "Should probably get some rest," she said.
"Aye, love, but ye best have set some o' the bedroll for yerself t'night, ye ken? I'm no' so torn I need everythin' to meself. Sunbeams need rest too, I reckon." Bargrimm leaned forward, using his legs rather than arms to lift himself to his feet. He reached out to lean on her somewhat, a bit more stiff than when he had first sat down.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness, as if she suddenly couldn't remember where she usually put her hands, but she managed to get him up and moving. She shook her head. "No, ye need it more than I do, an' honest, I slept fine. Better, actually than before, even with wakin' ta check on ye time ta time. Aside from my…problem, I've ne'er had trouble with sleepin'." She brushed some hair out of her face. Her braid had seen better days, dust coated it, and she had not brushed or rebraided it since Gadgetzan.
"I…if ye still wanted me, ah, close. If tha', ah, helped. I…I really didna…mind." Her face was getting redder the longer she spoke, but she soldiered on. "Bein' close by means I'm likely ta catch it if ye turn ta fever in the night tha' much sooner." That did sound very plausible. "I'll be using my cloak tonight, if it'll settle yer mind a bit, but I'm fine. Really."
The tent had been set up much the same as the night before, with Oranna's cloak set close enough to the doubled up bedroll that it nearly, but not quite, overlapped. She brought him over and braced herself for him to fall into it.
Bargrimm managed to lower himself a knee at a time, using a touch more control than previous. His eyes were already closing as his head fell. "Aye, close would be… good. Jus' in… case…" The faint snoring started soon after.
Oranna put her hands to her face, in an attempt to cool her cheeks. She took several deep breaths, and lay down on the cloak next to Bargrimm, trying to mimic the exact position she’d been in the night before. For a moment, she paused, just looking at his face, something almost sad in her expression, before she reached out and stroked back the hair off his brow, her eyes going soft and warm even as her cheeks flamed again. She tucked her hand into his, and brought it close to her cheek hoping it didn’t wake him, and slowly fell asleep to the comforting scent of gun oil and blasting powder.
Bargrimm dreamed of flame.
The shifting winds through the pines fanned sparks in all directions, starting innumerable small blazes in the undergrowth. The main inferno roared like a frenzied dragon, swallowing stand after stand of trees, creeping inexorably up the slopes. The hunter leapt down the valley, terror growing in his chest. The village was safe from the invaders, but at what cost?
Back in the Barrens, he stirred uneasily. "Run… warn them… fire…" His hand gripped the bedroll, fist clenched. "Fire… fire…"
Oranna snapped awake, her hand already reaching out to Bargrimm’s forehead before she was aware of what she was doing. She almost gasped with relief when she found his brow damp, but mercifully unheated - no fever. She frowned, her mind catching up to her. He’d said fire, and that’s what had woken her; a common fever dream perhaps, but there was no fever. Carefully, she sniffed the air, but there was no hint of smoke to it, and Befound was not clamoring for her attention. There was no reason he’d be thinking of—
Her confusion melted away, replaced by something filled with an equal mix of sorrow and compassion, as it dawned on her. There was only the briefest hesitation before she scooched over, until she was close enough to carefully embrace him, putting her head gently on his shoulder, pressing against him to be as solid a tether as she could be. “No, love, tha’s done. Yer no’ there. Yer here, with yer Sunbeam, remember? Yer here, with me. Come back ta me, love. There’s no fire. Jus’ me.” She kept up a small litany of it, murmuring to him, her hand gently stroking his lower back, far away from his wounds.
Bargrimm's grip relaxed as his breathing slowed. His frame shuddered once more, pulse steadying back to a more regular rate. Her presence permeated his unconscious perceptions and even asleep, he leaned into the comfort of her scent and warmth.
It would have been right and proper to move back away once Bargrimm settled back to an easy sleep. There was no plausibly friendly reason to remain so close, not with the patient soothed and resting.
Oranna stayed, drifting back to sleep.