True Love
From Earthen Ring Wiki
True Love
Written by "Tonoone", a level one character on the Earthen Ring server, and posted on the Blizzard Earthen Ring Forums
Contents |
[edit] Part One
His arm lifts, and gently it comes down over me; with little effort I am pulled against him as his face comes to rest against the back of my neck. He makes a soft, happy sound before his breaths steady once again, and he drops into deeper slumber. A thick hand plays with the fur at my waist, and the warmth of him bites back the cold of night. Even though he is fairly riddled with muscle and his hands are covered in calluses, both are comforting and gentle when they come against me.
When he is awake, his eyes are constantly upon me. They are a shade of green that I have never seen beforelike the fields of Mulgore and the Stranglethorn waters combined. He is handsome, and young, and well off in the tribes. When we walk through the city, his arm is there for me to hold, and his head is held high with pride because I am accompanying him. He praises me in front of his friends; he beams when we are told how lovely we are together.
He gives me everything that I need, or care to want. Tonight, he piled the blankets on me and took none for himself, because I had started shivering. He kissed my cheek and told me how happy he was before he had drifted off.
And all I can do is lie here, and think about how much I loathe him.
His breath against the back of my neck makes my skin crawl. I want nothing more than to shrink from his touch, and feel the cold of the night. I hate the feel of his lips against mine; His scent disgusts me and makes me wretch. As we lie here, I listen to the sounds of the city, and I look at the planking that makes up the ceiling overhead. I look at the knots and the lines in the wood, and mull over what they vaguely resemble.
Those two knots over there, with that third down a ways more, look like the face of a courser. That series of lines over there remind me of the little waterfall in the Valley of Honor. That odd scar on that plank looks like the cocoon of the little red butterflies I have seen frequent Warsong. I found that one the other night as he was making love to me. I focused on it, and made myself forget what was happening.
I hate him for no other reason than he has not been able to make me forgethe has not been able to make me love him more. This bull has failed me. And I despise him for it.
I am good at what I do; hiding the little signs of my true feelings in what can be mistaken for little shows of affection. He thinks I am shy: I look into his eyes for only a moment, then look down at my hooves. If I avoid eye contact, he will know something is awry. If I look too long, I fear he will see the cold behind my gaze.
He thinks I like taking care of him: I braid feathers and bone beads into his mane. When I am doing such things, he sits stilland doesnt move to kiss me.
He thinks I take interest in what he does: I follow him to the forge and let him teach me how to hammer out weapons. He thinks I am a hard worker, and saving up for the day we start a family. I sit at the anvil and take out my anger and hate on the smoldering steel. I work from dawn to dusk so I dont have to be alone with him. I hammer until my hands bleed so that he wont try to hold my hand or bother me for love that night. I am saving up for my own kodo so that I do not have to share one with him, and feel his arms around me.
In Orgrimmar, I cling to his arm as we walk the streets and greet friends. My head is held high and proud, as his is. I am smiling. I cast my head down sheepishly when we are told what a nice couple we make. He smiles and speaks of his plans for the day we decide to be wed. I smile silently as he and his friends banter. I am busy looking towards another.
I dont make it obvious, for there are many eyes upon us. I make it seem like I am looking towards the tavern; he knows I have a fondness for ale, and believes it is an innocent taste. He doesnt know that I am drowning a pain within me.
The one I love walks past. He isnt alone. So I cling tighter to my bulls arm. He thinks I am looking for affection, so he stops talking for a moment to embrace me to his chest and kiss my forehead. His friends look at us and smile as I am slowly dying on the inside. I hate him for not being able to make me forget another, and they have no idea. I am good at what I do.
I hate myself for doing this. I should tell him that I am with him because I do not want to be alone. I should tell him that there is another I think about when his lips are pressed to mine, when he is holding my hand, and when he is sleeping beside me at night. I should tell him I am pretending to be happy because I will never get the one I want. I should tell him that I disgust myself, and each day I pray the Earth Mother will take pity on him and strike me dead. But she won't; it is far more fitting that I suffer in the hell I have made for myself. I have decided to hate her, as well.
The sun is setting, and his friends must be off to their homes, and us as well. By the soft way he is kissing my neck, I know what he wants to do when we get out of the public eye. I look towards the one I love as he disappears around a corner, and smile softly to the bull at my side. Hand in hand, we walk towards our home.
He replaced some of the planks on the ceiling today. Maybe one of the knots will look like a butterfly. I will find out soon enough.
[edit] Part Two
...Why can't I look away?
There he is, sitting with her. And all I can do is gawk at them like some moron.
There...I will look over at the bank. If I stare too long, he will notice. He can't know that I am watching him. He can't know that he is killing me. I can't give him that satisfaction, so I take my bull's hand and hug it to myself. By the gods, how I wish it was his hand. I can still remember the way it felt in mine, the way he used to gaze at me, the way our gaze would meet then break shyly.
The way that his and hers just did.
This feeling in the pit of my stomach is one I havent been able to shake for months now. A silent, sick aching that is omnipresent through everything, tainting the small joys I am able to find these days. I havent touched much food lately, the thought of eating sickens me to the point that I have to lay down. I havent slept well, either, and my days are spent in a dreamlike nightmare of haze. My temper has been atrocious, I know it. I snap at my bull for the silliest things: He is leaning on me too heavily, he didnt sweep the doorway how I like it, he brought home the wrong kind of wine. To his credit, be backs down and corrects his minor mistakes. Too bad I just don't care.
This is the first time I have been able to feel my ribs in months. I have been fighting the Alliance constantly, and when I am not doing that I am selling my weapons. I have gotten compliments on my craftsmanship. My coin purse is heavy, and on my shoulder I bear the symbol of a new rank. My friends have been telling me how good I look.
I wonder if he noticed.
My bull praises me, telling me how wonderful it is that I am fighting to better myself and my faction. I dont care for either. If I had my choice, I would lay in bed all day and sleep...and dream of him and the time we spent together.
Oh yes, he was mine once. But like the raging storms in Un'Goro it was torrential, then gone. I had him long enough to swear my heart to him. He had me long enough to bore of this cow, decide I wasn't good enough for him, and leave me behind with barely a shrug and a smile. He is cruel, and I am told he doesn't deserve me, and never did. I should break free of this mindless hold I have let him take, and turn away from him now.
I wonder what he is saying to her. I know so much of him, I wonder if she knows the same things about him that I do. How he likes his boar cooked (medium rare with only a few specific spices), what kind of ale he enjoys (dwarven stout)...what side of the bed he perfers (the left). The things I know about him, the things he has let me see. I love him through both the good and the bad. I wonder if she does, too.
He is touching her cheek...I still remember what that felt like; his hand smooth and cool against my face. He is looking into her eye...I can see that hazel gaze still, as if he were still sitting next to me on the pier, holding my hand in his, telling me his dreams for us in the soft murmur that is his voice. How could he throw such dreams away so easily, while they still rest heavy on my heart? How could he torment me like this, when once upon a time I was his worldor at least, made to believe I was.
He is a liar, and a fiend, I just know it. Some child that gets tired of his playthings as soon as a new one comes along and catches his eye. Some snob that ignores another as soon as he finds the slightest fault. I hate him, I swear I do.
...He just looked at me, and them to my bull. He is jealous, I just know it. I will move closed to the one at my side, and return the smile. Therehe is looking her way once more. He is jealous...Maybe he still...
He is kissing her. I feel like I may die from the pain.
...Why can't I look away?
[edit] Part Three
I can feel the parchment in my pocket as I sit here, sharpening my axe. It weighs heavier than my heart right now. So odd, how a simple piece of paper can weight you down like a steel shackle.
Smoothly, I run the blade over the sharpening stone, taking great care till the side is perfectly honed. A little more water on the course rock, and I begin with the other side. Usually, I am not so meticulous. I can swing my axe into the skull of an elf as easily dull as sharp. Right now, I feel like I could take on all the Alliance in this cursed valley. I would slit all their throats and pour their blood upon the snows till I fell from exhaustion, driven only by the feeling brewing inside me. It is like a caged animal...tearing at the bars of its prison until its gums bleed. I focus on my sharpening, however, to keep the tears back. It is taking all my power to keep my hands from shaking...
I feel my bull touching my shoulder softly, but I shrug it off and glare back at him. I have been having a hard time hiding my contempt these days. I explain it away as getting "mentally prepared for battle"...such nonsense, but he seems to accept it. Not that I care, if I have my way, I will die at the end of an Alliance blade today.
I care not for the Horde, or the claim they have on this land. I care not to kill the Alliance for the greatness of my faction. Petty, insignificant squabbling over nothing, if you ask me. I fight for the chance to kill and be fully pardoned for it. I fight to have a chance to release this pain and anger eating me from the inside out. I fight to destroy another...I fight to destroy myself.
Under my blade many have already fallen; I can see their blood dried in the slight pitting of the steels surface. It flecks from the surface of my plate mail, and I can see some of the deep crimson filth under my fingernails. It stains my fur here and there; I have not bothered to wash it off. It is my war paint, and seeing it gives me a dark satisfaction.
The symbol upon my arm has changed three times as of late; my bull is proud, and tells his friends that I am a great fighter for our people, and that Cairne himself will one day commend me. I walk away when he start bragging, now. I dont want to hear the fancies he has made up in his head. I dont give a care for Cairne as he sits up atop Thunder Bluff...what has he ever done for me? Nothing. All I have ever wanted has been held right out of my reach, and now it has been taken away. Where was Cairne when that was happening?
I hear the watchers calling out; another wave of attacks is most likely headed our way. I get to my hooves and shoulder my axe, and my bull comes to me. Apparently I am downright quaking now, and he thinks that I am afraid. I let him hold me, but it offers no comfort. I feel his lips against mine, and I pretend it is another. Its the only way I can stomach his touch now. He is saying he loves me...
I say it back. I feel like vomiting. I pray that an archer shoots me in the stomach to release this feeling.
So heavy is the paper in my pocket. Its nothing more than parchment and ink, nothing more than an invitation to a wedding. Within the hour, they will be bull and wife.
That mage is looking at me, perhaps he will be my match. I raise my axe and charge without hesitation.
I wonder what he will think when he learns of my death...I wonder if he will mourn me.
[edit] Part Four
- -Written by Syphir
When she looks at me like that, I die inside. It reminds me that I have no business being with her, no right to call her mine. I still have no idea why she dwells with me, and is on my arm in the view of others. If I were her, I would be ashamed to be seen with such an oaf of a Tauren. Yet here I am...with her.
I have loved her for years; I suppose she knew it deep down. For a while she was with another, but as soon as that ended, I was no fool. I took the opportunity the Earth Mother gave me, and was there to offer my hand. I am still shocked that she took it, and smiled at me in the shy way she does: Eyes meeting mine for only a moment, before she gets nervous in her delicate way and looks to the ground. Each time she does that, it makes my heart melt down into my hooves.
Yet...I know she isnt satisfied with me. I see the glances she throws to her former, and it makes me ache. If I was such a good bull, she wouldnt miss him so much. I wish I knew how to make it up to her, and I try to compensate as best a slow-witted blacksmith can. Stillshe has not brought up the idea of marriage once; it has always been me, and without much response on her end. So I decided to drop it, rather than pressure her.
...She doesnt know, but I am building a house for us, far from the noise of the city. Back in Mulgore, outside of Bloodhoof, near a ancient pine that is overlooking the lake. There is more than enough room for the two of us, and perhaps some calves, should she desire to start a family one day. It has been taking me a while, for I want everything to be perfect. I even spent the gold on making a forge for the two of us; she works so hard at the one in Orgrimmar, I wanted her to always have access to the pastime she enjoys. The house will be finished within the month, if we could only get out of this bloody valley.
I dont know why she is so interested in battle, but I support her. I would much rather be at home, selling the weapons we forge, and living a quiet life. She loves it, however, and it shows in the way she fights.
She is a demon on the battlefield, and I dare say, a bit reckless. I have watched her charge into the guards with little thought of her own safety, and then hack them all down in the blink of an eye. I can barely catch my breath and she is pawing the ground with her hoof, mustering the adrenaline to charge once more. The blood of the Alliance drips from her weapon in the glaring light of day, and the look in her eye is wild, like the raptors of the Barrens. How I wish her passion for battle was directed towards me.
ButI do not question what the Earth Mother has allowed me. I am thankful that at night, this Taureness is going home with me. I am thankful that she is there beside me in my bed, her warm scent always lingering, reminding me that she is close by. I only wish I could find a way to prove my love is unwavering, and find her approval.
...The call to arms is sounding once more; the Alliance are at our doorstep, it seems. I am afraid, I will admit. I fear seeing her fall, and losing what the Earth Mother has given me. Damn, do I want to be home right now, sitting with her and looking out over the city. I hate it here, in this cold valley. I rather be warm in bed with her.
There is the call once more, they have broken through the front gate. She is already lifting her axe, and looking to me to follow her. Earth Mother, receive those she slays with open arms; they will know enough suffering at the end of my Taurenesss blade.
I lean to kiss herand she hesitates. I tell her I love her, and she again, hesitates to return the affection. My heart is breaking, but I caress the side of her neck before she runs forth into battle. Her scent, it makes my heart-
What is that...
It cannot be!
Why didnt she tell me? Or perhaps, she doesnt know...
That mage...I know him wellHe is looking her way, and I can see his hands start to glow...No! Run, my love!
Still she wields her axe, and cries out in a blind rage. Earth Mother, please, give me the speed to preserve her, give me the strength to strike down he who would take my world from me...
~
The pain...it isn't so bad now that I am in her arms. I wish I could tell her not to cry, but I cannot find the strength to. But it is alright, she is safe, and I am happy for it.
The scent of my charred flesh is thick in the air, but I take grim pleasure in the fact that my sword is deep through the heart of that blasted human. How dare he attack my love, and think that there would be no consequence.
She has her head against my chest now, and I can feel her shoulders heave as she weeps for me. I wish I could comfort her, but at least I know that she does, indeed, love me.
Thank you, Earth Mother, for granting me this act. Everything I have ever wanted, you have bestowed upon me. Please take me to whatever lies next, where I will wait for my love. Earth Mother, I only beg that you look after her...and our unborn calf...in my absence.
[edit] Part Five
Again and again, you slap me in the face. Each time you kick me in the side, I hate you more and more.
"Dont question the wisdom of the spirits", I was told in my calfhood. Without the veil of blind, hoping faith, I see what rubbish those words are. I am not the calf that used to wish upon stars as they fell from the sky. I am not the youngster that carried around a rabbits foot, amongst other meaningless superstitions. I am not the one that once prayed to you night and day, believing that you would hear the words of a humble mortal.
That Taureness has been dead and gone for a while now; this one knows better. This one knows that you arent listening.
You took away all I asked for in this world, and gave him to another. I begged for him back, and you sent me a substitute, hoping I wouldnt know the difference. I ask for deathand you cannot even do that for me. I will never go as far as to say you do not exist, for I will never believe that. You do exist, and take pleasure in seeing those who cry out to you suffer.
Tears wet my face, but they are not tears of sorrow; they are my hate for you. I go forth to put an end to my suffering, and instead of taking my life, you take the life of the only thing you allowed me to have. Now I must suffer on, while the one I love goes about his merry way. I linger carrying this atrocity in my belly; other will see me, alone and fat, and whisper hard words against me. Every time I think I have hit bottom, you show me that the pit is deeper than I can see.
Anger is tearing me up inside, to the point I can barely see straight. What have I done to deserve this, oh "Great" Earth Mother? Is this what your infinite wisdom has planned out for me?
This time, oh Earth Mother, you will not have your way with me. Tonight, when the moon has risen and this bull is buried and out of my sight, I will do for myself what you refuse to do for me, and release myself from your cruel joke.
You are not a god, but a demon.
[edit] Part Six
His arm lifts, and gently it comes down over me; with little effort I am pulled to my feet with little effort. A thick hand squeezes mine for a moment, and the warmth of him bites back the cold of evening. Even though he is fairly riddled with muscle and his hands are covered in calluses, both are comforting and gentle when they come against me.
His eyes are constantly smiling, and they are a shade of green that I have seen once before; like the fields of Mulgore and the Stranglethorn waters combined. He is handsome, and young, and well off in the tribes. When we walk through the city, his arm is there for me to hold, and his head is held high with pride. He praises me in front of his friends; he beams when they raise their arms to salute me.
He gives me everything that I need, or care to want. Tonight, he is carrying a blanket, just in case I start shivering. He kisses my cheek and ask if I need anything before he heads into the tavern...
And all I can do is sit here, and think about how much I love him.
I smile at the cow on his arm, and she smiles in return. A beautiful young thing she is; many have said that she looks like me when I was in my youth, and his friends tease him for it. My bull simply shrugs and says he must have his father's taste in cows, and hugs her tight.
His father...
It has been years since he passed from this world, and how I wish I still had him with me. Funny, how some things reveal over time...like crow's feet about the eyes and grey around the muzzle; like his love for me, and the love I should have had for him.
He had been good to me, but I couldnt see it. Though my eyes are clouded with cataracts now, I see better than I ever had at that age. Love is an odd beast; one that makes us the best of heroes and the worst of fools at the same time. It is so hard to guide what the heart sets its sights on, but for me, not so much. Not any more.
I tell him I love him every day now; my bull bears his fathers name for just that reason. A lifetime of telling him may not make up for what I owe to his father, but I do try. When he was young, I taught him metalworking, and he has become a great axe smith. I do not take credit for his skills, for it was his father that taught me. He has walked in our path as a warrior, and just last year, I gave him his fathers sword.
The sword that, once upon a time, preserved both our lives from the wrath of a mage.
...
I look at him, as he stands amidst his friends, and wonder how I could have thought to attempt what I did that night. I had held the dagger to my throat, but could not bring myself to follow through. With all the pain and confusion...and utter stupidity...I had filling me that night, I could not take my own life, and with it the life of my son.
And I thank the Earth Mother everyday for it.
I think back now, and am horrified. Without my bull, I would have spent my life alone, and it would have been short. My days are moving towards their end, and I am thankful for each one, for it is one more change to make it up to his father. So many mistakes, over a bull I wasn't meant to have. Funny...I cannot even recall his name, now.
His cow moves, and I see her form silhouetted against the light of the tavern. Her belly is round; only a short time more and I will be a grandmother. I hope that the calf has his fathers eyes; that was always my favorite thing about him. I wish I had looked into those eyes more than I did.
I will help as much as I can with my grandchild, though my hands have become weak and my eyes dim. I will teach it what I can, and speak to it about its grandfather before I fall asleep and refuse to awake.
Earth Mother, when that day comes, I hope my love is there waiting for me. I have so much to tell him, and have had years to have the words ready I my head. I wish to tell him I love him, though at the time, I couldnt. I wish to tell him about our son, and how he has grown to be honorable and kind like his father. I wish to feel his arms around me again, hear him tell me it will be alright, and have him look at me like he used to. But most of all, I wish to tell him I am sorry, and how wonderful he was to me...
I wish...
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