A rumble came from the creatures then, and after an instant Doomhammer realized it was laughter.

"What you be wantin' with our leader, morsel?" the lead creature replied, its mouth splitting in a monstrous grin. They had tusks as well, Doomhammer saw, though longer and thicker than his own, and more blunt from the look of them. He also noticed the creature's hair, which rose in a dark crest above its head. Surely that look was not natural, meaning these creatures groomed themselves. Definitely not mere beasts, then.

"I would speak with him, on behalf of my own leader," Doomhammer replied. He kept his hands at his side, open to show he carried no weapon, yet he was wary. He would be a fool not to be.

That was fortunate, for the creature laughed again. "We no be speakin' with morsels," it replied. "We be eatin' them!" And it thrust its spear, no longer a questioning prod but a hard, swift motion that would have gutted Doomhammer as easily as he might have speared a fish. If he had stood still for the blow. Instead he twisted away, pulling his hammer free from his back, and bellowed a warcry. The shout seemed to startle the creature, which paused in the act of withdrawing its weapon for a second attack. Doomhammer did not give it time to recover. He leaped forward, hammer swinging hard, and smashed one of the creature's legs full in the knee. The creature toppled with a howl of pain, clutching the shattered limb, and Doomhammer swung again, a mighty overhand blow that crushed the creature's skull.

"I say again, I seek your leader!" he shouted, turning to face the other creatures, who had not moved during the quick fight. "Take me to him or I shall kill the rest of you and seek others more willing!" He raised his hammer for emphasis, knowing from long experience the sight of its black stone head dripping with fresh blood and matted hair and bone was enough to unnerve most foes.

The gesture worked. The other creatures backed away a step, raising their weapons high to show they were not attacking. And then one stepped around the others and approached him. This one's hair was braided rather than cut in a stiff crest, and it wore a necklace of bones around its neck.

"You be wishin' ta speak with Zul'jin?" the creature asked. Doomhammer nodded, assuming that was either the name or the title of their leader. "I be bringin' him here," the creature offered. It turned away and disappeared into the shadows without a sound, leaving its four companions behind. They glanced at each other, and at the orcs, clearly not sure what to do now.

"We shall wait," Doomhammer announced calmly, both to them and to his own warriors. He set the head of his hammer on the ground and leaned on the long handle, alert but unconcerned. When they saw he was not attacking the creatures relaxed slightly, lowering their own weapons as well. One even sprawled on the ground, though his eyes tracked the orcs' every movement.

"What are you called?" Doomhammer asked that one after several minutes.

"I am Krul'tan," the creature replied.

"Orgrim Doomhammer." Doomhammer indicated himself with a thumb. "And we are orcs, of the Blackrock clan. What are your people?"

"We be forest trolls," came the surprised answer, as if Krul'tan could not believe they did not know. "Amani tribe."

Doomhammer nodded. Forest trolls. And they had tribes. Which meant they were civilized. Much, much more than ogres. For the first time he found himself thinking Blackhand's idea might be wise. These creatures seemed more like orcs than ogres, despite their size and strength. What allies they would make! And they were native to this world, which meant they would know its geography, its inhabitants, and its dangers.

An hour passed. Then, without warning, shadows separated from the trees and moved forward on large, silent feet, becoming the troll who had left and three others.

"You be wantin' Zul'jin?" one of them demanded, stepping close enough for Doomhammer to see the beads and bits of metal dangling from his long braids. "I am here!" Zul'jin was even taller than the other trolls and leaner. He wore some sort of heavy cloth wrapped around his waist and groin and an open vest of heavy leather. A thick scarf was wound about his neck and covered his face up to the nose, giving him a sinister appearance. This close Doomhammer could also see that the troll's skin was furred; after a second he realized it looked like moss. The trolls were green because they were covered in moss! What odd new creatures they were!

"I am Doomhammer, and yes, I would speak with you." Doomhammer looked up at the forest troll leader, refusing to show any fear. "My leader, Blackhand, rules the orc Horde. No doubt you have seen our people moving through the forest."

Zul'jin nodded. "We been seein' you crashing through the trees, ya. You be clumsier than the humans," he commented. "Stronger, though. An' armed for battle. What you be wantin' with us?" Even behind the scarf Doomhammer could see the troll grin and it was not a pleasant expression. "You want our forests, ya? You be fightin' us for them, then." His hands dropped to his sides, and to the twin axes that hung there. "And you be losin'." Doomhammer suspected the troll leader was right, too. The Horde significantly outnumbered them, of course, but if all forest trolls were as strong and silent as these they could strike from anywhere and disappear again. They could cut down any orcs entering this place, and the Horde would not be able to move a large force through the trees to combat the attacks.

Fortunately, that was not their goal.

"We do not want your forests," Doomhammer assured the troll leader. "We want your strength. We plan to conquer this world, and we would have you beside us as allies."

Zul'jin frowned. "Allies? Why? What would we gain?"

"What would you want?"

One of the other trolls said something in a strange, hissing language and Zul'jin cut him off with a sharp reply. "We need nothing, ya" he answered finally, decisively. "We have our forest. None dare intrude here, save only the accursed elves, and those we be handlin' ourselves."

"Are you sure?" Doomhammer asked, sensing a possible opening. "These elves, they are a race unto themselves? A mighty one?"

"Mighty, ya," the troll agreed grudgingly. "But we been killin' them since ancient times, when they first came to this land. We needin' no help with them."

"Why pick them off one by one, though?" Doomhammer asked. "Why not march on their homes and destroy them utterly? We could aid you! With the Horde behind you, you could crush the elves once and for all and truly hold the forest without contest!"

Zul'jin seemed to consider that, and for a moment Doomhammer dared to hope the lean forest troll would agree. But finally he shook his head. "We fight the elves ourselves," he explained. "We needin' no help. And we're not wantin' the rest of the world, not any more. So fighting others will not be givin' us anything."

Doomhammer sighed. He could see the forest troll's mind was set. And he guessed that pushing the point would only antagonize him. "I understand," he said at last. "My leader will be disappointed, as am I. But I respect your decision."

Zul'jin nodded. "Go in peace, orc," he whispered, already stepping backward toward the shadows. "No troll will hinder you, ya." And then he was gone, and the other forest trolls with him.

Blackhand had indeed been disappointed, and the warchief had bellowed at Doomhammer and the others about failing in their mission. But he had calmed down soon enough, and agreed with Doomhammer's own assessment that pushing the trolls might have made them enemies instead of neutral parties. And that they did not wish to do.

Doomhammer still regretted the troll leader's decision, however, and he had instructed his scouts to watch for trolls any time they entered or even passed near the forest. And now that watching had perhaps paid off.