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The Druid Girl

A folklore/fairy story inspired Warcraft fiction 

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The night was dark and the forest was still.  Bright stars shone silver in the clear sky and a full moon cast a white glow over the towering trees.  Deep in the forest, a clearing stood, empty and quiet, with a beautiful pool in the centre, ringed with tall reeds.  

It was here that a delicate bird landed, fluttering down from the dark branches to alight on the bank of the pool.  Only it was no ordinary bird.  As it landed the bird changed, seeming to brush away its feathers with a sweep of its wing, and in its place stood a beautiful elf girl, tall and slim with long hair, green as summer leaves.  In her hand she held a cloak, not a cloak, a skin, the skin of the bird she had just worn.  

Now she bent to hide the skin in the reeds beside the pool, her long hair swinging free around her naked body, beautiful in the starlight.  Then, believing her precious skin to be safe from harm, she slipped into the pool, cupping her hands to pour the shining water over her head.

Only she was not alone.  In the trees, hidden in the deepest shadows, a figure stood, watching her, a figure of nightmares, like an elf but with curling horns and cloven hooves, a satyr.  Passing the clearing he had seen the bird land, seen her slip of the animal skin and transform into a beautiful girl.  He had concealed himself and watched eagerly to see where she hid the skin because he knew that if he took it her power of transformation would be gone and he could capture her.

Now the satyr moved, silent and creeping he slunk through the trees until he came near to the edge of the pool.  The reeds were long and the girl was busy, bathing herself in the cool water.  It took only a moment for the devious satyr to reach out and snatch up the animal skin, hiding it in the branches of a nearby tree.  

Filled with glee the satyr celebrated his victory over the helpless girl.  There was no way for her to escape from him now.  His wicked heart beat harder at the thought of the beautiful elf girl in his arms, his forever, and he smiled cruelly.  Then, when he could contain his desire no longer, the satyr burst from the trees, looming suddenly out of the shadows, his face twisted with a terrible hunger.

The noise startled the girl and she turned, her wet hair flying about her, to see the horrible creature reaching for her.  She cried out in fear and alarm and turned to flee, a pale silhouette in the moonlight.  The water swelled up around her like a silver curtain, hiding her naked form, as she rushed to the bank, desperate to escape the intruder.  

She reached for her hidden animal skin, meaning to throw it over herself and fly away into the night sky, but her fingers found only reeds.  Frantically, her heart hammering with fear, she searched for the lost skin, her hands flying over the damp ground, but it was gone.

Filled with fear and no longer able to think, the elf scrambled out of the pool, her bare feet slipping on the soft bank.  Her only hope was to flee into the trees.  There, in the dark, she would be safe from her unwanted pursuer.  

She was fast, but the satyr was faster.  In just a few bounds he had her, wrapping his clawed hands around her waist and dragging her back, pulling her against him.  She struggled but he held her in an iron grip, covering her mouth to stop her from screaming.  The he dragged her away, into the darkness, towards his home deep in the woods.  

A short while later another elf passed by the pool.  He was walking slowly, lost in his own thoughts when he saw something strange hanging from the boughs of a nearby tree.  It had the appearance of some sort of garment, but as he moved closer, lifting it down, he saw it was made of feathers and fur, warm to the touch despite the cool night.  

He walked for a long time, following the deep prints of cloven hooves in the soft forest floor, until at last he came to a dark house, cowering under the shade of dark, evil-looking trees.  Slowly he approached the house, careful to make no sound as he moved, and peered in through one of the cracked windows.

Inside the satyr had thrown the frightened girl down on the ground and stood over her, his evil intentions clear on his hideous face.  He reached out a claw to run it gloatingly through the girl’s wet, tangled hair, delighting in the flash of terror in her wide, silver eyes.  

Outside the elf trembled with anger, he would not allow the innocent girl to be harmed.  Without even thinking of what he would do he rushed to the door and threw it wide, confronting the satyr.  All he had in his hand was a wooden staff, but he brandished it, unafraid of the manic laughter of his foe.  A golden glow filled his hands as he advanced on his enemy, burning brighter and brighter as he moved to stand between the girl and her attacker.

But the satyr was quick, quicker than the elf had expected he sprang, slashing out with his clawed hands, forcing the elf back.  Now a fire burned in his palms and rage seethed in his eyes and he was ready to kill the elf who had interfered with his plans.  Slowly, with a stalking gait, he advanced on his prey.

Even as the elf backed away he realised there was nowhere for him to go, no way to escape from the raging satyr.  In desperation all he could think to do was to throw the skin he still carried in the face of his advancing foe.  

The satyr slashed it aside, intent on the elf he was trying to kill.  He did not see the girl, the creature he though helpless and weak, unable to defy him, crawl forwards.  As he knocked the skin aside she caught it, swinging it around her narrow shoulders like a cape.  Only she did not transform into a bird to fly away to safety.  The rage and hurt in her heart filled her up, boiling over, changing her shape.  Claws burst from her hands, her body grew rapidly and fur spread across her naked body.

With a roar a huge bear reared up, towering high over her former captor.  The satyr turned, surprise and rage flashing in his glowing eyes, and raised his own clawed hand, sending a burning curse flying at the bear. Fire streamed from his fingers, striking her flank, only in her fury she hardly seemed to feel it.

Thick muscles flexed as she raised a forepaw, high above the satyr’s horned head.  Then with a mighty roar she swung the enormous paw, studded with lethal claws, and struck him a blow that threw him back, crumpling against the wall, where he remained, lifeless and still.

But the bear did not stop there.  She seemed to have forgotten who she was, raging and rampaging around the hateful house, smashing the twisted furniture and tearing at the walls with her claws, taking her revenge on her prison.  

All the while her saviour stood calmly in a far corner, watching her fury, feeling for her pain and suffering.  He was not afraid of the wild bear because he knew she was lonely and hurt and afraid, but she did not mean to harm him.  Patiently he waited until she had smashed all the house to dust and stood panting in the middle of the room, her sides heaving with the violence of her emotion.  

Then the elf stepped forwards, reaching out a hand, gently and slowly towards the maddened bear, his voice soft and calming and a golden light, gentle and soothing filled the room.  And gradually the bear’s breathing slowed and the fear and anger left her eyes.  She blinked and seemed to remember herself, the bear skin falling away so she was once again just a young elf girl, shivering and naked in the cold.

And her saviour took off his own cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders and taking her hand he led her from the ruined house and out of the dark wood, back to the safety of his own village.  Then from that day on the two elves were inseparable, the girl always ready to use her bear skin to defend her love and him always there to heal her and hold her hand and remind her of who she was.

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Aliain

Gift for Nidarosisart.  (Aliain is her character).  I really hope you like it <3

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The little village sat in the lee of a rocky hill, covered with pine trees.  Rain pattered down from an overcast, gloomy sky, turning the fields of the farms to mud and driving all of the villagers inside. Between rows of corn the scarecrows drooped, their straw arms hanging down sadly.  A loose shutter banged fretfully in the wind.  In the village square a lone, wet dog wandered aimlessly, sniffing at puddles.

One farm, slightly larger than the rest, stood closest to the forest, almost in the shade of the trees.  It had a vegetable garden, a barn, two paddocks and a large corn field, all beautifully kept.  Sheep usually grazed in the fields, though now they huddled together by the gate, and bedraggled chickens pecked around the yard.  Despite the weather a cat sat on the porch in front of the house, her yellow gaze turned disapprovingly on the rain.

This farm had been in the same family for generations and was now the loving home of an elderly couple, their widowed daughter and her little girl.  The child, Aliain, was a sweet, shy girl, the favourite of everyone in the village.  She was hard-working, quiet and kind and had a wonderful way with animals.  All agreed that she was a credit to her family and one day would grow up to be something very special.

Most days the family could be seen working happily together in the fields, but today the rain had kept them inside.  The curtains of the house were closed to keep out the draught and smoke curled lazily from the chimney.  Early that morning the grandfather had taken their cart over to the neighbouring village to sell some wool and he was expected back late, so a lantern had been left on the porch to light his way.

Inside Aliain sat on the faded hearthrug, her rag doll in her lap, turning the pages of an old and tattered book.  It belonged to her grandmother and was filled with the old lady’s tiny, cramped handwriting detailing her amazing collection of flowers and herbs. There were beautiful ink drawings too and Aliain pored over these with delight, tracing her little fingers gently over the lines.

Her mother and grandmother stood together at the kitchen table, one kneading bread, the other chopping carrots for a stew.  They worked in a comfortable silence, occasionally glancing up to check on Aliain or to listen out for her grandfather’s return.  An old sheepdog lay curled at their feet, raising his head now and then to look hopefully for scraps.  

Slowly the afternoon wore on.  The rain drummed gently against the windows, the fire crackled merrily in the grate and outside the sky, gloomy throughout the day, began to darken towards evening.

After a while Aliain’s grandmother paused in her work and wiped her floury hands on her apron.  ‘Time to feed the animals,’ she announced cheerfully.  ‘Your grandfather said you could do it today, Aliain.’  

On the hearthrug Aliain looked up from her book, her little hand still poised over the page she was studying, and beamed at her grandmother. At only six, it was a big responsibility for her to be asked to feed the animals by herself.  It gave her a warm glow of pride to think her grandfather trusted her when he was away.  She did not like to mention that she was afraid to go outside alone when it was getting dark.  She would have hated to let down her grandfather when he was counting on her.  So that was how Aliain found herself slipping out of the back door, a bucket of corn in her hand and a carrot in her apron pocket, as darkness began to fall on a cold, dreary day.

Behind the house the forest loomed, the trees dark and dripping with rain. The light was already fading from the sky and the evening was turning prematurely to night.  In the grey gloom shadows massed under the trees, making the forest look forbidding and dangerous.  A cold wind whistled down from the hills, carrying with it a fresh wave of rain. Somewhere in the distance a fox barked, a mournful sound in the gathering night.

Shivering, Aliain drew her grandmother’s shawl tighter around her narrow shoulders and hurried across to the barn.  She did not run for fear of tripping on the rutted track, but she scampered with the nervous haste of somebody who would rather be doing anything else.  All the time she felt as if the forest itself were watching her, an ominous, lurking presence, and she was relieved to reach the safety of the barn.  

Her grandfather had left an oil lantern hanging on a nail by the doorway, well away from the hay and straw.  It was too high for Aliain to reach it without help, but it cast a soft, warm glow over the stables, welcoming her inside.  She let out the breath she did not realise she had been holding and was greeted by the scent of damp horse and fresh hay.  Relaxing her tight grip on the wool of the shawl Aliain stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her.  

The barn was probably Aliain’s favourite part of their little farm. Always peaceful and warm, she liked to sit there on cold days, talking to the animals.  Sometimes, when she had time, her grandmother would come and join her and tell Aliain stories about her own childhood while she knitted, their old sheepdog lying at her feet.  

Aliain put her bucket down by the door, calling softly for the chickens to come and they did, running on their funny, feathery legs, pushing and barging to reach the food first.  The little girl laughed as they swarmed around her, pecking at her hands to see if she had their corn.  She reached into her bucket and sprinkled the grains over the floor around her.  Immediately the birds began pecking and scraping, chasing after their dinner.  

Once all the corn was gone and the chickens were eating happily Aliain turned to the stables at the back of the barn.  The family’s horse was away, taking her grandfather to the next village, so his stable stood empty, a thick bed of straw ready for his return.  That meant the only other current occupant was the elderly donkey.  Aliain had learnt to ride on him and he had once worked on the farm but now his joints were getting stiff, so he had retired to live a comfortable life.

The stable door was so high that Aliain had to stand on tiptoes to reach over, but she pulled the carrot out of her pocket and offered it to her old friend.  But as she was holding out the carrot to the donkey, stroking his velvet nose, Aliain heard a strange noise from outside. She stopped, suddenly feeling anxious again.  Listening very hard all she could hear was the sound of the donkey rustling the straw of his stable and the chickens clucking around after their corn.  There was nothing there.  

Shaking her head she was about to go back to what she was doing when she heard the noise again.  It sounded like a strange, little cry, like something in pain.  Without thinking Aliain rushed to the door, leaving the bucket behind, and dashed outside.  

Evening had fallen properly now and it was getting so dark that she could barely see where she was going.  The trees loomed ominously, black against the dark sky.  The rain had eased to a drizzle and the wind had dropped to be replaced with an almost eerie stillness.  Again, the sound came from somewhere behind the barn and Aliain stumbled towards it, her boots slipping on the muddy track.  

Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short, nervous gasps. Really she knew she should have gone back for her mother or her grandmother, but at that moment she was filled with worry and the need to help and she did not really think of that.  It sounded like some animal was in pain somewhere and needed help and Aliain would never leave an animal to suffer.

She was under the trees, stumbling over roots before she even realised where she was.  Water dripped down off the branches above, catching in her hair and soaking through her shawl.  A fine, clammy wetness clung to her skin, making her shiver.  Her hands were already so cold that she could barely feel her fingers, but Aliain was not going to give up.  The sound came again, just ahead, and she hastened after it, her teeth chattering from cold and fear.

She had never been into the woods alone before, especially not at night. There were bears and wolves in the forests and hills around the village and it was dangerous to go wandering off alone.  Aliain’s pace slowed slightly.  She had done an incredibly stupid thing, coming out here, and she should turn back immediately.  For a second her conscience warred with her common sense and fear.  She could not go away without at least trying to help, but this was a very silly thing to have done.

Dithering, unsure of what to do, Aliain was not paying attention to where she was going.  As she stepped forwards the ground suddenly gave way under her and she was falling, sliding down a muddy, rocky bank.  She screamed as she fell, tumbling over and over in the dark, terrified that at any second she was going to hit her head on a tree.  Her hands scrabbled uselessly around her, tearing her nails, but there was nothing to catch hold of.  

Her fall came to an abrupt halt as she crashed painfully onto hard, wet ground.  The air was driven from her lungs and an agonising pain shot through her right leg as it crumpled beneath her, twisted at a strange angle.  Her hands were scratched and bleeding and one side of her face ached, though she could not remember why.  

For several minutes Aliain just lay, shaking where she had fallen, tears slowly leaking down her cheeks.  It was dark and she was cold and she had no idea where she was.  How was anybody ever going to find her here?  Her leg hurt so much that she was afraid to even move to see how injured she was.  All she wanted was to be at home again, safe and warm, and she wished more than anything that she had never come into the forest.  

Somewhere to her right a twig cracked in the darkness.  Aliain whipped around, her heart pounding, only to cry out in pain as she moved her injured leg.  With a sob she crumpled back to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, as though that could protect her.  There was a rustling in the undergrowth nearby and another twig snapped. Thoughts of bear and wolves, attracted by the noise she had been making, crowded into her head and she stuffed her fist into her mouth to try and stay quiet.

The noise came again, closer this time, accompanied by a strange glow. Aliain squeezed her eyes shut and just hoped that whatever it was would miss her, that it would go away and leave her alone.  She hardly dared to breathe and it felt as though iron bands were crushing her chest, strangling her with panic.

Then suddenly a wave of calm washed over her, gentle and reassuring, and a soft voice spoke.  ‘Stay still, everything will be alright now.’ It was not a voice that Aliain had ever heard before, musical with a strange accent, but she did not feel afraid.  She believed the stranger and trusted him, he was going to help her.  With a sigh she followed his instructions, letting her head fall back onto the ground.

The glow seemed to be coming from the stranger himself as he approached, almost as if he held it in his hand.  He was wrapped in a long, travel-worn cloak and carrying a leather pack on his back.  Under the cloak he wore a robe that, though beautifully made, was splashed with mud around the hem.  His boots were stained with mud too and it looked as though he must have walked a long way.  Aliain noticed these details in a distant sort of way as he came to crouch beside her.  

He smiled, a warm, friendly smile, and reached for her injured leg, very slowly as though talking to a frightened animal.  ‘It will be alright,’ he repeated, in a soft murmur as she tried to flinch back, afraid her would touch it and make the pain worse.  ‘I am going to help you.’  Close up, he had strange shiny eyes and long, pointed ears, but this did not strike Aliain as strange until much later.

The stranger held one glowing hand out over her injured leg and closed his eyes, seemingly in concentration.  At first nothing happened, Aliain’s leg ached and burned as it had done before, but then slowly she began to notice the pain receding.  Her cut hands stopped stinging, the pounding in her head lessened and then disappeared entirely, her chest felt lighter and she could breathe again.  The little girl stared up in wonder at her rescuer, as her leg healed over as though nothing had ever happened to it.  

‘How did you do that?’, she gasped when he finally opened his eyes. ‘You made the pain go away.’  

Smiling he got to his feet and offered her a hand up.  Aliain took it, amazed that she was able to stand.  She felt fresh and well, better than she had before her fall.  She was not even afraid of the dark woods any more.  

‘I am a priest,’ he explained kindly.  ‘I used the Light to heal you.’  He held out his glowing hand to her and Aliain took it, peering at the strange Light that washed over his palm.  ‘And now I should take you home.  Do you live in the village?’  He pointed away through the trees.

Aliain nodded.  ‘Yes.  My name is Aliain.’  

The stranger did not introduce himself, just smiled and offered her his hand.  ‘This way.’

The walk back through the trees felt like it took no time at all.  The stranger lit her way for her and even though he did not talk to her Aliain did not feel lonely or scared.  He helped her over rocks and trees roots, always finding the easiest path for her.  In no time Aliain saw the trees were thinning and soon she could see the lantern by the barn winking.  She could even hear her mother and grandmother calling for her.  

‘I will leave you here.’  The stranger stopped and let go of her hand.

‘Thank you, oh, thank you so much.’  Seized by a sudden, overwhelming surge of love and thankfulness Aliain threw her little arms around the stranger.  ‘Thank you.’  She squeezed him, wanting to convey the full extent of her gratitude.  When she let go he smiled at her kindly.

‘Light be with you, Aliain, child of Lordaeron,’  he said and as she looked after him he turned and vanished back into the trees.

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Nidarosis & Illidan

Trade for Nidarosisart <3 (Nida is her OC) . I really hope you like it :)

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She stepped forwards, feeling the runes of the training circle burn bright as she crossed them.  The circle was empty and still.  Nidarosis turned slowly feeling the smooth grips of her glaives lying heavy in her hands.  The light from the torches flickered over her body, casting dancing patterns of warmth across her skin.  Under her feet the soft sand was cool as silk against her skin. All around her the sounds of fighting and the shapes of her fellow demon hunters had faded into the gloom, distant and unreachable to her.

Nidarosis inhaled, the cool air filling her lungs, and with the breath slipped gracefully into a crouch.  Her grip tightened around her weapons just as she had been taught, firm but not too tight.  She felt her muscles tense ready for the fight to come.  It felt good, the tingling awareness of her own power, a sensation she had never experienced before her transformation.  

And then as she turned her head she saw him, a dark shadow against the blackness of the gate.  He stood as still as if he were carved from stone, just outside the light from the torches.  His burning, sightless eyes were turned on her and Nidarosis felt his gaze, almost as a physical touch skimming over her body.  She turned away, her breath hitching, but the awareness of him hovered on the edge of her consciousness, a burning presence in the dark.  Illidan was here.

The calm did not leave her, she betrayed no sign of being aware of him, but an aching desire to prove herself worthy filled her body.  There was a new, conscious purpose to her movements as she stretched and weighed her weapons in her hands and even as she fixed her concentration on the task before her she could feel him there, his fiery eyes following her.  

Around the training circle the runes flared brightly once more as another demon hunter stepped inside.  His golden hair shone in the light of the torches and his pale skin gleamed against the darkness behind him.  Nidarosis turned to him and he bowed, the gesture painfully reminiscent of her former life in Quel’Thalas, making her heart ache as she stepped towards him and inclined her head.  The shadow in the darkness shifted as the two blood elves came together.  They clasped hands in silent acknowledgement of each other and then backed away to opposite sides of the circle.  

Slowly Nidarosis circled studying her opponent, matching her steps to his. She watched as his muscles shifted under his skin with each smooth step, waiting for an opening to attack.  Her own measured breathing sounded very loud to her in the quiet of the moment and she could feel her pulse beating with anticipation.  As she moved she never lost her awareness of the silent presence in the gateway, just as he never turned away from her.

Together the two blood elves moved once around the training ring, always just out of reach of each other like a carefully choreographed dance. Then her opponent suddenly darted at Nidarosis, his glaives slicing past her stomach, so close that she felt the cool air whistle past her.  Instinctively she backed up, bringing her own weapons up in a curving sweep towards his chest.  He parried the blow and twisted gracefully away from her, putting a little distance between them again.  

Nidarosis could feel excitement coursing through her.  She felt strong, unbeatable.  Urged on by her desire to prove herself she leapt after him, feeling the sand give under her feet as she landed already swinging her blades again.  They flashed in two parallel arcs, bright in the torchlight, but her leap had carried her two far and he dodged to one side out of her reach.  

Wrong-footed, Nidarosis turned, her muscles burning with the effort of keeping her balance and momentum, and punched out with the hard grip of her left glaive.  It should have struck her fellow demon hunter in the stomach but he rolled aside so her knuckles just brushed harmlessly against the bare skin of his side.  

Even as he straightened up, he lunged back at her, sand spraying up around them.  His blade crashed deafeningly against hers and Nidarosis felt the strength behind the blow driving her back.  She could see the muscles in his arm tense as he pushed against her, see the sweat beginning to coat his skin.  The edge of the circle was behind her now and the runes burned hot against her back, locking the two of them together inside.  

Breath coming in pants Nidarosis struggled to maintain her ground and match her strength to his.  He was so close to her now that she could smell his skin, sweat mixed intoxicatingly with the tingling scent of the demonic.  She could feel his chest rising and falling and his breath stirring her hair.  The awareness of Illidan’s eyes burning into her from outside the ring of light pounded through her body.  

Arm shaking with effort, Nidarosis shifted slowly, easing herself gently back and to the side.  Her other hand was still free and she could feel the comforting weight of her glaive against her palm.  All she needed was a little more space.  The salty taste of sweat stung her lips as she moved slowly away.

At the last second her opponent realised what she was doing and pressed forward, thrusting his other glaive up to try and catch her off guard, but Nidarosis was too quick.  She fell back and rolled away, bringing her second weapon around to thud with shuddering impact into him.  The blunted blade left a long, dark mark across his arm, but the force of the blow was not enough to slow him down.  

With as much speed as Nidarosis had shown, her fellow demon hunter flipped away from her.  He landed lightly on the far side of the training circle, poised on the balls of his feet.  His pale hair had come loose and now swept over his bare shoulders like a silky curtain, shimmering in the flickering light of the torches.  His breath was coming quickly and his gaze was fixed on Nidarosis, the intensity mirroring that of her silent observer.

They paused, breathing heavily, watching each other.  Around them the torches guttered, the smoke making Nidarosis’ nose sting as it floated gently between them.  The smooth sand beneath them was now churned and scattered, damp with sweat.  

Nidarosis followed the movements of her opponent, shifting her own body to mirror his.  There were only a few feet between them as they prowled around each other, moving ever closer.  The muscles in his shoulders tensed, Nidarosis crouched a little lower and then they sprang, perfectly anticipating each other, almost as if they had timed it. Their bodies crashed together, the impact knocking the air from their lungs.  Nidarosis swung her glaives and her opponent blocked them, thrusting her back.  

Dancing apart the two demon hunters circled again, faster now, their feet swirling up clouds of sand.  Nidarosis threw her left glaive with an elegant flick of her wrist, but her opponent knocked it to the ground.  Taking advantage of her undefended side her closed the gap between them.  She twisted away from his glaives but his foot caught her ankle and she fell heavily, rolling to the side.

Not far from her right hand lay the weapon she had thrown, but Nidarosis knew better than to reach for it.  He would be expecting that. Instead she reached up with her free hand and grabbed his leg.  She could feel soft, flexible leather under her fingers and his muscles working beneath it as he pulled away.  Then his blunted blade slammed down onto her outstretched arm, breaking her grip.  Before her transformation the blow would probably have shattered bone, but now Nidarosis just rolled away with a bruised wrist.

She flipped herself back to her feet, sand clinging to her body, and dived back into the fight.  Her first blow grazed along his arm, but the second missed as he launched himself easily over her head.  At the highest point of his jump he tossed his glaives in two curving arcs.  One caught her a glancing blow in the side, the other hit her arm knocking her weapon down.  Landing behind her he caught the weapons again and slashed them at her head, but Nidarosis ducked and they sailed harmlessly by.  

The figure in the dark gateway stirred slightly, his burning gaze fixed on the fight before him.  His wings rustled softly, barely audible, but Nidarosis heard it.  She was painfully aware of him watching her, felt it like a prickling across her skin.   Every move she made was for him, she must prove her worth to him.  She swung around and slashed with all her might at her opponent’s ribs.  Her muscles ached with the effort, but it felt good in a way she had not known before.

The blow never landed on his ribs, but crashed instead against his own blade with an arm-shattering force.  He lashed out with his other weapon, aiming at her head, but Nidarosis ducked and used the opportunity to snatch up her fallen glaive.  She was coated with sweat now and her breath came in short gasps, but she was not willing to give up.  She whirled on the spot, long hair flying, and threw her weapon again.  It glanced off her opponent’s blade and she caught it again.

The runes on the outside of the circle burned brightly as the two blood elves danced towards them, blades flashing in the dim light.  Their bodies were so close that Nidarosis could feel the heat coming off him and hear his breathing, loud in her ears.  Her own heart pounded as she swung her weapons again and again.  

The sand slid under their bare feet as they fought.  Their blades locked together and they struggled, each trying to force the other to give ground.  Nidarosis could feel herself being pushed back, but she refused to give up.  With a flick of her wrist she twisted her weapon away, the blades squealing painfully as metal ground against metal, and punched it at her opponent’s face.  

He tipped his head back at the last second and leapt lightly away from her, only to come springing back again.  Nidarosis slid to the side, but not fast enough, his blade caught her a powerful blow on the ribs, knocking the air from her lungs.  He followed the hit up immediately with a swing at her thigh which unbalanced her.

Nidarosis fell to the ground winded, rolling in the churned sand.  Before she could get up again, a foot stepped almost gently onto her right wrist, pinning her in place and stilling her glaive.  She tried to raise her other weapon to swing it at his legs but he parried it with ease.  He lowered his blunted glaive to her throat and held it there. The metal was cool against her hot skin sending shivers through her whole body.  

The tension and exhilaration of the fight slowly drained out of Nidarosis leaving her feeling empty and tired.  She had lost, lost while Illidan was watching her.  Her opponent stepped off her wrist and she lay shivering, suddenly cold, in the sand.  He held out a hand to her and she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet.  

As they stepped out of the training circle all Nidarosis could think of was that she had failed in front of Illidan.  She could still feel his motionless form standing in the dark under the gateway, his gaze turned on her.  He had seen her defeat.  The thought was more devastating than she had ever imagined.  She had wanted to prove herself as a demon hunter and now he would think she had failed.  The shamed burned inside her making her feel sick.  

Without speaking to anyone she turned to leave the courtyard.  She thought perhaps her former opponent said something to her, but she did not hear the words.  All she wanted was to be left alone with her thoughts.  

Around her the courtyard was still filled with trainee demon hunters all waiting anxiously for their turn to fight, but the noise washed over her without sinking in.  Nidarosis felt very tired, more tired than she had felt since she had recovered from her transformation, as she walked away from the training circle.  Illidan had thought her weak before, but now that she had lost her first real training fight she had just confirmed his lack of faith in her.  Her chest ached painfully at the thought.  

Nidarosis was almost at the gate, hurrying to be alone, before she remembered that she would have to pass Illidan to leave the courtyard.  Her steps faltered and she slowed.  The thought of facing him made her insides feel like water and her heart pound in her chest.  Was there another way she could go?  Frantically the blood elf looked around but there was no other way back to her chamber.  There was no choice but to go on.

With shaking legs Nidarosis stepped forwards again.  The gateway looked empty now, but somehow as though all her senses were attuned to him, Nidarosis knew Illidan was still standing there.  She could still feel his sightless eyes on her.  Perhaps this was a test of her courage.  Could she face him without shame after her loss?  Nidarosis was not sure that she could, but she was determined not to fail again.  She would do her best and try to act as though she were brave and unashamed even if she felt like creeping away.  

At the archway out of the courtyard Nidarosis paused again, then squared her shoulders and stepped forwards into the dark.  With her new demon hunter sight it did not matter that there was no light, she could see the power radiating from Illidan immediately.  Nidarosis raised her chin defiantly and moved to walk past the leader of the Illidari.  

Only he stepped wordlessly out into her path, towering above the small blood elf.  He reached out a hand and caught her chin, turning her face up towards him.  There was nothing gentle in the touch, he held her tightly, his palm rough and callused against her soft skin and his claws digging almost painfully into her jaw.  It sent shivers shooting through Nidarosis’ body and set her nerves tingling. Suddenly her throat felt very dry and she swallowed several times. Her pulse hammered deafeningly loudly in her ears.

They stood together in silence for several heartbeats.  It was the closest Nidarosis had been to Illidan since the night she had become a demon hunter.  She could feel the heat and power radiating from his body and the strength in the hand the held her.  They were so close that his breath ghosted over her cheek and her chest brushed him as she breathed.

‘It was a good fight.’  Illidan’s voice was rough like his hands, deep and powerful.  It shuddered through Nidarosis making her whole body tremble.  ‘You did well.’  

It took a few second for the meaning of the words to sink in.  Nidarosis just stood, gazing up at Illidan in shock.  He had not thought her a failure after all.  He was praising her.  The blood elf could not believe what she was hearing.  She opened her mouth to speak, still unsure of what she intended to say, but Illidan had released her, dropping his hand away as though he had suddenly realised what he was doing.  

He turned abruptly away and Nidarosis could see he was breathing rapidly.  ‘You should return to your training,’ he almost snapped, loud in the echoing archway.  ‘You must be dedicated if you wish to belong here.’  Then without a glance back at her Illidan stepped out of the gateway, spread his huge wings and launched himself up into the air.

Nidarosis was left standing alone, wondering if she had imagined the moment they had just shared and the connection she had felt.  Her legs were still trembling and her heart was still hammering as she turned back to the training courtyard, determined to prove that she belonged with the Illidari.