Author's Note: World of Warcraft is copyright Blizzard Entertainment. Used without permission or profit.
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When Llenrus and Hrolf finally made it back to their camp - it seemed to take forever - the young blood elf was at least sitting up, albeit shakily and having to lean her side against the tent post. Atas was talking to her quietly, drawing something in the dirt with his stick 'sword' that he had picked up.
"Ah, see? What would you guys do without me?" Yrala said when she saw them come in. "Oh no, you never want to try my potions, but look how much better the child is feeling. I told you I know what I'm doing."
"That's . . . great. Look, ladies, we need to talk. In private," he said, waving the two of them outside. Once they were there, he let the flap of the tent fall and frowned, walking until they were out of earshot, but careful to keep an eye on the entrance to the tent. When the four of them were far enough away that he was certain the blood elf and orc could not hear them, he spoke. "It's true. Silvermoon is completely destroyed."
"How?" Ca'lyn whispered.
"Mana bomb, far as we can tell," Hrolf said. "Judging by the girl's burns, I'd say it was a pretty accurate guess. Must've been just far enough away to survive."
"We need to return to a capital city as soon as possible," Llenrus continued, sighing at the two women's shocked looks. "The High King and others need to know about this, preferably before word spreads through the Horde." He frowned. "We'll ride for Aerie Peak immediately. It's not the easiest place to get to, but…"
"Sir, what are we going to do with them?" Hrolf interrupted, pointing back at the tent.
Llenrus sighed. "I guess we'll take them with us. I'm sure the Wildhammer dwarves could negotiate something with the Forsaken to release them once we're gone."
"That's the thing," Ca'lyn said. "Who did the bombing? Was it us?"
Llenrus looked at the three of them, grim, but nodded. "That would be my guess."
"What do you think their benevolent Warchief will do when that girl tells her that? She'll drop plague on our cities. It will be a massacre," Hrolf said. "Theramore was horrendous enough, but to destroy a capital city of the Horde…"
Llenrus frowned at him and glanced back at the tent. He was obviously deep in thought, then sighed, turning back to Hrolf and pulling out the short dagger he kept on his belt. He spun it around in his hand and handed it to the Gilnean hilt first. "Go on, then. Do the boy first so he won't know what's coming, and do them separately. Try not to let them suffer. They've done enough of that in the past day."
The night elf watched as the Gilnean's blue eyes widened and he stared at the blade, then looked pleadingly over at the women. They simply frowned at him. He reached out and took the knife, looking down at it. After several more seconds, he said quietly, "I . . . I can't do that."
Llenrus took his sword back and looked at the others. "Either of you want to volunteer?" When they shook their heads, he sheathed his sword once again. "Good. I don't think I can either. Yrala, go get them onto a horse. The girl can ride one of the pack beasts, the boy can ride with me. Make sure she can hold on without falling off."
The draenei nodded and they started to go back to the tent. As the others went to pack up they heard a gasp from the tent. "They're gone!"
Llenrus ran over and threw back the flap. Sure enough, a slice was cut down the back of the tent and their prisoners were nowhere to be seen. "What in the fel did she cut it with?" he swore.
"Um, um . . . Oh!" Yrala said. "I was cutting up some herbs for the potion I gave her and I left the knife right . . ."
"Nevermind! Hrolf! Go find them. The girl has a knife, but she couldn't have gotten far," Llenrus growled, rubbing his forehead.
#
Belidora stifled a scream as she stumbled again. She had half crawled, half walked from the back of the tent after cutting the hole. At least Atas was strong for his size - if it had been a goblin or blood elf child she had taken with her, this would likely have never worked. As it was, he was helping support her as they made their way.
"We have to hurry," the boy was saying, pulling on her arm.
"I-I know," she whispered, glancing back at the camp. They were not very far away from it, unfortunately. She knew there was no way she could get away, but there was a tiny Raventusk settlement nearby. They may not give her refuge, given their history with the elves, but they would for a little orc orphan.
"How many times are we going to do this, girl?" a voice said from behind her, not long after she turned forward again. She froze and gripped the knife tighter, spinning around and holding it between them and the Gilnean.
He did not even bother to use his worgen form, simply looking down at the knife and back at her. He pulled his sword out. "You know how this ends, elf," he said, frowning. He was not his usual arrogant, vicious self. "You know you can't fight me, and I'll outrun you each time. Put down the knife." When she gripped it tighter, he continued. "Please don't make me hurt you in front of the boy. You're responsible for his safety, not just your own."
She glanced back at the orc, who she was half pushing behind her, and frowned. She looked back at Hrolf. "Please just let us go."
The man sighed. "I can't do that. Come on, now. Put it down."
She looked at Atas again. She could tell him to run, but he had no idea where he was. It would be a certain death sentence. With the Alliance, even if it were a small chance, he might be able to survive. She looked back at Hrolf and let the knife drop from her shaking hand. The Gilnean stepped forward and grabbed onto the collar of her shirt, pulling him along with him as he ignored the orcling hitting him again.
They got to the camp and the Lieutenant rolled his eyes as the Gilnean, motioning toward a horse that was tied to a second one. "Make sure she won't run again," he ordered.
Hrolf nodded and pulled her over to the horse, helping her get onto it. He undid the leather straps of the reins and pulled her hands in front of her, beginning to bind her wrists together tightly to the horn.
"You don't need to do that," she whispered, wincing.
"It's this or I can toss you over the back of my horse like a hog. Your choice."
"Where are you taking us?" she demanded quietly.
"We're going to Stormwind. Eventually," Llenrus said, approaching the horse. "There, you can tell the High King your story. What happened in Quel'thalas."
"I won't."
"I don't believe I gave you a choice," he said. "Now, you can hold on to the saddle to steady yourself, but if you try to spur the horse on, I'll have to take more violent measures to keep you under control. We're a long way from our territory. I suggest you cooperate for your own comfort. Do you understand?"
She narrowed her eye at him but silently nodded.
"Good. Let's get moving, then."
#
Six hours later, it was too dark to continue the journey, so the group decided to set up camp for the night.
Hrolf had muttered that he would take first watch, giving the others some time around the fire. Llenrus glanced over at the young blood elf and orc. The orc was sleeping, his head resting on her lap. She would glance down at him every once in awhile. Her hands were still bound and he had briefly considered tying her to one of the trees, but she had begun shivering as they got further up into the mountains. He decided she could stay by the fire.
Really, she had not caused any more problems, and had barely made eye contact as the day dragged on. Now, she simply stared at the campfire with a sad expression on her face.
Yrala walked over to the girl and knelt in front of her. "You're shivering, child. Here," she said, taking the blanket off her shoulders draping it over the elf.
That seemed to snap the girl out of her daze and she looked up at the draenei. She stared at her for a moment before muttering, "Thank you."
Yrala smiled sadly and pushed a strand of hair behind the elf's long ear. "I know you're hurting, child. Probably better than you realize," she said, stroking her cheek gently. She got up. "I'm going to go get a blanket for your little orc friend."
When the draenei got up and walked to the tent, Belidora looked back down at Atas and sighed, looking at the flames again. Ca'lyn was trying to cook dinner and Llenrus was keeping an eye on the two prisoners, although the sin'dorei seemed too defeated to try anything again. He sighed. "Why do you have an orc child with you anyway?" he asked.
She did not look at him, but after several seconds she responded. "Children's Week," she said quietly. "After the Broken Shore, the orphanage in Orgrimmar was too full. They sent some of the children to other cities. Sen'jin Village, Thunder Bluff, Silvermoon." She paused for a moment. "I always go and take a kid out to play for Children's Week. I don't have any family either, so some of them can relate to me. Left the Vindicaar for a week, used up all my leave."
Two thoughts crossed Llenrus's mind. First was that children from every Horde race likely died in the explosion, which was a terrible tragedy, only compounded by the fact that it was likely to be a rallying point in the coming war. Second, he had about four days before the girl's friends came looking for her when she "overstayed her leave." That was at the absolute maximum.
He sighed and looked at the flames again, feeling a bit ill at using such horrible calculus, when he heard a choked sob come from the girl. "I-I'm sorry."
He and Ca'lyn both looked up to see her wiping tears from her face with her bound hands. They exchanged a glance and Llenrus asked her, "You're sorry for what?"
"Y-you were right," she said shakily. "We've done so much wrong. We taught the humans how to use magic, we bombed cities. Th-this is our punishment, isn't it? Y-you were right. I'm so sorry."
Llenrus and Ca'lyn looked at each other again, both too shocked to know what to say. Llenrus had thought the same thoughts about their high elf cousins for millenia, had thought of the crimes they had committed and the arrogance they played with other people's lives with their magic. But now . . .
Now he was not sure he could accept the reality of the "punishment" he thought they deserved for so long.