With the cold war turned fiery hot, things were uneasy among the clean-up crews across the broken shore. Most of the orcs had been pulled back to Orgrimmar but a few had been left behind to keep an eye on the elves and druids of Val’sharah. Living beside Gilneans wasn’t easy but Hauruk was trying his best. His best rather frazzled when he opened his hut’s door to find a goblin ear pinned there with a knife. Damn dogs!
He grabbed the knife, letting the ear fall to the ground. Enough was enough! It was time to show those alliance apologists who was chief of these forests and he knew exactly who to tell! The problem was, however, when he arrived at the village the mayor and his posse were nowhere to be seen.
As Hauruk turned, growling under his breath, an elderly woman somehow snuck up on his and poked his shoulder with a boney finger. “YOU!”
“Don’t touch me, old woman!” he snarled down at her.
With speed that would make a leopard blush she grabbed his ear and twisted. He yowled as she hauled his face down to her level. “Now, don’t you talk to me like that, Sonny! Show some respect for your elders! I bet you were raised better!”
Hauruk blinked, ear burning and breathing hot breath onto a completely unphased old Gilnean woman. Was she mad? “I am not a Sonny.” he managed.
“No, I suppose not.” She sniffed and let go of his ear. He very bravely managed not to rub it and whimper. For someone who appeared to be made of kindling, she was very strong. “I suppose all those bits and bones mean you’re someone important then?”
He humped and thumped his chest, “I am Senior Sergeant Hauruk Stormblood!”
“Oh, very important.” the little old Gilnean lady patted him on the arm and started to toddle back to one of the small cottages. “And I”m Granny Weatherapple. Let’s go have some tea.”
“I am not here to drink tea!” Hauruk protested, stamping a foot, “I am here to find the person who left a goblin ear on my door!”
“You’re being rude again.” She said, stopping and pointing at him with her cane.
“OF COURSE I’M RUDE! I’M AN ORC!” He bellowed.
“And what would your mother’s mother do if you talked to her like that, young man?” she asked in a very stern grandmotherly voice.
Hauruk blinked at her.
Granny Weatherapple put a fist on one hip and stared at him expectantly.
“I’m sorry.” He managed, speaking to his feet. “I would like tea. Should I bring you biscuits?” The orc wasn’t actually sure where he’d find biscuits. He didn’t think she’d be very happy if he just plundered one of the other cottages.
“No no, that’s fine.” She gestured ‘come on then’ and turned back to her cottage. “You can bring biscuits next time.”
‘Next time?’ Hauruk wondered in a mild stage of panic. However, he dutifully followed her into her home, almost bending a third over to fit through the door.
“The Worgen have to do the same. You’d think we’d learn to build bigger!” she tutted as she fetched an already boiling kettle off the stove. She peered in, “Oh good, plenty of water still in there. You won’t have to go to the well.”
The senior sergeant wondered why it would be him going to the well and if any force would prevent him from going and fetching the water if she demanded it.
“Don’t just stand around! Sit down!” Granny nagged.
Hauruk looked around at the delicate-seeming furniture with the doilies and flowery upholstery. The only thing that lent to the idea that this was in the middle of the wilderness was the collection of rifles on one wall. “Uh..”
Granny pointed at a kitchen table that seemed to be made of wood, wool, and wishful thinking. “If my grandson can sit on that in mid-teenage Worgen grump, you can sit on it just fine,” She put down the delicate teacup and saucer on his side of the table before fetching her own and sitting down.
The Orc warily and slowly lowered himself into the chair that Granny Weatherapple was looking at expectantly. He was pleasantly surprised it didn’t even creek, although he did have to practically put his entire legs under the chair so they wouldn’t crash into the table. He ended up hunched over and taking the teacup in forefinger and thumb and trying not crush it. He took a cautious sip. He probably looked as startled as he felt.
“Gilnean Gold, best there is. Well, was, till that bitch Sylvanas burnt it all.” Granny growled, a startlingly almost wolven sound. “Still have some stocks though, hopefully will get them in the ground come spring!”
“Er, yes.” He managed and decided sipping more tea was safest.
“Now don’t slurp. Young man like you has better manners than that, I know. You boys, get in a few wars and you forget everything your mothers taught you!”
Hauruk wasn’t going to explain that his mother mostly taught him how to kill humans quickly to escape.
“Oh sure, you remember the death and dismemberment bits, but when it comes to wiping your feet and pleases and thank yous, gone like the wind!” she continued.
Or maybe Gilnean mothers had more in common with orcs than he thought.
Granny Weatherapple put down her half finished cup of tea and reached behind her for a tin. “Biscuit?” she asked, holding it out.
Hauruk very careful took one, not touching any others as he wasn’t quite sure when he’d last washed his hands. It was round, tan in colour, with a darker chocolate coating on one side.
“They’re best if you dunk them in your tea!” Granny Weatherapple offered, showing him with her own biscuit and tea.
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of the mushy biscuit that resulted. The texture was odd but the flavour was quite enjoyable. “Thank you,” he remembered to say.
“You’re welcome. Now, you wanted to talk about the Goblin ear on your door.” She said.
“Yes.” He replied warily. “Please!” he quickly added.
“You’re a good boy!” Granny Weatherapple told him, leaning forward to pat his hand. “Well, it’s no grand mystery. I did it. I cut off that goblin’s ear and sent him packing!”
“What!” Hauruk almost jumped to his feet but when his thighs thumped against the table just from the prepping to stand he realized he’d knock everything every which way if he did and he didn’t want to destroy the house. Well, not yet anyway, he reassured himself.
“Well, he was cutting down our trees. Didn’t even ask. Just brought up his big shredder, woke up half the neighbourhood before the cock had even crowed and started chopping down those trees. So I got up and went and had a chat with him. I even threw the bits of his machine after him.”
Hauruk wasn’t quite sure what to say at this point.
“Oh, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies if you leave it open like that!” Granny admonished. “And don’t look so horrified! His ear will grow back! I left you the ear so you’d know WHY the Goblins had buggered off and WHY your neighbours weren’t very happy with you lot right now.”
“Uh.”
“I know that that Sylvanas is up to her old tricks and nastiness and our King has his fur in knots, but that doesn’t mean we have to be uncivilized. Now finish your tea.”
Head whirling, Hauruk managed a “Yes, Granny.”
“See! You’re a good boy. Your mother would be proud.”
His mother would probably be very confused at him sitting in this human’s kitchen drinking tea and eating biscuits.
He found himself discussing the winter’s weather and what crops the orcs planned to farm. He had to explain that orcs were more ranchers than farmers to which she seemed rather happy about since that would mean trade.
When tea and socialization was done a very confused Hauruk got to his feet. “I mean no offense Granny Weatherapple, but why are you not leading the Gilneans if not the Alliance?”
“Oh, well, Genn does a good enough job and we Grannies don’t have time for silly things like meetings and paperwork!”
Grannies, plural? Poor Hauruk’s already whirling head went into a spin. The Horde was truly doomed if the gilnean grandmothers ever teamed up and went on the offensive.
No comments:
Post a Comment