"So is Garrosh."
Thrall suddenly chuckled. "Those two are more alike than they know."
"Well, their hotheaded similarities may end up getting more people killed, far too soon after Northrend."
'You know I do not wish war," Thrall said. "I led my people here to avoid senseless conflict. But truth be told, from what you have said, it does not sound like Varian is inclined to listen to me anyway. He would not believe me even if I did publicly denounce the attack. Would he?"
She did not answer, her brow furrowing deeper in her unhappiness. "I… I would encourage him to."
Thrall smiled sadly and gently dropped a huge hand on her narrow shoulder. "I will condemn the breaking of the Horde's word… but nothing more." He looked around at the dismal swamp environment in which they stood.
"Durotar was the place I chose to give my people a fresh start. Medivh told me to bring them here, and I chose to listen to him, though I knew nothing of this place. When we arrived, I saw it to be a harsh land, not verdant like the Eastern Kingdoms. Even places with water, such as this, are difficult in which to dwell. I chose to remain here despite that, to give my people a chance to pit their spirits against the land. Their spirits are still mighty, but the land…" He shook his head. "I think Durotar has given all it can. I must tend to it, to my people."
Jaina's eyes searched his. She brought her hand up to brush a lock of golden hair out of her eyes, a girlish gesture, but her expression and words were those of a leader. "I understand that the Horde works differently than the Alliance, Thrall, but — if you can find a way to do what I urge you to, you will find a path open to you that would otherwise not be."
"There are many paths open to us at all times, Jaina," Thrall said. "As leaders of those who trust us, we owe it to them to examine every one."
She extended her hands to him, and he clasped them gently. "Then I shall just have to hope that the Light guides you, Thrall."
"And I hope your ancestors watch over and protect you and yours, Jaina Proudmoore."
She smiled up at him warmly, as another fair - haired human girl had in the not - so - distant past, then Jaina returned to her small boat. Still, Thrall thought as he gave the dinghy a good shove, he saw a little furrow in her forehead that told him she was still troubled.
So was he.
He folded his arms and watched the water take her back toward her home. Eitrigg came quietly down to join his warchief.
"It is a pity," Eitrigg said, apropos of apparently nothing.
"What is?" asked Thrall.
"That she is not an ore," Eitrigg said. "Strong and smart and greathearted. A leader all on her own. She would bear strong sons and brave daughters. A fine mate she could make someone someday, if she so chose. A pity she is not an ore, and so cannot be yours."
Thrall couldn't help it. He threw back his head and laughed loudly, startling some crows resting in a nearby tree into cawing angrily and flapping away in a flurry of black wings to a quieter perch.
"We are coming off wars with the Lich King and nightmares themselves," Thrall said. "Our people are starving, thirsting, and reverting to barbarism. The king of Stormwind thinks me a brute, and the elements turn deaf ears to my pleas for understanding. And you speak of mates and children?"
The old orc was completely unruffled. "What better time? Thrall, everything is unsettled now. Including your place as warchief of the Horde. You have no mate, no child, no one to carry on your blood if you were suddenly to join the ancestors. You have not even seemed interested in such a thing."
Thrall growled, "I have had more on my mind than dalliances and getting a mate with child," he said.
"As I say… those reasons are precisely why that is so important. Too — there is a comfort and a clarity to be found in the arms of one's true mate that can be found nowhere else. The heart never soars as high as when listening to the laughter of one's children. These are things you have put aside for perhaps too long — things that I have known, though they were taken from me. I would not trade that knowing for anything else in this or any other life."
"I need no lecture," Thrall grumbled.
Eitrigg shrugged. "Perhaps that is true. Perhaps it is you who needs to speak, not I. Thrall, you are troubled. I am old, and I have learned much. And one of those things I have learned is how to listen."
He slogged into the water, his wolf following. Thrall stood for a moment, then followed. When they reached the shore, both orcs swung onto the backs of their wolf mounts and said nothing more. They rode in silence for a while, and Thrall collected his thoughts.
There was something he had not shared with anyone, not even Eitrigg. He might have shared it with Drek’Thar, had that shaman still been in possession of his faculties. As it was, though, Thrall had kept it to himself, a cold knot of a fearful secret. Inwardly, he was at war with himself.
At last, after they had ridden for some time, he spoke. 'You may understand after all, Eitrigg. You, too, have had interaction with humans that has been more than slaughter. I straddle two worlds. I was raised by humans, but born an ore, and I have gleaned strength from both. I know both. That knowledge was power, once. I can say without boasting that it made me a unique leader, with unique skills, able to work with two sides at a time when unity had been utterly vital to the survival of all of Azeroth.
"My heritage served me, and through my leadership, the Horde, very well then. But… I cannot help but wonder… does it still serve them now?"
Eitrigg kept his eyes on the road before him and merely grunted, indicating that Thrall should continue.
"I want to care for my people, provide for them, keep them safe so that they can turn their attention to their families and rituals." Thrall smiled a little. "To finding mates and getting children. To the things all thinking beings have a right to. To not have to constantly see their parents or children going off to war and never returning. And those who still spoil for battle do not see what I do — the Horde population now consists largely of children and elders. A whole generation almost entirely lost."
He sensed the weariness in his voice, and Eitrigg obviously did, too, for he said, 'You sound… soul sick, my friend. It is not like you to so doubt yourself, or to fall so far into despair."
Thrall sighed. "It seems most of my thoughts are dark these days. The betrayal in Northrend — Jaina cannot imagine how stunned, how shocked I was. It took all my skill to keep the Horde from splintering afterward. These new fighters — they have cut their warrior's tusks on slaughtering undead, and that is a very different thing from attacking a living, breathing foe, who has family and friends, who laughs and cries. It is easy for them to become inured to violence, and harder for me to temper them with arguments that call for understanding and perhaps even compassion."
Eitrigg nodded. "I once walked away from the Horde because I grew sickened by their love of violence. I see what you see, Thrall, and I, too, worry that history will repeat itself."
They had emerged from the shadows of the swamplands and onto the road heading north. Heat from the baking sun seared them. Thrall glanced around at the place so aptly named the Barrens. It was drier than ever, browner than ever, and he saw few signs of life. The oases, the salvation of the Barrens, had begun drying up as mysteriously as they had appeared.
"I cannot recall the last time I felt rain on my face in Durotar," Thrall said. "The silence of the elements at this time when something is clearly so very wrong…" He shook his head. "I remember the awe and joy with which Drek’Thar pronounced me a shaman. And yet, I hear nothing."
"Perhaps their voices are being drowned out by these others you are listening to," Eitrigg offered. "Sometimes, in order to solve many problems, you must focus on only one for a time."