speaking clearly to him as they usually did, and he was worried. But there was no need to spread his worry among his people until such time as it was necessary for them to know. He could simply be too distracted by other things to listen as well as he needed to. And, ancestors knew, there were certainly plenty of other things for the warchief of the Horde to be distracted by.
“It is true that this land of Durotar, the new homeland of the orcs, is a harsh place. But that is nothing new. It has always been a difficult environment in which to dwell. But we are orcs, and this land suits us. It suits us
because
it is so harsh,
because
it is brutal,
because
few beings other than orcs could wrest a living from it. We came to this world from Draenor, after warlock magics had rendered most of it lifeless. And we could have done the same to this one. When I rebuilt the Horde, I might indeed have taken a more fertile land. But I did not.”
Murmurs rippled throughout the hall. Cairne looked at him with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering why Thrall was choosing to remind his people that Durotar was a difficult land at best. He nodded almost imperceptibly to his old friend, reassuring him that he knew what he was doing.
“I did not, because we had wronged this world. And yet, we were here in it, we had a right to live. To find a homeland. I chose a place that we could make our own—a land that asked of us all we could give. Living here has done much to cleanse us of the curse that so damaged us as a people. It has made us even stronger, hardier—more orclike than living in a soft land ever would.”
Cairne’s posture eased as the murmurs turned approving. “I stand by that choice. I well know what the sons and daughters of Durotar were able to give in Northrend. But our land gave, too. No one could have expected the high cost of supplies for the campaign in Northrend. And yet, could we have turned away from the call?”
No one spoke. No one present would have turned away, whatever the cost might be. “And thus it is that our land has given, as we have; given until it has almost given out. The war to the north is over. We must now turn our attention to our own lands, and our own needs. It is an unfortunate consequence of the events of the Wrath Gate that the Alliance has a fresh reason to oppose us. While I realize that to some of you this means nothing, and others are glad of it, I assure you that no one is glad of the fact that the night elves have, for the moment, shut down all trade avenues with us.”
Everyone present knew what that meant—no fresh lumber for building, no hunting rights in Ashenvale, no safe passage anywhere the Sentinels patrolled. There was silence for a moment, then unhappy murmuring.
“Warchief, if I may?”
It was Cairne, in his slow, calm voice. Thrall smiled at his old friend. “Please. Your advice is always welcome.”
“Our people have a connection with the night elves that the other races of the Horde do not,” Cairne continued. “We are both followers of the teachings of Cenarius. We even have a joint sanctuary, the Moonglade, where we meet in peace and converse, sharing what knowledge and wisdom we have obtained. While I understand that they are angry with the Horde, I do not think that all bonds will be severed. I think the druids might be good ambassadors for reopening discussions. Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem knows many kaldorei.”
He nodded at the archdruid, who rose to speak. “Indeed, Warchief. I have friendships with them that are years in the making. They may, as a race, resent us, but would take no pleasure in the thought of children starving to death, even the children of their so-called enemy. I have a high position in the Cenarion Circle. Negotiations could potentially be reopened, especially in light of the cooperation we have received with the treaty. If the warchief would permit me to approach them, perhaps we could prevail upon them to—”
“
Prevail
upon
“It is true that this land of Durotar, the new homeland of the orcs, is a harsh place. But that is nothing new. It has always been a difficult environment in which to dwell. But we are orcs, and this land suits us. It suits us
because
it is so harsh,
because
it is brutal,
because
few beings other than orcs could wrest a living from it. We came to this world from Draenor, after warlock magics had rendered most of it lifeless. And we could have done the same to this one. When I rebuilt the Horde, I might indeed have taken a more fertile land. But I did not.”
Murmurs rippled throughout the hall. Cairne looked at him with narrowed eyes, no doubt wondering why Thrall was choosing to remind his people that Durotar was a difficult land at best. He nodded almost imperceptibly to his old friend, reassuring him that he knew what he was doing.
“I did not, because we had wronged this world. And yet, we were here in it, we had a right to live. To find a homeland. I chose a place that we could make our own—a land that asked of us all we could give. Living here has done much to cleanse us of the curse that so damaged us as a people. It has made us even stronger, hardier—more orclike than living in a soft land ever would.”
Cairne’s posture eased as the murmurs turned approving. “I stand by that choice. I well know what the sons and daughters of Durotar were able to give in Northrend. But our land gave, too. No one could have expected the high cost of supplies for the campaign in Northrend. And yet, could we have turned away from the call?”
No one spoke. No one present would have turned away, whatever the cost might be. “And thus it is that our land has given, as we have; given until it has almost given out. The war to the north is over. We must now turn our attention to our own lands, and our own needs. It is an unfortunate consequence of the events of the Wrath Gate that the Alliance has a fresh reason to oppose us. While I realize that to some of you this means nothing, and others are glad of it, I assure you that no one is glad of the fact that the night elves have, for the moment, shut down all trade avenues with us.”
Everyone present knew what that meant—no fresh lumber for building, no hunting rights in Ashenvale, no safe passage anywhere the Sentinels patrolled. There was silence for a moment, then unhappy murmuring.
“Warchief, if I may?”
It was Cairne, in his slow, calm voice. Thrall smiled at his old friend. “Please. Your advice is always welcome.”
“Our people have a connection with the night elves that the other races of the Horde do not,” Cairne continued. “We are both followers of the teachings of Cenarius. We even have a joint sanctuary, the Moonglade, where we meet in peace and converse, sharing what knowledge and wisdom we have obtained. While I understand that they are angry with the Horde, I do not think that all bonds will be severed. I think the druids might be good ambassadors for reopening discussions. Archdruid Hamuul Runetotem knows many kaldorei.”
He nodded at the archdruid, who rose to speak. “Indeed, Warchief. I have friendships with them that are years in the making. They may, as a race, resent us, but would take no pleasure in the thought of children starving to death, even the children of their so-called enemy. I have a high position in the Cenarion Circle. Negotiations could potentially be reopened, especially in light of the cooperation we have received with the treaty. If the warchief would permit me to approach them, perhaps we could prevail upon them to—”
“
Prevail
upon
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