I suppose you could say this chapter is an optional read. Personally, being the writer and all, I think it contains important elements considering both past and future chapters, but, really, I don't think it would affect your overall experience of the story if you didn't read it...

This chap centers around Rha'zin's 'tragic' past with his brother and serves as a side-story for the original.

(Really, I just typed it up real quick to give you guys something to read while I plan out the series of events for the next few chaps; I do like how it follows through with what's already been provided, though) ;)

*Disclaimer shall never change~

Lol, and thanks very much to Connet (you never cease to make me laugh) and peachycupcake for the enthusiastic reviews!

(Wow, sorry, had to repost...I noticed that for a few parts I forgot my Troll vernacular...silly me)

"Rha!"

I ignored the familiar voice that called me from behind, finding more solace in continuing with the rhythmic task of weaving. Generally, Trolls weren't very good weavers. Our fingers were much too large and would often get in the way of those delicate 'up and under' crossings and tie-offs. Yeah, it was difficult, but I had forced myself to enjoy it some odd years ago when my mother died. It had been a hobby of hers, so why not mine? Sure, it wasn't very manly, but I had my own masculine traits here and there. For example, I was a soldier-in-training for The Horde's ever-growing army, a Druid. It was something I had dreamed about ever since I had been a child. It was a dream-come-true. If mom and dad were seriously watching me from heaven right now, as my brother persistently put it, then I hope I'd made them proud.

I let out a low growl of frustration when my fingers slipped on one of the thin strings, causing half of it to unravel from place. Messing up was nothing new, yet it never ceased to send my blood boiling. Weaving was such a tedious task, not something fit for a broad male with little to no patience. Still, I took a deep breath and slowly tucked the string back into place, carefully pulling it through the miniscule holes.

"Found ya!"

Large hands clapped down on my shoulders, startling me to the point that I released the thread again. Irritated, I dropped my unfinished design and rose to my feet. The guilty hands left my skin right as I turned around to face my brother. He lowered his head shamefully and offered an apologetic smile.

"Sorry?"

"Sorry don't fix dat," I grumbled and motioned to the project now lying on the ground.

Orange eyes, very similar to my own, followed the movement. He stuck out his lower lip in a lopsided pout. My brother was missing one of his tusks. Well, technically, he had to get it cut off. When he was born, the tiny tusk had already begun to grow the wrong way. If they hadn't removed it then he would have a pretty nasty pierced chin right about now.

"But ya know what fixes dis," he asked and reached up to slip a finger inside either corner of my mouth and pulled upward.

Annoyed, I shook my head, freeing myself of his teasing touch. He laughed, a warm, gentle sound, and gazed at me expectantly. I glared right back. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't brush this guy off. Sighing, I begrudgingly acknowledged his question.

"What?"

He grinned and twisted sideways to open up his satchel. After fumbling around for a few seconds he pulled out a ragged-looking sheet of paper. I regarded it curiously as he smugly raised it up for me to see. My eyes widened. It was a quest order. Suddenly excited, I made a grab for the parchment. However, my brother had obviously been expecting this, for he jerked back his arm an instant before I reached out. A purple tongue slid out to taunt me.

"See? I knew you'd smile, mon!" He laughed again and finally relinquished the paper to my eager hands.

I skimmed it over urgently, my eyes drinking in every word. It's not like this is the first quest I'd ever been on. No, I'd had my fair share of running errands for unimportant people who thought much too highly of themselves. This, though, was more of what we'd both been looking for. It was a command that summoned us north to Razor Hill, a place that neither of us had stepped foot in before. Anticipation climbing further at the aspect of adventure, I glanced up at my brother in awe.

"How'd ya get dis?"

He smirked and quickly looked both ways, as if to make sure no one was listening in but me, and leaned in close, hand cupped around his mouth.

"All ya got to do is charm a few girls 'round 'ere and dey tell ya any ting ya wanna know."

Skeptical, I frowned.

"Bal, don't tell me ya-"

He waved me off.

"'Course not. I just did a little sweet-talkin' and dey gave me da paper, sayin' it was too 'ard for tender, delicate girls like demselves."

I let loose a long breath, considering his sanity for about a heartbeat before beaming at him. He chuckled and patted me on the shoulder.

"Dat's da face I wanted to see, mon! Let's go!"

The trip to Razor Hill was a breeze. Since we had already been in Sen'jin Village, all we had to do was ask a nearby Orc rider to borrow a couple of his wolves for the short trip. He had cheerfully complied and reminded us to bring his beloved mounts back at some point within the next three days. Setting his mind at ease with our whole-hearted promises, we set off north to find the road that led us to our destination. The overall journey had taken about half an hour at most. So, that brings us to where we are now, at the sturdy, wooden gates of Razor Hill, tying our wolves to a post beside one of the lazing guardsmen. The Tauren didn't even spare us a glance as we approached him. What a poor fool he'd be in a fight.

"'S'cuse us," the large, bull-like creature slowly inclined his head in our direction and flicked his ears to show that he was listening, "We came 'ere for dis quest. Do ya know where we can find da guy named Gar'Tok?"

Brown eyes swiveled sideways to scrutinize us. The Tauren snorted, causing a scowl to pull at my face. Is he mocking us or is this just how his kind act? Truthfully, this is my first time meeting a Tauren, so I wasn't so sure. After an uncomfortable minute or so of just looking between each other, the large bull lifted a hand to point at the large formation in the center of the base several yards away.

"If you mean 'Gar'Thok, then he's in that building over there."

Despite the fact that he was being helpful, I didn't appreciate the unnecessary correction. Fuming, I straightened my spine to look a little more intimidating and opened my mouth to retort when, suddenly, an arm slung around my shoulders and hauled me sideways against a familiar chest. I glared at my brother. He gave a small shake of his head and reached up to roughly muss my already-wild mane.

"Tanks, we'll be off den."

The Tauren yawned and merely went back to resting his eyes. Half-tempted to throw something at the guy, I reached for my satchel. Strong fingers gripped my wrist. I huffed.

"Rha, please act more yer age. People are rude. Dat's just how it is."

I turned my head to glower at him. Catching his warning look, though, I relaxed and pulled away from his hold.

"Yeah, I know."

He smiled and patted me on the shoulder, something he's been doing a lot lately, before whirling around on his heel and signaling for me to follow. As younger brother does to older brother, I did as I was told.

Gar'Thok was what one would generally expect from an Orc. He was tall, broad, and ugly…no offense. I mean, it's not like Trolls are picture-perfect beings either, but at least we make an effort. My brother is the one that addressed him, deeming me too unreliable to properly speak my mind. Dejectedly, I stood off to the side, half-listening and half-inspecting my surroundings.

"I received dis summons in Sen'jin and was told to seek out Gar'Tok of Razor Hill in order to carry out da written commands."

The Orc wrinkled his nose, in disgust or by habit was beyond me, and glimpsed over the paper my brother held out to him before giving a swift nod.

"I am Gar'Thok, the one who sent out this request. What are your names, Troll brothers?"

Bal smiled and pointed a thumb to his chest.

"I'm Bal'zin," he gestured to me with a subtle tilt of his head, "and dat's Rha'zin, my younga broda.

I nodded a greeting at the Orc. He blinked in reply and turned his attention back to my brother.

"Very well, I give you permission to proceed."

Excitement coursed through me at his approval, and I shared a giddy look with the red-haired Troll to my right. His grin broadened as he shook hands with Gar'Thok.

"Tank ya very much."

The Orc shook his large head.

"Thank you. It's a dangerous task, so I'm happy that someone is willing to do it."

He handed my brother another, long piece of parchment and saw us to the stairs, bidding us good luck with friendly shoves to the back. I, for one, nearly cut my journey short by almost tumbling headfirst down said stairs. Telling someone 'have a safe trip' and knocking them down a flight of steps was a little contradictory, wasn't it? Or maybe it was supposed to be a joke… Either way, I'm glad Bal'zin was there to catch me. My brother laughed at my alarmed expression and trailed behind me as I hesitantly ducked through the doorway and stepped back outside. Warm rays of light caressed my azure skin, sending a welcoming surge of pleasure rushing throughout my body. I stretched my limbs, rejoicing in the sensation.

"Says our job is to go Croc huntin'."

I glanced over my shoulder to see Bal'zin warily looking over the paper that he had received from Gar'Thok. Curious, I took a few steps back to stand beside him. My eyes fell upon neat script that proved too difficult for me to decipher. Sulking a bit, I nudged my brother lightly with my elbow.

"What else does it say?"

He sneered.

"What, are ya tellin' me ya can't read?"

I grumbled slightly, more so in embarrassment than actual annoyance.

"Just not that fancy writin'."

"S'called cursive. Most everyone should be able to read it."

"I'm not most everyone."

"Ah, dat's right, I forgot yer a special case."

"What's dat s'pposed to mean?"

He gave my shoulder yet another comforting pat.

"Oh nothin'. Just keep in mind dat no matta how messed up yer head is, ya will always be my little broda."

A scowl crossed my face, and I jerked away from him reproachfully. A chuckle rumbled in his chest, and, after a few more seconds of going over whatever the hell was written on that paper, he gave a soft grunt. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he slipped the paper into his satchel and indicated for me to follow him yet again. Still disgruntled, I hesitantly obeyed. We passed lots of people as we walked. The majority being Trolls and Tauren, which surprised me considering this was an Orc outpost. A stray worker, lumbering by with a heavy crate of who knows what, flashed me a quick smile and carried on. That action in itself was enough to lighten my mood a good few degrees.

We left Razor Hill from the northern-most entrance and then almost immediately veered off of the path to the east. Surprised, I questioned Bal.

"Why did we leave da road?"

He pulled out his map and showed it to me, allowing one of his fingers to trace the route we just took. He continued moving it, creating an unmarked, invisible trail that ended at a broken-up area of land that was separated by small bodies of water. Islands? No, even smaller than that. A marsh.

"Dis is da only place where dere are Crocs in Durotar."

I suppose that made sense. Satisfied with his answer, I fell silent and averted my attention to our impending environment. The rugged, warm dirt was no different than that of Sen'jin Village's. It was flecked with sand and caved softly beneath my feet like partially-dried clay. I loved the feeling. It wasn't exactly comfortable, yet it wasn't discomforting in the least. The large dunes that towered around us every here and there were of the same, reddish-brown color. They were kind of odd, though. If one wasn't familiar with this sort of terrain then they'd more than likely find themselves slamming face-first into more than one mound of wind-swept earth. Chuckling at the thought, I gradually noticed that the rougher feeling of the grains of sand had increased as well as the out-of-place tufts of long grass that tickled my legs as I brushed past. Inquisitive, I raised my head. Stretching before us was a wide expanse of fragmented land that was divided by green-hued rivulets of swampy water.

"Well, dis looks 'bout right."

I glanced at my brother and grinned. Seemingly surprised by my change of mood, he smiled right back.

"I've neva killed a Croc before."

I shrugged and crouched down, easing into the beginnings of my transformation. Fur sprouted at the same time that my arms and legs shortened and realigned themselves. My face lengthened into a muzzle that harbored deadly fangs as well as my unchanging tusks. Obsidian claws dug themselves into the soft ground below, and I stretched my curved spine until it popped satisfyingly into place.

"That neva ceases to fascinate me, ya know?"

I cocked my head to one side in order to regard him, befuddled.

"But ya do it just da same."

I watched as he underwent the familiar process of shifting into his cat form and shook his striped pelt. He threw me a Cheshire-like grin.

"I can't see myself, mon."

"Dere are dese tings called mirrors, yeah?"

"Ya watch yerself change?"

Abashed, I flipped my ears back to lay flat across the back of my head as I glanced away.

"'Course not."

A deep laugh rumbled into a spirited purr, and I barely had time to dodge the playful cuff of a paw to my head. I crouched, ready to spring at him, when, abruptly, a grating hiss broke through our meaningless, little game. Instinctively, I felt the fur along my back and haunches bristle. Looking over at Bal'zin, I could see he had taken up a similar, defensive position. His orange eyes darted in my direction for a brief moment. He nodded. I nodded back. Then he disappeared. My brother had always been good at stealthing. I, on the other hand, was a hopeless cause when it came to being subtle. Though, I sucked at healing even more. I couldn't heal even the smallest cut or bruise. Generally, I just let my natural Troll blood do all of the work for me; however, I also had Bal. He was a phenomenal healer. I'd seen him save the lives of people time and time again after injured fighters had come back to Sen'jin from battles. He was a hero in his own way, and I respected him highly for that.

Another loud hiss caught my attention, and I flicked my ears out to try and locate the direction it was coming from. Left? No, right. Definitely right. Swift as a bird, I practically glided across the sandy earth, my large paws leaving behind thin prints as I moved. I hunched slightly, my shoulders tensing as the strong scent of dead, rotting fish hit the back of my throat. I wrinkled my nose, whiskers twitching in distaste, and crept over to a tall clump of what looked to be cattails. Then I paused.

This was a common sort of plan my brother and I carried out whenever we went on expeditions like this. If it involved some sort of combat then I was generally the distraction. I had always been heavier on the actual fighting than Bal'zin was, so it was only natural that I allowed myself to take more damage. So, theoretically speaking, the other Troll was crouched somewhere nearby, blending in with the shadows expertly as he waited for me to make the first move. From where I was currently positioned, I could see it clearly. The Croc was a massive, six-legged lizard with a maw filled with razor-like incisors. Its scaly flesh glistened with the murky water that dripped from its body as it dragged itself up onto the gritty bank. My claws impulsively scored the earth below as I flattened even further so as not to be seen. My heart was pounding in my chest, pumping adrenaline through my veins in an effort to coil every muscle in my body in preparation for the upcoming fight. My tail swished from side to side as I judged the distance between myself and the beast. I could probably land squarely on its back in a single leap if I used more strength in my hind legs than my forelegs. All necessary scheming complete, I waggled my haunches, about to jump.

That's when everything went awry. The Croc suddenly jerked its head to one side and uttered a low, discordant snarl. Horrified, I watched as it slid back into the water and swam quickly to the opposite shore. A fear-filled yowl sounded, and, before my mind could even comprehend what was going on, I was moving. Fur on end and eyes wide, I forced my legs to carry me as fast as they could around the bend of the water and over to where the Croc had pinned down its unsuspecting prey. Rage, barely overshadowed by panic, supplied strength to my limbs as I took a flying leap and dug my claws into a thick, scaly hide. The body below wriggled furiously as I roared and leaned down to snap my jaws at its exposed throat. Scarlet copper burst across my tongue. Another snarl loosed itself from the creature as it desperately lumbered backwards towards the water. I tried to end it quickly, I really did, but I was too late. Right as I dealt a final slash to the beast's throat with my claws, two other Crocs swam over in uncontrolled fury. Apparently, they had heard the final, pain-filled cries of their injured kin.

"Rha'zin!"

My head snapped back in alarm at my brother's call. However, before I could even blink, something crashed into me, sending me tumbling to the ground harshly. Quick to recover, though, I clambered to my feet and shook the non-existing stars from my field of vision. Another cry, this time one of agony, arose from Bal, gripping my heart in an icy hold. Terrified, I scrambled towards the sound, only to be cut off by a raging Croc. We shared mutual growls of hatred before clashing in a rampant storm of tooth and claw. Within minutes I had claimed my victory, void of any sort of celebration, and hurried to my brother's aid. What I saw nearly stopped me in my tracks. Bal, no longer in his cat form, was being dragged down into the murky depths of the swamp water by the last beast. What faltered me the most, however, was the trail of crimson that painted the sand behind him. Absentmindedly hoping that it wasn't his blood, I rushed after him. Water sprayed against my face and tugged at my fur uncomfortably as I splashed past the limp form of the other Troll and buried my claws into the Croc's eyes. A soundless bellow caused the iron-like jaws to open, and I took the opportunity to grab one of the straps on Bal's leather harness with my teeth and drag him back to safety. Once he was far enough out of reach, I instantly shot back into the water to take down the blind creature. It took longer than it probably should have.

"Bal'zin!"

I was at his side the moment I was certain that there was no other presence of imminent danger. I shifted back to my original form and kneeled by his side. He looked bad. I mean, really bad. Like I said, I had seen the soldiers that they hauled back from various battlefields. They were nothing compared to this. Deep gouges that were unmistakably caused by those snapping jaws filled with sharpened fangs lacerated his body. And the blood…wow, the blood. It was everywhere. Panicked, I splayed my hands across his chest and just about fainted from the relief that crashed down on me from feeling it move.

"Rha…"

Shocked that he was still conscious, I leant down to see that his eyes were slightly open, staring up at me. The bright, cheery orange that I was so used to was now glazed over in a cloudy haze. Nervous, I swallowed down the lump of dread that had begun to form and used my left hand to prop his head up in a more convenient position.

"Hey, hey, mon. Yer gonna be just find, yeah?"

Bal attempted a laugh, but only a thick clot of blood managed to find its way between his pale lips. Despite, all of this, the pain, the failed attempt at humoring me, he still beamed, albeit weakly. Something burned behind my eyes, something I'd never cared to acknowledge for years. Meekly, I wiped the liquid, which corresponded gruesomely with his fiery locks, from his face.

"It's perfect…"

I gazed down at him in horrified confusion. In explanation, he unfurled his fingers, which had previously been curled in a tight fist around something. In the center of his palm sat a single, smooth Crocolisk tooth. The misapprehension didn't leave my face. Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted his other hand to point at his mouth.

"Per…perfect fit for a—for a tusk, yeah?"

Whatever walls I had built up since the day of our parents' death came crumbling down at that. Treacherous tears welled in my eyes and slipped over to trace shimmering trails along the length of my cheeks. My lower lip trembled pitifully, quivering my own tusks as I reached over to grab the tooth in his unmoving hand. Without a word, I gingerly placed the tooth alongside his left tusk. He struggled for another smile and failed.

"I be picture…perfect. Make mom…and dad proud…"

"Ya fool. Dey were proud of ya from da day ya were born."

"And you…Rha?"

A choked sob racked my body. Shamefully, I doubled-over and pressed my hands more firmly onto his chest. I might not be a great healer, but… Stubbornly, I called upon what little traces of natural magic lingered within my being and guided them into my fingertips. Energy gathered together in a green, glowing light but soon flickered out like a sputtering light bulb. Frantically, I tried again. It failed. At some point I felt a hand pat my shoulder, as if wanting to get my attention. I, unfortunately, was too captivated by the task at hand. I tried again and again, my body, however, just couldn't handle it. My arms, trembling, rose for the umpteenth time to try another time anyway.

Nothing.

Finally, I glanced down at Bal's face and froze. His eyes were no longer open. His chest was no longer moving. No, no, no, no, no… I tapped his cheek. He didn't stir.

"Bal'zin," my voice was shakier than I would have liked it to be.

"Hey, quit messin' wit me, mon. It isn't funny anymore."

I knew better, though. Bal would never play a joke to the point of making me cry like this. Even when he was mad at me he had always considered my feelings. Giving my mind time to catch up with this self-revelation, I felt my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. I lowered my head until it rested against his chest and crossed my arms to hold myself, as if, somehow, I could keep the world from falling apart that way. Life wasn't a game. This is reality. People live and then they die. I should know that better than anyone else. So, why did it have to hurt this bad? My hand unexpectedly knocked against something smooth, and, unconsciously, I wrapped my fingers around it, half-heartedly recognizing the shape of the Crocolisk tooth. I gripped it tight.

"Ya were da only one I 'ad left to look up to. 'Course I was proud."