Warcraft 1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I don't own Warcraft or anything.

**Ganked**

**Chapter 1 - The Trap  
**

Nienna could point to the exact moment that drove her from the warm, friendly confines of Goldshire into the unpredictable outside world. It was two years ago, when Koblods attacked her lakeside home and made it their residence. She barely managed to escape, aided by the older woman who adopted her from the Stormwind orphanage shortly after the war.

But it was not her true home. Her journey began long before that. Even after finding her place with that older woman, who was a bit of a magician and taught her the basics of the arcane arts, she had never settled there. At last that is what she told herself. The truth was a bit different, but she would not learn that lesson until later.

Now, blue eyes scanned the frozen hills of Winterspring. Yet another unfamiliar path that she must cross to find her lost place in the world. But this was not the place for her. No, this was just another unfamiliar land filled with cursed beasts and creatures who aggressively attacked without question.

"Nienna, stop dodling!" Cyrus, the leader of the group, ordered.

She urged her black stallion forward and followed the rag-tag band through the winter paths to the small neutral village of Everlook.

Cyrus, a tall brawny man of forty, was their leader. He was a Warrior, originally a smith by trade but war and a dead family forced him into battle. His short brown, cropped hair, sharp black eyes, and angular nose reflected his no-nonsense personality. A practical man, he was constantly ragging on Nienna, who, as most mages, tended to be a little dreamy.

"Mages are such a bother!" he growled as he glared at her with a severe eye.

A sharp scar ran down the side of his cheek, from his temple to chin, making his scowl even more pronounced. But she knew he was merely acting with concern. It would do no good if the weakest of their members were to fall to the behind, making herself vulnerable to attack and endangering the whole group.

"Yes, sir," she said. "Forgive me."

"Really," Skinflint, a dwarf mounted on his giant silver ram, said with an exasperated sigh. "I don't want ta have ta save ya yet another time lass. I'm gettin' tired of reviving' ya."

His great black beard flowed to his stomach, braided on two sides and contrasting sharply with the silvers sheen of his armor.

Nienna blushed with mortification as kept her eyes glued on her horse's black mane. The Paladin was correct and she could not deny it. Of course, it did not help that she was not only the only girl of their group, but she was also the youngest and least experienced at the young age of eighteen. Also, the other three did not care for magic users. Most of the time, they treated her more like an annoying little sister than a partner in their team. It didn't help that she had advertised her services as a competent and reliable mage, but had proved herself to be anything but. Also, she was notoriously bad at directions, forever getting lost if someone was not there to guide her.

"Be patient," the fourth member of her group, a night elf druid said. "Some trees grow slowly but they always mature in their time."

She hated his patience and "wisdom" more than anything else. Really, did any creature have any business being so damnably calm.

The current mission involved taking a particular parcel to someone who lived in the small, snow locked town of Everlook. It didn't matter to them what was in the parcel or to whom it would be delivered as long as they were paid. While there, they would pick up more missions as mercenaries, usually involving taking care of the local fauna, who had been unusually aggressive as of late in every area they traveled. They would most like stay at the nearby inn, generally a cramped, stank place that offered no privacy, before heading on to their way.

Wisps of white appeared with every breath, a testament to the cold chill that encased the land. Winterspring was forever flowing with snow, so high was it nestled in the mountains. Although suffering from an affinity to warm weather, she greatly preferred Winterspring to their last area of adventure. It was a dark place filled with foul smelling slime pits, diseased animals and roaming demons. Aptly named Felwood, she hoped to never cross its winding, cursed paths again.

"Ah! Reminds me o' home!" Skinflint exclaimed with happiness as he breathed in the frozen wind deeply.

"You would love this frozen wasteland," Deverell remarked. "I, on the other hand, prefer the lush forests of Ashenvale."

"Hmph, na creature in his right mind could dismiss th' beauty o' snow cover'd peaks, ya overgrown faerie."

Ashara, Devenell's feline mount, blew out an impatient sniff at the dwarf's impertinence.

"Only someone whose nose is perpetually glued to mud would not appreciate the life which courses through the my homeland, tainted though it may be."

"Ther' ya go again, broodin' about yer homeland as though none o' the others have anythin' ta worry over!"

"Silence, dwarf! I tire of your yammering."

"And I tire o' yer elfin airs!"

Nienna was only mildly concerned. Most likely, Denevell was pulling on Skinflint's chain since he enjoyed angering the short-tempered dwarf and the dwarf was taking the opportunity to give him a few jabs of is own. This was a common argument. In about three seconds, Cyrus would become annoyed and silence the two.

On queue, Cyrus turned back to them and growled, "That's enough you two. What am I leading, a band of murlocks?"

That ended the altercation abruptly, and the men merely laughed as they continued on their way. Nienna was puzzled by this strange world of men, who seemed to form alliances after warring with each other at the drop of a hat. This would be very different if the group was comprised of women. They would merely continue making snide comments and pretend the argument never happened. Later, they would talk about each other behind their backs.

A few moments later, Denevell's sensitive ears picked an approaching party. He alerted everyone at once with a quiet.

"A group approaches. They are also comprised of four members."  
"Friends or foe?" Cyrus asked.

Denevell's luminous eyes examined the road ahead but he shook his head with frustration. "The light reflected from the snow is blinding me. I cannot see them."

"Useless elf!" Skinflint exclaimed as he lowered himself from the mount and pressed his ears against the ground. "Th' earth can tell what yer eyes can't see!"

"Well?" Cyrus asked with impatience. "What is the earth telling you?"  
"She's sayin' there be four of 'em," he replied.

"Which is what I said," Denevell remarked impatiently.

"Shet up! An' she sayin' there be one wolf, wit 'em."

"A hunter!" Nienna exclaimed.

"Or an orc mount," Cyrus murmured gravely.

"No, th' lass be right. There be two o' 'em wolves, one harse and one cretur' tha' walks on hind legs!"

"Blood elves or trolls!" Denevell growled, loathing either prospect.

"A Forsaken!" Nienna exclaimed, feeling a twinge of fear.

All four of them readied their weapons and prepared the necessary spells, the dwarf and elf suddenly feeling more intelligent, while she felt herself protected with a chain of invisible thorns.

"We are in no position to fight," Cyrus murmured. "But if they do have a Forsaken with them, we may have no choice."

"It be important ta keep th' charge in mind," Skinflint declared. "It would do no good ta have th' note stolen an' not git commission."

"Indeed, Everlook marks this territory as neutral, even if those in power quarrel over every inch."  
"It makes me sick to think such creatures could walk upon it this ground."  
"I thought ya hated it 'ere!"

"I love all nature," Denevell said gravely.  
"A little convenient don't ya think, lass?"

Nienna giggled despite herself, helping ease the tension.

When the party came in sight, they became relieved at once. Not only was the volatile forsaken not among the party, as the horse was ridden by a blood elf paladin, but also the actual party consisted of only three, besides the pet wolf. Since they were in no mood to fight, and the Horde were outnumbered, there was little chance of a conflict.

A grim-faced orc hunter led the Horde party. He was bearded, with pallid green skin and brown eyes that belied a long life of conflict and loss. He rode his formidable mount with straight back pride. Fur-lined armor, heavier than his two companions, clearly spoke of his hatred for the cold. The two leaders exchanged polite but curt nods as they passed each other on the road.

The female elf wore her volumes of blonde hair in a loose bun over her head, with a small strand of it hanging on side. A black and maroon velvet coat cascaded down her shoulders, and her black gown, equally luxurious, was worn with fashionable ease. She was marked with elegant poise and did not even glance their way as she passed them by.

The last one of the troop, male blood elf, was a slight oddity. Unlike most of his race, he wore his hair short and spiked. It was also black instead of the usual red or blond. His armor and weapons were almost identical to Skinflint's, although the fashion ignorant dwarf barely noticed.

As he passed them by, his haughty green eyes met Nienna's, and he gave her a sly wink before they disappeared down the road. No one else caught it so she did not receive the relentless teasing such a gesture would produce.

"Hmph," she muttered to herself with a flustered blush.

"I didn't know you had a thing for elves, Nienna," Denevell whispered to her a few moments later.

"Hush, Denevell," she replied. "I wasn't flustered because he was cute…I mean…"

"Careful wi' them 'orde elves, lass," Skinflint advised.

"I didn't…"  
"They may be beautiful, but trust me, they always have a knife at their backs. Quite a shame too," Cyrus interjected. "I fought along side them many times when they were the High Elves. Some of the Blood Elves I see now were once my comrades. They've been corrupted by their love of magic."

"I said I didn't think anything of it!"

"O' what, lass?"  
"I mean, I didn't think anything of_ him_," she replied hurriedly, not wanting to tell them of how the blood elf flirted.

They delivered the note and as expected, they received very little in return. Certainly, it was not enough to cover the costs of days of travel, which included sleeping outdoors, battles with evil goo, and the ever-present Horde.

"I think we should stick around an' kill us some Yeti fer pelts," Skinflint mused, echoing everyone's thought on the matter.

"And that Tauren wishes us to hunt us a bear," Denevell said.  
"Let's get on with it," Cyrus commanded wearily. "We can pluck some of those Owlkin for feathers and sell them as pens. We must make up the money we spent on this expedition somehow."

"Awww…I'll be the one doing it too," Nienna whined.

"No whining from ya, lass," Skinflint warned. "We 'ave enough o' that 'ere with Denevell."

"I beg your pardon!" Denevell declared with indignation.

"Beg all you want, faerie, ya ain't gonna get it!"

* * *

To her dismay, the Horde party was also staying at the lone inn in Everlook and also hunting for pelts and plucking feathers. A tenuous understanding passed between them. It was decided without much interaction that they would leave each other alone and hunt in separate fields. In the mornings, the goblin innkeeper would serve them slabs of barely cooked meat, which everyone but the elves and Nienna would devour with relish.

The dynamic between the Horde was interesting and Nienna watched with fascination. The elves kept to themselves, seemingly disdaining the company of the leader, who seemed to think little of them as well. She also noted the wolf got the leader's best chunks of meat. She thought the wolf's name was cute, GulbGlug. Once, when the wolf was left alone with her, she ventured to pet him and found him quite friedly.

Denevell and the Blood Elves pretended they were not in each other's company, but the hostility born after thousands of years was palatable by all those who sat at the table.

During their week's stay, the blood elf male continued to make small passes at her, winking, smiling at her haughtily and getting her attention with small gestures. At first, she tried ignoring all of this, concentrating on mending her clothes after their excursions, or studying her spells. But she could not help but notice him and if she encouraged his attention with a small gesture here and a giggle there, no one brought it to her attention. In fact both the Horde and Alliance teammates either did not notice or pretended not to notice and left them alone.

* * *

One day she was alone at the armory, as Skinflint needed to have his axe fixed by the goblin smithy. As usual, she was the one stuck with the chore. As she sat near the foundry, waiting for the weapon to be fixed, the blood elf entered the building. His green eyes surveyed the surroundings with hautines until they stopped on her small frame. A tiny smile crossed his lips when he saw her and noted her discomfort at seeing him.

Nienna pretended not to notice as he saundered in, and sat at her chair with stubborn silence. The elf presented the goblin with his sword, and gave the smith directions in the guttural tongue of orcs. This got her attention and she watched his back as the lithe, youthful elf spoke in a tongue that was completely foreign to him. It seemed wrong, almost criminal that such a beautiful creature should be forced such rough, course speech.

The goblin answered in kind, his high-pitched accent making the ordinarily rough orc tongue completely unbearable. She was polite enough not to grimace, although the blood caugh her distaste when he turned to take his place. He smiled slightly as she struggled to keep up appearances. Watching her amused him.

Even though there were many chairs at the blacksmiths' that were available for customers as they waited for their wares to be fixed, he took the empty chair to her right. Although she certainly did not want to sit beside him, regardless of the slight flutter in her stomach that said otherwise, she did not move because she wanted to maintain an environment of peace. Yes, that was it. She wished only for peace. That is why she did not change chairs as she should have when he sat beside her and leaned a little too close.

The elf removed an apple from his pocket and rubbed it against his coat several times, giving her a playful glance as he did so and made sure she was watching. His green eyes were focused on her like a hawk. And to her mortification, she was fascinated by the way his hands moved as they rubbed the apple against its coat. Then, he offered it to her.

She turned her head with a huff, making it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing whatever to do with him or his food. The elf seemed completely unfazed by her rejection and merely grabbed her hand and placed the apple within it.

"How dare you!" she cried and turned to him with all her furry.

He smirked as he took her hand, along with the apple, lifted it to his face and took a bite. Nienna was so shocked she did not move as he continued to eat from her hand, his mouth and tongue inching dangerously close to her fingers. And at that moment, she became acutely aware of the warmth that emanated from his body. It felt so comforting in that cold and chilly weather.

After spending a few moments frozen in flustered shock, she rose up with a start and flung the apple away. The elf merely whipped away some of the juice from his mouth and licked his fingers.

"You bastard!" she cried as she left the building with a huff. She would just pick up the axe later.

"Those silly elves and humans cause no end of trouble," the goblin blacksmith told his assistant in goblin tongue. "But that girl is as naïve as they come."

* * *

The next day, Nienna asked Cyrus if they were going any time soon. The reply that Cyrus gave her was rather cryptic, "You are not ready to leave yet."

"What do you mean I'm not ready to leave?" She demanded. "I can kill any Yeti or bear or what have you that comes my way. And I am sick and tired of killing of Owlkin."

"Listen, when the time comes, you will understand. But for now, we will stay here. I am planning on going to the newly awakened Outlands with this group, and I want to take you with us. But for you to survive that dangerous place, there are certain lessons you must learn."

"Stop treating me as a child!"

That is when the elf entered the inn, pausing ever so slightly at the door and giving her a playful glance before making his way to his cot at the other end of the room.

Nienna did her best to remain unaffected, but she could not help but catch her breath at his gaze and her eyes desperately wanted to trail him as he crossed the room.

"Fine!" she cried. "I'm going hunting on my own. I'll prove to you just how strong I am."  
"It's dangerous for a mage like you, Nienna," Cyrus said. "Let me prepare…"  
"No you won't! And if I run into Denevell and Skinflint, I'll tell them to bugger off!"

Cyrus sighed and shook his head as she stormed off to the stables, probably to get her horse before making her way out.

"Should we watch 'er?" Skinflint asked from across the room.

"No, let her be."

"It's amazing how distracted she was," Denevell mused. "She did not note we were here. Are all human females so easily swayed?"  
"No," Cyrus replied as he glanced at the blood elf, who was safely in his side of the room, with disdain. "Just her."

Skinflint bristled when he noticed the blood elf male stand up and casually leave the inn.

"I know where he's going an' I won't let 'im!"

"No," Cyrus commanded. "She needs to learn this lesson on her own."

The two other horde members were not in the room and Skinflint felt worry hit his gut.

"She's gonna get ganked!"

"Maybe," Denevell mused. "But there is no reason to believe they will do it today. They may just be biding their time."

* * *

Nienna took her horse and rushed east on a whim. She would just kill off those insufferable Owlkin and take out her frustration on them.

The cold, crisp wind that bit at her exposed face did nothing to quell her restlessness or to soother her confused mind. She breathed in the air to calm herself.

"The hot springs," she murmured.

In her distraction, she did not notice someone follow her to her destination. When she arrived, which was a few minutes later than expected as she took a wrong turn at the fork, Nienna secured her horse in a nearby tree and was about to start her hunt when her black stallion neighed softy. He felt an approaching man and wanted to warn her, but she told him to hush. He shook his head with frustration and neighed once again, bobbing his head up and down and wishing he could speak common.

"What's wrong with you, Tobi?" she asked.

That's when she felt someone poke her shoulder. Her reaction was less than stellar. Instead of turning around and preparing for battle, she jumped three feet in the air and landed on her face rather unceremoniously in a pile of snow. When she landed, she heard the liquid tone of elfin laughter. She pushed herself up and turned her head, only to see the blood elf giggling at the mischief he had caused. His luminous green eyes darted too and fro before he leaned down and extended his hand.

"Hmph, as though I would accept help from the likes of you," she declared haughtily as she tried in vain to raise herself.

"Too good enough for me, eh?" he asked.

Her eyes widened when she heard him speak.

"You can speak common?"  
"Of course we can," he replied with a crooked smile. "We were allied with humans for hundreds of years. Do you think we would forget after six? Now, be a sweet heart and let me help you up."

She extended her hand without thinking and then allowed herself to be lifted, finding that she was pushed up a little too close to the elf for her liking.

"But you must promise not to tell a soul," he said with a wink. "It's a heavily guarded secret."

The last phrase was whispered in her ear and he made sure his breath grazed her neck gently. The sensation sent shivers up her spine and she blushed furiously.

"Well, you don't have to worry about it," she said, feeling the traitor. "Your secret is safe with me."

He smiled at her warmly, disarming her at once and she giggled nervously.

"I was just hunting some of those Owlkin, ah, do you want to help?"  
"Of course," he replied. "I wouldn't want a mage like you dying."  
"What's your name?"

"Sol," he replied. "And you are Nienna, right?"

From a nearby hill, the female blood elf was gazing down at them with a smirk as she sat on her mount.

"Sol," she murmured. "You really are cruel."

"There is one thing you must always remember," Denevell told her later that night as she brushed the feathers she had plucked, hoping their intact state would make her more money.

"What is it?" she asked dreamily.

The truth was her mind was miles away, hunting Owlkin with a certain handsome elf. It was a fun day, not only did they split all the items they acquired in half, but he helped her pluck the feathers and even served her dinner. She wondered how it was the elves, especially blood elves, got the reputation for snobbery. They were aloof, perhaps, but not snobby. And she could not help but ask a million questions about his world and his cities. He, in turn, filled her head with tales of unbridled magic and enchanting halls and feasts.

"There is no place more beautiful," he said. "Perhaps you would want to go?"  
"It would be impossible as things are now," she sighed regretfully.

"That dealing too heavily in magic can be dangerous. A mage like you must learn how to use your magic with restraint and only in the most important of circumstances," Denevell replied, bringing her back to reality.  
They thought they heard the clear sound of scoffing came from the other side of the room and they glanced up at the Sol, the apparent source of the sound.

"As I was saying," Denevell continued. "I will now tell you the lore of our people, and how they discovered magic and…"

Nienna glanced at the reclining Sol with amusement. Surely he was listening to this old elf drone on. He seemed bored at first, but as Denevell continued with his story, Queltha's face was filled with annoyance.

"What if you're only giving your side of the story," Nienna said, interrupting Denevell's retelling of how the high elves brought doom on to the world. "Maybe they had their reasons. Why should we stifle curiosity in such a way?"  
Denevell sighed with frustration.

"Perhaps one day you will know."

_Hmph,_ she thought. _He's treating me like a child again._  
The giant orc arrived with two bear carcasses, each slung against one shoulder. He placed one of the bears on the Alliance side, and then took the other one and flung it against the table.

"By th' Forge!" Skinflint cried. "We got us bear meat fer th' night!"

Cyrus nodded his head at the orc, displaying his gratitude and the orc murmured something in orcish.

"Bear meat? Gross!" Nienna exclaimed.

"But that's what yes been eating all this time!" the dwarf exclaimed. "We jest have it fresh."

"That's even worse," she grumbled.

That's when they noticed an argument break out in the far side of the room. The two elves were bickering amongst themselves in their high elfish tongue until Sol had enough and left the building with a huff.

Nienna unconsciously began to follow but caught herself and sat back down. She furiously sewed her torn sleeve.

"So, what were you saying, Denevell?" she asked hurriedly.  
"I am done with my lecture today," he said.

"Fine."

The Orc only sighed as he began to skin the large beast at the butcher's block, a grizzly, bloody table that was located in every goblin's inn. It stank and was covered with flies. Watching the hulking man cut away the skin made her sick.

"Perhaps you would like to go out for a while," Cyrus offered. "We all know how squeamish you can be around dead animals."

"But, " she began, trying to find a good excuse.

"Just don't wander off, the night is dangerous. But surely I don't have to tell you that," Cyrus said generously.

"Alright…" she said with false hesitation as she rose from her place.

Everyone watched her go, except for the orc who was busy preparing the meat. Skinflint, although short was much stronger than most realized, took the bear carcass and began to skin it himself.

The lady elf gazed at the girl jealously as she left the inn.

"Why isn't she dead yet?" the orc asked.  
"I don't know why he's hesitating," she replied. "He should have killed her today."  
"Do you think he likes her?"  
"Nonsense! No elf would ever stoop so low as to fall for a human girl."  
"We need to go soon. The smell of dwarf and human are making me sick, Lucilin."  
"Maybe that's because you haven't smelled yourself lately, Guntag," the lady replied with a smirk.

"Tomorrow we leave."  
"Finally!"

* * *

Nienna searched every nook and cranny of Everlook and did not find the elf until she exited the city and turned to the stables. There he was, petting his horse and speaking in a low, musical tone of his people. The horse was responding to the speech in kind, and Nienna was reminded of the strange union elves had with nature. Even the blood elves, as obsessed with magic as they were, still shared an affinity with the earth that she could not hope to understand.

"Sol?" she called out cautiously.  
"What do you want?" he asked pertly.

"Ah…I'm sorry. You just seemed upset and I wanted to see if you were ok. I'll leave you alone."  
"It's fine. The night is unfamiliar to me."

"You're afraid of the dark!" she exclaimed.  
"I am not!"

"The night is unfamiliar to me," she said in a tone that mocked his serious demeanor. "I wonder what that means in elfish, exactly?"

"It means that as blood elf, I prefer the day. It _does not mean_ I'm afraid of the dark!"

"Well then, if you aren't afraid of the dark, I'll just leave you here," she said. "And you better not follow me home!"  
As he watched her leave, he turned to his horse and petted his head gently.

Something rustled in the darkness and Sol began to find the prospect of going back into the safety of the city, even if it was ugly and filled with nasty goblins, more attractive. Pride be damned.

* * *

The next morning, she was the last to wake and found to her dismay that the Horde party was not only gone, but there was no sign of their stuff.

"They packed up and left earlier this morning," Cyrus announced from the table as he voraciously tore into his food.

"Good," she said with forced unconcern. "I'm happy they're finally gone."  
"We all be, lass."  
"I've decided to stay here a little longer and find a fifth person before we head for the Outlands," Cyrus announced.

"That is wise," Denevell remarked.  
"As long as we don't pick up one o' them blue creatures," Skinflint remarked.

Nienna sighed as she took her place at the table and glanced at the meat that was supposed to be her breakfast dubiously.  
_Oh well,_ she thought. _At least I won't be eating any more Westfall Stew. _

"I want to hunt alone today," she declared.  
"I donna think…" Skinflint began.

"Let her be," Cyrus interrupted. "She did want to be alone yesterday and she did fine. Besides, the Horde are gone and so there is no worry about attack."

Skinflint sighed as he stabbed his meat with his fork.

_Let's jest ignore 'he dwarf!_ he thought.

* * *

Nienna headed out to the hot springs, unsure of the reason that they attracted her. The water looked clear and crisp, and shimmered in hues of blue. The occasional steam spout released its wares, creating a calm, warm atmosphere. She removed her glove and dipped her hand in the water. It was just warm enough for a bath. A small ache pierced her heart and the sad realization that she missed the blood elf entered her mind.

"Ah! I'm so stupid!" she murmured.

"Why do you say that?" a voice asked to her right.

She turned to the source and found Sol leaning against a tree, his silver armor glittering in the sun and his green eyes glaring at her with malice she did not read.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. "I thought you were gone."

"We took a short break. Besides, I wanted to say goodbye. I knew you'd be here."

Nienna blushed with shame.

"I don't know why you'd bother," she said.

"The same reason you bothered to come here," he said as he walked to her.

"Sol," she murmured. "Why are you here?"

"You should know, Nienna."

He was now too close as far as she was concerned. But she could not resist as he placed his hand under her chin and compelled her to stand.

As he leaned forward for a kiss her heart fluttered. Warning bells and red flags began to clamor in her mind, warning her that there was something definitely amiss. But she did not care.

Their lips nearly touched when a sharp pain pierced her side. She fell to her knees and then realized with horror that she had been shot through with an arrow, and it was poisoned. Her head swam and she collapsed. Feebly she began to mutter the incantations of her fastest spell. Another twang was heard and an arrows sailed through the air and peirced her leg.

The hunter's wolf ran to her and clamped his jaws on her arm, tearing at her flesh. She cried out with pain as she felt her muscles serrate and with horror, she realized she was now able to see bone. But she continued to chant as the wolf tore her, and she cast arcane brilliance several times, hitting her enemies with a burst after burst of magic. They did not seem to be too affected and the Palandin murmured a few words, releasing a powerful seal. She raised her hand and prepared a powerful incantation. Arcane missiles would at least kill of Sol. Even if she died here, she was determined she would not die alone.

As she began to murmur the incantation, the horrible guttural language that flowed from her lips stopped her. She could not cast! Arrows continued their reign as the wolf tore into her shoulder.

Lucilin was watching from under a nearby tree with a giant blue void walker beside her. She sneered with satisfaction as the spell she cast took effect.  
"There is no point in sending you out. She's almost dead as it is. Pathetic," she told her pet as she began to leech off Nienna's health.

_No!_ Nienna thought. _This isn't happening. This can't be!_

Another harrow hit her lung and she fell back, almost dead now from the lack of life force, the blood loss due to the mauling wolf, and the poison that coursed through her body. The arrows that were piercing her relentlessly only increased her pain. The Wolf moved to tare at her face but Sol stopped him.

"Not the face, GulbGlug," he warned the wolf.

The wolf merely sniffed as he made his way to her torso and ripped off a chunk of delicate flesh. Intestines followed along as he ripped off at her stomach and kidney, and she her eyes widened in horror. The pain was unbearable. But she was so weakened, all she could do was mutter a cry.

"Stop…please…it hurts…"  
"Be quiet, stupid," he commanded and silenced her with a stab to the heart.  
"Are we finished here?" Lucilin coldly asked as she approached.

The wolf was now happily devouring his lunch to the side, relishing every bloody bite and staining his snout red with gore.

"She's dead," Sol said.

The orc approached and spit on her face, his green slimy mucus slid down her forehead and stuck on to her hair, but she was suffering too much to care. Besides, she would play dead, if that is what kept her alive.

"We have no need for traitorous humans. Come Lucilin and GulbGlug, we must leave this frozen wasteland. She's your prey, so you may take her stuff, Sol. "

"Fine by me, coming Sol?"  
"I'm almost done here," he called out as he began to paw her sides for valuables.

His stab had narrowly missed her heart, and only hit one of her arteries. So he knew she may survive if someone found her soon enough and healed her. He pocketed all of her money, her precious wand, a few herbs she kept for elixirs, and even some Owlkin feathers.

When they were left alone, he pressed his hand against her torso and muttered a few words in a language she did not understand. They sounded like a prayer.

However, the pain disappeared even though the healing was only minimal. He then passed his hand over her eyes and closed them, whispering something in elfish before following his party.

* * *

It seemed hours before she was found by her companions, and healed by Denevell and Skinflint. Even though they were able to heal her, she could not move for several days and was forced to stay in the inn for recovery. Skinflint was the one who cared for her the most, feeding her patiently and telling her stories of his younger days at the forge, many years ago. Also, of his beloved Diamond who died when a band of orcs killed everyone in his town. During this time, she did not utter a word but merely kept her eyes glued on the ceiling before her.

"I learned my lesson, Skinflint," she said at last.  
"Eh?"  
"Never trust a pretty face."  
"Well, lass it seems ya only learned 'alf a lesson."

"What's that?"  
"Never trust th' 'orde! Remember th' bear meat that accursed Orc git? T'was poisoned! We had none o' it th' next day but only pretended to prepare it. I'm sorry ya had ta go through such 'n experience ta learn. Now, between us 'ere, ya kin trust Tauren once in a while and orcs when ya have ta', but trolls, blood elves an' especially th' Forsaken ya kin never trust!"

"Thanks for looking out for me Skinflint."

"Is she feeling better?" Denevell asked as he entered the inn with Cyrus, their daily catch in their hands.  
"Th' lass is even talkin'!"  
"Good, maybe we can finally leave this place," Cyrus exclaimed wearily. "We even found a fifth member of our troop, Nienna."  
"Tha' crazy Gnome! Bah! We'll git na peace after this, mark me words!" Skinflint exclaimed.

Maniacal laughter was heard from outside and a small, white haired man barely three feet tall jumped in the room and began to bounce from bed to bed, followed by his small demon minion named Zapenstap.

"Bwahhaha!" the gnome laughed as he jumped from cot to cot.

Then, he paused his insanity by dancing on the table.

"There be na peace now, by th' Forge!" Skinflint exclaimed with exasperation.

"Denevell?" she asked as she gestured the elf near.  
"Yes?"  
"Before he shut my eyes, he said something in elvish."  
"What did he say?"

She repeated his words and the elf looked down at the floor before gazing at her sadly with luminous eyes.

"What did it mean?"  
"I don't think I should tell you."  
"Please tell me!"  
"But…"

"I git th' hint!" Skinflint declared, rising from her side and sitting on one of the cots on the other side of the room.

When they were left alone, everyone else out of hearing distance, the elf said, "Maybe in the next life."  
"But I thought that Elves don't believe in reincarnation," she asked curiously.  
"We don't. He was mocking you."

* * *

Something died in her. It was a wound that never really healed and the once naïve, good-natured Mage lost that which had made her so endearing: her innocence. But what they gained was a fierce magic user that never hesitated to kill. From being a liability, she turned into a competent member of her team.

Now the gnome Warlock, Gearshift, well, that's another story…

* * *

AN: I'm not happy with it. But I hope you like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: **Don't own the game

**Chapter 2 - How it all Began**

Years before she had even stepped in Winterspring, or heard of it for that matter, Nienna was a fledgling adventurer with stars in her eyes and infinite amounts of naivette. She was also a bit different than the sophisticated (ehem) adventurer she would blossom into. For the first part, she was rather ragged in appearance. Sure, most people started off bad, but she was a country girl who lived the better part of her life in the woods with an "Aunt" for company. She rarely traveled to the closest town in the area, Goldshire. And even when she did, she didn't spend much time.

Secondly, she spoke in a decidedly Elwynn Forest accent, which sounded a bit country and had a draw to it, although it was not as strong as the Westfall accent and not to be confused with the Goldshire accent, which was more metropolitan. This made her seem uncouth and uneducated, realities and preconceptions non-withstanding.

Thirdly, Goldshire had only recently become such a hubbub of adventures. So she was not quite used to outsiders, as most people in her area. Just when they got used to dwarfs and gnomes, strange purple elves showed up. And just when they were getting used to them, blue aliens appeared out of nowhere. Still, she had never seen a high elf, for example. And she knew little of the actual world.

She was also called by another, less sophisticated name: Nina. This was before she learned that Nina was not a properl name for an adventurer and changed to the more poetic Nienna.

But after losing her adoptive mother the knolls Nina traveled to Northshire Abbey to begin her adventure. She swore to become strong, avenge her Aunt, and travel the world. Truth be told, she never wanted to be weak again. (By the way, her old house can found by the river, east of the logging camp. If you are in the area and you happen to find her aunt's pocket watch, she would be very grateful if you were to return it to her. For your troubles, you'll receive a loaf of bread and jug of water.)

So off she went for training with a frayed robe, a gnarled walking stick, and ten copper to her name. At first, Marshal McBride was not sure she would be accepted to the ranks. She was only sixteen, about two years too young. Secondly, she was just plain silly. He would have refused her outright, and have her career as an adventurer postponed, had he not been pressed for men.

"Please help us, new recruit. We are short of men and pressed on all sides. Kill ten kobolds," he explained. "And you will get ten coper. We must cull their numbers!"

"Well, if it is that much of an emergency, why don't I just kill off twenty?"

"No need. If you kill all the kobolds in the area, what would my other recruits kill? You need only kill ten and leave enough for them to breed…er…I mean…enough for the others to train."

"Yes sir!" she declared with a salute.

Off she went to kill the allotted amount, skipping with glee at her first mercenary job. As she was leaving the Abbey, another wide-eyed recruit passed her on his way inside.

Marshal McBride sighed as he watched her go. Recruits must be getting thin. Not only was she too young, but she also wasn't wearing the Apprentice uniform of the graduates from the School of Mages and Mayhem. In all probabililty, she was home schooled. By the Light, what was the Alliance coming to?

* * *

The first couple of days as a mercenary adventurer were exciting and challenging. And then she observed that everyone wore the same clothes. Even in her most dense moments, Nina wasn't stupid. So she began to notice how every other new recruit wore a new robe suspiciously like hers, even though the lady had promised her that it had been woven in the halls of Darnasus. The new staff was common enough. And the boots, please, every magic user had a pair.

Here she thought that being an adventurer meant that she would be serving the Light and garnering honor and glory for the Alliance! Nope, it was all one big racket. The return for the sweat of her brow was pittance. For example: she braved a band of thugs and single-handedly gathered twelve bunches of fresh grapes, only to get the shabbiest cape imaginable in return. Sure, one could say the poor Milly was at the end of her rope. But if that was the case, why did she have a whole pile of capes hidden behind her cart?

Obviously, the whole situation was orchestrated. The Defias taking over her farm had limited the flow of grape production, increasing the price of grapes, making the grapes she sold to the nearby merchant worth more. A cut of the profit went of the thugs, while she kept most of the profits and bought cheap capes. Those poor adventurers that were killed off by the thugs were stripped and their capes. The capes were sent back to the woman and recycled to the new adventurer. It was one solid racket.

By the time she left and made her way to Goldshire, Nina's spirits were very low. All of the enthusiasm she had for adventuring was drained by the harsh realities of human greed. Doubt took its place, and her faith floundered. What if everything she had ever believed in was a lie? What if there was no "Light?" What if the Alliance were the real villains? What if the King was missing and locked away?

When she finally made her way to Goldshire, a place she knew very well from experience, she stumbled into the Lion's Pride Inn and gave the innkeeper whatever it was that the other guy was too "scared" to deliver.

"Top of the mornin' Nina!" Innkeeper Farley greeted with zest. "You look like you've been hit by an Orc's club."

"Hi, Farley," she said. "Is my room still empty?"

"That's correct, although you'll have to share it since we've had all these foreigners about lately."

She sighed as she headed for the stairs.  
"There was a feller with bread and water that the messenger was too 'scared' to deliver comin'. He dun be here in ten minutes," she grumbled.

"Oh! That reminds me," the Innkeeper interrupted her has she went up the stairs. "Here is your pay for a job well done."

He gave her a wink when he handed her the money, probably trying to be encouraging. But the truth is that it did not make her happy at all.

_He's part of the racket,_ she thought with a frown.

As to confirm her suspicions, the same wide-eyed recruit that started with her entered with a crate filled with bread and water. He was still cheerful and disgustingly perky.

"Here's the stuff you need!" he announced.

He was even dopier than she was. He had to be. Hadn't he noticed that there was something very suspicious about the fact that they were wearing the exact same cape? Didn't that ring any bells?

The Farley the Innkeeper merely grinned widely and then said, in a tone that she knew was forced. Besides, he did not talk like that.

"Why I never thought that these would get here! I am now stocked up for the evening! Here you go, some copper for your troubles, oh fair adventurer!"

Nina rolled her eyes and she zapped him with her "recruit's wand of very big pain." It caused the equivalent discomfort of a mosquito bite when the mosquito is first biting, mind you, not after with the itching and redness. Nina then rushed to her room and slammed the door, like the teenage angst-ridden girl she was. Farley the innkeeper didn't get angry, as it barely hurt. He just didn't know how to react. Instead, he tried to save face.

"Wait, Nina! You don't understand…er…these items are very valuable," he called after her, glancing from her door to the new recruit as though wondering what he should say.

The recruit merely stared back at him with large, vacant, brown eyes. It became unnerving.  
"Um… for about three coppers a night you may stay here…so you don't have to stare at me anymore."  
The new recruit continued to stare.  
"Why don't you go out and start adventuring?"  
Staaaare.  
"Go hop like a bunny!"  
"OK!"

The new recruit began to jump from the tables to the floor and back again. Innkeeper Floyd sighed to himself. These recruits were becoming dumber every year.

A dwarf had listened to the whole thing as he was drinking beer. (The nasty, watered down human beer that wasn't good enough for a boar. But alas, there was no getting authentic dwarven stout in these parts.) He made a note of it and then paid his tab, leaving the inn for some Murloc hunting.

The next day, our heroine Nina left the inn and began to seriously reconsider her dreams of adventuring. Goldshire was a peaceful town, why not build a house and settle there? There were plenty of farms and places that were still habitable. Then there was Westfall. She heard that was a peaceful, farming village populated by peaceful farmers. She could buy a farm, get married, have a son, and raise chickens. It would be the perfect Harvest Life ™.

As she left the inn, she was surprised to find a dwarf staring up at her. What surprised her was not that he was a dwarf, but that he looking at her as though he had something to say. It wasn't as though dwarfs were mean or aloof, but unless you had a flask of something suspicious, they were not ones to bother with children.

"I heard what ya said yesterday, lass," he began. "Ya should say yer sorry."  
"Hmph. What's it to you?"  
"I'm jest sayin' there are things ya may not understand."  
"What is there to understand? This adventuring business is a fraud!"

"Now, lass, I've been from Dun Morogh t' Darkshore and I can tell ya that th' adventurin' business is na fraud, but it is a business. Everyone is out there ta make a pretty penny. And ye better believe I got me gold diggin' senses up!"

"Then what's the point?"  
"Ya think that adventurin' is about th' goodness o' yer heart?"  
"Well, I thought it would be more…noble."

The Dwarf sighed and then reached out his hand for a shake. She took it was surprised that his grip was as strong as iron. He shook it, and her, vigorously, as though her arm was made of ooze. When he finally let her go, she shook her hand to allow for blood flow. Skinflint didn't seem to notice though.

"Skinflint's me name," he said. "What be yers?"  
"Nina," she said.  
"Come in, Nina lass, and let me get ya some vittles. There is much ya need ta learn!"

They sat by the bar, and the dwarf asked her what she wanted to drink.

"Water."  
"Two beers!" he ordered.

Barkeep Dodd gave her a suspicious look. He had also known her since she was very young, as most in the area, and her sitting at the bar, drinking at the age of sixteen with a strange dwarf was _not _acceptable behavior. Goldshire was a respectable town, filled with respectable people, strange foreigners and blue aliens non-withstanding.

"I said water!" she declared.  
'Is there a difference? Especially with th' beer in these 'ere parts."  
"One beer for you," barkeep Dodd said as he placed the beer in front of the dwarf. "And one _water _for you."  
"Stick in th' mud," Skinflint muttered. "Now, lass, let me tell ya one thing ya perhaps have not figured oot."  
"What is that?"

'Th' trainin' grounds are not real, at least not in these 'ere parts. Coldridge Valley 'as real threats 'n all, but they're Ice Trolls 'n other creatures that are noot worth botherin' with. So we send our recruits ta test their metal. It's a good way t' weed th' youn'lin's oot."

"So there is a reason Innkeeper Farley pretends?"  
"That's correct, lass. It's th' same wi' us. After I finished wi' th' small fry, I was given a crate t' take t' th' nearest Inn because th' messenger was "too scared." Now, ya know and I know the messenger had nothin' ta fear. But that's not th' point."

"What is the point?"  
"The point is bein' trust worthy enough t' carry important information without stealin', followin' directions, 'n havin' th' spine t' brave th' unknown. It's th' same wi' th' Elves, or so I've 'eard."  
Skinflint frowned when he said "elves," as though the word left a nasty aftertaste.

"So it isn't a racket?" she asked.  
"Well, some o' it is a racket. And ye better believe there be 'n unscrupulous gnome makin' a fortune off th' backs o' over-worked dwarves! But these be hard times, lass. We can't think too 'ard o' 'em."

"How about high elves? Do they have rackets?"  
"There aren't enough o' those t' go around, so they don't do adventures. I doubt it."  
"That's too bad. I'd love to see me one," she said with a sigh.

"Th' only creatures you'll run across outside o' cities are Blood Elves. But there is no trustin' those turncoats. Anyway, the vast majority o' quests have nothin' to do with Alliance anythin'. They're t' make money, fer you and th' quest giver. Th' ones that don't have anythin' t' do with findin' old things, that is. Most o' th' time, you'll git somethin' less valuable than yer givin'. But that's OK, because you'll git reputation."

"Gee...I think I understand."  
"So go make nice wi' Farley there. 'is feelin's were 'urt ya kno."  
"I know," she said with a sigh.

"One more thin'."  
"What is it?"  
"Never trust th' 'orde!"  
"What if he's a nice Horde?"  
"Na such thin'!"

The next day, Skinflint left for Darkshire, as he was only staying for a little while. After he gave her some sage advice, he told her to send him a letter once she became strong enough. If his leader liked her, he would accept her as part of the troop.

"Even a Mage be 'andy," he said with a wave. "So don't stop yer trainin'!"  
"Yes sir!"

* * *

The next few weeks were uneventful. She began to do small favors for people around the village and nearby farms. Her idealism was a bit tempered now that she understood that adventuring was just a way for everyone to survive, but it added another dimension to it. She also tried all her hand at learning various professions. When she found an rogue alchemic elf and an herbalist, she learned to make potions from flowers that had been used as mere table-top centerpieces.

One Sunday she decided to take a break from the busy work and idle the day away finishing. Good thing Goldshire had a Crystal Lake right behind it. For some years, Murlocs had infested the wester shores and two holms within, but the part adjacent to the town was still safe enough. She sat some ways from the wharf that was behind the leather workers' and proceeded to hook her line. After an hour of catching mostly mudskippers, something caught her eye and distracted her. She noticed movement around the shore of the furthest holm. Upon closer inspection, she noticed it was a humanoid. It wasn't a Murlock because it was too tall. Besides, he was dressed in some sort of armor that gleamed brightly in the sunlight. She then heard the dim sound of clanging metal.

"Ah! It is an adventurer. Maybe he needs help."

Off she went with all her might to the small island, ready for anything. As it turned out, by the time she arrived all the Murlocs were dead. Not that it would make a difference, as they seemed to spawn from the water itself. By tomorrow morning, the island would be infested.

There was a slight man there, donned in unfamiliar, form fitting armor, rummaging through a corpse. He had long black hair that hung bellow his shoulders.

"Excuse me, mister," she said.

He turned to her and she realized it was an elf. Although his hair covered most of his ears, their pointy ends poked through the tresses and towered over his head. His eyes glimmered green. The only reply he gave to her inquiry was a slight raise of the right eyebrow.

"Um, do you need any assistance?" she asked.

His contemptuous gaze became even more pronounced, and he chortled at the very idea. A human mage, help him? Nonsense. He didn't justify that ridiculous question with a reply. He turned his attention back to the fallen Murloc and begun to pocket various items that may be of use.

"Are you a high elf?" she asked. "You have to be a high elf if you're in these parts. I've never seen one, you know. Skinflint told me that there aren't enough of y'all for adventuring."

The elf turned to her and smiled with amusement. He didn't know what why he lied. Perhaps he was bored.

"Yes."

It was difficult for him to speak common as it had been years since he had last spoken the rough, course language. (At least that is how it sounded to his ears. Although it was nowhere near as bad as Orcish.) Still, even he could tell she spoke with the local accent: one part Goldshire and three parts Elwynn.

_A local, huh,_ he thought.

"So why are you adventuring?"  
"I ran away."

It wasn't a lie. He did actually run away, drink from the forbidden well, and tap into the powers that forever banished him from the High Elves and their noxious, self-righteous ways.

"Do they have rackets in your town too?"  
"Raketes? Do you mean badminton?"  
"No! I mean the rackets you get when you think you're doing somethin' for a reason but it isn't for that reason at all."  
"I don't quite understand what you mean or your hillbilly speech."  
"I ain't no hillbilly!"  
"Noted."  
"And you must be the ignorant type if you don't know something simple like a racket. What's a badminton anyway?"  
"So you mean fraud?"  
"Of course that's what I mean."  
"Give me an example."  
"Alright, after I went off to Northshire Abbey for trainin'."

"Is that were your new adventurers train?" he asked.  
"Yup!"

He took out a notebook from his pocket, produced a pen, and then wrote down the name on his notebook.  
_Northshire Abbey_

"Go on," he said.  
"Anyway," she continued. "Mr. Messenger told me to give Innkeeper Farley a crate filled with fixin's because he was too yeller. But I says, 'I know Innkeeper Sam. He don't need fixin's. And the wolves here don't bite unless we wander into them fields.' But I knew then he was lyin' like I knew the boot lady was liyin' about needing the grapes for the boots. So I dun took the crate and went."

"Books?" he asked. "Wait, do you mean _boots_, as in shoes?"  
"That's right! What else would it be? So do you have that racket?"  
"Hah, we have something exactly like that in my home town."  
"Really! I guess Skinflint was wrong."

_Skinflint,_ he wrote down in the notebook.

"Are you even old enough to adventure? What are you, thirty?"  
"Mister, do I really look that old to you?"  
"I'm sorry, that was elf years. Let's see if I remember the human equivalent... twelve?"

"Oh no, I'm not that young. I'm sixteen. Anyway, mister, you must be tired after all this killin'. Do you want me to get you some fixin's?"

Fixings? Did she mean food?  
This girl was very naïve. She didn't now the ways of the world and probably had no clue as to how the birds and the bees worked either. Adventuring would be almost impossible for her. What a pathetic creature! She should just die in the next plague. He felt something akin to pity, but it was much closer to unbridled contempt.

"It's a bad idea."  
"Why?"  
"Um…ah…"  
"Cat got your tongue?" she teased.

He suddenly turned pale and pointed to a spot behind her.

"Oh no! Murlocks!"

She swiftly turned around and prepared her most dangerous spell to date: Fire Ball, Rank 2.  
"WHERE?"

_Thud_

He hit her head with just enough force to nock her out. If she didn't wake up before the Murlocs came back, it was no concern of his. She should have known better. Besides, mistaking him for a high elf was unforgivable in so many levels he was not about to begin counting.

Unfortunately, she landed face down in the water.

_Gurgle, gurgle, plop. _

The water around her began to bubble.  
"Bother, now she's going to drown," he said with a sigh.

He rolled her on to dry ground and then began to rummage through her things. A few copper, a rusty dagger, and some slimy mud skippers were all she had to her name. It wasn't even worth the loot. What a pain this country bumpkin turned out to be.

"Sol!" a woman called behind him.

He turned around and saw his partner, a beautiful blood elf "maiden" with brilliant blonde hair, immaculately combed and up in a bun. She carried herself like a princes, despite her plain robes. Her attire was still rather rough, as she was only a poor warlock acolyte who had just acquired her Void Walker.

"Yes, _dearest _Lucilin?"  
"Stop wasting your time with that corpse. She _is _dead, isn't she?  
"As a doornail," he said.  
He smacked her wet cheek lightly with the back of his hand.  
"See?"

"We don't need someone alerting the locals to our presence," she said suspiciously.  
"These bumpkins wouldn't know a blood elf from a high elf if they were standing side by side. I don't think we have much to worry about."  
"Well, it doesn't matter. Now that we've done our spying, we should leave."

* * *

When Nina came to, she was being poked with the blunt end of a spear. A band of Murlocs had surrounded her, forming a circle of ugly faces that hovered over her and blocked her field of view. She felt the spear prod various parts of her body and then realized with horror that they were measuring her tenderness.

"Mmmhmm, munch, gurgle, gurgle, splash!" one of them said.

The noises he was making sounded suspiciously like eating and digestion. She was not going to stick around and confirm her worst fears.

Up she went and ran with all her might, clubbing murlocs with her staff in a desperate bid to escape. She barely made it to the shore with her life, as five mulocs chased her across the other island and in the watter, dragging her down with their slimy, nasty hands as she paddled forward. But make it she did. Lucky for her, they hated being too close to human establishments. As she stood by the pier and rung the edges of her robe, she wondered what she was doing there in the first place. Something about a movement and dead Murlocs, but then what happened? For the life of her, she couldn't remember.

The fishermen were no help.  
"I dunno why you went, Nina. We saw you run up there and there you stayed for a while. 'Well, maybe that's a finishing spot she found. Although she's awfully brave to fish where the Murlocks live,' says I. Didn't I, Jason?"

"Yup," said Jason.  
"Then you just ran up here like you were being chased something fierce," Lee said.  
"So y'all didn't see nothin'?"  
"Nope," said Jason.

* * *

When she finally met a real high elf in the Mage's Tower, she learned that the way to distinguish them was their eyes. The high elves had blue eyes, which meant they were good, righteous folk. The blood elves had bright green eyes, which meant they were evil and up to no good. Also, high elves were prettier, better dressed, and actually knew the difference between salad and dessert forks. That is what the high elf said, at least.

Two years later, when Nina and Sol ran into each other at Winterspring, neither of them remembered their first encounter. Nina had lost her memory and tried to distance herself as much as possible from her rustic background, so the mysterious incident was far from her mind.

Sol did not recognize her. Not only did she look and act very different, like a proper mage instead of a country girl, but she had also changed her name. So even if he had noticed some similarities, he wouldn't have given them a second thought. But it is not as though he did. Why would he remember some "stupid hick" he met years ago and spared on a whim?

But this would not be their last forgotten encounter.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I play World of Warcraft, but sadly, I don't own it.**

I decided to tone down the accent a little.

**Chapter 3: Kindness of a Stranger**

Nina woke that morning to a sore back and stiff muscles. This wasn't surprising, as she spent most of the day before hunting for boars and fleshstrippers. But the fact that the inn she was staying was shoddy, with mere blankets for mattresses covering heavy wooden frames, did not help.

She frowned as dwarf, his face covered in a volumous golden beard, snored loudly on the bed to her right. A Draenei male sat upon the bed to left, mumbling the words of the book he was reading. It was such a bother. There was one thing she needed to get used to, and that is the lack of privacy, comfort, and even female company adventuring provided. Men outnumbered women five-to-one. She had yet to see a female dwarf and began to wonder if they existed at all.

Nina got out of bed after letting out a drawn-out sigh, wondering if she should just give up the whole business. So far, she had been a dismal excuse for a mage. Not only did she kill everything at a slower pace, constantly having to regenerate her mana, but she lost duel after duel against other adventurers. There was also the little fact that getting lost was becoming her specialty. She bumped into the same Riverpaw encampment more than once! Every time she would barely escape with her life, chased by gum-smacking Gnolls. Already, her fellow adventurers, who seemed to leave the area for bigger and better things at a much faster rate than she was doing, thought she was a joke.

She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and headed to a nearby well to wash her face. Once she left the confines of the Inn, the teasing began. Her tormentors were a trio of new adventurers who although only being there two days had already managed to completely wipe out the Defias presence in Moonbrook and the surrounding farms. They were a trio of the most obnoxious Alliance tropes imaginable.

"Hey Nina!" The young man called. "Are you making a run for the Gnolls today?"  
"Don't mess with her," a gnome mockingly chided. "Maybe she lost her map!"

Their third companion was as purple-haired night elf. She liked dancing on her bed in the middle of the night, eliciting woops and hollers from the men, completely disrupting her sleep.

"You may have a copy of mine if you wish," she said. "But I don't know if you'll be able to read it."

The three companions laughed as they began making their way out of the small hamlet to the surrounding prairie.

"For the Alliance," she muttered ruefully.

They sure were a mean-spirited lot.

Before heading off for the daily grind, she stopped to check her mailbox. She flipped through each item with bored nonchalance.

"Bills, GET WOW GOLD NOW, bills, Power-leveling made EZ, bills, a pile of meat that didn't sell...a letter from Skinflint!"

_Dear Nina:_

_Darkshire's a hoot! Git out of that blasted place as soon as you kin and join us!_

_Skinflint_

_PS. Never trust the 'orde!_

_That dwarf sings a one-note tune,_ she thought. "_Don't trust the 'orde! Don't trust the 'orde!" Like there are any ''orde!' around here._

During her months of adventuring, she had not encountered one member of the Horde (not that she remembered, at any rate). The only thing she had encountered where Defias, who were all but whipped out, renegade Harvest Watchers, who were all but subdued, and nasty fleshrippers. Why would any Horde come here?

Even so, her feelings of dejection were such that she just wanted solitude. Besides, everyone was so efficient that her daily hunts were yielding fewer enemies, and she was barely raking up experience. So that day she decided to head to the beach and do some Murloc hunting. If there was one thing that was certain in Azeroth, it was the replenishment of Murlocs. After entire village was whipped off the face of the map, a new bunch came to take their place by nightfall. Perhaps there was an endless supply of Murlocs in the ocean, just waiting to replenish the numbers of their fallen comrades in the shore.

Sure enough, Murlocs were everywhere on that sandy beach. There were too many, in fact. And soon Nina found herself doing what Nina did best: run for her life. After a desperate swim to a nearby island, she allowed herself to relax on the small wharf.

But her relief lasted only a few seconds. For as soon as she stood on the small wharf, shivering and cold, wet with the salt water, she noted that she was not alone. A campfire was prepared, with several fish roasting before it. Seated beside the fire was a haughty looking elf with long black hair and bright green eyes.

After six months of adventuring, she had finally run into her first Horde. Nina, who lost every dual she'd fought so far, saw with dismay that her enemy was a Paladin.

What had begun as a crummy day suddenly became exponentially worse.

* * *

_Earlier that day:_

Guntag kicked the most bothersome member of his team squarely on the ribs.

"Wake up you lazy peon!" the Orc roared.

"Ah! I don't want to go to school!" Sol whined.

He yawned and then promptly went back to sleep.

Guntag's left eyebrow twitched before he let out a gigantic roar. It shook the mountains, startled birds from their branches, terrified every critter within a five-mile radius, and was heard even in the depths of the Deadmines. And yet there Sol remained, sleeping like a baby.

"It's OK," Lucilin said. "I'll wake him up."

She grabbed him by the collar and began to slap his face, first one cheek then the other, repeatedly. It took fifteen slaps before he finally woke up.

"What do you want?" he growled.

"Wake up! It's time for us to spy on Wetstfall!"

He chortled.

"Spy on what? This place is filled with nothing but a bunch of abandoned farms, a dry-as-bones landscape, and dead Defias! Wake me up when we have a real quest…."

"These are our orders: to scope Alliance territories and discover their weaknesses. So far, Westfall seems abandoned by Stormwind…"  
"But aided by its citizens and Alliance adventurers to the point that most the maladies it suffered are no longer present," he interrupted. "This is a worthless enterprise is meant to keep us busy since most of our little problems have been fixed and we are not yet strong enough to reach the Outlands. It's like one big racket…"

He paused. A bit racket…that seemed familiar. Where had he heard it before?

"You're just being a cynical bastard, as usual," Lucilin argued.  
"Fine, I'll go."  
"You will head through the shore while we take the path by the river," Guntag commanded.

"What? I don't get any company?" he asked.  
"Of course not!" Lucilin yelled.  
"We will meet at the camp an hour before sunset," Guntag declared.

He didn't do any worthless spying, of course. Instead, he spent his time eliminating Murlocs by the beach until his backpack became swollen with loot. Then he headed to the nearby small, rocky island and prepared a fire by its resident abandoned lighthouse. After a few hours of fishing, he became satisfied with his lunchtime prospects and began to prepare them.

That is when a girl burst through the water by the wharf. The human seemed a mage, was obviously poor, and rather unsettled. The hem of her robe was torn and muddy. Her messy brown hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail. She began to wring her robe. She seemed relieved. But then, the human looked up. Her eyes widened with shock when she noticed that she was not alone.

He sighed.

What an aggravating day this had turned out to be.

Nina began to think. If she turned him into a sheep, it would give her enough time to flee. But if she ran back to the shore, she would become Human Puree, which was not a prospect she was prepared for. Also, there was the little fact that it took several seconds to turn anything to a sheep. Judging from experience with Paladins, she knew they had several instant casts that would disrupt the spell casting. Not to mention the fact that he was merely three feet away. If she cast Frost Nova, she was in range of his seals and a stunning blow. Regardless of her choices, she was at a disadvantage.

It was either stay and be killed or leave and be killed. Either way, she was dead.

Sol had considered all of this as well. Ordinarily, he would be amused. But in this case, he was too annoyed for amusement. He spent a great deal of time fishing for his meal and the prospect of his campfire –and lunch- being destroyed by a desperate Frost Nova was not appetizing. Fighting a enemy who knew that death was only a heartbeat away would be aggravating anyway. Sure, he would win, but there was nothing more dangerous than a cornered beast, and at that moment, she was cornered.

So, he waited, hoping that she was too afraid to make a first move. She was. He let out a relaxed sigh and turned his attention back to the fish, hoping she would get the hint and leave.

But things did not go as planned. Instead, she marched up the small incline and sat beside the fire. Well, it was not beside the fire, but she sat as far as she could from both him and the fire while retaining its warmth. She then proceeded to take off her drenched boots, gloves, cloth bracers, cape, and vest. Barefoot, with only a loose white shirt and cloth pants, she hugged her knees to her chest and rested her head upon them.

She had never felt so sorry for herself. Everyone hated her, she didn't even make a very good mage, she was stuck in this place because everyone else kept on taking her kills and loot and experience because she was always getting lost along the way. And to make matters worse, she would probably die whenever this elf finished his meal.

Hot, wet tears began to stream down her face. Although she didn't have much pride in the "Alliance," for what it was worth, she did not want to cry before an enemy. So she buried her face in her knees and began silently cry. But she could not hide the sniffles that came with the tears.

_Sniff, sniff_

Sol sighed with annoyance. Great, now she was crying. What a way to ruin a good meal.

Her stomach growled.

And she was hungry.

_I bet she's going to look at my food greedily while I eat it too, _he thought with a frown.

This was not good at all.

"Hey you!" he said.

Although he said it in Orc, it was clear he was trying to communicate with her.

She looked up a wiped her eyes. To her surprise, he was trying to hand her a fish on a stick.

"Eat it and shut up," he said. "I don't want to have some weepy human ruin my meal."

She cautiously took it and began to nibble on her fish, half-suspecting that it was poisoned. He wasn't looking at her while he ate, but merely gazed out at the sea with boredom.

While she was eating, she began to analyze her strange companion. He seemed handsome enough, although those long eyebrows were very strange. But what she really liked was his hair. It was long, pure black, and silken. It seemed to shimmer as it cascaded down his back.

He caught her staring out of the corner of his eye. When he turned to her, she looked down at her fish as though it was the most important things she'd ever seen. Sol smirked. In the two hundred years of life, thirty of which were spent in the company of humans, he was very well aware of the affect he had on human women. And even when he was a proud member of the Alliance, he always used it to his advantage. Human women were a pathetic lot: easily influenced, emotional, and whatever beauty they had faded very quickly.

Since he was bored, he decided to tease her a little.

"Here, take another one."

His voice was much more gentle, despite the harsh language. She looked up and saw him holding out another stick to her, smiling at her sweetly.

Suddenly, he didn't look quite so threatening anymore. In fact, he looked very sweet. She blushed as she took the fish.

"Thank you," she said. "Ya know Skintflint's always tellin' me to be scared of the Horde but you're the nicest person I've met besides old Skinflint."

Although he understood ever word (an Elwynn accent if he'd ever heard one) Sol feigned confusion.

"I'm sorry," she apologized with mortification. "I know you can't understand me. I just haven't had someone treat me like I meant somethin' but laughs around here."

He rested his face on his hand and examined the pathetic creature, for that is what she was. So it seemed that this human pup was considered lowly even by Alliance standards. Perhaps he should kill her. After all, wouldn't it be as merciful as putting a rabid dog to sleep?

That seemed fine by him. It would be the kindest thing anyone had ever done to her. First, he'd have to let down her defenses. He didn't want to bother fighting and would rather end it all cleanly, with a knife to the back.

He removed his cloak and completely startled her by putting it around her shoulders. She was cold and wet, after all, so it would be no good for her to catch a cold. Nina was so naïve that it did not occur to her that an enemy would not do any of that unless he were unusually kind or trying to take advantage in some way.

Nina looked up with gratitude. A smile crossed her lips. It was an innocent smile, completely devoid suspicion. It was a smile he had seen before, years ago. Not just on humans but on his fellow elves. Perhaps they were of equivalent ages, but she was just a child in his mind. She probably did not remember the years of peace between battles, a time when most of his friends and family were not taken by the plague, betrayed by a rogue human. This was before they were chased into dark places to escape the slaughter, while hearing everything that was ever loved and known in the world completely come to ruin. It was before he feared the dark.

A shadow crossed his face and from that moment forward, he completely ignored her. He took his fishing pole, hooked a bauble to it, and began to fish.

He seemed bored again or maybe upset. She couldn't quite figure it out. Although she was naïve, she had sense enough to leave him alone and so sat in silence for the next hour. When she felt ready to leave, she dressed and picked up her items. Before leaving, she turned to the elf who had sat with his back to her.

"Thank you for all of your help," she said. "I am going to go now. I know you can't understand me but I still would like to tell you my name. My name is Nina. You have been mighty kind to me and for that I thank you."

Sol did not acknowledge her at all. She swam back to shore and returned to the Inn.

Meanwhile, the sun traveled the sky until it kissed the horizon. And still did Sol remained, not even acknowledging the occasional fish that bit his line. His eyes drifted over the azure sea, while looking back to a past that could not be recaptured.

"SOL!"

A woman's voice yelled his name, breaking him from his thoughts.

_Great, it's Lucilin,_ he thought. _If she sees me with a live human woman, I'll never hear the end of it. _

He looked around him and noticed, to his surprise, that the girl was not there. When had she left? When had the sun set, for that matter? Had he really been lost in his own thoughts for hours?

Lucilin parked her canoe beside the small pier. Her boots clanked loudly on the wood as she approached.

"Do you have any idea how long we waited for you? Have you been here all this time?"  
"Yes."  
"You insolent cur!"

"Well, what of it? Did you discover anything important?"  
"No…."  
"Well, then. Who was right and who was the tool?"  
"You…"

She almost smacked him with her staff when she noticed something on the ground.  
Her long, golden right eyebrow rose suspiciously.

"Look at this! It seems someone left you a bundle of peacebloom. And it's tied up in a nice little bow too."  
"Well, this should be worth something in the auction house," he said.

He gathered it and put it in his pocket without a second glance.

"Who was it?" she demanded.  
"Who was whom?"

"The person who left you the flowers!"  
"Oh, some human child that pretended to be a mage."  
"You were with a human! Why didn't you kill her?"

"Because …I don't know. I just started thinking of the past and I suddenly didn't feel like it. Besides, she won't tell anyone I'm here."  
"Sol, you are much too soft for your own good. I'm surprised that you didn't head back as soon as the sun began to set. With you being afraid of the dark and all."  
"I didn't know. I was alone."

That night, Sol wrote down in his journal:

_Strange human girl. Peace bloom._

Although the encounter was good for Nina in the short term, allowing her to live another day, it actually did more harm than good in the long run. Not only did it cement in her mind that Horde were not necessarily enemies, but it also gave her a particular weakness to dark-haired blood elves.

She told no one of her encounter, and kept it all in her hidden in her heart. The hope that one day she would see him again was her secret wish.

A year passed and she turned eighteen. She changed her name and masked her accent, hoping that it would make her fit in with the Alliance, who tended to be a snooty, aloof, and selfish bunch. It didn't work.

She didn't even receive the respect of her teammates until after the incident at Winterspring.

A year after the incident at Winterspring, she still found herself at the Outlands. Instead of sticking to her group, she began to wander about it on her own, even though the danger of being found and killed by the Horde was very real. Her favorite area was Nagrand, and she stayed there a lot longer than she needed to.

The truth was that the more she traveled the more she realized that Elwynn forest had become her home and of all the places in the Outlands, Nagrand reminded her of Elwynn the most. There was nothing she wanted more than to go back and live a quiet life. And yet she could not go back, not yet. She would have no peace until she got her revenge. Sol was her target and she would have no peace until strung his head on a pike. Her hatred for him was intense, and it was not only caused by his betrayal. It was also because his behavior soiled the memory of that mysterious elf who encouraged her when she was weakest.

She did not know that the one she hated most was the one whose memory she held most dear.

* * *

AN: Sorry for the long delay. Hope that the ones following the story like the twist.

Of course, if Azeroth was 'real' then nothing would respawn. If nothing respawns, then the problems would be solved very quickly, leaving a great deal of "adventurers" without a job.

We Alliance can be a rather mean, immature bunch, no?


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I don't own Warcraft or anything. XD

Many apologies for WOW lore/detail mistakes. I like their world, and I like to read about it, but I am not a Warcraft geek so it is possible that I may have some problems with depiction of various things.

I try to mix realism with farce, wondering what the world would be like if it were "real" and subject to many of the same physical constraints we are while not taking it too seriously. I hope the combination works. Sorry for not updating in a while, this part of the story made me a little nervous. I wrote three different versions before finally settling on this one.

**Chapter 4: Foolishness **

During the course of Sol's stay in the Outlands, he spent most of his time prancing around Area 52 in Netherstorm, which is why he never once ran into Nienna during his year's stay. Perhaps if she would have traveled a bit, she wouldn't have wasted all of her time moping around needlessly in Nagrand and actually accomplished something of value.

Neither did he think of her once, as she was just another human in the throng of humans he had ganked in his year-long stint with the Horde. He spent most of his time mining and jewel crafting, working day and night to pay the billz. But the truth was that there was nothing else to do. They had hunted everything –twice and did everything there was to do. Dungeons were cleared of all enemies, loot, and significance. Nearly all problems were solved and evil was on the retreat. They were all bored.

So it was no surprise that once news reached the Outlands that Northrend was once again available for travel, with more opportunities for conquest and fortune, Sol and his group immediately turned to more profitable endeavors.

They packed up their bags, waved goodbye to their beloved goblin friends, and then set off to Shattrath City. It would take at least a day's travel so they packed accordingly, stopping along the way so that their mounts may refresh themselves with obliging streams, grass, and meat hunted by Guntag.

Now, for those who wandered why they didn't just fly, there is a simple explanation for this. You see, each member of the group had two mounts – at least- five or six bags filled with the brim with loot, several sets of weapons and armor that are reserved for various purposes, piles of underwear, cooking pots, tents, and other miscellaneous items. And let's not forget Sol's pick axe, his smelting and jewel crafting items, and their vanity pets, of which Lucillin had a collection that could rival any zoo. Their flying mounts had to follow from above, for there is no possible way for them to carry all of that as well as their owners for any period of time. The same went for the flying routs. The very idea was lunacy.

Everyone knew that griffins and other flying modes of transportation were good only for messengers and quick lunch dates in Astranaar. But actual relocation from one place to another required a day's planning to organize, at least, depending on how many items and the number of adventurers in each group, and done on foot. Of course, having twentyfive mounts and fifteen vanity pets was frowned upon, simply because the more mounts owned, the slower their travel. Inevitably the slower mounts were demoted to pack animals, carrying all the items that the hero could not carry on his own. In fact, it was the habit of most adventurers to take two mounts with them while adventuring, one for them and one to pack their loot.

So Guntag and his caravan of eight land mounts, twelve vanity pets, two flying mounts, twenty-five bags, and three bedraggled adventurers reached Shattrath on their second day of travel. They all wished for rest and a fresh set of clothes, especially Lucillin, who thought that the "outdoors" aspect of adventuring was the most tiresome.

It was nearly nightfall, so they decided to stay for the night so as to be refreshed for the long journey to Northrend. After checking in all their mounts at the stable of a very packed inn, they parted ways. Guntag decided to go for a hunt, as he found the killing and skinning of defenseless creatures a most relaxing endeavor. Lucillin claimed she was tired from the trip and wanted a hot bath. Lucky for her, the residents of Shattarath City liked baths, namely elves and draenei, and considered the ritualistic dunking of water an absolute necessity. They opened up a hot spring near Aldor's Rise. Humans, Orcs, Dwarves and Undead (especially the males) would not be caught near, thinking it another strange racial manifestation. Tauren just rolled around in the mud and called it a day. Anyway, she invited him to come along but Sol was in no mood for her extended company after a harrowing two-day long road trip with all the bickering, stress, and aggravation it entailed.

Left alone, Sol decided he needed a drink.

The journey to Shattrath was dotted with dangers: with wild animals and enemies, so he traveled fully equipped, including his helm, which he did not remove after he situated himself at bar, so accustomed was he to wearing it.

He entered the busy bar only to see a human girl haggling with the bartender. And that is when his trouble started.

* * *

The three Horde adventurers were not alone in their desire to leave the Outlands. In the bedraggled world, there were hundreds of adventurers who were practically oozing with boredom, jobless. As time passed, quests became more mundane and those who lived in the myriad of small villages and towns that dotted Northrend were at wits end to keep these volatile, violence prone, greedy mercenaries at bay.

"Get me a …um…book from the um….library…at …ah…"

"YES! YES! Please! I need something to do or I'll kill everything in sight!"

There had been so much hunting in Nagrand by poachers and those hired by the Consortium that Elekk were an endangered species and wind-rippers where nowhere to be found. Ogres had filed a petition against both the Horde and Alliance sighting "unwarranted genocide." The actual word usage was unintelligible so their plea was promptly misunderstood as another declaration of war.

So it was no surprise that the entire continent breathed a sigh of relief as these hardened warriors of the light and others packed up their bags and headed for Shattrath. The residents of Shattrath, on the other hand, were filled with dread. They anticipated packed streets, thousands of stinky animals pooping all over their roads and buildings, and hundreds of equally stinky adventurers jumping up and down, yelling nonsense in the trade channel, and trying to pass off their junk as something one could actually use. Yes, they had helped them fend off the Burning Legion. Yes, they were eternally grateful. But why had they not just packed up and gone home after they were done?

That being the case, it did not surprise Sol that the streets was nearly packed, and the World's End Tavern filled with humanoids of all sizes and colors, including many local Outlanders: colorful Arakkoa, Sporelings, tamed ogres, and refugees who mingled freely with adventures regardless of affiliation.

That's when a girl at the bar got his attention. She was a human woman with brown hair primly pulled up in a smart bun, long plain robes, and a staff that declared to the world, "I did not manage to get any loot in the dungeons." She struck his attention by making a scene desperately trying to sell the bartender a chipped claw.

"What do you mean you wont buy this chipped claw? Everyone buys chip claws!"

"We have no need for them here ma'am," the annoyed elf replied.

"But it is a good chipped claw! You can make them into whine bottle openers and necklaces!"

The barkeep then pointed to a large can filled with wine bottle openers and necklaces made of chipped claws. The sign read: stuff made from chipped claws, 2 copper each.

"As you can see, the owner got the same idea a year ago and those have been sitting around ever since. They haven't sold and now he's forced to put them at clearance and get rid of them at a loss. You know what that means?"

She shook her head.

"It means that he loses money. And you know what that means?"

Her eyes were watering.

"No," she squeaked.

"It means I get paid less!"

"But…I can't even sell these at the auction house."

"There is a reason for that! Listen lady, read the sign!"

She then pointed to a very large, very yellow sign that had a very prominent message posted in five different languages:

WE DO NOT BUY YOUR JUNK! NO EXCEPTIONS!

"Oh," she said, feeling sheepish.

"Oh…" the barkeep mimicked mercilessly.

The woman, feeling deflated and stupid, found an empty booth and proceeded to mope.

"Good thing Skinflint isn't here to see this," she grumbled.

A high elf waitress with an attitude came around.

"Listen, the boss told me that we don't take poor loafers like you. Git!"

That is when Sol realized she was one of the very many poor adventurers that broke the glamorous adventurer facade. By the time she arrived in the Outlands, most of the work was taken and the loot and prizes were claimed by someone else. Also, poverty was due to not being enterprising enough to start with a profession that actually made her money, as he had with mining. Jewel crafting he did simply because he liked shinny, pretty things. He was an elf. He couldn't help it.

_I bet she's a herbalist/alchemist, _he thought.

The poorest of the poor… well, maybe engineers were worse off.

She was about to leave when Sol stopped her by doing something that surprised even him.

"She's with me," he declared in orc.

He put two gold coins on the table and then invited her to sit with him. She sighed and decided she had nothing else to lose.

"Two honey mead," he said.

"Whatever," the elf said before leaving.

The girl gave him a quizzical glance. He waved. She pouted and looked away. He told a joke, which she could not understand. Nienna laughed because, well, she was being polite. Sol laughed, because, well, he laughed at his own jokes. And they ran out of socially acceptable emotes. Hug, kiss, flirt, dance, and rude gesture were completely out of the question.

An uncomfortable silence descended upon them. It was passed with Nienna fiddling with her wand as Sol drummed his hands on the table.

When the bar maid finally arrived, Sol and Nienna where more than happy for the distraction.

He lifted his hand for a toast, which she repeated. He said something she did not understand, but she figured it was, "to life." It was actually, "I'm really bored."

She replied with something which she figured he didn't understand, but he did.

"I know I've sunk low when I'm accepting drinks from a damn, dirty elf."

"Thanks, you ungrateful brat," he replied.

And he took of his helm and nothing happened. The reason was very simple. Although it was true that she hated him like none other, the truth was she could not tell the difference between them. Sol's hair had grown to his shoulders by the time that they found themselves sitting at the bar. Even if he had run in to her before, she would have never recognized him.

Things got interesting, however, once the second glass of mead came around and Sol learned that she could not hold her liquor at all. After two days of traveling with the same ugly mugs he had been forced to see for the past three years, he found amusement in the drunken human. Since she was drunk and getting worse by the second, he decided to drop the act and talk. The more he talked, the more she talked. The more she talked, the more amused he became.

"So you spent the whole year looking for a guy in Nagrand?"

"Yeah…wut's wrong with that?"

"But the Outlands are so vast! Don't you think that's silly?"

"They reminded me of home, besides, there weren't many Blood Elves there. I figured that he'd stand out."

The woman glanced at him ruefully as she said this.

"Blood Elves?"

"Yes, there aren't any natural Blood Elf settlements there...right?... So I figured that finding him there would be easy. Especially since he had spiky black hair...hick.. There aren't many of those running around...I think."

"Can you even tell them apart?"

She was about to take another swig but the question made her freeze. Her hand stopped moving half way up to her face.

"No…"

Sol laughed heartily at this.

"Unbelievable. Well, I wish you luck on your quest to find this no-named Blood Elf of doom you can't even recognize."

"I hate him so much," she said ruefully.

"Why? Why do you hate this guy?"

The woman then began to recount a tale that sounded very familiar although he couldn't quite place it. Apparently, she was wandering around Winterspring with some of her friends when she ran into a particularly nice Blood Elf who flirted with her. She was young and naïve, and he was handsome and debonair. The story practically wrote itself! This was much too delicious to pass up, especially since he could see the end a mile away. He just wanted to get to the gory details.

"As I was laying in the snow close to death, the bastard leaned over me and said, 'I'll see you in the next life!"

_A genius and a poet. I like this guy,_ Sol thought.

The woman banged her fist on the table.

"I'll like to send him to the next life with my own hands."

_It would be fun to see you try,_ he thought.

"But that happens to everyone," he said out loud.

"I know, but what he did was especially cruel."

"He was just having some fun! By loitering around, waiting for you to get your revenge, you're only feeding his ego!"

"You think he doesn't remember me at all?"

"I can guarantee it! Besides do you even know his name? It's not as though you can actually talk to him."

Sol began to sip on his chalice.

"His name was Sol."

PFTTTTTTTTT!!!!

Warm, sticky brown liquid shot from Sol's prim mouth and clung to the girl's face and hair.

"Begin' yer pardon!" she exclaimed.

"Wait…wait….all this time you were looking for me?"

"What did you say?"

He laughed so loudly that some of the people around them were beginning to notice.

"Wait a minute…wait a minute…all this time you've been wasting your time in Nagrand, looking for me, when you could have been making money and doing something useful. You abandoned your friends and everything…all because you wanted revenge on me!"

Nienna sobered up immediately as she realized that the features in his face were beginning to look distinctive. In fact, if she just cut his hair and spiked it…

"And to top it off… you didn't even recognize me when I am here right in front of your face? You poured your heart out to me and everything…"

Sol's laughter was mocking and unrestrained. It sliced her pride.

"It is you! You basta…"

"Listen lady," he interrupted. "You need to stop with this nonsense. As much as my ego as been inflated by your little obsession you've got to realize that I've ganked hundreds of people! Do you think you're special? One of a kind? That I'd remember your face or even cared about you at all? You need to move on…and consider yourself lucky your friends were there to rez you."

"But why? Why did you do it?" she asked.

There was something very innocent that began to creep up in her eyes, which softened them. A hint of familiarity sprung from them, and for a second, he thought that maybe he had remembered her.

He leaned very close before replying.

"Because I hate every single one of you nasty little traitorous insects."

But Nienna was not the same she had been before and now that she had him at last, she was regaining her wits.

"So you wasted your time seducing innocent girls and ambushing them for the kill when you could have spent that time making money and completing quests."

Sol glared at her.

"And you have the gall to mock me for my single-minded revenge. How dare you stand on your high horse and blame the entire human race for whatever it was that grieves you! At least I left other blood elves alone…unless they attacked me first."

"And then?"

"And then I killed them without mercy, like I will do with you if you have the balls large enough to fight me one on one."

"Don't you think I'll bring my friends along with me?"

"And you call me a traitor…when it was you who betrayed my trust! Bring them along and take my life. Cement your status as a coward. Are you too afraid of a lone mage all by herself, and a woman at that?"

That stung.

"I can take you anytime, anywhere."

"Liar! If you could, you wouldn't hide behind your 'friend's' when making the kill."

Sol's green eyes became very cold.

"Is that a challenge?"

"What does it sound like to you? Do you think I am the same girl I was when you first met me?"

He shrugged with nonchalance.

"I wouldn't know. After all, I don't remember. But if you do think you can take me on one on one, than meet me at Tuurem village. It should be abandoned by now, don't you think?"

"When?"

"In six hours, when the night is deepest."

"I'll be waiting for you, coward. I bet you won't even show up for fear of your own shadow."

* * *

Because of the influx of adventurers converging in Shattrath, the sign at the inn that read NO VACANCY was unnecessary. Those who trickled by, anxious for an empty space turned away almost immediately. Nearly every inch of the ground was covered with resting bodies, with nothing more than blankets for cover and privacy, besides a curtain that clearly separated the "ladies" from the "gents."

Those packed within were wearing the same dirty, used, rough-for-wear armor they had owned for weeks, maybe even months and the results were offensive. The stench of dirty Orc, Human, Tauren, and Dwarf was nearly overwhelming. Had their noses not been conditioned by years of spending nights in filthy inns, weeks without changing clothes or proper toilets, they would have probably died from the stench. Still, this inn was by far the filthiest Sol had ever seen.

But as it was, Sol was already accustomed to his fetid fighting friends (to his amazement, the Undead did not stink), so he did not notice the stench as he shuffled his way in through the sleeping bodies and on to his reserved corner.

The incident she had related was beginning to awaken in his mind but the details were sketchy. So he picked up his journal and began flipping through it for a refresher. It was almost to the end of it, after four years, but he went back to the middle, around the time he was adventuring in the snowy Winterspring. It was lovely place. The bears were especially cute and snugly.

He came upon an entry, practical and succinct:

_Winterspring, day 1_

_A human named Nienna is staying with a group of Alliance at the inn. She will make interesting prey._

That was all he needed to refresh his memory.

He remembered her. She was obviously young, naïve and attracted to him. He could tell. Not only did she keep on glancing his way, but she was also so clumsy around him that no glass vial was safe. It was transparent enough that his friend, Lucillin, became visibly jealous. After he insisted he could not be interested in a detestable human, "that way," he began to do his best to gain that girl's trust and go for the kill. It wasn't too difficult, as he had a way with human women and she was unusually malleable.

_Winterspring, day 3_

_There is a loud dwarf named Skinflint who is wasting his breath warning her about me. As though she will listen! It's funny watching her argue with him. "But not all Horde are bad." I suppose I could say, "but not all humans are traitorous, racists, scum." Praise indeed._

His eyes darkened as he began to read over the next entries.

_Winterspring, day 6_

_She became unsettled when I surprised her by eating off her hand. She's practically slime between my fingers._

_Winterpsring, day 7_

Lucillin_ is getting impatient. Guntag is getting bored. We're probably leaving soon._

That was the day he revealed to her that he could speak her language (one of the few Blood Elves who could), and that he was afraid of the dark, making her his "ally." He and Lucillin began to plan their ambush.

_Winterspring, day 8_

_Gutang did not like the idea of attacking them without provocation. He said he would spare them if they shared a meal with him with honor. Lucillin foiled is plan by poisoning the meat. Of course they threw it away. Gutang began incensed and decided to join in the fun. Orcs and their blind adherence honor. What simpletons and fools!_

There was no entry the next day, and there did not have to be. That was the day they "left early," but waited in ambush for the Alliance group. To Guntag's disappointment, only the Mage showed up. But Gutang was not privy to their plan and thought that they were going to ambush all four members of the group. Neither Sol nor Lucillin had any intention of bothering the others.

As he began to consider his behavior, he could not help but feel a little uncomfortable. There was something he was not admitting to himself. The truth was he did not have to do certain things in order to kill her. He waited too long for the kill, as Lucillin noted, had spoken to her in common, had spared the other human in the group, and had even revealed a very real weakness that no one else knew. He had also written her name and other details he generally didn't bother with when writing about his kills in his journal. What exacly did he mean by, "she would make interesting prey?"

_Well, it was fun,_ he thought. _I was bored. Besides, it's not like I was interested in killing anyone else._

The others didn't interest him, as he actually held a grudging respect for Dwarves. Night Elves were beneath his contempt. But humans he hated with a passion. He had a "kill on sight" policy whenever he possibly could. They deserved to die - every last one of them –as far as he was concerned. And yet he spared their leader, and had even shared an item of food with her. And then came the most uncomfortable realization for the generally introspective adverse individual: he had not killed her. Although he left her for dead, there was every reason to believe that help was nearby. Had he wanted her to die, he would have lopped off her head, ensuring that no druid or paladin could resurrect her. Also, what was he thinking telling her that they would see each other in the next life? Did he want to turn that mundane tragedy into a memorable event?

It had worked, apparently, as now she was actively hunting him in the Outlands, guessing correctly that he would be there along with all the other grizzled adventurers with nothing left to conquer. It did feed his ego knowing that she was now the one actively pursuing him. Still, the fact was that he had gone soft with her. Her life was enough proof. It depressed him.

Sol sighed with exasperation at his own sentimentality.

_I must have been really bored, _Sol reflected.

The excuse rang hollow and he could not shake his own self-abasement. So he began to flip back through his journal, consoling himself with past times of mayhem and slaughter.

_Ungoro Crater, day 2_

_One human, one Night Elf, and one gnome were killed. I should start collecting scalps._

_Tanaris, day 11_

_I teamed up with a Forasaken Rogue and I killed off one human. His teammates rushed after hearing the commotion before being picked off one by one._

_Southshore_

_Guntag got bored so he decided to go to Southshore for some fun. Half the population was pulverized before we were chased off by 6 Alliance, killing of four out of the ten that came to stop us._

_Redridge Mountains, day 13_

Lucillin_ and I killed 5 humans. One of them begged for her life. I let her beg for a while before killing her off._

Sol laughed malevolently as he flipped through page after page of decimation and all sorts of other grizzly things. But he could not shake the inconvenient truth: he hadn't written anyone's name. All of his victims were nameless and devoid of any descriptive study. Also, he hadn't spent any time trying to befriend them or sharing with them his deepest darkest, no pun intended, secrets. But he continued on, reading about the past until one entry made him pause.

_Westfall, day 3_

_Strange girl. Peacebloom._

Come to think of it, he had not killed her, had he? Of course he had killed her! He always killed them. Sadly, the journal relentlessly jarred his memory, forcing him to come a very painful realization. Not only had he spared her, but he had also fed her, clothed her, allowed her to dry off, and even took the Peacebloom offering she left. He hadn't even the self-respect to sell it off at the Auction house for a few copper. No! The flowers were still pressed between the pages of his journal!

_What was I thinking? _He thought, horrified.

The answer came although he did not wish to hear it.

She was innocent. Unlike other humans, he knew that he could trust her because she trusted him implicitly. Her reaction to him was fear, but not suspicion or hostility. She did not assume he was a villain.

"Skinflint is always sayin' that I should never trust the Horde, but you're the nicest person I've met."

She had said that, hadn't she? She said nicest, "person." The Alliance was rumored to be rather snobby and harsh on those who were weaker than their counterparts. For her to say something like that…

Wait a minute! Skinflint! Wasn't that the name of the dwarf that had scolded Nienna in Winterspring? He flipped through his journal until he stopped at the pertinent entry.

It was! There was the Dwarf's name, staring at him. But his memory, now jolted, refused to let him go. And a third encounter with this mysterious name, early in his career as an adventurer, came to him and he flipped to entry to be sure.

_Elwynn Forest, day 4_

_Northishire Abby. Skinflint._

Those times in Elwynn Forest were the most tiresome. He hated being stuck in that human infested area more than anything, especially since he had explicit orders not to kill anyone. But yet the one person he had the opportunity to kill, a trusting girl with the thickest country accent he had ever heard, had been spared. Not only had he spared her, but he had lied to Lucillin, claiming he had killed her all the while leaving her very much alive.

Sol may have been wicked, snide, vain, lazy and contemptible, but he was not stupid. There couldn't be three different girls in Azeroth who were brown haired, blue eyed, about the right age, and knew the same dwarf by the name of Skinflint. A dwarf, who incidentally, liked to preach about the "evils o' the 'orde."

"Unbelievable!" He exclaimed. "I met the same girl three times and spared her life every time! Have I gone mad?"

A forsaken priest was roused from his sleep, rather unceremoniously, and glared at him with contempt.

"Shut up!" he yelled. "I'm trying to sleep and the last thing I want is to hear about your interest in some silly human woman."

"I have no interest in some silly human woman!"

"You're the one who met her 'three times and spared her life!' It practically writes itself! Stop being in denial and give us some peace and quiet!"

One of Guntag's heavy eyelids lifted, as the banter broke his coveted sleep. He was not amused.

"Sol, take it outside, or I will break you in half!"

His voice was a heavy rumble that carried with it empty threats of pain and suffering. Sol knew he would do nothing of the sort.

The last thing he wanted to admit was his fear of the dark, so he rose to his feet and left the building into the night, his mind heavy and troubled. It seemed that he had made a mistake, three times, and it made him soft. It was a mistake he was going to rectify and he was going to do it tonight.

* * *

**AN:** I want to make something clear: Nina/Nienna is not supposed to be likable. So if you think she's stupid and unlikable, that's what you're supposed to think. Still, I hope she is somewhat sympathetic. I want her to be a very flawed yet very endearing _human_.

Sol, on the other hand, was supposed to come off as a complete jerk at first and then slowly change into someone who had the potential to be halfway decent if life hadn't gotten in the way.

I hope I've done a good job.

The next update should be much sooner since this chapter and the next are actually one big chapter I split into two for stylistic purposes (no need to add a 10k word chapter in a story which is filled with 2 - 4k word chaps).

Thanks for reviews/favorites/and alerts!


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **I don't own Warcraft or anything.

**Chapter 5 - Delirium **

Lucillin watched with concerned as Sol entered the darkness, and into a place she could not follow. The Forsaken's claim stung her. Although she knew him from childhood, for some years she harbored the hope of something more. Could it be that he was blind to her, for the sake of a pathetic human female? No. It couldn't be.

She almost ran after him, but pride froze her in place.

* * *

Meanwhile, Nienna was in the Tuurem ruins, seated comfortably against one of the thick leather walls of the snug violet tents. A small fire kept her warm as the chill wind descended up on Terokkar Forest. Although she was hoping for company, she didn't exactly expect it. After all, no one in her group approved of her actions. Cyrus told her point blank that she was wasting her time. Denevell observed that revenge only leads to violence. Skinflint was concerned over her sanity. And Gearshift the gnome ignored her all together.

As she sat in the darkness, gazing at the dancing crimson flames, she concluded that if things didn't go as planned, she would die. Even with her change of specs, even with her fierce determination, she was going to die.. What could a mage do against a Paladin, of all classes? Even if he came by himself, she was not going to win.

A noise startled her from the wallow of self-pity and she looked up, just as the door of the tent was parting. In came Skinflint the dwarf, Cyrus the Human Warrior, who seemed suspiciously scrubbed and ironed, and a Voidwalker. There was a gnome somewhere around the Voidwalker, but he was hidden from view. She knew from experience that Denevell was outside, cloaked, and scouting for intruders.

"Skinflint!" Nienna exclaimed, reverting back to her more childlike state. "You came!"

She jumped up and gave the dwarf a large hug.

"There, there, lass. Ye should 'a called us sooner if ye wanted to 'ave us around ye know."

"We have arrived as you asked," Cyrus began. "I hope that you have every intention of following us to Northrend instead of loitering around here."

"Yes, but I have to do something before we go. Which is why I've asked you to come."

"I sense anger with your request," Cyrus noted. "Could it be that you have found your target?"

Nienna smiled wickedly."I ran into him today and goaded him to come. He should be arriving in a few hours. And I know just how to entrap him."

"Do you think he will really come alone?"

Nienna paused for a moment before answering.

"I hurt his manly pride and challenged him to a duel. But surely he will bring others."

"Well, we'll help ya if it means ye will git yer 'ead out o' yer arse and go wi' us ta Northrend!"

"Oh Skinflint!"

But Sol was not arriving with his team. At that very moment, rage, mostly directed at himself and his own weakness, had compelled him to dismiss his fear of the dark. He was mounted on an elegant white Warhorse, heading for the location of her camp at full speed. If it was a fight she wanted, it was a fight she would get. This time, he would make sure to kill her.

Outside, Denevell was keeping watch as the others held their meeting. Although cloaked, he was within listening distance and had heard every word.

Denevel's long eyebrows furrowed with concern. There was one item of conversation that they had missed, but its implications ran deep.

Whatever his thoughts on the matter, he kept them to himself as they took their places for the ambush, behind bushes, rocks, and up threes, waiting for their target to arrive. Such acts would be futile if they brought their hunter, he knew, and yet they had to try.

Skinflint knelt with his ear pressed to the ground, allowing the earth to communicate what his eyes to could not reach.

"There is someone comin' 'ere."

"Three?" Cyrus asked.

"Nope. Only one riding an 'orse. Comin' real fast. If it be 'orde, a Pally I'd wager."

"Sol!" Nienna cried with disdain. "Are you saying he's coming alone?"

"That's what I'm sayin'."  
"Are you sure!?"  
Skinflint glanced at her, looking genuinely insulted.

"Lass, 'ow many years do ya think I've been doin' this? If that is 'im that is. It could jest be a human wanderin' around."

"Sorry..."  
"Well, we'll prepare the ambush just in case. Gearshift, prepare the "Gift of Tongues." We don't want him casting judgments," Cyrus ordered.

"Right 'o!" The Gnome cried from a tree.

"Denevell, you hit him from behind."

Silence greeted the command.  
"Denevell?" Cyrus asked.  
"Yes, sir."

Cyrus pressed his hand gently on Nienna's shoulder and smiled.

"It took you long enough. And Nienna, we will allow you the final blow."

"Thanks...wait until he attacks or speaks before you begin."

He nodded and gave her shoulder one last squeeze before whispering that everything would be alright. She didn't have enough time to think of the implications of his actions. Instead, she sat by the stream and began to take off some of her armor. Skinflint decided humans were strange folk.

* * *

When Sol arrived at the small, now abandoned town that marked the crossing of two streams, he dismounted and hid behind the nearest tent. He didn't see any signs of ambush. Instead, he heard something he didn't expect: singing. A quick glance toward the stream revealed the source. It was Nienna. She was alone and in a very vulnerable position.

With his rage subsided, the realization that Nienna was very attractive began to sink in. She was wading, almost knee deep in the stream. Her thick brown hair was tied in a lose ponytail, which was slung over her shoulder carelessly. Purple robes, not of the highest quality, had been gathered and tied to her belt, exposing her legs nearly to the thigh. All of her weapons were gathered on the shore, along with her hat, cloak, pants, and boots. Indeed, the only weapon she carried was a small wand, tucked in her belt near the hem of her dress.

Although it was night, and the shadows were too deep for his comfort, she was lit perfectly by one of the planet's many moons.

It was at that moment that she glanced up, looked straight at him, and smiled.

_Wait. Wasn't this supposed to be a fight? _

Sol was suspicious. Didn't she want to kill him? Isn't that why she brought him here? His gloved hand reached for his sword to unsheathe it, but paused. There was something in her way that prevented him from starting an attack.

Her deep blue eyes pierced his own and held them as she slowly meandered in his direction. As he watched, mesmerized, he decided there was a reason he had spared her life. It was a reason he hadn't experienced in oh, fifty years or so. And why not? No one had any reason to know. She seemed happy to see him. What would be the harm? Both would be happy in the end, after all. He shrugged away caution and decided to try wooing instead.

"Ni..."

No sooner had he opened his mouth that four things happened at once. First, his speech became a muddle of curses and demonic grunts. Then a middle aged man, a warrior, charged, placing himself between the two and cast upon him such a blow that Sol became stunned and could not move.

The giant claws of a panther, raked his back so deeply tore tore flesh from his bone. Skinflint nearly cut Sol in half with the swing of his axe, and Sol felt all of his mana sucked away. No doubt a warlock was hidden in the shadows. He could not heal.

The last blow was dealt by Cyrus, who stabbed the near unconscious elf through the heart and Sol collapsed to his knees before landing face first on the ground.

The gnome, being a Warlock, enjoyed the carnage.

"Quick! Check his side packs!There should be some healing potions!"

Denevell gathered the packs with his great maw and pulled them from him while Sol mechanically grabbed at one of the pouches.

The exercise in futility was the last coherent order that flashed through his mind. He was dying. His vision was already blurred. His brain was pumping out so many endorphins, he could no longer feel pain. The ground beneath him began to pool red.

Denevell resumed his elven form and looked down at him with contempt. Cyrus and Skinflint used Sol's tunic to clean their blades as Gearshift watched callously from atop his Voidwalker.

"Well, don't you want the last blow?" Cyrus asked.

"I don't think he needs it," Nienna replied.

Cyrus shrugged. What was it to him? Although it was strange that for someone who was so long bent on revenge, she did not participate in the fight.

After the kill, and the body was robbed of its loot, a small argument erupted over what to do next.

Cyrus wanted to stay and kill the rest of his group, if and when they arrived. Skinflint wanted to leave. Denevell and Gearshift were equally divided. The Elf wanted to go back to Shattrath and rest for the trip to Northrend the next day, while Gearshift wanted to kill more people.

"I canno' believe I'm aggrein' wi' th' elf!"

"Cyrus, you must see reason. There is no motive to fight now that Nienna's target has been neutralized. It was a dishonorable fight..."

"Spindles and bricks! You liked killing him! I could tell! Why not take the others as well?" the gnome pipped up.

"Shet yer trap ya crazy gnome! We 'ave enough time wi' ye dancin' around all 'ver Shat and causin' all sorts a' trouble wi'out ye deprivin' me o' sleep as well!"

"Ah! Who needs sleep? I don't! "

"The reason I think we should take care of the rest is simply this: they will seek revenge. Wouldn't we seek revenge if Nienna was similarly dispatched?"

"She was an' ye didn'!"

Cyrus blushed.

"Well, she needed to be taught a lesson. She's older now and competent...and pretty...with a nice body..."

The last two items were muttered under his breath but the night elf heard them well enough. Denevell placed his palm against his forehead and sighed. How many centuries old was he again? He had lost count! Regardless, he was getting too old for these games.

Nienna did not pay attention to the banter. Instead, she kept her eyes on the body. Luckily, no one noticed her or the corpse. So any discoveries made, like Sol actually being alive, would go unregistered.

After Nienna's eyes widened slightly, she felt it necessary to participate.

"Let's go back. It's late and we should be prepared for the journey tomorrow. Besides, we don't have quarrel with _them._"

Cyrus, despite his previous protests, immediately conceded.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Inn, Lucillin was becoming concerned. It had been nearly an hour and he was still gone. This wasn't like him. Although he had never told her, she knew of his fear of the dark. It was something that someone like her, who had observed him for years, had noticed despite himself. His weakness, along with many of his imperfections, made him all the more endearing. And now he had gone off into the night, after thinking of a human woman, and not returned.

She stood and approached Guntag. The giant green Orc was slouched against the violet walls of the Draenei establishment. His head hung on his chest while and his hands were crossed, as he snored loudly. She poked him on the shoulder, hoping to wake him gently.

"Guntag."

He swatted at her hand, as though chasing away a bug.

"...Gub gub..."

"Guntag!"

He woke up and roared.

"What is it, elf woman!"

"Can you locate Sol anywhere? He left an hour ago."

The Orc sighed with exasperation as he closed his eyes and willed his mind to focus on humanoids. Many small dots suddenly appeared within his mind. Names hung about those spirits, vaguely shadowing their master. But Sol's spirit was nowhere to be sensed.

"He is not in the area."

"Then let's search the rest of the city! And if not, we have to go into the woods."

"He'll be back."

"How do you know! Maybe he's hurt or dying."

"Fine...up, GulbGlug. Time to hunt."

The huge animal whined as he sat up on his hind legs and stretched lazily. Meanwhile, Lucillin wondered why Sol was missing and no one seemed to care.

He kicked the poor Forsaken that had chided Sol only an hour ago.  
"You are coming with us, Priest!"  
The Undead pointed a shaky, bony finger at himself.

"Me? Why?"

"Yes, you! We may need your services."

"But I'm not..."  
Lucillin frowned as she hauled him out of the inn by the scruff of his neck.

"Shut up and come with us!"

* * *

The Alliance group were only a few minutes outside of Tuurem when the trip was abruptly stopped with Nienna's gasp.

"Wha' is it now?" Skinflint asked.

It took them long enough to decide to leave. He did not want something else to interrupt his way to bed.

"I forgot something! I need to go back!"

Cyrus sighed.

"I will go with you in case..."

"No need. Let me go alone. I will meet you in Shattrath shortly."

"Let's just let her go," Gearshift said. "I'm getting hungry."

"Fine, we will meet at the World's End."

"Of course."

She began to turn when Denevell gave her one parting command.

"Don't stay too long and always be on guard."

Nienna, gave him a swift glance and replied with a grin.

"Please. It's impossible to die twice."

She turned back and spurred her horse on, wanting to appear as nonchalant as possible while hurrying as quickly as she could. Sol's ganking had been savage and cruel. It left her with little of the satisfaction she thought it would bring. Instead, a gaping empty slot was in place where she thought peace would reside. There was something very unfair about the incident, something very bloodthirsty that she didn't like. After all, had he not spared her life? Even if he had mocked her, he left her with enough of a chance for life and rescue. Sol, on the other and, was left alone and she doubted he told anyone where he was going. He was much too proud for that. The window of resuscitation, for any class, was six minutes. After six minutes, a corpse could no longer be restored to life no matter how powerful a Priest, Paladin, Druid, or Shaman he may be. He was dead unless someone found him first. And if they would not, she would be a murderer, and could find no consolation even in the fact that given the chance, he would have done the same.

It was only when she noticed Sol's vital signs, faint though they were, that she regained hope. Lucky for him, neither Denevell or Skinflint were too interested in the healing arts. She, on the hand, was already considered a Master in first aid and healing potions. It was that inclination that allowed her to notice his slight gasp of breath that everyone else missed while arguing.

Nienna grasped her side. There, in her side pack, she carried bandages and healing potions. She prayed it wasn't too late.

* * *

Meanwhile, Guntag and his group began to search the lower level of Shattrath City, becoming increasingly concerned. Their last stop was the World's End. Lucillin approached the lady at the counter, a haughty High Elf. After a curt greeting, she asked if anyone of Sol's appearance had entered lately.

"Well, not anytime soon. A while ago... though..nah..."

"What?"

"I saw an elf talkin' with someone over there." She pointed to booth at the edge of the room. "They seemed to be havin' fun until he said somethin' and then they got into an argument and she left in a huff. But there is no way he could be him."

"And why would you say that?"

"Who ever heard of a Horde talking with an Alliance? That's crazy. I thought he was a high elf gone adventurin'."

Guntag and Lucillin glanced at each other with concern. If word got out that a Blood Elf could speak common, and that Blood Elf happened to be Sol, then he could be tried for treason and executed.

"You are right," Lucillin said. "There is no way that could be him."

But they both knew better. Although neither had known that he could speak common, it was not surprising. He was older, well traveled, and by far the most worldy-wise of their group. Still, why would he expose himself so blatantly?

They left the city, mounted, and headed straight for Shattrath's outer gates. The ones who knew him best could already guess what happened. She had challenged him and he left, foolishly, to kill her once and for all. But the Terokkar woods were large. If he were ganked, there was a chance that even with Guntag's tracking skills, they would not find him in time for the Priest to revive him.

Lucillin turned to the Undead priest and glared at him murderously.

"Not a word about what you have heard tonight, do you hear?"

"Oh no! I won't dare repeat it!"

"Good. Because I don't care if we are allies. A knife in the back is the last sensation you will feel if you betray us."

If the Undead's heart could still beat, it would have frozen in that instant. He merely nodded with acknowledgment.

Guntag was not amused.

"What is that fool thinking of now?"

* * *

When Nienna arrived, she jumped off her horse and rushed to his side. She checked his vitals and was satisfied. Although irregular and very shallow, a heartbeat was present.

_Why am I doing this?_

She removed a bottle from her side pack and uncorked it.

She flipped him over and placed his head against her knee. With a steady hand, she tipped the bottle, touching its edge with his lips. They were now bloody and ugly with gore.

Red liquid, which glowed even in the darkness, slowly poured into his mouth from the crystal flask. She closed his mouth, hoping that his swallowing instinct was intact. A moment later, his more serious wounds began to glow and the healing process began. The deep gashes against his lungs, heart and liver, the most serious wounds, closed.

He gasped, as though taking his first breath, but remained unconscious.

She gathered his now tattered cloak, bundled it up, and placed it on the ground. It would be his pillow. Although healed enough now that he would survive the night, he was still very weak. He had lost a great deal of blood. There was no question, however, that he would be found. The cloak she was wearing was removed. It would serve as his blanket, but she did not cover him yet. Instead, she patched up the rest of his wounds, the ones that the potion did not close, with bandage and cleaned off his face.

Before leaving she stroked back his hair gently, something she had wanted to do when they first met in Winterspring. It was so long now, it reminded her of the Blood Elf who had helped her those years ago in Westfall.

"I'm sorry about this. You betrayed me, ganked me, but left me alive. I guess now we're even."

She rose to leave.

"Nina."

His voice was quiet and distant, and yet the name, a name she hadn't heard in years, rang clear. Nienna froze in place, her hands shaking. She turned back and assailed the fallen elf. His eyes were closed. He was unconscious. Why had he spoken her name? It was a name she hadn't used in years. The only Blood elf...

His hair was black, rare for the kind, as the Blood Elf whose kindness had touched her those years ago. They couldn't be the same man! But she had never told him her childhood name. How could he have known?

Then her eyes widened in horror as a sudden realization began to sink in.

"No!"

She covered her mouth with her hands.

"It can't be! It can't!"

And yet she could not ignore how close they looked to each other, or how he knew her name. Could it be the reason that she had been drawn to him in the first place was because he reminded her of that man? But they all looked the same to her! Still, there was something unique in his manner that set him apart from other Blood Elves. Was it his arrogance? No, they were all arrogant. His vanity? No, they were all vain as well.

Nienna sighed as she gazed at his unconscious form, now blurred with tears. What did it matter? He was who he was. What a strange thing it was that the elf she hated and the elf she loved were the same one!

"I guess I misjudged you. You were neither a hero or a villain. What you are is a very selfish elf who does things when they are convenient to him. It wasn't convenient to kill me, so you did not."

From her herbal pouch she removed a bundle of Dreamfoil. It had taken months to gather, as they were rare and coveted. They still glowed, even after all that time, and she laid them at his side. Perhaps he remembered the peacebloom she offered and this will bring her to mind.

"I guess I will see you in the next life."

Again she rose to leave and began to walk away, but this time what stopped her was a tug on her hemline.

She glanced behind and saw the man she almost killed awake, smirking, and very much alive.

"Is there any reason we must wait that long?"

* * *

An hour later, Lucillin and her rag-tag group of annoyed Hordelings were still searching about Terokkar forest for their wayward elf.

He was not to be found at the Cenarion Thicket, the lake, the Barren Hills, or Razorthorn Ridge. They were about to head south for the very place Nienna had chosen when Guntag caught Sol's presence on the road, heading for Shat.

"I found him!"

"Where? How is he?"

"I don't know. My radar doesn't give me stats you know. Come on. Follow me. He isn't far."

Lucillin sighed as she spurred her horse to follow.

"Fine! Let's go meet him. It seems that we won't have any use for you, Priest! Now go away."  
But he did not go away, instead, the Undead began to follow the two others on his ghostly mount.

"For the last time, I am not a priest!"

"Oh? But you are wearing the raiments of a priest. Are you a mage?"

"No! I am a rogue."  
"I beg your pardon?"

"We Undead suffer a cruel fate. Once we are awoken, we are tied to the profession most resembling our clothes! Unfortunately, I was dressed like rogue so the guy by the crypt assigned me the Class! But I never wanted to be a rogue. Nay! I never wanted to be a fighter."

"What's he babbling about?" Guntag snarled.

The Forsaken must not have heard him, because he continued.

"You see, in life my name was His Highness Sir William Author Wolfgang Wagner III. I was a renowned scholar, spending every waking moment surrounded by books! Stamping them, shelving them, giving them out to little children..."

"It sounds more like a librarian," Lucillin quipped.

"But then the Scourge came...and I became infected and lost my senses. Now I am but a poor rogue, who can only dream of living a quiet life surrounded by books. So I wear the robes of a Priest since it is closest to my heart!"

"But every time someone needs a heal, they drag you along," Guntag observed.

"Why yes, there is that. That's always been a nuisance, especially since they get angry at me after I tell them my true class."

"Gee I wonder why!" Lucillin yelled.

She was startled when someone laughed behind her.

"I think he's funny. We should keep him."

She turned to the voice. It was Sol, who seemed unusually chipper.

"What? When did we catch up to him?"  
"Somewhere around that Forsaken clown was giving us his human name," Guntag replied. "Now, I hope you had fun, Sol! Lucillin had us looking all over for you. It was a pain my green posterior!"  
"Why Guntag! I thought you were an Orc. Why say posterior when you can spend fewer brain cells simply saying 'butt?'"

Guntag glared at the arrogant elf.

"One of these days, Sol. One of these days!...wham...bam...I'll bash you on the head and feed you to the trolls!"

The lighthearted threat was met with a light, honest laughter, another indication to Lucillin that something was amiss.

"Sol! Where have you been?" she yelled.

"Around."  
"And why is your armor torn to shreds?"

"I got in to a scuffle."

Lucillin was horrified. This was much nonchalant, even for him.

"Your armor is shredded, covered with blood, and half missing and all you can say is that you got into a _scuffle!_"

"I'll just fix it later," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"But..."

Then completely ignored her and turned to the talking skeleton instead.

"Anyway, what's your Forsaken name?"

"Oh, I don't have one! I decided to keep my last ties to the world of scholarship by using my name, which is His Highness Sir William..."

"Bill it is," Guntag grunted.  
"Bill? Well, I don't mind that. Short, sweet, and it sounds much better than what they usually call me."

"What's that?" Sol asked.

"Shut up."  
"I can't imagine why," Lucillin whined.

A few minutes later, which were spent in merciful silence, Lucillin noticed that Sol slowed his pace and hung back until he was the lingering in the rear. Curious, she turned and found he had stopped and was now looking behind them.

"What are you looking at?" She asked.

"Oh. Nothing...I..."  
"He must have noticed the Alliance traveling along this road, twenty yards back" Guntag interrupted.

"Is it an ambush, Guntag?"

"No, it's only one person so there is no danger."  
"Let's kill it then!" Lucillin exclaimed.

"We're tired," Guntag replied.

"Is there anyone else?" Sol asked.

"No, she is the only one traveling in this vicinity, Alliance...or Horde."

Was it her imagination? It seemed the news relived him.

Bill gave Sol a knowing glance, but said nothing. Then her hear heart sank as a tinny smile tapered the corner of the elf's lips. That is when she realized what everyone in the group, including Guntag's mangy wolf, had known the entire time. Guntag had protected him and humored her with the "search." After all, he watched Sol storm off into the night but had not shared her worry. He knew where he was going and why, even if Sol did not realize it at the time.

Lucillin felt very foolish. Shattered pride hurts more than any broken heart, and at that moment, she was assailed with both feelings. Being rejected is one thing, but that he chose a mere human over her cut deeply. But she would not display her mortification.

"You're right, Guntag. We have a long way to go tomorrow. I am a little tired myself."

She was a Blood Elf, born and raised. Blood Elf women were not weak, they did not show their emotions, and neither would she.

* * *

Nienna and her group made it to Northrend. No one questioned why she arrived at the World's End much later than expected, and why some valuable bandages and healing potions were suddenly missing from their inventory. Sure, Cyrus acted coldly to her and Skinflint sometimes called her a "foolish lass," but that was how they always behaved so she didn't take the hint.

Denevell noticed something the others did not, however. As she traveled, she seemed glued to the horizon. If ever they encountered a male blood elf, her eyes would become lit with hope for a brief moment before dulling with telling disappointment.

Three months after their arrival, they found themselves helping the unfortunate gnomes at Fizkrank Airstrip. Since the beds at the inn were much too small for them to use, they opted to make a small encampment at the outskirts, near the airstrip. Everyone, that is, except for Gearshift. Gearshift decided he would spend his time in the Inn because of a certain cute Gnome who lived for spare parts. Not that anyone minded. A little of gnome goes a long way.

Cyrus, Denvell, and Skinflint were at the campfire. Two tents, one for Nienna and their things and the other was for them, were recently put up behind them. Their mounts were tied to wooden stakes between the two tents. Borean Muskrat on-a-stick was the menu.

The wind howled and roared, muffling the sounds of progress and wayward robots that came from the gnome encampment. The sun was at its last waning moments, and the three men were discussing the allocation of missions and loot.

"Why isn't Nienna here?" Denvell asked.

"She's sulking in her tent, as usual," Cyrus replied. "She hasn't eaten all day, too. Nienna! Get out here, now!"

"I'm tired!"

Skinflint sighed.

"Now lass, we're all tired. But we won't give ya anythin' if ye don't participate!"

"What about Gearshift?"

"Wha' about 'im?"

They heard her sigh from within and then the door of her tent opened, revealing a woman who clearly looked upset. Even Cyrus could tell she had been crying.

"Just split it even four ways. Why do you guys make everything so complicated?"

No one replied as they shifted awkwardly, unable to respond properly to her feelings.

"Well, it's all about allocating loot to whomever would use it best," Denevell explained.

"Then why did you need me for? Whatever, I'm going to take a walk!"

The three watched helplessly as she left in a huff.

"She's still sulking over that elf vermin," Cyrus observed with derision.

"She's got much ta learn, she does."

Denevell rose to his feet and morphed into a cat.

"That may be correct, but she should be watched, in case she runs into trouble."  
"Stealth and follow. Make sure nothing happens," Cyrus commanded in his own curt way.

The cat disappeared.

Denevell found her sitting on a mound, crying. She was not too far from everyone but in danger of being killed by any passing wild life or horde without their ability to help. Did she have a shred of self-preservation left?

"He lied! That bastard! He lied. He used me. That bastard..."

Her cries were so anguished that he did not have the heart to materialize. Instead he approached slowly, invisible though he was, and sat as close as he could without giving away his presence. The warmth of his body began to comfort her and her sobs became less desperate.

He would have remained silent, cloaked in shadow, had not a particular smell alerted him to a nearby presence. It was a presence that didn't seem hostile although it was not exactly friendly.

"It will take a while," he heard himself say. "But soon enough, time will heal your wounds and you will become whole once again."

She turned to him, her face filled with embarrassment and shock.

"Denevell! I...."  
"Do not be embarrassed child. Your heart is broken, so crying is warranted."  
"Then, you don't think I'm weak?"  
"There is nothing weak about feelings."

"But he tricked me! He said he would find me and we would build a home here."

"Oh?"  
"He said that Northrend is large. He said that we could make a home without worrying about the world judging us. He said he would come for me before two months passed!"

"And what else?"

"And that...and that he lo..."

She burst into another set of tears.

Denevell sighed.

"But this is for the best. Even if he came, like a white knight, to rescue you and help you find the home that you long for so dearly, do you really think it would work?"

"I had hoped."  
"Hope does not change the fact that you will grow old while he remained young. Do you think it will not matter to you? To him?"

The words were harsh, but the fact that it was a cute, furry, purple cat saying them, soften the blow.

"I had hoped."

She repeated the phrase, as though it were a mantra.

"And what of your children? Where would they go? Even if you found a home with him, where would they belong? They would be forced to wander from place to place, unable to find friends within elves or humans. Being both, they would be accepted by neither. They would have nowhere to call their own."

"I had hoped..."  
Fresh tears fell slowly. The word "hope" sounded so hollow.

"You hoped, but it was not to be. Even knowing that, it still hurts, doesn't it..."  
She nodded silently and broke down.

"It does! It hurts so much..."  
She hugged the purple cat and he placed a giant paw on her shoulder.

"I was so stupid!" she whispered between sobs.

"That is what youth is for: being stupid. At least you are not with child. That would have complicated things."

She released him suddenly, her eyes wide.

"How..."

One of the cat's eyebrows rose with mild amusement.

_As if I wouldn't know_, he seem to say.

"Well, we should go back," she stammered. "After all...I am a part of this team...even if Cyrus doesn't like it."

"Trust me, Cyrus likes it very much."

"But he's always mean to me!"

"You still have much to learn, child."

They rose and headed to the camp. Denevell, still in his cat form, began to follow.

"One more thing."

"Yes?"

"You will cry again. You will cry many times, but eventually time will heal even these scars, as it has healed the scars of your past. Your lives are so short, fate allows you to forget. No matter what the pain, keep that in mind. It will give you comfort and strength. To forget: it is a luxury that..."

"What?"

"Never mind. Come, let us go to. They will become concerned."

"If you say so."

"Will I say you were looking for herbs?"

He gave her wink.  
She smiled as she resumed her pace.  
"Yes, that's exactly what I was doing."

Before following, the cat turned to the strange presence and nodded.

"Denvell, I find your tiresome lectures much more tolerable as a cat! Maybe you should just stay that way," Nienna remarked.

She had not noticed the acknowledgment.

"Human foundling! Do you have any idea now many centuries have passed since my birth!" the cat growled.

Her laughter traveled through the tundra, which had been filled with her choked sobs only moments before.

The presence, conveniently hidden behind an obliging rock, was a blood elf, black haired and dressed in the plain uniform of Northrend. His eyes were glued on her as she left with a smile, instead of the tears he had seen her release only moments ago.

Whatever his thoughts on the matter were lost in his silence, as the sun's last golden rays faded and the sky became dressed in twilight. He lingered for a few moments, watching as she approached the inviting firelight, before he mounted, turned, and rode off into the encroaching darkness.

"To forget: that is a luxury we elves are not given," he whispered.

* * *

**AN: **

Well, I'm sorry I lied about this chapter being finished and how it would be posted "soon." I didn't mean to lie. The fact is that I didn't like the ending prepared so I rewrote this chapter three times. In fact, the ending has been rewritten many, many times since the original outline.

At any rate, the story is now at an end. I hope you guys liked it.

If anyone thought the ganking of Sol was too easy for them, I may add that he was completely caught off guard and unable to cast spells, making the defensive bubble and other things impossible for him to do. Also, in a more realistic setting, battles don't take a minute or so, but are very quick and people don't have a health meeter. This means that being raked once by a giant cat, being stabbed in the heart, and having someone almost axe you in two will do you in regardless of your stats, your armor, or anything else for that matter.

The very fact that he lived enough to be healed is unrealistic enough.

Also, Lucillin had known Sol since _her _childhood. He was already fully grown when they met. One could think of them as being several hundred years apart. I read that part and thought it a bit confusing. Also, the part at the end was confusing so I tried to change it. Denevell acknowledged the BE before leaving, but did not tell Nienna that he was there.

Thanks for reading, favoring, and your notes. All criticisms are welcome, even the negative ones. XD


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Warcraft, Humor, Romance