Mirror of Remorse
By J. CA
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yo, guys and girls. I'm not dead, though only undeadified ^_^. I know it's a lifetime since I've last updated. Sorry about that, but here I am again.
DÉJÀ VU
The wind greeted Her under the first moonlight. It gently picked up the hem of Her gown and tickled Her neck with Her own hair, like a child craving for attention. She paused to speak with the spirits of the air.
**Danger,** they cried.
"Yes," She nodded. She could sense it in the woods amid the trees where the birds and crickets sang. Where Her children were.
**We must do something,**the wind urged, already rushing towards the Ashenvale forest.
But She shook her head, heartbroken. She had to remain behind. It was never in Her hands. Only Her children alone could perhaps fend off this ghost of old.
*~*~*~*
{ARDOMAEL}
Frustrated, Ardomael set the flute down. How could Naamiel make such delightful music when he could not even get the thing to sound? No, he was not going to give up. He was determined to play like her.
A little further away at the bonfire, Naamiel was cooking something. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Somehow, she reminded him of his mother. The flutist was more graceful--probably because his mother could not walk.
Meanwhile, Tevelai was sleeping under a tree. She was nocturnal and needed sleep during the day. That was a habit that Jadece had already lost. Since her marriage to Thrall, she started sleeping at night and working during the day. Ardomael, too, slept at night.
"Keep on trying," came Naamiel's gentle encouragement. "Try not to exhale too much air."
He sniffed. Nice aroma filled his nostrils. Beat, he said, "I can't play properly when my stomach is begging me to feed it."
Naamiel chuckled and beckoned to him, "Then, eat something before you resume your practice."
He did not have to be told twice. Sitting himself beside her, he helped himself to some potatoes and deer meat. The food was simply seasoned by herbs, but it tasted fabulous.
After wolfing down a couple servings, he decided to find out more about the mysterious Flute Witch. He could tell that she was a person who knew the forest intimately. She knew exactly where to go to get the best food. Perhaps she, too, was a wanderer? That way he could really use some help from her.
"What were you doing in this part of the forest?" he asked.
"I live here," she told him with a smile. "Actually, I live everywhere."
"Whoa, alone?" he was about to say that it was dangerous for a girl to live alone in the forest, but figured that would not be a problem to her. Nothing could harm her as long as she had her flute with her--or so it seemed. Besides that, she seemed to have a supreme aura that made her almost impossible to confront.
She shook her head, "With my brothers and sisters, and the Lady."
"The Lady?"
She nodded, but said no more about it.
Suddenly, she stood up and scanned the area. Alarmed by her alertness, Ardomael stood as well, but could not see nor hear anything of interest.
"What is it?" he asked, puzzled by her sudden movement.
"It has become so quiet," she whispered. "Even the birds and insects have gone silent."
He listened. Indeed it was true.
The wind rushed towards them, rustling through the tree leaves above them. Naamiel gasped. She could hear the warning that it brought. To Ardomael, she commanded, "Give me the flute. Wake Tevelai. Danger is near."
He handed the instrument back to her immediately and shook the night elf. Naamiel walked a little further away from them to investigate the area with her flute gripped tightly in hands.
Tevelai opened her eyes reluctantly," What...it's still bright..."
"Wake up," he restrained the urge to yell. "We're in danger."
**Danger.** That was a strangely familiar word to her. She sat upright, widely awake now, looking around cautiously to detect anything unusual.
Ardomael realized he lost sight of the Flute Witch, "Naamiel?"
No response.
It was as if she disappeared. Both him and Tevelai held their breaths. Whatever happened to her?
"Run towards the sun!" came an urgent warning. Naamiel ran back towards them. A masked man was on her tail, towering over her with a huge sword in hand.
Ardomael drew his blade and attempted to aid her, yet she only urged him to get away. "Your weapon will not hurt a Shadowlord. Go!"
"But I cannot leave you here!" he protested.
"Go!" that sounded more like an order. "Protect Tevelai!"
He did not have a choice. He ran and urged Tevelai to follow him, yet she was a lot slower than he was. He had to constantly look over his shoulders to check if she was still there. He worried for Naamiel, who must be battling against the masked man then. He could hear the flute in a distance, playing something like a march. He hoped the flutist would be all right.
Tevelai tried her utmost to keep up with Ardomael's pace, but she was not athletic enough. She felt herself weakened as the two of them ran up a small hill. Exhaustion was taking over. She tripped over something and stumbled back down the wrong side of the hill, screaming as she slid. She banged her head twice against the floor as she was tumbling but fortunately could grab hold of something break the fall. A small shrub--would that do? It broke off and she started sliding again.
A hand caught her by the wrist. Ardomael came back for her, though quite grumpily. He dragged her up from the ground, not too gently. But it was all right. She pretty much had the idea that this was the way he did things. No kind words of consolation. It was good enough that he cared.
A shriek of terror!
They both looked towards the direction from where it came. The masked man was charging towards them at full speed with sword drawn and blood splashed across his chest.
The music had stopped. Where was Naamiel?
The flute! Ardomael gasped in horror. It was in the other hand of the masked man. Had Naamiel fallen, trying to protect Tevelai and him? If what he feared was true, he would never forgive himself.
He cast earthquake in front of himself. The masked man was not quick enough to stop, stepped into the seismic zone and was delayed on the tossing blocks of earth. The two youngsters continued running towards the sun.
But the Shadowlord recovered quickly and was gaining time. He leapt forward.
"Feral spirits, come to my aid!" Ardomael cried as wolves appeared from midair and charged towards the strange enemy to retain him while he and Tevelai kept on running.
Yet it seemed impossible to outrun the masked man who was still coming after them with inhuman speed. He seemed to feel no pain when the wolves' jaws clamped down on his legs--not being of flesh and blood? He was closing in, and a fight became inevitable.
Ardomael, despite what Naamiel told him, drew his blade again. He blocked when a blow came directly upon his head.
"Run!" he told Tevelai.
"No," she protested. What the? Did she think staying would help?
"You'll be in the way. Run."
He and the masked man engaged in battle. His enemy swung the sword at him in high speed, each blow precise and deadly. If he had not been well- trained by his...father, he would not have been able to save himself. No time to worry about that.
He had no idea how long the battle between them lasted, yet he was wearing out. His enemy seemed to feel no exhaustion and attacked him recklessly as if he was a worst enemy.
"By Elune!"
A new voice.
He could not afford to steal a glance, yet he knew who had come to his rescue. Tyrande Whisperwind of the Night Elves led her Sentinels to the battle. She shot the strange enemy with a searing arrow. The masked man started to retreat, as if he was afraid of her attack, and the warrior women pursued.
In his hasty fleet he dropped Naamiel's flute. To everyone's shock, the flute melted away as it hit the ground.
Tyrande recognized half-Orc at once and halted her white tiger, "Thank Elune we found you, Ardomael."
Ardomael bowed formally at the Sentinel leader, "Thanks, Priestess Tyrande. You were just in time."
"What has happened, boy?" she asked, sounding worried. "Who was that?"
"I do not know. He suddenly appeared out of the blue," he shook his head. And he remembered. "Tevelai?"
"One of my huntresses brought her back to our grove. Don't worry about her," the priestess told him. "Now, tell me what is going on? Thrall and Jadece said you disappeared. But now they have both vanished as well."
"What?"
Tyrande told him everything she heard from the orcs, about the remains of a battle found in the woods of Ashenvale--the wreckage of Lady Jadece's carriage, the corpses of the Warchief's bodyguards, and the couple's strange disappearance. They must have been taken captive. "If their disappearance had anything to do with the man who just attacked you, I do not know what to think."
Ardomael winced. His parents...he could not help but feel guilty. He did not mean to walk out of their lives this way. It was a mere gesture of protest. And yet his parents were captured while trying to find him...he had not expected this.
"Since the incident must have happened within our territory," Tyrande went on to say, "The Sentinels will help find them. Come with us, Ardomael. We will protect you."
And Naamiel?
"I still have a friend who..."
Parents? Or a friend he just met? A tough choice.
He continued, "May have been injured while fighting the masked man. We were separated. I do not wish to forsake her."
"We will find her for you," the priestess promised him. "Tell us what she looks like."
And he told her about Naamiel.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry guys. A writer's block almost made me stop writing this thingie. Thought I had it all figured out, but hey, shit happens. I've started another WC3 fic Rain River (ID 1293877) to keep myself going. And now I've got another idea. I can probably connect MOR back to RR...Just watch this!
Ira Poon: Hey ^_^ Thanks for reading.
Tyraa Rane: *Shocked* Grom died when he's 50??? I didn't know that. But he sort of suicide-attacked Mannaroth, so that doesn't count as life expectancy, does it...Aw, poor Hellscream...But somehow I got the feeling that Orcs live even longer than humans, but there isn't any *scientific proof*. @_@ Oh of course, me too, wonder how Thrall looks like when he's 60?! My depiction probably won't be as old as an aged 60 human, but eh, what da... ^v~ Thanks for the grammar thingie.
By J. CA
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Yo, guys and girls. I'm not dead, though only undeadified ^_^. I know it's a lifetime since I've last updated. Sorry about that, but here I am again.
DÉJÀ VU
The wind greeted Her under the first moonlight. It gently picked up the hem of Her gown and tickled Her neck with Her own hair, like a child craving for attention. She paused to speak with the spirits of the air.
**Danger,** they cried.
"Yes," She nodded. She could sense it in the woods amid the trees where the birds and crickets sang. Where Her children were.
**We must do something,**the wind urged, already rushing towards the Ashenvale forest.
But She shook her head, heartbroken. She had to remain behind. It was never in Her hands. Only Her children alone could perhaps fend off this ghost of old.
*~*~*~*
{ARDOMAEL}
Frustrated, Ardomael set the flute down. How could Naamiel make such delightful music when he could not even get the thing to sound? No, he was not going to give up. He was determined to play like her.
A little further away at the bonfire, Naamiel was cooking something. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Somehow, she reminded him of his mother. The flutist was more graceful--probably because his mother could not walk.
Meanwhile, Tevelai was sleeping under a tree. She was nocturnal and needed sleep during the day. That was a habit that Jadece had already lost. Since her marriage to Thrall, she started sleeping at night and working during the day. Ardomael, too, slept at night.
"Keep on trying," came Naamiel's gentle encouragement. "Try not to exhale too much air."
He sniffed. Nice aroma filled his nostrils. Beat, he said, "I can't play properly when my stomach is begging me to feed it."
Naamiel chuckled and beckoned to him, "Then, eat something before you resume your practice."
He did not have to be told twice. Sitting himself beside her, he helped himself to some potatoes and deer meat. The food was simply seasoned by herbs, but it tasted fabulous.
After wolfing down a couple servings, he decided to find out more about the mysterious Flute Witch. He could tell that she was a person who knew the forest intimately. She knew exactly where to go to get the best food. Perhaps she, too, was a wanderer? That way he could really use some help from her.
"What were you doing in this part of the forest?" he asked.
"I live here," she told him with a smile. "Actually, I live everywhere."
"Whoa, alone?" he was about to say that it was dangerous for a girl to live alone in the forest, but figured that would not be a problem to her. Nothing could harm her as long as she had her flute with her--or so it seemed. Besides that, she seemed to have a supreme aura that made her almost impossible to confront.
She shook her head, "With my brothers and sisters, and the Lady."
"The Lady?"
She nodded, but said no more about it.
Suddenly, she stood up and scanned the area. Alarmed by her alertness, Ardomael stood as well, but could not see nor hear anything of interest.
"What is it?" he asked, puzzled by her sudden movement.
"It has become so quiet," she whispered. "Even the birds and insects have gone silent."
He listened. Indeed it was true.
The wind rushed towards them, rustling through the tree leaves above them. Naamiel gasped. She could hear the warning that it brought. To Ardomael, she commanded, "Give me the flute. Wake Tevelai. Danger is near."
He handed the instrument back to her immediately and shook the night elf. Naamiel walked a little further away from them to investigate the area with her flute gripped tightly in hands.
Tevelai opened her eyes reluctantly," What...it's still bright..."
"Wake up," he restrained the urge to yell. "We're in danger."
**Danger.** That was a strangely familiar word to her. She sat upright, widely awake now, looking around cautiously to detect anything unusual.
Ardomael realized he lost sight of the Flute Witch, "Naamiel?"
No response.
It was as if she disappeared. Both him and Tevelai held their breaths. Whatever happened to her?
"Run towards the sun!" came an urgent warning. Naamiel ran back towards them. A masked man was on her tail, towering over her with a huge sword in hand.
Ardomael drew his blade and attempted to aid her, yet she only urged him to get away. "Your weapon will not hurt a Shadowlord. Go!"
"But I cannot leave you here!" he protested.
"Go!" that sounded more like an order. "Protect Tevelai!"
He did not have a choice. He ran and urged Tevelai to follow him, yet she was a lot slower than he was. He had to constantly look over his shoulders to check if she was still there. He worried for Naamiel, who must be battling against the masked man then. He could hear the flute in a distance, playing something like a march. He hoped the flutist would be all right.
Tevelai tried her utmost to keep up with Ardomael's pace, but she was not athletic enough. She felt herself weakened as the two of them ran up a small hill. Exhaustion was taking over. She tripped over something and stumbled back down the wrong side of the hill, screaming as she slid. She banged her head twice against the floor as she was tumbling but fortunately could grab hold of something break the fall. A small shrub--would that do? It broke off and she started sliding again.
A hand caught her by the wrist. Ardomael came back for her, though quite grumpily. He dragged her up from the ground, not too gently. But it was all right. She pretty much had the idea that this was the way he did things. No kind words of consolation. It was good enough that he cared.
A shriek of terror!
They both looked towards the direction from where it came. The masked man was charging towards them at full speed with sword drawn and blood splashed across his chest.
The music had stopped. Where was Naamiel?
The flute! Ardomael gasped in horror. It was in the other hand of the masked man. Had Naamiel fallen, trying to protect Tevelai and him? If what he feared was true, he would never forgive himself.
He cast earthquake in front of himself. The masked man was not quick enough to stop, stepped into the seismic zone and was delayed on the tossing blocks of earth. The two youngsters continued running towards the sun.
But the Shadowlord recovered quickly and was gaining time. He leapt forward.
"Feral spirits, come to my aid!" Ardomael cried as wolves appeared from midair and charged towards the strange enemy to retain him while he and Tevelai kept on running.
Yet it seemed impossible to outrun the masked man who was still coming after them with inhuman speed. He seemed to feel no pain when the wolves' jaws clamped down on his legs--not being of flesh and blood? He was closing in, and a fight became inevitable.
Ardomael, despite what Naamiel told him, drew his blade again. He blocked when a blow came directly upon his head.
"Run!" he told Tevelai.
"No," she protested. What the? Did she think staying would help?
"You'll be in the way. Run."
He and the masked man engaged in battle. His enemy swung the sword at him in high speed, each blow precise and deadly. If he had not been well- trained by his...father, he would not have been able to save himself. No time to worry about that.
He had no idea how long the battle between them lasted, yet he was wearing out. His enemy seemed to feel no exhaustion and attacked him recklessly as if he was a worst enemy.
"By Elune!"
A new voice.
He could not afford to steal a glance, yet he knew who had come to his rescue. Tyrande Whisperwind of the Night Elves led her Sentinels to the battle. She shot the strange enemy with a searing arrow. The masked man started to retreat, as if he was afraid of her attack, and the warrior women pursued.
In his hasty fleet he dropped Naamiel's flute. To everyone's shock, the flute melted away as it hit the ground.
Tyrande recognized half-Orc at once and halted her white tiger, "Thank Elune we found you, Ardomael."
Ardomael bowed formally at the Sentinel leader, "Thanks, Priestess Tyrande. You were just in time."
"What has happened, boy?" she asked, sounding worried. "Who was that?"
"I do not know. He suddenly appeared out of the blue," he shook his head. And he remembered. "Tevelai?"
"One of my huntresses brought her back to our grove. Don't worry about her," the priestess told him. "Now, tell me what is going on? Thrall and Jadece said you disappeared. But now they have both vanished as well."
"What?"
Tyrande told him everything she heard from the orcs, about the remains of a battle found in the woods of Ashenvale--the wreckage of Lady Jadece's carriage, the corpses of the Warchief's bodyguards, and the couple's strange disappearance. They must have been taken captive. "If their disappearance had anything to do with the man who just attacked you, I do not know what to think."
Ardomael winced. His parents...he could not help but feel guilty. He did not mean to walk out of their lives this way. It was a mere gesture of protest. And yet his parents were captured while trying to find him...he had not expected this.
"Since the incident must have happened within our territory," Tyrande went on to say, "The Sentinels will help find them. Come with us, Ardomael. We will protect you."
And Naamiel?
"I still have a friend who..."
Parents? Or a friend he just met? A tough choice.
He continued, "May have been injured while fighting the masked man. We were separated. I do not wish to forsake her."
"We will find her for you," the priestess promised him. "Tell us what she looks like."
And he told her about Naamiel.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Sorry guys. A writer's block almost made me stop writing this thingie. Thought I had it all figured out, but hey, shit happens. I've started another WC3 fic Rain River (ID 1293877) to keep myself going. And now I've got another idea. I can probably connect MOR back to RR...Just watch this!
Ira Poon: Hey ^_^ Thanks for reading.
Tyraa Rane: *Shocked* Grom died when he's 50??? I didn't know that. But he sort of suicide-attacked Mannaroth, so that doesn't count as life expectancy, does it...Aw, poor Hellscream...But somehow I got the feeling that Orcs live even longer than humans, but there isn't any *scientific proof*. @_@ Oh of course, me too, wonder how Thrall looks like when he's 60?! My depiction probably won't be as old as an aged 60 human, but eh, what da... ^v~ Thanks for the grammar thingie.