"Chieftain. Swiftclaw has escaped da pens again." Vol'jin was aware of a voice. He could sense another's presence. But the words didn't quite reach him. The troll sat, in his chair, staring out into nothingness. "Chieftain? CHIEFTAIN!" Vol'jin jolted at the shout, and turned to glare at the sheepish-looking troll in front of him. "What d'ya want?" Vol'jin had little patience, and his irritation grew at the small sigh the troll gave. "Swiftclaw. He escaped da penning area again. Dey be requesting dat ya go deal with it." Vol'jin rolled his eyes. He couldn't care less if the damned raptor had escaped. "I got a better idea. I give ya my permission to act on my behalf, and sort da situation out. I have faith ya can carry dat out." Vol'jin cut off all protests, and waved the troll out of his hut. Sighing again, the troll left the hut.

It had been 3 weeks since Zaria's death, and Cenahria's departure. Vol'jin watched her walk away with the Night Elves every time he shut his eyes. He hadn't slept in days, and his mood was suffering for it. Thinking of Cenahria hurt, but he just couldn't help it. He missed her. The way she would tilt her head when he explained something to her. The way she would smile, shyly, each time he kissed her, how self-conscious she was around the other trolls. He smiled to himself as he remembered her laugh, before reality struck him once again and the pain of her leaving took over. Looking outside, he could see the sun beginning to set. Getting up from his chair, Vol'jin dragged himself up the stairs, before collapsing on his bed, ready to spend yet another night forcing his eyes awake, desperately trying to dispel the memory of Cenahria's kiss.

Not for the first time, Vol'jin wondered if Cenahria thought of him. If she even remembered him. A small voice in Vol'jin's head told him she didn't, that it had been easy for her to walk away from him, but, growling, Vol'jin pushed it away. It would be easy to believe she had left without caring for him, that everything had meant nothing to her. Vol'jin knew her better than that. He thought back to that day, facing off against her brother. Liacus, she had called him. Taller than her, and well-built too, Liacus had posed a formidable threat. Vol'jin had known it, and so had the elf. Cenahria had known it too. Vol'jin had seen it in her eyes, in the way she had softly brushed aside his glaive to go to her brother. He hadn't been shocked, not really. It was just like her to go against her heart to save a life. She still held the foolish notion that she owed him for saving her from Garrosh, as if she hadn't already paid that debt by literally saving Vol'jin's life.

He spent his night as he had spent every night since she had left. Allowing himself to slip into warm memories of her embrace, of evenings spent on the beach watching the sun set. These thoughts brought him comfort, and dulled the pain for a short time. It was as though Vol'jin was in a bubble, that nothing could penetrate, as long as he held the thought of her in his mind. "She would not want me to fall into self-pity. She would want me to stay strong, for da tribe." Vol'jin would tell himself. That was what got him up every morning. That thought that Cenahria would not want him to be destroyed. And so, he ignored the images of her walking away that sleep brought him, and instead replayed every moment they had spent together, every night. Tonight though, it struck him that he had never told her how he felt about her. Yes, they had spent many evenings together, curled up, watching the sun set. But nothing had progressed past kissing, and neither had ever mentioned the word 'love' or anything similar to it. The regret of this burned deeply. How like the Loa it was, to grant him this clarity, when it was too late to do anything about it.

All too soon, morning dawned. Vol'jin sat up, not wanting to go downstairs. Part of him didn't want to do anything anymore. Without warning, the sound of metal hitting metal reverberated up the stairs into his small bedroom, and Vol'jin leapt to his feet. Fighting? In the Isles? Faint shouting followed the clanging, and Vol'jin grabbed his glaive. Finally, a worthwhile distraction! However, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, the shouting became clearer. The guttural roars of his tribe were familiar, but so was the soft, melodic shouts of the elven voice. He recognised that voice. That voice had accused him of being a monster, had accused him of kidnapping Cenahria. "I wish to speak to your Chieftain! I. Do. Not. Want. To. Fight. You!" Each word was punctuated by a slap of metal, and Vol'jin knew he had a choice to make. His troll spirit burned, the urge to slaughter the elf who had stolen his love from him scorching his veins. However. Liacus had been important to Cenahria. Vol'jin sighed. He could not kill her family. She would never forgive him. And anyway. His curiosity had been peaked – what possible reason could the elf have to risk his life coming here?

Moving to the door, Vol'jin paused for a moment, before placing his glaive to the side. His troll nature growled in protest, but he ignored it, before stepping outside. "Enough!" One short, barked command was all it took for his men to stand down, albeit slightly hesitantly. "Dis elf just walked right into da camp, Chieftain! He said he wanted to talk to ya, but we thought it might be an attack!" Vol'jin smiled slightly at how exhausted the elf looked. Maybe he wasn't so formidable after all. The elf had looked up when Vol'jin had exited his hut, and now straightened, eyeing him with a mixture of hatred and admiration. "Vol'jin. I wish to speak with you. Alone." Vol'jin stopped, and cocked his head. He was still unsure what he wanted to do with the elf, and with one nod, he knew he could have him killed where he stood. From the grip the elf held on his sword, he knew it too. "Ya took Cenahria, and had one of our kind killed. What makes ya think ya have anything I'd wanna hear?"

The elf's face suddenly changed, a brief look of pain crossing it. He pushed past the trolls that separated him from Vol'jin, and took a very bold step towards him. Vol'jin raised a hand, both stopping the elf from moving closer, and preventing his guards slitting his throat. "My sister is why I am here. If you wish to kill me, then go ahead. It would make her day. She hates me for bringing her home. But if you do not speak with me now, I fear you will be sentencing her to die."

There was a small gathering of trolls now, and each one gasped. Vol'jin himself struggled to keep his composure. Cenahria? Die? No. Vol'jin could not let that happen. It warmed his heart slightly as well, knowing she hated her brother for taking her away from the Isles. Nodding to the elf, Vol'jin walked back into his hut, and sat down in his chair, not bothering to see if the elf understood. The elf followed him inside, and sat in the centre of the floor, much as Cenahria had done when she had first arrived in the Isles. Vol'jin smiled at the memory. "You must be enjoying this, troll. Having an elf come here, at your mercy." There was a defiance in the elf's voice, and despite wanting to agree with him, Vol'jin knew he wouldn't be able to harm him. "Ya must be hungry, elf. Da journey from your people to da Isles is a long one. If ya wish, I can have some food and water brought in for ya." The elf looked at him in shock, before suspicion clouded his eyes. "Don't ya worry. I won't be poisoning ya food. Cenahria would never forgive me for ruining good Jungle Stew." The elf smiled then, and nodded.

Whilst they waited for food and water to be brought in, elf and troll took a few moments to study each other. He had studied the elf once before, but that had been as an enemy. Now, he had invited the elf into his hut, and was giving him food and water, as he would an equal. Liacus was taller than Cenahria, and his hair was a much lighter shade of blue, tied back into a ponytail. Vol'jin would not have been able to tell the resemblance if it was not for the eyes. Liacus' eyes bore the same inner strength and intelligence that Cenahria's had. There was a kindness to them, that the elf clearly spent a lot of time trying to hide. Liacus also bore the facial tattoos that most Night Elves had; long, glaive-shaped slashes on either side of his face. Vol'jin's assessment of the elf was cut short by the arrival of food.

Liacus sniffed the bowl suspiciously, before dipping some bread into the stew. Tasting it, his face brightened, and he hastily began to eat. Vol'jin laughed softly. He looked up, almost self-consciously. "What was it that you called this dish?" Vol'jin told him about the Jungle Stew, and how his people were famous for it. "Yes… my sister mentioned this to our family at home. She said our food just isn't the same. I have to say, I laughed at her at first but. Now that I have tasted it… I am inclined to agree with her! Please. Never tell her I said that." Vol'jin laughed, properly this time, before telling him about Cenahria's first time trying the stew. "She ate 3 bowls, and finished off da bread, before me and Thrall could finish our first! Elves are such tiny creatures, everyone in da Inn was surprised!" Sipping his water, Liacus nodded, grinning. "That's my sister. Capable of eating twice her body weight in food." Laughing together, they both looked down at the ground. It was odd, talking in this way with a mortal enemy of the trolls.

"You care for her, don't you? My sister?" Liacus' voice had grown soft, and there was something in it that Vol'jin couldn't quite make out. "Ya sister saved my life in Orgrimmar. She is kind, and caring, and intelligent. It is hard not to care for her." Liacus looked at him, an eyebrow raised, and Vol'jin blushed slightly. "You know, my sister has not spoken a word to me since we arrived back home. On our journey back, she scolded me for coming to find her. And from what I have heard from her fellow druid students, she will not hear a word against the trolls. Druids or otherwise. It seems her time spent here will not be forgotten easily." Vol'jin fought back tears, and allowed that warm feeling to encompass his heart once more. Cenahria truly had not forgotten him. He smiled again, and this time, Liacus smiled back, but sadly.

"Ya mentioned ya sister would die if we did not speak. Is Cenahria in danger?" Liacus' eyes grew dark, and as he spoke, Vol'jin's blood began to boil. "For quite some time, my people have had trouble defending our lands from an enemy which I believe we share with you, Chieftain. The Naga. We have struggled with them on our shores for many a moon, however, in recent weeks, they have begun to invade further into our territory, slaughtering my kind." Vol'jin nodded, seething quietly. He remembered that enemy all too well. "We had problems of our own with da Naga, it is true. But we beat dem back. We defeated dem. Is that why ya here? To hear how we did it?"

Liacus stood, and began pacing the hut. "Yes… and also no. As we speak, some of my people have travelled to Stormwind, to see King Varian. Our forces are depleted, we no longer have the numbers to drive the Naga back. We are hoping King Varian will lend us troops to aid us. If not… I am afraid for my sister. You know her. Cenahria, she is a healer. Her very spirit is so kind, that she cannot help herself when it comes to saving others. This is why I was angry when she killed your troll traitor. Cenahria is sweet. Too sweet for murder. Too pure for war. However, if King Varian does not give us men, Malfurion and Tyrande will be forced to use conscription to bolster our numbers. Cenahria will be forced to fight. And I do not believe she will be able to defend herself. Worse still, Cenahria knows this. And has already offered to help, in any way that she can." Vol'jin stared at the elf in shock. Cenahria could not fight, he had to agree. She was too innocent to be on a battlefield.

"But ya sister. It may be different among your kind, but she is old enough to choose which path she wishes to follow – surely she cannot be made to fight if she chooses to heal instead?" Liacus shook his head, and Vol'jin's hopes sank. "She has yet to undergo that ritual. Until it happens, she can be forced to use her skills in any way necessary. And I believe she intends to do just that. She has not given any thought to the fact that she will die. I am not entirely sure she really cares. She is not herself since I brought her home. My mother says she is homesick, but as my father says. That cannot be. She is at home." Liacus threw out his arms in exasperation, and despite himself, Vol'jin found himself feeling sorry for the elf. "Ya care for ya sister, don't ya?" Liacus looked at him, tears in his eyes. "Yes. As much as you do. Although, in a very different way, I'd imagine." Vol'jin blushed again, and Liacus grinned slightly.

"What do ya want from me?" Liacus approached Vol'jin's chair, slowly, hands raised to show he meant no harm. Vol'jin waved him forward, and he knelt next to him, head bent. "I ask – I beg – that you come with me, immediately to Stormwind. If King Varian hears how your people defeated the Naga, he may be more willing to lend us men, and then Cenahria will not have to fight. And. If that fails… I believe if anyone can talk her out of killing herself on the battlefield, it would be you. Please. I know you and your kind have reason to hate my people. But Cenahria needs you." Vol'jin softly placed a hand on the elf's tiny shoulder, and Liacus raised his head, tears running down his cheeks. His voice held tremors, and his back shook with fear. The elf looked truly young in that moment, too young for a burden such as this to be on his shoulders.

Liacus stood, watching for Vol'jin's answer. He moved to stand back at the centre of the hut, patiently waiting. It did not take long. Vol'jin nodded, and Liacus smiled with such relief that Vol'jin could not help but share it. A tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed at him that what he was about to do was madness, insanity. It was suicide, to walk into Stormwind, to face the King himself. If Garrosh hears of this, he will be out for ya blood, the voice told him. Vol'jin silenced it with an internal growl. The decision was made. He didn't even have to think about it.

He would do anything to keep Cenahria safe, even if that meant betraying the Horde, and allying himself with the Elves.