Forms of Payment

*Author: This is the first one with any sexual references. It’s R-rated at worst but I figured I’d give a heads-up!*

Shimz stretched each arm across his chest, awakening the muscles and shaking the sleep out of his frame. The soft pillow-topped mattresses of his lady’s estate were too comfortable, he decided, seeing as it was approaching mid-morning already and he’d went to bed as soon as they arrived the evening before. He slipped into his chainmail shirt, letting the silk undershirt the housemaid brought him sit where it was. Silk bothered his mossy fur and chafed his skin. The fine linen pants they had left him were very comfortable though, and he sighed happily as he slipped into them. Looking at the rest of his clothing and armor, he shrugged and turned away. He even left his mace where it was – the elves of Silvermoon were still uncomfortable seeing an armed troll within their city, and he was a guest here.

A knock came from the arched door, and he obediently answered it, expecting to see his lady angrily waiting for him. He was pleasantly surprised to see it was one of her father’s servants, but the look on the elf’s face betrayed trouble. “Miss Islimah has sent for you, sir. She awaits you in her chambers.”

Shimz raised an eyebrow. “Somethin’ be wrong, mistah?”

They were interrupted by a commanding voice, his lady’s father. “Ah, Shimorpican, glad to see you are awake.” Shimz grinned at the way her father used his full name every time – he didn’t know many people who didn’t call him Shimz or Shimzy, but not Islimah’s father. “I was hoping you might speak with my daughter. She received news from Lord Llyrandor and has been locked in her room all morning.”

Shimz bowed low, still towering over the smaller man. Trolls were tall and thin, much taller than elves, even taller than the mighty Tauren when they stretched out. It helped the noble elves (and it seemed like most of them were nobles) to feel as if the troll were obeisant by bowing to them. “I take care of it, milord,” he assured her father.

A letter from Llyrandor, Shimz thought. That could be bad news or good. It sounded bad, but Islimah took most news from Llyrandor badly. They were engaged to be married, arranged by her uncle, but Shimz knew, and Islimah knew too, that Llyrandor was a philanderer. Bad enough he kept another woman openly, but he dallied about constantly. It hurt Islimah’s feelings, but it also inspired her to revenge.

Shimz loved Islimah’s revenges.

He passed two house guards who nodded at him, then knocked on his lady’s door. “Is me,” he said, and the door cracked open. The girl had been crying, and her hair and robes were a mess. He slipped in quickly and closed the door behind him. “What’s wrong lil Isli?”

The girl stomped over to the bed and threw herself onto it angrily. “That bastard! That fucking bastard did it again! I’m gone for three months and he can’t keep his fucking hands to himself!”

He rolled his eyes. “I know ya have ta stay with him, girl, but you should tell yer dad about dis.” It was a waste of breath – they’d had this conversation a dozen times, always with the same results. He had barely finished speaking when she started in, talking about how her heart loved him, it wasn’t just political, and it was all her fault. By the end of it she was sobbing, burying her face in her bedsheets.

He walked over to her, sat down on the bed next to her and gently stroked her hair. In the back of his mind he ran through a series of incantations, trying to find the one that would work to calm her. With his free hand he took her pillow, traced faint lines on it, and sat it upright against one of the bed’s posts. With a word it began radiating calming energy, and soon the girl’s shaking stopped. She sat up and hugged him, tears still in her eyes.

“You’re so good to me,” she whispered, taking his hand and kissing each of his three fingers. So it begins, he thought, trying not to smile as he let her continue. “You aren’t like him. You’re faithful and strong and brave and always there when I need you.”

“Ahh girl, it’s what he pays me to be, ya know.” It was true – Llyrandor paid him to take care of her. Of course, Llyrandor, like most of the pink-skins, thought his interest was only in gold. Islimah rewarded him in her own way for his faithful service, most especially when her betrothed was being unfaithful. Baiting the trap, he continued, “How do ya know he been doing you wrong?”

She pointed at a crumpled piece of paper on the floor. “I got a letter from him, and there was another letter talking about this . . . this . . . tramp who has been poking around his tower.” He could see the anger boiling up in her eyes, the will to hurt Llyrandor the way he hurt her. Her fingers drifted lazily over Shimz’ thigh, trailing along his cock. He grinned at her, encouraging more.

In truth, Shimz didn’t really care for the little pink elf women. He didn’t think he could have touched one aside from Islimah, at least not in a way he would enjoy. Troll women were so much better lovers – elves were small, like sleeping with an overdeveloped whelp of a troll girl. Islimah got to have him only because they had spent so much time together, and so much time away from other trolls.

Her revenge was always the same – anger at being cheated on led her to cheat, just with him though. Even the sex was the same. She teased him to hardness (not an easy task considering she had those weird little hands with all those fingers), then rode him quick and hard as she cursed Llyrandor’s name, Sheigh, which always seemed to get her off. After that much attention he didn’t care if she was a troll, an elf, or even a gnome, he needed to finish as well. She rolled on her back, took him inside her and moaned into the back of her hand until he finished.

There was one more reason he enjoyed it, he thought as they left her room together. He loved the way elf men looked at her. He didn’t understand it, but it was clear she was a very desirable specimen of her species. Her father thanked him later for helping his daughter relax, slipping him a small sack of gold. He was as clueless as Lord Llyrandor – Islimah would NEVER touch a troll like that! He smiled and thanked his lordship, then laughed softly as he turned to return to his room, his cock still wet and limp from fucking the girl.

There was a package on his bed. Strange, he thought, as he walked over to it. It was from Lord Llyrandor. Tearing off the wrapping paper, he saw it was a book. It had stone plates for the two covers, with thick leather binding it. Clearly it was ancient. There was a note in the front cover, which he pulled out.

“What is an Eldre’thalas?” he thought, turning over the book to read its title. “Frost Shock and You, that doesn’t sound very old.” He shrugged, looking at the note again before throwing it away to tell Islimah he had been summoned by her fiancee.

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