Chapter 35: Eternity's End

"He got away again, didn't he?" Xani asked as she tended to his wounds. They sat facing each other, so that Xani could more easily take care of Talgrun's hands, which had been burned badly during the firestorm.

They were seated on top of the boulders, along with everybody else who had survived, the boulders having only barely cooled down enough after the firestorm that had passed but minutes ago. Together everybody tended to everybody's wounds, racial differences, at least for now, completely gone. Everybody was to relieved to care who sat next to them. And together they waited, for none of them had the desire to go out and tell somebody they were alive. Nor was it necessary to anything, at least for now, resting was all that needed to be done. All they had done to announce their survival was planting a flag on a high pole in the middle of the boulders. What used to have been the proud banner of the Silverblades, was now but a torn cloth. It still flapped proudly, though, as a signal to all others.

Talgrun looked down the slopes. Everywhere he could see the landscape was scorched. It was as if they had gone to an entirely new world where everything was black. Fires dotted the landscape where little bits of flammable material remained, the firestorm had been pretty thorough, though. He could imagine the Legion was now either retreating away from them somewhere beyond that shimmering horizon, or falling into chaos now that it's leadership had been reduced to cinders.

"If he survived the firestorm, he'll find his way away from here. . ." He didn't care to speculate further, for there were to many things that Dethrox might be capable of in order to get himself out of danger.

"Will you try to go after him?" She asked, fearing he might try to exact vengeance even after the Legion's defeat.

The massive orc hung his head, and looked at the scorched boulder he sat on. The firestorm had boiled away most of the blood, otherwise he might have just been looking at small pools of blood. Eventually he said, "Perhaps, if I know where he is. . . But I won't go looking for him. For now there are more important things. . ." He looked to the north where there was now only a scorched forest with the charred World Tree still standing some distance away. From the blackened forest appeared many figures. They looked for survivors. He could imagine one of them being warchief Thrall, the one who would be responsible for finding the orcs and their allies a new home. "Homes need rebuilding. . ." He muttered after a while, and then looked at the others on the boulders.

"Yes, many homes." She remained quiet for a long while, as she tried to convince herself to ask, "And what about us?"

He sighed and hung his head again, smiled at some thought, and then looked up at her, this time with sadness in his eyes. "You and I both know that, at least for now, that is not possible. To much needs to be done before we can think of such things, especially us." His hand, the one she had just finished healing, came to rest far more gently on her shoulder than the hugeness of it made seem possible, and squeezed ever so slightly. "I mean, orcs will be building a new home over there. . ." He pointed a newly healed finger at a slight unevenness of the boulder. ". . . And you night-elves will be doing the same over there." He pointed at another unevenness that was a few inches away from the first. "If you understand what I mean." She nodded solemnly. "And unfortunately, my people might just be looking to me for guidance like they will be looking to the Warchief. I am, after all, their champion."

"Unfortunately?" She quickly finished healing his other hands so she was free to look into his eyes, to look for the answer.

"I never asked for this. . ." He gestured at the, now ruined, ornate armour that so set him apart from the regular grunts and other officers. "I would have been content to remain a sergeant. I only agreed to this because the Warchief convinced me it was best for my people."

"But you did a lot of good by doing so. . ."

"I suppose so. . ." His gaze shifted to the various figures that were emerging from the burned forest up the slopes. "And I am going to have to do a bit more now." He stood up and started towards an edge of the boulder below which Sasha would be waiting.

"Wait! The rest of your wounds. . ."

". . . Are only minor now, thanks to you." He finished for her, and then climbed down, leaving behind a saddened Xani.

She could hear him mounting Sasha and then riding of, presumably to tell others of their situation. In the following minute, she tried to imagine what the near future might be, but each time she found it was impossible. At least for a while it would remain but a dream. "He said what I tried to make clear to you before, didn't he?" Zarius asked. She hadn't even noticed him sitting down next to her. She only barely tried to cover her sadness when she looked at her father. "So he did. . ." He said, effectively reading her face perfectly. She hung her head, no longer capable of even trying to hide her sadness. He wrapped a fatherly arm around her to comfort her.

That night a great number of newly lit fires burned. Talgrun had been staring at one in particular for a while when Jirina walked up to him with Adonai in tow. Talgrun had seen such fires often before, far to often, he realized now. Within this particular fire lay the remains of Kargagtha and warlord Firetusk along with several others. They had only been able to find parts of the warlord, his body completely torn to shreds by undead ghouls. Kirrax stood somewhere to Talgrun's left, head hung forward and muttering something.

"She was a good warrior." Jirina said after she to had looked at the decaying remains for a while. "He was a good warrior and a good leader."

Talgrun sighed heavily and after momentarily looking at Jirina, continued to look at the fire. "They were both good friends. . ." Jirina nodded her agreement.

Others were having similar feelings. Walken couldn't help but think of Ysondra, his now long dead love, when he looked at the fires. However, looking at them, he now felt capable of closing that chapter of his life and starting a new one. One where memories of the past would not haunt him.

William and Björn looked at the fire as well, seeing within it the decaying remains of a reluctant friend and ally. Neither said it, but they whished the orc had not died.

Even general Trent came to this particular fire. He was not here for Kargagtha, he wasn't even aware she had ever existed. It was warlord Firetusk whom he was there for. Even now he knew he would always be prejudiced against orcs, but this warlord had managed to earn his respect, a hard thing to accomplish for any being, even humans. Across from him, on the other side of the fire, stood Talgrun. He looked at the far larger orc, one other who had earned a slight bit of respect, even though he still disliked the orc very much, and thought, After we leave this mountain behind, I hope to never see you again.

"Why are you here?" The woman behind him asked. Never had she gone further than two hundred feet away from him since he had rescued her after the collapse of the Alliance defence. Initially he had been greatly irritated by her, but he had come to get used to her presence. "These are the orcs. . ."

Without turning to look at her, he said, "To pay my respect to a fellow leader." He didn't take very much longer to do so and quickly left.

Elsewhere there was also a fire burning. This one for the night-elves. They did not usually perform such rituals, but in times as this they made an exception. Amongst many others, it was Jonno who lay within this one. It was Xani who stood at the rim of the fire, peering into it to discern the decaying remains of Jonno. Next to her stood Zarius.

She almost jumped when she suddenly felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder. "Where is he?" Talgrun asked, searching through the many corpses without looking at Xani first. Many of the night-elves present momentarily looked at the orc, but then went back their chanting and mourning, they had seen him before and were no longer surprised by his presence.

Xani gestured towards where the elder priest's body lay. "There isn't much left." They remained silent for a while, but eventually Xani couldn't resist to ask, "Where is the commander? You'd think she'd be here."

"Why would she be here? The commander never was one for mourning a fallen fellow." Zarius said.

"Yes, but you'd think she might think differently now. With Jonno."

"Why would she think differently? Why would Jonno be different to her?"

"Never mind." Zarius just shrugged and resumed looking at the fire.

"She'll mourn in her own way. . ." Talgrun said after a few seconds. Talgrun looked at the burning particles as they floated into the air, looking up to do so. Xani only nodded her agreement and continued to look into the fire.

Not far away from them, Kaylin was mourning, but whished to do so without being seen by others. She sat on a branch directly above Xani, Talgrun and Zarius. She had of course noticed the orc looking up. Talgrun looked directly at her and had definitely noticed her, yet he did not tell the others. He smiled briefly, her secret save with him, and then went back to looking at the decaying body of Jonno. She had looked at him appreciatively just before he had looked back at the fire, and had then returned to looking at Jonno.

"Different time, different place. . ." She muttered. A tear rolled of her cheek. She managed to catch it just in time before it would have fallen down on someone below, perhaps alerting them. The hand with the tear she pressed against a cheek, cherishing that one tear, for it was one of the very few in her entire life.

Different time, different place. . ." She repeated.

Two days later at the base of Mount Hyjal.

"I really don't need all this, warchief." Talgrun said to the much smaller and younger Thrall as they waited behind a wooden platform. In a few moments they would walk up a crude set of stairs to the top of the platform. From there they would be capable of looking over nearly the entire Horde as well as a few from the Alliance and night-elves, all gathered there for a ceremony which included, amongst a few others who had been particularly important during the past few months, Talgrun. But it would be Thrall and Talgrun who would be the ones to start the ceremony. "Before, in the old days, ceremonies like this were carried out in much smaller gatherings. . ." It was a naming ceremony they talked about, one where an orc receives a surname, something considered a great honour and only possible if one had performed some great deed.

"Well. . . I wasn't there in the old days. . ." The warchief muttered. "Besides, the Horde needsthis. They need to know there is still hope. And things like this will give them that hope."

Thrall was about to climb up the stairs, but Talgrun stopped him by saying, "There is one more thing. . ." He immediately had the warchief's full attention. "I must tell you I will no longer be the champion of the Horde. I have no wish to fight any longer."

"But you have to! There are still uncertain times ahead!"

"Of course, I will. But in a year or so, when things have calmed down a bit. When we have a new home. . . I wish to pass the title of champion to another, for I never wanted it.""

"Then we shall talk about it again when that time comes." The warchief then began to climb the stairs up to the platform, followed soon after by Talgrun. "But until then. . . Be the champion." Thrall added when he momentarily looked back. Talgrun merely nodded.

Two weeks later.

There he sat, dressed in the new suit of armour he had received but hours ago. The armour was said to be of even greater quality than the previous. In fact, the only thing he could say against the new armour was that it left his arms more exposed. On the ground beneath the bench he sat on lay two newly crafted weapons he had received at the same time as the new armour, a large axe inscribed with so many enchanted runes he could spend hours trying to translate them, and a large ornate longbow that was inscribed with at least as many runes, except these were of a kind he would not be able to translate no matter how much he tried.

All of these items were rewards given to him by the Horde, Alliance and night-elves, the axe even being a gift from warchief Thrall himself.

But despite this sudden flood of gifts, Talgrun couldn't help but feel depressed. Even the cheerfulness that went on around him couldn't elevate his spirit. Tomorrow, after all, would be the last day the Horde would spend on Mount Hyjal. They would retreat away from the mountain, recognising it to be night-elven territory, and would search for a new home in the Barrens and other nearby lands. And that meant him as well. The Alliance would stay a few days more, but then they would also pick up and leave.

Right now though, those three factions were still together in this very clearing, at least a hundred individuals from each anyway. The clearing they were in was filled with many tables and benches, most of which were occupied by people who were in a generally very cheerful mood. Food and drinks were provided for those in the clearing. It was night now, and many torches had been lit to provide sufficient light.

He was barely aware of the things that went on around him though, to caught up in his thoughts was he. He tried to imagine a life without those he had come to know quite closely over the past few months.

First and foremost amongst them was Xani, who was sitting next to him right now, trying her hand at her first ale. An ale that Björn had described as being 'just right'. She was looking into the mug with hesitation, but the others were trying to encourage her into drinking it, although she would only be able to guess at their exact words. He let his eyes stray over to Xani so they might once more burn her image upon themselves, for it might be the last opportunity do so. He had considered every possibility that might allow them to at least prolong their stay together, but everything seemed to be an impossibility. But perhaps in a year or so, when he, if everything went as he hoped it would, would no longer be the champion, he could try to find her then. He had a few plans ready for that, and had spoken with Xani about them.

He had been so caught up in those thoughts that he hadn't noticed he had begun to stare at her. Only when she had been staring back at him from over the edge of the mug did he notice. She had taken a small sip, which the others were applauding her for. They were inquiring her what she thought of it. Then it got through their somewhat alcohol influenced heads that she wouldn't understand, so they asked Talgrun to ask her.

"Well?" He asked. "How was it?"

"Terrible." Yet, her tone of voice and expression made it seem quite convincingly as though she had enjoyed it greatly.

"I could switch it for some water. . . I don't think they would notice in their current. . . 'influenced'. . . state."

She cracked a smile and said, "Yes please."

"Well? Mister Redhaze? What did she think of it?" A somewhat intoxicated William asked. Redhaze was the surname Thrall had bestowed upon Talgrun two weeks earlier. Talgrun could more easily imagine living without the veteran human, he had done so for twenty years before meeting him again a few months ago, although he suspected he would still miss the man.

"She loved it!" He answered, lying just as well as Xani had.

"Hmm, I hadn't thought any kind of elf could properly appreciate fine liquor. But I guess there always has to be an exception for everything. . ." Björn mused. Björn was much the same as William to Talgrun, except that earlier conflicts they had had might make it easier.

The final two at their table were Jirina and Walken, although the bench they sat on could hardly be high enough for the massive tauren. The two were engaged in some conversation about what Jirina would do after her child is born. Living without Jirina, and Adonai and his sisters for that matter as well, wouldn't be to much of a problem yet, they would after all be travelling together for a while, at least until a new homeland could be found. The same counted for Walken as well, except that the two of them already knew they were to work, and fight, together for a while longer.

For the most part it wasn't that he couldn't imagine being away from these friends individually, but as a group. There were always at least two nearby, always somebody present.

He was shaken from his contemplation when someone behind him called his name. It was Kaylin, who, as always, was wearing her emotionless mask. "Can I--" She halted upon noticing Xani, who had now noticed the commander as well. Kaylin's eyes flickered between Talgrun and Xani several times, but then she continued as if nothing had happened. "Can I speak with you for a few moments. It won't be long."

"Alright. . ." The others seemed to know what was going on and let him stand up without a word said. Xani followed him as he walked behind the shorter night-elven commander. Kaylin led them a short way into the forest that surrounded this clearing, this bit of forest had been spared by the firestorm. He merely looked at her with curiosity when she halted. Xani remained a few steps back and remained just as quiet.

It was clearly demanding a great deal of effort from the commander to say what she was about to say. "Some time ago, I said I would somehow repay you for pulling me out of that canyon, and thus. . . Rescuing me. Well. . . now I shall do so as well as I can, in the best way that I know of." She kneeled beside a bush, searched the ground underneath it for a few moments, and then stood back up while carrying a long package. Something that was most obviously heavy, Kaylin strained to keep it up, was wrapped in cloth and bound by various strings. She presented it to Talgrun and said, "I hope it--" But she thought better of finishing her sentence and remained quiet.

Talgrun relieved her of the weight. He tried to get an idea of the contents by running his hands along the various shapes. It was most definitely sharp, for he nearly cut his fingers even through the various layers that were wrapped around the object. He wanted to thank the commander, but when he looked back up towards Kaylin, she was gone.

"What is it?" Xani asked as she approached. She came to a halt just beside him and then leaned against him while he started work on removing the strings that kept the wrappings in place.

"I think it's. . ." He didn't finish, for he managed to break the final string. Without the strings, the pieces of cloth wrapped around it were quickly removed. What emerged was actually two objects instead of one. Two swords like the one Kaylin had always used, except a great deal larger. "Yes, it is." He said, confirming his earlier thoughts.

Xani took one of the swords and held it closer to study the markings on the blade. "She must have gone through quite a deal of trouble to have these made." Her sharp eyes noticed something amongst the wrapping that lay on the ground. She picked it from amongst the rest and looked at it. It was a small parchment with a few words on it. "Look!" She waved the parchment in front of Talgrun's eyes.

"Can you read it?" He asked upon recognising it was night-elven writing, something he had no experience with whatsoever.

"Of course!" She brought the parchment up to her eyes, the poor light conditions making it hard for even her to see what was written. "It says: 'That these may someday help you as you helped me.'"

Talgrun smiled at that. "That these may someday save my life as I rescued hers." Talgrun turned to the most likely direction that Kaylin might have gone and whispered, more for himself than the commander, "Thank you."

One year later, many had found new homes. Amongst them were the dark trolls. The Legion had destroyed many of their villages and had slaughtered their chief as well, while most of their warriors had been defending Mount Hyjal. But new homes had been build and a new chief had been chosen, Gar, for his successful leadership on the mountain. The Shadowtooth tribe had kept skirmishes with the night-elves to a minimum, in order to keep the agreement with them intact, so they wouldn't be actively hunted again.

The Shadowtooth tribe would, at least for a few years, be mostly without worries.

Elsewhere at that same time, a human captain and dwarven lieutenant sat at a table within a barracks in a new city, Theramore. A large city-island it was becoming. The survivors of the genocide in Lordearon, who had fled across the sea during what was now called the 'Third War', had founded it and it was ruled by Lady Jaina Proudmoore, who lead far better than most had expected a young mage to do so.

William was now the captain of the guards, highest in rank when it came to securing the outer walls of the city. Björn was one of several lieutenants that lead different sections of the walls. So far though, keeping the city secure from outside threats had been extremely easy, as the only trouble they had had was from the wildlife in the nearby swamps.

Although the city lay very near Horde territory, neither the inhabitants of the city, nor the orcs had caused trouble, the truce between Thrall and Jaina holding at least for now. Both William and Björn expected that, unless something serious happened, nothing could endanger that truce.

But for now, William and Björn were but two fellow soldiers sitting at a table with a good ale in front of them at the end of long day.

"Eh. . ." Björn drew William's attention. "Have ye heard?" William's right eyebrow merely went up in a questioning manner. "There's been rumours that there's a fleet of ships searching for this city. They say it's Jaina's father leading them."

"Oh that. . . Yeah, I heard. And I don't think it's all to unlikely either, the Proudmoores are from Kul'tiras. If anybody would sail across the ocean to visitfamily, it would be someone from Kul'tiras. I just hope her father doesn't cause to much trouble when he does get here." Jaina's father was known to hate orcs deeply, not to surprising since the man had fought during the second war.

Björn nodded in agreement, was then about to say something, but halted just after opening his mouth. Someone had entered the room. Many conversations went quiet for a moment, a few hands went up in salute, but then the conversations continued again. The one who had entered stepped towards them. "Look who it is!" Björn said merrily. "What brings you here, general Trent?"

"My need for a good drink!" The general returned, far more merrily than they were used of the young officer.

"You're looking mighty happy tonight, general." William noted, prodding the general for clues.

"Because I am!" For a moment the general went away, but then returned with a large ale in his hands. He sat down at an available chair nearby and gulped away half of his drink before speaking again. "Because I am. You see. . ." Both William and Björn leaned closer to hear. "Just this morning, my son was born!"

"Congratulations!" Björn exclaimed involuntarily. A few others near them let loose a short cheer as well. "And a name?"

"Falkend." Trent answered after a short hesitation. "We wanted something different for a name. . ." He quickly added.

"And how's Sarah?" William inquired.

"It did take a long time, I even got worried something might've gone wrong at one point, but she's doing fine now. And the boy is doing great as well."

"Well, let me just say it again. . . Congratulations." Björn repeated. "I'm sure the boy is destined for great things."

"Of course he is!" Trent nearly shouted, but he then cracked a smile and joined William and Björn in speculating about Jaina's father.

Somewhere else, on the island where the night-elven capital, Darnassus, lay, a young priestess was sitting against a tree on a hill overlooking a dent in the landscape below. Many other younger night-elves were busy down there as they trained to be next generation of soldiers.

Xani's nimble fingers guided a piece of charcoal over a sheet of paper in long streaks as she drew the ground of the scene she was trying to draw. Without noticing it, her tongue stuck out slightly as she put down a small detail on the ground, before she went on with drawing a few figures in the scene.

So concentrated was she, that she didn't notice the person approaching until the person sat down next to her with a slight grunt. "What are you doing here, Xani?" Zarius asked. Hastily Xani pressed the sheet of paper against her chest so he didn't see. "Aren't you supposed to be in the temple at this time?"

After the war, they had both gone to Darnassus, where Xani had taken a position at the central temple in the capital city, while Zarius had taken to training the next generation of soldiers, although he had pointed out he would not be fighting anymore wars unless absolutely necessary. And he was right, normally she was supposed to be at the temple at this time of night. "I know, but I took a night of. The temple just gets to busy at times for my liking. I needed some time away." Zarius nodded his understanding. "But shouldn't yoube down there? To train those new recruits. . ."

"Hmm, I took a few minutes of. . . Besides, they're sparring under the guidance of my subordinates, they don't need me for a while. Now, what have you been drawing today?" Reluctantly, she showed him. Zarius sighed upon recognising the scene. "It has been a year, Xani. The war is over." What was evolving on the paper was a scene she had witnessed on Mount Hyjal. A scene of undead overrunning a large group of defenders. Already she had managed to put in a few gruesome details. "You need to move on. . ."

"That's easier said than done, especially if I still have nightmares each time I sleep."

"That's true. . ." Zarius continued studying the drawing and eventually found another curiosity. "And that. . . Is that who I think it is?" He asked as he pointed at a somewhat larger figure which had already received a few features.

"I don't know what you're talking about. . ."

"I think you do. . . And I'll say it again, it has been a year now."

Xani sighed in surrender and then admitted, "Yes. . . It's him."

They both remained quiet a while, thinking, but eventually Zarius asked, "If you knew a way, would you go to see him?"

She answered without much hesitation. "Yes. But I don't know how. I don't even know how to get a message to him. And even if I did know how. . . Well. . . It wouldn't do much good, since I can't write orcish and he can't read night-elven, only speak it." They had talked about meeting each other someday, but that had relied on Talgrun coming to see her some day. They had reasoned that it would be easier to find a night-elf on this single island than it would be to find an orc in all of Kalimdor. But he hadn't yet come to see her.

"No small accomplishment, considering how long he had to learn." Her father pointed out. "Yet, I think, unless something extraordinary happens, you're going to be stuck like this. . . And if that extraordinary thing doesn't happen sometime soon, it might never do you any good. Because, even though we may have given up our immortality when we destroyed Archimonde, we still live many times longer than orcs, including him."

"I know. . ." They fell quiet, knowing any other words spoken about the subject would be unnecessary.

Minutes passed like that, until Zarius finally asked, "Have you heard about the commander?" Xani merely shook her head. Last time she had seen Kaylin had been a few weeks after the end of the war, their paths had parted after that. "Well, I guess she's not a commander anymore. She's been promoted and is now in command of several regiments. She is now in charge of keeping all the wildlife in check that had been corrupted by the Legion's passing. Even now that the demons are mostly gone, they still do damage. I met her after the ceremony. . ." He fell quiet for a few seconds, as he recalled the event. "She has changed, enormously. I had never thought it possible, but while she had seemed like an unemotional husk containing only a military mind, she really is now. I don't think she even recognised me, at least she didn't show it."

"We all lost people in the war, just like her."

"Perhaps it was once to many for her. . ."

"Perhaps. . ."

Amidst the aptly named plains of the Barrens lay a small village near a small spring of fresh water. It's population mainly consisted of orcs. The village lay far away from the more densely populated areas of the Barrens, just as the inhabitants, mostly tired war veterans and their families, liked it. So far, small groups of centaur had been the only thing they had to deal with, and even those incidents were very few. The inhabitants could readily deal with the primitive centaur. All the houses were of typical orcish design, crude but effective, and lay a good distance apart. Several small farms lay near the village, providing the inhabitants with much needed food.

Two large figures, or rather three, depending on whether one counted wolves, had just topped a nearby hill and had, for the first time, laid eyes upon the village.

"Does that suit you? That village, would you mind living there?" Talgrun asked.

"I already agreed to your suggestion a month ago. . ." Walken muttered. "You don't need to ask again."

"I wasn't talking to you. . ." Talgrun retorted. "I was asking her." Talgrun lay a hand on the head of the one he meant. "Well? Do you mind?" He asked leaning forward. He only received a doglike bark as an answer. "Good!" Talgrun said to Sasha. "No problems then."

The past year had been a strange year for the orcish race. In that year the orcs had found a land to call their own. Yet, the orcs were not a race accustomed to living in such a manner anymore. After the end of the second war many years ago, they had always been fighting, running, or imprisoned. As such many had problems adjusting in the beginning, Talgrun being one of them. He was a warrior, he knew that well enough, but there hadn't been any mentionable conflicts. But after a few months, like most orcs, he had come to enjoy the rest.

In that year, the three of them had hardly been far away from each other. And when, after the year had passed, Talgrun retired quietly as he had predicted the warchief he would, Walken followed him as if it were the only course of action.

"But it looks good. . ." Walken muttered upon looking at the serene village a second time. "I don't mind the prospect of living there. . ."

They approached the two guards which stood near the path that lead into the village and found one of them was awfully familiar. "Talgrun? Walken?" The female guard asked unbelieving.

"Very much so." Talgrun answered. "It's good to see you to, Jirina." She was looking much leaner than last time he had seen her, no doubt the result of her fourth child being born some time ago now. "How's the child?"

"Fine. . . But what are you two doing here?" She asked, unbelieving of the fact they were actually there. Another orc, Adonai, had noticed them as well and was approaching them from within the village.

"We've come to live here. . ." Walken answered.

Talgrun added a nod, but in the back of his mind he had different plans. And in a bag he had the means to perform those plans. Amongst other things, there was a map. A map to an island-city called Darnassus.

End?

A/N: Expect one more surprise chapter.