A/N: Hey there, this is my first attempt at a fanfiction. The story has never been told regarding Illidan and the warglaives. I thought I'd write a short story of how he came to get them. It may not be fully canon but I just hope it's an enjoyable read!
Smoke still rose from some of their homes in the distance. The Kaldorei were on the brink of destruction. A small clearing in the woodlands were all the small band of revolutionaries had to call home. Small fires raged at different points of the clearing which illuminated the dirt riddled, exhausted faces of Kaldorei children, far too young to have ever experienced many of life's joys.
Illidan Stormrage sat in the shadows alone, his form barely visible but his Amber eyes shone in the dark. They were fixated on his brother, Malfurion, perched on a fallen log with his arm wrapped around the priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Illidan had been struggling to keep himself under control. The arcane magics burned in his veins like the flames of the fire his brother sat next to, and yet his urge to destroy using his magic could so easily be overcome by the love that burned inside of him for Tyrande.
She was so beautiful.
Even now, with sorrow slashed across her face from all the pain she had witnessed, she was beautiful. She was Illidan's best firend, his soulmate, and yet she was in the arms of his brother. The mighty Malfurion, the elf that will save their people, Illidan could not bare the thought of his brother becoming the hero, for too long had he sat in Malfurion's shadow. No, Illidan would end this war himself, and guarantee the survival of his people. "Maybe then she will see." Illidan spoke under his breath. "Maybe then, she will truly understand that I am everything that Malfurion is and more." Illidan rose from where he sat in the shadow, and moved to get some sleep.
...
"Wake up Illidan. Come quickly!" An unknown voice spoke to wake him from his troubled sleep. It was morning time, the dew thick of the grass, which created a fresh aroma in the air, Illidan breathed it in deep as he rose to his feet and rubbed his tired eyes with his palm. A smell that used to put his body at ease and a spring in his step, but nothing could stop the bitterness inside of him now, nothing but her.
He moved after the night elf woman that had given him the wake up call. Ducking under branches and stepping over protruding roots and he dashed to the clearing to see what the urgency was about. His heart raced, the legion had been moving closer to the encampment over the past days and he both feared something had happened to his people during the night, and felt a rush as he might have to opportunity to release the rage inside in battle with the demons.
He finally burst through the brush and into the clearing, the encampment seemed to be just as he had left it, he saw his brother sat near a cooking pot. He raced over. "Furion, what has happened?" Illidan spoke with venom, as if whatever had occurred was his brother's fault. "Nothing little brother, I just managed to make your favourite dish, I was out in the forest this morning gathering supplies, and I thought you might need some cheering up, you have been distant of late!" Malfurion spoke heartily. Illidan did not know what to say, he wanted to kick the boiling pot over his brothers lap. He opened his mouth to retort that he was not Hungry, but a shout came in the distance. "Malfurion!... They are here."