A/N: There are too few stories about Troll men. For the love of the large blue ones, I have written my first Troll story. I hope you enjoy. If you do, let me know! If you don't like it...let me know what I can do to make it better! Just like everyone else, I don't own anything about WoW or Blizzard. I do own Arriah, and my wonderful troll-y husband owns Galbrock ("Brock"). I just may continue the story, but for the moment, this is it. So, without anything further... May I present "Wild Blue Wonder"!

Arriah moved carefully through the streets of Orgrimmar. Orcs, Goblins, Tauren, Forsaken, Trolls, and her own Sin'dorei bustled all around her. It was crowded, and one would be hard pressed to walk from the main gate to The Drag without bumping into or being jostled by someone. She tried to stay as close to the outside of the precipitous crush as she could but she still had her toes stepped on by more than one clumsy Orc. The tall green men and women with beady eyes seemed to lumber about as if they were the only ones on the thoroughfare. The Tauren weren't so bad. They had an almost graceful quality to the way they moved and were, by far, the tallest ones in the city. Even the females of that race towered over Arriah's five-foot-three frame. Well, everyone did, it seemed.

Except, of course, the Goblins. The short, green men and women were ruthless when it came to business dealings, and they'd done well for themselves. They practically owned all of the businesses in Azeroth. Their main dealings were of the trading of rare goods that only came from the Alliance. They had a knack for being neutral when it came to buying and selling trade stock. They were shrewd, and it had served them well.

Arriah sighed happily when she made it to the Wyvern's Tail Inn. Finally, a glass of wine. Sure, she only had to think about it, and she could teleport right to the wine's source in Silvermoon, but she didn't feel like it today. She was tired, worn out from the dry Durotar heat. The sun had beat down on the large city, baking it, making it shimmer all morning, and now it was time for supper. Her stomach growled in displeasure at being made to wait so long for a meal. She hadn't eaten anything since dinner last night, and now she was practically starving. Arriah was sure that if she waited any longer, she'd shrivel up and blow away.

Walking up to the counter, she smiled at the barkeep. Gravy grinned back at her between his tusks. "Watchoo wan?" he asked in a gritty voice. The little mage grinned. She'd always enjoyed the island accent that the Trolls had, and this one, in particular, had such a wonderful personality. She had quickly grown fond of him, but she supposed, many women had. In a profession where tips were the name of the game, a little flirting went a long way.

"I'll have my usual wine, Gravy," she said, leaning on the counter. "And maybe a plate of what ever is on the menu?"

"Shua ting, Miss." His slow, easy movements were soothing to watch as he sauntered over to the stew pot and portioned out the steaming concoction into a large bowl. He placed the stew on the counter and grabbed a tall glass, wiping the inside with a piece of cloth he held on his hip. Gravy had no problem reaching the top shelf where the wine was kept. Trolls were inherently tall. Most of the males stood at least seven feet, even with their slouched posture. Gravy grasped a dark bottle and pulled it down, opening it and allowing it to breathe for a moment before pouring the red liquid into the glass and setting it on the bar. "Dat'll be seventy-five silvah, Miss." Arriah nodded as she reached into her satchel and produced a gold coin, sliding it over the smooth wood surface as she picked up her meal.

"Keep the change, Gravy, and thank you," she smiled, turning to survey the inn's tables. Thankfully, most of them were empty. Good. She'd wanted a quiet moment to herself after questing for the past two weeks. She'd found a group of adventurers who were heading to the Wailing Caverns and who were willing to allow her to tag along. Arriah had been grateful for that. Otherwise, it would have been next to impossible to gather all the things she'd needed to retrieve for that Goblin in Ratchet. She was thankful, but the people had grated on her. They were annoying. Rude, inconsiderate, and her only chance of completing her task. So, she grit her teeth and stayed quiet. But, now, she was free of them. Thank the Light.

Arriah sat at a table and tucked into her meal. Her stomach growled again as she smelled the fantastic aroma of the stew. She blushed, hoping no one heard that, her eyes darting around the room. She hadn't noticed the man sitting behind her. At least, not until he chuckled. Her ears dropped. Someone had heard.

"Dat's quite a grumbal fo' such a leedle elfie," came the deep, gravely voice.

She cleared her throat, willing the blush to go away. "Well, that's what happens when one doesn't have a good meal for a while."

"If dat's what's goin' fo' a good meal now-a-days, I shua feel sorreh fo' ya," the man said, loud enough for Gravy to hear.

"'Ey, now. Don' be knockin' the grub, mon." Gravy's voice cut in.

The Troll behind her guffawed. "Ya jus' be jealous o' mah cookin', Graveh."

Gravy burst out in a hearty laugh. The little mage couldn't help herself and she chuckled, too. "Brock, ain't nobody jealous o' ya cookin'. Ain't nobody died yet 'cuz o' mahn."

"Yeah, but dey shua came close, dough, din' dey?" came the second Troll's reply.

Gravy's face nearly broke in half with the grin that spread across it. "Yeah, but close ain' dead, mon."

Arriah didn't know why, but she felt the need to come to Gravy's defense. Glancing over her shoulder at the Troll behind her, she took a rather large bite of her stew. She realized a little too late that the bite was slightly larger than what she should have taken. Tears welled up in her eyes as she coughed and sputtered over the molten lava that was now making its way down her throat and searing her belly. It was only made worse by the large hand that clapped her on the back. Finally, she caught her breath and managed a weak word of thanks to the troll who was now standing over her.

"Ya alright der, elfie?" His long angular face contorted with worry over the woman. Arriah's nod was all that he needed to reassure him. He looked back up at Gravy and burst out in laughter. "See? Dat's what I bin talkin' 'bout! Ya cookin' nearly keeled da poah girl!"

She blushed heavily. Not only were her mouth and throat thoroughly cooked, but now her back stung where the helpful 'Brock', as Gravy had called him, had cuffed her. Arriah's eyes watered miserably as she tried to regain her composure. The Troll turned his attention back to her. "Aw, now, elfie. No reason ta cry." He produced a cloth from his pocket. "Heah ya go, der, leedle one. Betta?"

"Aye," she croaked out, pride fallen as she dabbed at the dampness on her cheeks.

"Ya shua?" His voice was softer and right next to her ear. His gritty, deep tone poured over her like warm honey and sent a shiver up her spine. She looked up at him. His rose colored eyes taking on a worried appearance.

"Aye. I'm sure," she quietly responded, handing the handkerchief back to Brock. "Thank you for your kindness."

"'Ey, now. No tanks needed, leedle one." He grinned at her. "Anyting fo' a purdy lady." Arriah blushed at the compliment. She knew she shouldn't take it seriously, though. He was, at the very least, a little tipsy. The sour, musky odor of brewed liquor emanated from him. The tiny elf took a tentative sip of her wine, the dark liquid cooling her scorched tongue and throat.

"I don't believe I've caught your name, Mr. -" Arriah patiently waited for the Troll to supply his name.

He snorted a laugh. "Mister, notin'. Da name's Galbrock. But most'a mah friends jus' call me 'Brock'." The Troll grinned around his tusks. "Den again, lots'a mah friends call me tings dat prolly don' need repeatin' in public." The mage grinned at his joke. "Der, now. Dat's much bettah. Ya gotsa purdy smile der, leedle one. Watsya name, der elfie?"

"I'm called Arriah. Most of my friends just call me 'Arriah'." Her weak attempt at humor elicited a low, raspy chuckle from the troll.

"Well, den, Miss Ar-ree...Uh-rye..." He didn't seem to be able to get his lips around her name. Damned tusks were always getting in the way. His embarrassment seemed to dissipate as the musical tones of her tiny giggle floated on the air. He grinned at her. "Well, den, leedle elfie," he gave her a theatrical bow, punctuated with a wink. "It be verra nice ta meetcha." The troll made himself comfortable next to her at the table. "So, what brings ya ta Orgrimmar? Yer a long ways from Silvamoon."

The tiny elf nodded. "Aye, that I am." She took another sip of wine, a little longer than the last and paused to enjoy the tangy sweet aroma that accompanied the bite of the alcohol. She finally felt her stiff muscles relaxing ever so slightly. "I've been working in the Northern Barrens. Gathering supplies for a man in Ratchet." Arriah sighed softly, remembering those horrid people she'd forced herself to work with and sipped again.

"Really, now? Ya don' sound too happy 'bout dat," came Brock's reply.

The little elf shook her head, giving him a tired smile. "Is it that obvious?" His nod made her ears droop a little. She had always been terrible at hiding her emotions. "I required help to gather the supplies, and the only people who were willing to help turned out to be awful. Bickering constantly and setting a breakneck pace that, more than once, left someone behind to catch up."

Brock shrugged. "Well, dey couldn'a bin too nasty. Dey let ya tag along, a perfect stranger, din' dey?" He gestured toward her.

Arriah sipped the wine, draining her glass without thinking about it. Finally, she nodded. "Aye, I suppose. But that still doesn't excuse their behavior when things were rough."

The tall troll smiled around his tusks. "Naw, I guess not." He sat back, thoughtfully stroking his left tusk. "I guess adversity brings out de rotten in people." The mage nodded agreement, glancing up and nodding thanks to Gravy who had gone almost unnoticed as he re-filled her glass. Across from her, Brock gave a resolute nod of the head. "But, dat be in de past. Nevah good ta dwell on de past, den ya miss what's goin' on in de world in front'a ya."

Arriah smiled, nodding to him. She was definitely starting to like this troll, though she couldn't understand why she was letting her guard down, though only marginally, so quickly with this man. Maybe it was his easy-going manner, maybe his wise words. She looked down at her glass. Maybe it was the alcohol. She sipped slowly, relishing in the light floral tones and the tangy citrus overtones of the wine. It must be the alcohol. "Those are very wise words."

Brock grinned at her. "Dey should be. Mah faddah was a verra wise man."

This peaked her interest. "You learned that from your father?" she asked.

"Shua ting. Mah faddah was one o' de elders o' mah village. 'Course it was a verra small village. Only 'bout five o' six families lived der," he shrugged, grinning playfully.

The mage chuckled softly. "Sounds like we came from very similar villages."

Brock's eyes twinkled. "Dat so? Ya had Darkspeah in yer village, too?" he chided.

Arriah smiled, giggling. "Not exactly. About half a day's journey from my village was a settlement of Amani. Their village and ours seemed to have an unspoken truce of sorts. Although I don't understand why, they never seemed to pay us much attention." Her smile faded as her story went on. "That was, until Arthas came through with his Scourge army." The glow of her eyes seemed to fade somewhat as the shadows of the past flickered through her mind.

The mage was no longer at the table, sitting next to a large Troll. Though her voice, softer now, was still in the inn, her mind was back in Eversong Wood. Her eyes swept over her devastated home. Buildings lay in ruins, fires still smoldering. White wisps of smoke twisted and curled up to the tops of the surrounding trees.

"The Scourge demolished everything. Houses, wells, livestock. Everything was gone in a matter of minutes. And what was left, the Amani tribe ransacked. The fires burned for days. There were no survivors." Arriah hadn't noticed the moisture on her cheeks until a soft cloth was pushed into her hand. She blinked, looking around. A blush starting on the apple of her cheeks and radiating down her neck and along her slender ears. "I'm sorry," she said, dabbing her cheeks. "I didn't mean to zone out like that."

Galbrock smiled as warmly as he could, though it turned into more of a grimace because of his tusks. "It be not'in, girlie. Dat kinda past be 'ard ta fa'get. I should be da one 'pologizin'. Din' mean ta bring up bad mem'ries."

The woman gave a sage nod. "If we forget our past, no matter how hard it was, we forget what made us who we are today." She looked at him. "All that I have today, is a direct result of being the only one from my village to survive. Seems I was in the right place at the right time." A weak smile graced her lips as the Troll fell silent, turning her words over in his head.

"Ya be a verra wise leedle elfie, fa such a young ting," he finally said.

She laughed at that. Genuine and musically. "'Young thing! Ha!"

Brock looked a little surprised at that. "Wachoo talkin' 'bout? Ya look like ya barely outta diapahs!"

Arriah giggled. "Well, thank you! That's really very kind of you to say."

He looked at her funny. "'Verra kind'a me ta say'? Jus' 'ow old are ya, an'aways?"

The mage smiled sheepishly. "Let's just say, in your years I'm probably old enough to be your great grandmother..."

"No, ya not." His disbelief was obvious. "Ya don' look a day ovah twenty."

She nodded, grinning from ear to ear. "And truthfully, I am only considered a young adult in my cutlture. Compared to other races, we tend to age very slowly."

He grinned wolfishly. "And verra well, too." He winked at her. The alcohol starting to take effect. His speech was gradually starting to slur, and his eyes were getting heavy-lidded. She blushed and looked shyly at her wine glass. He slid a little closer to her, lowering his voice. "Ya be verra purdy when ya do dat."

She snickered, bashfully. "When I do what?" The wine was definitely prevailing against her better judgment. Was she...flirting? No...she couldn't be...she never flirted. She looked the Troll over. But, he was being very nice to her. And if she were to be absolutely truthful with herself, she would have to admit that she had a little thing for Trolls. Alright, a big thing. That was probably why she spent so much time in Orgrimmar. The main village of the Darkspear, Sen'Jin, was only a short distance away and, consequently, the Troll population was abundant here.

The pair sat and talked for hours, both of them loosing track of the time. Somehow, it seemed so easy to talk to this man. Arriah couldn't remember a time when she had just sat and talked about anything and everything like she was with Brock. Well, there was Terric. But that was not something she wanted to think about just now. She was really enjoying the company and didn't want to ruin a good thing.

Her eyes were heavy. She looked at her glass, empty already? The Troll said something and she looked up at him. "Hmm?" she smiled.

Brock chuckled, muscular jaws working under deep azure skin. "Da wine getting' ta ya head, der, elfie?"

Arriah giggled in response. "I suppose so. Heh, I must be a cheap date!" she joked, a wide grin spreading across her face.

"And a purdy one at dat." She blushed again, causing him to grin triumphantly. She stifled a yawn, stretching her graceful arms above her head. She arched her back, inadvertently pushing her bosom out. Fiery locks cascaded down her back and seemed to ignite as the torches' light spilled over the room. The troll admired her. Round, high breasts, pert and beautiful. She cut a slender figure, but curvy. Brock chuckled softly, sounding more like a low growl than a laugh. Very curvy in all the right places.

Her full lips curled up into a smile as she rested her chin in her hand, bracing her elbow against the table. "Hmmm," she hummed a snicker back. "Something funny?"

"I was wondrin' when ya were plannin' on goin' ta bed?"

She ruffled slightly, creasing her brows and tilting her head as if she wasn't sure what she'd just heard. "What?"

"Well, ya sittin' der yawnin' so wide, I t'ought ya face was gonna break in two. I tink it's time ta hit da hay."

Arriah stifled another yawn and giggled. "I think you're right. I've been up since well before dawn, today."

Galbrock stood easily, offering her his hand. "Where ya stayin', elfie?"

She may have been on her way to being drunk, but she still saw the red flags going up. "I...uh...well...I don't..."

The Troll let out a hearty laugh, leaning in close. "I was jus' wondrin' if I could escort'cha. Dat's all. Jus' wanted ta make shua ya got der safe. Notin' else, elfie."

She wasn't understanding. "Then why are you whispering?" she asked just as softly.

"Well, leedle one, I gotta reputation ta keep." Brock winked at her and barked another guffaw, throwing his head back and slapping his thigh. Arriah couldn't help herself. His laughter was infectious and she grinned broadly, giggling with the Troll as she stood.

Arriah stared at the stars. Glimmering specs of diamonds strewn about the black backdrop of the night sky. Brock sat next to her on the top of the cliffs encasing Orgrimmar.

"Ya come here offen?" the Troll asked, chuckling slightly at the realization that the question could be taken as a bad pick-up line.

She nodded, leaning back against the cool, smooth rock face. The mage giggled at the unexpected joke. "Aye. All the time. It's my place to 'get away from it all' without getting away from it all. I've two beautiful views: The stars above, and the city below."

Galbrock squinted as he looked down on the city casually tossing his cobalt dreads over his shoulder. "How can ya see any'ting from way up here? Evry'ting looks so tiny...like..."

Arriah grinned. "Like bugs?" The Troll nodded, grinning around his tusks. "Hmmmmmm," she hummed happily. "The city is my own personal bug farm...without the bugs!"

Brock chuckled that soft rumbling growl of his. He pulled a flask from the small bag on his hip and drank. "I see whatcha mean."

She pointed to a small encampment just outside of the city. "I live over there. My tent is the one against that large rock."

He offered the drink to the girl as his gaze followed her finger. It was a quaint little tent. Not much scattered around it. In truth, the camp she was pointing at was just a smattering of tents. Each one looked similar to the next. She accepted the proffered flask and took a swig. Immediately, she regretted it. She was used to wine, but what ever kind of liquid fire he had in that flask was devastating her. She coughed and sputtered, trying to catch her breath, which the alcohol seemed to take away. The Troll cracked up at the little woman's reaction to his home made brew, which he retrieved from her hand.

"Ugh!" she grunted when she finally caught her breath. "What is in that?"

He shrugged. "A leedle sumtin' I made m'self."

"You made that? That...that...poison?"

Brock gave a look of mock-hurt. "Poison? Whachu talkin' 'bout? Dat's not poison. Dat's sum high grade brew right dere!"

Arriah giggled, trying to replace the playful look on her face with mock irritation. "High grade brew my foot! You're just trying to get me drunk to take advantage of me!"

The Troll made an annoyed sound. "Ach! I would nevah do dat! I gotsa reputation ta keep, remembah?" he lightly nudged her elbow, grinning from tusk to tusk.

"Aye, I remembah." A mischievous grin crossing her face as she imitated his accent. "Ya gotsa reputation ta keep, der, Meestah Troll." She punctuated her words with a gentle nudge of her own on his shoulder.

"Ach! Now ya mockin' meh."

Her grin grew wider as she tried to keep her laughter in check. "No, not mocking, just imitating." She grabbed his flask again, taking a (smaller) sip, allowing the fire to subside before continuing.

"Imitatin'?" he laughed.

Arriah nodded, giggling. "You know, it is the highest form of flattery."

"Really? Sounds like a good way ta start a fight der, elfie." He glanced at the flask in her hand. "'Specially when ya steal a man's prop'ty."

The tiny mage giggled inching away. She put on the accent again. "Oh? Is it a good way ta start a fight, stealin' a man's prop'ty?"

His grin mirrored her impishness as he eased toward her. He nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Who says I'm stealing? You offered it to me, did you not?" She scooted a few more inches away.

He matched the distance, still grinning. "I did. But, ya not s'posed'ta keep et."

She stood now, still grinning. "I'm not s'posed'ta keep it? Well," she took another swig, cringing at the bite of the alcohol, "I think you'll have to accept that you just may not get it back. This stuff isn't that bad once you get used to it."

A low growl of laughter rumbled from his throat as he stood to his full height, rolling his shoulders and eventually settling into a crouch, his eyes never leaving hers. Brock felt a rush of triumph as he saw a bit of alarm flash across her face. He'd meant to do that. "See, now Elfie, ol' Brock don' get usedta leedle girlies takin' off wit mah tings. Dat flask be special ta me, an' I be willin' ta take it back by force, if'n I needta." His grin became darker as he stretched once more to his full height, fully intending to intimidate her and fully accomplishing that task. Toned muscles tightened and moved under his pale blue skin.

Arriah quickly composed herself. "Oh, really?" she asked, straightening to her full 5 foot 5 inches. "By force, eh?" The little mage smirked playfully.

"Uh-huh." The troll closed the distance between them with one large step. He gazed down at her, dwarfing her with his 7 foot tall frame.

Arriah paused, staring up at a blue chin with long tusks jutting out from the corners of a thin-lipped mouth. "Well, then...I guess you'll just have to try," she teased, backing up fully against the rock face, her step faltering slightly from the alcohol.

The grin that spread across his face was purely rapacious. A predatory expression as if he were a wolf among a flock of sheep. His hands braced against the precipice, affording him the balance to curl over her. Ever so slowly, he lowered his head, carefully maneuvering his tusks to circle her neck and resting them on her shoulders. Their noses were almost touching. Arriah smelled earth. That sweet, naturally musky cologne that only life in the wilderness affords. "Leedle one. I don' try nutin'. I do et. An' I do et well, too. 'Least," he chuckled softly, "dat's what I ben told."

The mage blushed, catching his double entendre. "Is that so?" she replied, trying to sound not at all effected by his proximity.

His nod was almost imperceptible. A large, three fingered hand slid down the wall of rock, gently caressing her temple as a lock of hair was brushed off of her cheek. His gravely voice was soft, meant only for her, even though they were completely alone. "Yeah, dat's so."

The tiny elf paused, fully intoxicated not only from the spirits she'd foolishly imbibed all evening, but also from this alluring Troll. Her head swam as his scent wafted up on a delicate breeze. "I...uh...I...I think maybe..."

The sudden movement caught her off guard and she squeaked as his lips came down onto hers. She tensed for only a moment before allowing the spell he was weaving to lead her. The forgotten flask dropped to the ground as tiny elfin hands wound their way into thick, cerulean braids. Strong arms encompassed her waist as Brock pulled her closer, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he deepened the kiss. Calloused fingers stroked her back, tracing the seams of her outer robes up past her shoulders and into her fiery red locks.

Eternities passed as they stood there on the cliff, reveling in the presence of the other. Utterly absorbed in each other. The only two in existence at that point in time. Arriah's senses were knocked off kelter by this immense Troll. Brock lifted his head, looking into her eyes trying to gauge her reaction, his grip on her easing. The small elf leaned back against the cool, smooth rock face, smiling shyly up at Brock, almost causing him to loose control. The moon casting soft light across the subtle curves of her face only enhanced her beauty. He raised a thick, blue digit to trace the silky skin over her high cheek bone.

"By da loa, elfie, ya beautiful." Arriah's cheeks burst into color, the blush deepening as he absently stroked a tusk along her neck. "Espeshully when ya do dat." The mage smiled timidly as she bashfully looked away. "'Ey, now. Ol' Brock be wantin' ta see dat purdy shade o' pink ya turnin'." Pock-marked curves of white tusks carefully manipulated her head to look back at him enticing a tiny giggle from the girl. Reluctantly, he disentangled her from between his tusks, taking a few steps back and sitting, pulling her down to sit with him. Her back to his chest, there was a comfortable way her soft curves melded into the firm planes of his torso.

Once again, his tusks lightly rested on her shoulders, gently skimming over the curve of her neck. His arms around her waist, the pair sat in companionable silence as they stared out over Orgrimmar and into the dark landscape beyond. Never had she felt so relaxed. A smile crept across Brock's lips as her body went limp against his, her breathing deep and steady as she slept.