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A Story of the Past: Melikar
The morning had passed in agonizing slowness, even for one so attuned to patience. The very spirits of the world told him not to worry and that he would soon know the outcome.

His large, troll feet paced the floor of his jungle home as his nervousness would not be strayed from his chest no matter how many calming incantations he muttered to himself. He ran a hand through his deep ruby colored hair, almost starting to show signs of his reaching the middle-age for his kind. This, like so many things before, was a test of his patience and will. He had to wait, no matter how many hours it took.

Ever since his mate, Ta'niki, had awoken very early that morning in obvious pain. He had done as he could for her, helping to soothe the pain with his practice in medicine, but it led to very little reprieve. The village priests and healers had taken her some hours ago, an only then did his real nervousness set in. Being by his mate's side had always strengthened him and now it felt like a piece of him was missing. Even from here, he could hear and see nothing. But it was all part of the ritual. He was not to give any blessings until the priests and healers had given their own for strong and successful life. Only their kind could deem any Troll worthy of any type of future. After they had their say, it was the village shaman and witch doctors who gave their own blessings, be it wisdom, courage or strength among the warriors.

Finally, a sound made the older Troll stop his pacing and glance up. He saw one the village's most respected priests. The priest bowed before the other troll.

"I apologize for what you had to go through." The priest spoke in the native troll tongue, "But as you know, it was necessary."

The opposite troll gave a nod and didn't say anything.

"As a well-respected shaman, and as the father, I saw it fit to bring you to your mate now." the priest continued.

"And of the child?" The shaman nervously asked.

The priest gave a warm smile.

"You are the proud father of a healthy, strong son."


Ziondeh he was called. And just as he was called Ziondeh by his father, so would his son be named.

He would never forget walking into the hut, his mate lying before him in all her strength and beauty. Her topaz eyes were staring at a bundle wrapped in a hand-made blanket. Her only garment, the sheet that slipped over her mid-section, was awash in the color of blood at one end. This blood was seen as a good omen, part of life itself. A mother gave much of herself when she allowed her young to enter the world and the sacrifice was to be seen by any who blessed the child. Great children came from great parents, and one couldn't have described the parents of this child in question any better.

Ta'niki's eyes slipped up then and away from her baby as she saw who entered. Her smile was tired, but undeniable.

"It's a boy." She quietly gasped, "Just as you hoped." She stared back to the bundle, "The Loa have blessed us in many ways."

The healers and priests that remained began to exit the hut, having given their blessings already. It was time for the new mother and father to spend some time together with their child alone. The blessings of the shaman and witch doctors could wait a bit longer. As badly as Ziondeh wanted to bless his son now, he knew that wasn't part of their culture and was seen as unworthy impatience to the Gods. Instead of a blessing, it would've ended as a curse.

Ziondeh took side next to his mate, a small sliver of blue-hued skin the only thing he could see of his son in the blanket. Ta'niki took note of this and turned the bundle slightly as to let Ziondeh get a better view. He eyed every one of the baby's features, starting from the small tuft of red hair that slipped over the fresh features. The face was a bit more rounded like his mother, also the nose and mouth took more to his mother's liking. But when the baby opened his eyes, there was no denying the striking similarity between father and son. The eyes were much redder than his mother and they seemed to have an almost playful gleam to them as their eyes met for the first time.

One, tiny troll hand extended from the blanket as the baby made a small squeak.

Ziondeh slowly reached forward, the baby's hand so small it couldn't even wrap all the way around one of his fingers. He smiled then, almost overcome with emotion at seeing what was before him. Ta'niki gave a small breath as if to laugh, tears beginning to role down her face.

Ziondeh, great shaman of the Zandalari tribe was a father. And even as the first wet tear of his own struck his shamanistic robes, he knew that this small form of life would some day grow to be one of the best trolls his people would come to know.

(To be continued)
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