them?
Negotiate?
Pagh!” Garrosh actually spat on the floor as he spoke. “I am ashamed to hear such mewling words come from the mouth of any member of the Horde! What happened at the Wrath Gate harmed us all, or has everyone here already forgotten Saurfang the Younger and the many who died with him—and who were later obscenely raised as the walking dead to fight against us? The elves have no greater claim to being attacked than we!”
“Impertinent youth,” growled Cairne, turning on Garrosh. “You use the name of Saurfang the Younger to your advantage when you openly disrespect the wisdom of his bereaved father!”
“Just because I disagree with Saurfang’s tactics does not mean I belittle his son’s sacrifice!” Garrosh retorted. “You, who have seen so many battles in your many,
many
years, should understand that! Yes, I disagreed with him. I said to him as I say to you, WarchiefThrall, let us not fret and whimper like kicked dogs about the night elves’ oh-so-delicate feelings. Let us move into Ashenvale now, before my troops are scattered, and simply take what we need!”
The two had been leaning to their sides, shouting over Thrall as if he were not there. Thrall had permitted it because he wanted to judge the relationship between the two, but now he lifted a commanding hand and his voice was biting.
“It is not that simple, Garrosh!”
Garrosh turned to protest, but Thrall narrowed his blue eyes in warning, and the younger orc closed his mouth and sat sullenly silent.
“High Overlord Saurfang knows that,” Thrall continued. “Cairne and I and Hamuul know that. You have had your first taste of battle and proved more than worthy at such a noble endeavor, but you will soon learn that nothing is black and white in this world.”
Cairne leaned back in his chair, apparently mollified, but Thrall could see that Garrosh was still seething. At least, Thrall thought, he was listening and not talking.
“Varian Wrynn’s stance against our people is becoming increasingly militaristic.” He did not add,
thanks to you,
because he knew Garrosh would hear the unspoken words. “Jaina Proudmoore is his friend and is sympathetic to our cause.”
“She is still Alliance scum!”
“She is still
Alliance,
yes,” Thrall said, his voice deepening and growing louder, “but anyone who has served with me or who has bothered to read a single historical scroll over the last few years knows that she is a human with integrity and wisdom. Do you think Cairne Bloodhoof disloyal?”
Garrosh seemed taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. His eyes darted to Cairne, who sat up straighter and snorted.
“I—of course not. No one here questions his devotion and service to the Horde.” He spoke carefully, looking for the trap. Thrall nodded. Although his tone was defensive, Garrosh’s words did seem sincere to him.
“They would be a fool to do so. Jaina’s loyalty to the Alliancedoes not preclude her working toward peace and prosperity for all who dwell in Azeroth. Nor does Cairne’s loyalty to the Horde. His proposition is a sound one. It costs us little and could gain us much. If the night elves agree to open negotiations, well and good. If not, then we pursue other avenues.”
Cairne looked over at Hamuul Runetotem, who nodded and said, “Thank you, Warchief. It is my deeply held belief that this is the right path, both to honor the Earth Mother, who seems so distressed, and to obtain what is needed for the Horde to recover from this terrible war.”
“As always, my friend, I thank you for your service.” Thrall turned to Garrosh. “Garrosh, you are the son of one who was very dear to me. I have heard you called the Hero of Northrend, and I think that an apt title. But I personally have found that sometimes after war, it is difficult for the warrior to find where he belongs. I, Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka, promise you that I will work with you to find a suitable position where your skills and
Negotiate?
Pagh!” Garrosh actually spat on the floor as he spoke. “I am ashamed to hear such mewling words come from the mouth of any member of the Horde! What happened at the Wrath Gate harmed us all, or has everyone here already forgotten Saurfang the Younger and the many who died with him—and who were later obscenely raised as the walking dead to fight against us? The elves have no greater claim to being attacked than we!”
“Impertinent youth,” growled Cairne, turning on Garrosh. “You use the name of Saurfang the Younger to your advantage when you openly disrespect the wisdom of his bereaved father!”
“Just because I disagree with Saurfang’s tactics does not mean I belittle his son’s sacrifice!” Garrosh retorted. “You, who have seen so many battles in your many,
many
years, should understand that! Yes, I disagreed with him. I said to him as I say to you, WarchiefThrall, let us not fret and whimper like kicked dogs about the night elves’ oh-so-delicate feelings. Let us move into Ashenvale now, before my troops are scattered, and simply take what we need!”
The two had been leaning to their sides, shouting over Thrall as if he were not there. Thrall had permitted it because he wanted to judge the relationship between the two, but now he lifted a commanding hand and his voice was biting.
“It is not that simple, Garrosh!”
Garrosh turned to protest, but Thrall narrowed his blue eyes in warning, and the younger orc closed his mouth and sat sullenly silent.
“High Overlord Saurfang knows that,” Thrall continued. “Cairne and I and Hamuul know that. You have had your first taste of battle and proved more than worthy at such a noble endeavor, but you will soon learn that nothing is black and white in this world.”
Cairne leaned back in his chair, apparently mollified, but Thrall could see that Garrosh was still seething. At least, Thrall thought, he was listening and not talking.
“Varian Wrynn’s stance against our people is becoming increasingly militaristic.” He did not add,
thanks to you,
because he knew Garrosh would hear the unspoken words. “Jaina Proudmoore is his friend and is sympathetic to our cause.”
“She is still Alliance scum!”
“She is still
Alliance,
yes,” Thrall said, his voice deepening and growing louder, “but anyone who has served with me or who has bothered to read a single historical scroll over the last few years knows that she is a human with integrity and wisdom. Do you think Cairne Bloodhoof disloyal?”
Garrosh seemed taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. His eyes darted to Cairne, who sat up straighter and snorted.
“I—of course not. No one here questions his devotion and service to the Horde.” He spoke carefully, looking for the trap. Thrall nodded. Although his tone was defensive, Garrosh’s words did seem sincere to him.
“They would be a fool to do so. Jaina’s loyalty to the Alliancedoes not preclude her working toward peace and prosperity for all who dwell in Azeroth. Nor does Cairne’s loyalty to the Horde. His proposition is a sound one. It costs us little and could gain us much. If the night elves agree to open negotiations, well and good. If not, then we pursue other avenues.”
Cairne looked over at Hamuul Runetotem, who nodded and said, “Thank you, Warchief. It is my deeply held belief that this is the right path, both to honor the Earth Mother, who seems so distressed, and to obtain what is needed for the Horde to recover from this terrible war.”
“As always, my friend, I thank you for your service.” Thrall turned to Garrosh. “Garrosh, you are the son of one who was very dear to me. I have heard you called the Hero of Northrend, and I think that an apt title. But I personally have found that sometimes after war, it is difficult for the warrior to find where he belongs. I, Thrall, son of Durotan and Draka, promise you that I will work with you to find a suitable position where your skills and
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