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All characters and individual material is © Daniel Riverton 2011. All rights Reserved.
©2004 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. World of Warcraft, Warcraft and Blizzard Entertainment are trademarks or registered trademarks of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. in the U.S. and/or other countries.
This is fan fiction only. This work may not be reproduced for commercial, marketing republishing or copying purposes. The work is sexual in nature and may not be to everyone's individual taste. Please do not continue reading unless 18 years or older.
This was a quickie written during three coffee breaks at work. More of a sketch than anything else, but still funny. Also, it involves sex between dwarves, a subject not often explored. Made it fun to write, not to mention the accent! Let us know what you think!
*
Thorian Tarhammer leaned back on the stone-carved armchair overlooking the massive hall containing the great Forge of the city. The heat radiating from the molten stone and metal continuously was immense -- like a mallet blow the the face.
He had been raised in a remote little corner of what to most was known as Dun Morogh, raised by mother and father both to be a warrior. That life was now more than twenty years gone. It was in that capacity that he was visiting the Capital this day. The bulky dwarf was waiting for a contact to arrive, someone to give him a message containing information for his next assignment which as far as it went was an oddity for him. He usually worked alone. This time however...
It would take him to the Highlands, he thought. Arathi was temperate this time of the season, though he could not imagine it being as bad as Ironforge. Few things
could
be as hot as this, he considered with a few silent, well-picked oaths.
Thorian shifted on the chair, adjusting the scale-and-plate that he wore. He had not planned to be here for long, so undressing and removing armour seemed unnecessary and a waste of time. The massive, two-handed axe he used as he thought a tailor would use a needle and cloth stood leaned against the chair, the rune-inscribed handle covered with a variety of scratches and dents.
None of these marks were jarring enough to actually damage the quality of weapon however. He preferred a weapon that had seen action and showed as much. There was always the risk with new weapons -- especially foreign-made ones -- that they would break if swung at something particularly resilient. Not this one. The dwarf gave a satisfied grunt and scratched his brown beard, a decoration of perhaps middling length compared to most dwarves.
"Hot pie, sire?" A comely dwarven lass in a commoner's linen dress asked from below the balcony. "Made from fresh cherries, directly in from Elwynn only this morning!"
The smells rising from her basket made him salivate. It had been some time since he had had a proper meal. He didn't care for the gossip that some spread -- that the vendors that walked through the capital selling pies, fruits and candy only sold trash and fall-fruit.
Thorian gave her a wave and a nod and the girl stepped up the four stairs to the door. It was a spacious house, though one he had rented the two floors for a day only.
Now that she was close, he saw that she was stocky -- very well-built -- and perhaps thirty years of age. Still young then. Her cheeks and skin was the colour of rosy, healthy pink and there was a smell of cinnamon and cherries around her -- not just the large basked she held in one large hand.
"Aye, sire? You wanted a pie, yea?" There was perhaps a touch of amusement in that.
He realized that he had been staring at her tits. It must've been a long time since I saw one last, he realized glumly and cleared his throat -- a sound like wooden logs tumbling down a chute.
"I did at that. How much?" He grabbed for the purse at his belt.
"Two silver."
When he stared at her, he saw that she had pursed her lips. Perhaps -- because of the fine armour and weapon -- she took him for nobly-born and set the price of the meal thereafter.
He chuckled.
"Perhaps I do have the look of wealth, girl, but I only have a copper to me name or two. I can no pay that kind of price. I'll give you thirty coppers." He counted the small, rust-colored chips into his palm and held it to her.
"I can barely buy the flour for the pie for thirty cop's!" She exclaimed, covering the basket with one hand as though afraid he'd try to snatch one of her precious pies.
"Whatever happened two three pies for a silver penny?" He countered. Not angry however, more amused. "That seemed the price when I was here last, it was. "
"Really now?" She commented dryly. "Ye don't suppose that went down the drain with two 'cunts for a copper that some shanks in the caverns tell tales of?"
He chortled in spite of himself. He had heard that some Ironforge dwarves -- especially the more low-born had a mouth on them, but he hadn't expected it from her.
She eyed him, sizing him up from head to toe.
"How about the house? Does it have it's own spring and clean water?"
"Aye, it does." Thorian nodded slowly. All of the houses around the forge had that -- a small, stone pump with a wooden handle used to get water into the house.
She chewed her lower lip. "I need to wash me clothes, you see. That'd save me from using the cave's water, it would." She glanced through the window, arranging her red hair with a quick shake of her head. "I'll give you pie, a nice cherry one, if ye let me use your house for washing me clothes."
He gave a quick look-over. She was poor, but he didn't think her a thief or scoundrel likely to do something foolish if given access to the house.
"I'm waiting for someone. You'd have to be gone when he...arrives." Or 'she', he added silently. He just realized that his contact in Thelsamar had not told him whether the person he was meeting was male or female.
He thought her lips twitched a little. "Aye, I understand. I'll get me clothes. Can I..." she put the basket on the table, eyeing him with considering eyes.
"I'm not a thief." He said pointedly.
"Good! I'll be back I will!"
Thought the smells from the basket made his stomach growl, he restrained himself from eating any of the delicious content. The young dwarf was back quickly, a thick bundle of clothes under both arms. She gave him a mocking curtsy when he opened the thick iron-bound door for her.
"Why thank you, melord. Such a gentle dwarf ye be."
Within only an hour, all of her clothes were soaking in the tub with a mixture of soap and something he didn't recognize -- something womanly. His mother had often used such things. He paid no attention to washing. He had received one pie from her -- as promised - and they were delicious indeed.
"Do you bake these?"
"Aye, I do. Been baking all of me life. Good skill, me mother said, when you have not a coin to yer name." She gave a shrug, looking over her shoulder at him with a small, self-deprecating smile on red her lips.
The coarse linen dress she wore was spotted and flecked with water, but it was tighter then the garb she had worn before. She
was
pretty, he could see now. Her hair was a fiery red and her cheeks were spotted with a few, near-invisible freckles on each side. She was not as stocky -- not
