Trials of steel and sand

      Elandra squinted her eyes against the brightness of the sun as she stepped down onto the dock. The Echo Isles spread out before her like a series of lush green gems spread over an ocean of intensive blue. The islands lay spread off the coast of Durotar and were separated from the mainland by a number of tidal flats and coves with shallow water, and Elandra could make out the silhouette of red cliffs and buildings on the distant coast. She had begun feeling uncomfortable from the humidity and heat even while still on board the ship, and had mostly stayed under deck during the sea voyage from  Silverpine. The climate here was as hot and humid as Silverpine was cold and clammy, and Elandra suddenly felt a longing to return to the soft, dry and pleasant forests of Eversong.

 

   Still, she had come all this way for a reason and she intended to follow through on it. Whereas she had originally intended to become a blood knight - a paladin in the service of her people - she had not shown quite the aptitude for healing or the temperament for prayer that her trainers had wished for, and so she was sent to be a warrior instead. But then misfortune struck again, and the warrior trainer Alsudar had decided that Elandra would be sent on an exchange program to train with their allies.

 

   So whereas she had hoped for a long but pleasant period of training in her ever-beautiful homeland, instead the blood elf woman now found herself about to set foot on a foreign land for the first time in her life. She was scuffed aside by a mangy-looking troll who loped off towards the shoreline, carrying his belongings in a dirty sack over his shoulder. With a huff of indignity, Elandra followed. As odd as this land was, with sights and smells so different from home, things couldn't be that different. After all, these were the much trusted allies of her people, and she was a sin'dorei of poise and bearing, who would be treated as the honored guest she was.

 

***

 

   "Ya skinny, untrained an weak. I could crush ya like a moth." the one-eyed troll snorted. "And ya quite ugly too."

 

   Elandra felt heat built up in her face as her stomach knotted into a ball of fury. This... troll... no, this creature was to be her trainer? A coarse, unpleasant ruffian who had refused to even bow to her upon her arrival? This blue-skinned savage who squatted in a hut covered in palm leaves with decorations made from animal bones and who used weapons which looked like butcher knives more than swords? Her pale skin grew red.

 

   "How dare you? How dare you treat me this way, you... you... troll? Do you even know who I am? What a privilege it is for you to be allowed to train me? And as for ugl-"

 

   The blow came so quickly that Elandra wasn't even aware of it until she was splayed out on the wooden floor of the hut with blood pouring from her nose. The old troll had punched her straight in the face with just enough force to knock her off her feet, but not enough to knock her out. Her head was ringing, and the bone dreamcatcher's dangling form the ceiling were swimming slightly in her vision.

 

    "W-w... wh... you... you hit me?" she almost screeched, rubbing some blood off with the back of her hand.

 

   "Ya, I did. An' you couldn't even try ta stop me before I beat ya. Ya a worthless warrior, elf. And as for ya high an' mighty holier than me attitude... ya just another pupil 'ere. Ya come in here and ask I bow down to ya when ya never even held an axe?"

 

   Elandra tried to formulate a response but was too stunned both by the sudden blow and the verbal tirade. Instead she just tried to clear her head.

 

   "Ya sleep in da barracks. And we begin trainin' tomorra, sunrise." the troll grunted.

 

   Suddenly this whole idea seemed much worse to the blood elf.

 

***

 

   "We sin'dorei are... strong. We have protected our homeland for... thousands... of years." Elandra grunted as she tried to heft the much too heavy axe. "We're... not... weak"

 

   As if to accentuate the truth of her statement the slender blood elf woman tried to swing the heavy-bladed axe at the training dummy, causing it to swing violently around and slap her on the back, which combined with the weight of her weapon sent her flying into the reddish sand of the training pit. Thankful that the axe had blunt edges, she had the wind knocked out of her and felt her back ache where the dummy hit her. And as if to compound the ignomity, a small brownish-green beetle skittered out of her red hair.

 

   "No, I can't definitely see dat." Zar'din said with a guffaw.  

 

   The troll seemed as gruff and unforgiving as he had been ever since she arrived. His face had the jutting tusks and pointed features of all his kind, with a ragged black eyepatch covering one eye. The masses of scar tissue on his body were ample evidence that his claims of having fought for a long time were not just idle boasts. His build was thin and lanky but still strong, and he dressed in only kilt and simple leather wraps around his three-fingered hands.

 

   "Now up. Again." he shouted.

 

   Elandra scrambled slowly to her feet, trying to ignore her aching back, the sweat pouring down her forehead and the exhaustion creeping up on her. Every day it was like this, every day she was roused from a troubled sleep in the smelly, creaking barracks to get up and follow Zar'din to the training pit, where she then spent the rest of the morning handling oversized, clumsy weapons. She hadn't even seen a rapier or scimitar yet, only large swords, larger axes and maces which were thicker than her legs.

 

   "AGAIN!" Zar'din yelled and slammed her lower leg with his long cane.

 

   Elandra barked out a rather strong insult in Thalassian which implied things about Zar'din's parentage, but the troll simply laughed as she hefted herself back to her feet and lifted the axe again. She was so tired she would honestly have preferred staying in the dirty, hot sand but her mentor and personal torturer never let her. He was always there, always with a deriding remark or harsh rap with the cane. She hated him, hated him to the bottom of his filthy troll soul.

 

   "Ya may be strong in ya own way, but ya people, dey ask me ta make ye a warrior, elf. An' ol' Zar'din only know one way ta make warriors, and that's to practice, practice an practice. We lovin' dis land, but it's not a land fer any kind o' weakness."

 

   "Then why... do you stay?" Elandra grunted as she clumsily whacked the dummy with the axe. "There's... many other... lands. More comfortable..."

 

   "Ah but da jungle, it always be home ta us Darkspears, elf. Before da great Sen'jin an his son liberate us we live near Stranglethorn. Dat heat an sun don't bother us none, an' it make us grow tough an' strong."

 

   "Like weeds" Elandra muttered under her breath, and took another whack at the dummy.

 

***

 

   "Murlocs? Seriously?" Elandra whispered as she pressed herself down to the sandy ridge so the thick undergrowth concealed her.

 

   "Ya tink de fishmen jokes, elf?" Zar'din whispered in his eternally raspy voice. "Just cuz ya kill dem with ya fancy magics an hunt dem down before they can grow strong back in ya elf land doesn't mean dey not a threat."

 

   "You have mages... well witch doctors, shamans and other things. So why don't y-"

 

   Elandra was interrupted by a soft but firm rap of Zar'din's cane to her forehead.

 

   "Ya not thinkin' again. We trolls, an' de orcs an tauren too, we don' wan ta tame de land an turn it into a garden. We know da trials here make us strong."

 

   "But they can also cripple and kill you, robbing your people of invaluable resources."

 

   "Dat is also true, elf." Zar'din nodded, pushing his pointed chin forward a bit to study the murlocs through his one good eye.

 

   "Then why..." Elandra began, but was halted by her troll mentor's hand held up for silence.

 

   "See?" the troll whispered. "Dey got de supplies. Dey sneak up on da ship headed fer Azshara by night an' steal da weapons crates an food."

 

   "There can't be more than six of them." the elf agreed, studying the babbling murlocs as they squabbled over something in one of the crates.

 

   "Dese be guards. Dey wait here for more ta come ta carry dem supplies off. We strike now, we can rout dem before dat happens."

 

   "Or we could get caught between two groups." Elandra snapped.

 

   "Yeah, dat might also be." Zar'din agreed. "An' if dat happen, what we do then, elf?"

 

   "...run like Kil'jaeden was after us and get help?"

 

   To her surprise Zar'din guffawed, his cracked ivory tusks bobbing up and down.

 

   "Maybe ya not so dumb after all, elf."

 

   They charged over the crest of the dune a moment later. Zar'din was wearing a thicker version of his usual kilt made from heavily intertwined leather as well as a war harness on the back of which he carried a few long barb-tipped spears. He carried a heavy, rough-looking shield made from chipped wood ringed by dented and blackened metal and branded a long curve-bladed axe in his other hand. He also shrieked like a harpy, howling some form of troll war cry at the sky as he covered the distance between their hiding place and the murloc with a quick loping gait.

 

   Elandra followed much more slowly, finding herself constantly sinking and slipping in the reddish sand. She was still wearing the practice armor she had been fitted with before leaving Silervmoon, though the thick mail pants and shirt were now dirty and singed and smelled quite bad. The sun was as merciless as ever, and she felt almost faint from the exertion, especially since she was also carrying a smaller version of the shield that Zar'din had, and a sword with a blade like a slab of solid metal.

 

   Zar'din deftly bullrushed into the midst of the four at the crates, who looked up with an alien but distinct expression of fear and surprise on their piscine faces. Their large, dark eyes widened as the aged troll slammed his shield with great force into the closest murloc, sending it flying and cracking bones. With a howl he immediately spun around and caught another murloc with his axe, tearing streaks of thin, disgusting flesh from its shoulder with his axe. Elandra arrived into the battle right after, her shield accepting the bite of a murloc blade before the huffing blood elf lashed out with her sword like a meatcleaver. The murloc twicthed and fell, and didn't get up.

 

   The remaining four murlocs, including the wounded one, had all surrounded Zar'din and were trying to brave the spinning whirlwind of furious steel that batted away their weapons. Elandra was amazed. She hadn't actually seen Zar'din fight before, and had assumed the old troll was stiff and broken after many battles, that age had dulled his prowess. Instead he fought as well as any warrior she had seen and with a fire in his one eye.

 

   Rather than let her mentor be overwhelmed, Elandra howled out a Thalassian battlecry and rushed the nearest murloc from behind. It spun around, having ignored the elf for the much more threatening troll, and as a reward found its torso almost split open by a heavy blow from Elandra's sword. Her arm ached now, however, and the heat had drained the last of her strength. She felt her vision swim as the surroundings blurred around her, and struggled to maintain her grip on her sword and shield.

 

   Through her dimmed vision she saw Zar'din howl, now looking like some fiery-eyed demon of legend and spin a deadly whirlwind of steel at the last few murlocs. The wounded one was already loping for the ocean, and with a moment's hesitation the other two set off after it as fast as they could. With a mocking cry Zar'din pulled a spear from the leather holster on his back and hurled it after the fleeing fish-men, screaming a blood-curdling troll oath as he did.

 

   With the beach now empty save for the two of them, the recovered loot and a few pools of murloc blood, Elandra took the opportunity to faint.

 

 

***

 

   Elandra swung the training axe at the dummy and with a grunt jumped back as it swung around, parrying the wooden sword with her shield and sending the contraption spinning back again. It was odd to realize for her, but the constant training had paid off so quietly that she hadn't even noticed at first. As her arms had grown thicker, the weapons didn't feel as heavy or clumsy anymore. She could take the heat and sun much longer and had a healthy tan. It was as if she could take on the whole world now, as if she'd mastered everything Zar'din had thrown at her.

 

   "Much betta." Zar'din chuckled from where he squatted on the sand, chewing on a wad of herbs. "Soon we be gettin' ya a real sword fer practice."

 

   "Oh a real sword?" Elandra said with a slight hint of sarcasm. "Do you think there are any here? Can trolls even work an anvil?"

 

   A quick rap with his cane to the back of her neck silenced her, but it was delivered softly and merely to startle, not to hurt. Instead of annoyance she realized she felt... amused?

 

   "Oh we can make real swords alright, elf." Zar'din said as he rose. "Real swords are much heavier."

 

   Suddenly Elandra didn't feel so happy about the next stage of her training.