The Keep

Something was stirring in the human lands. Though the three had stopped running, they never stopped moving after their close call, always moving north. The trolls were north, Kali reasoned, and they might be able to lend them some aid in exchange for their own. They were far less venturous with their thievery, but their food and means of living were scarce. Grot, though taller and more noticeable, still moved quietly, able to slip in an out of the small human towns if he stuck to the outskirts, taking only the most vital things, trying to make sure not to leave a trail or, hopefully, even be noticed.

They were armed with a ragged map and compass, trying to follow their intuitions about where to best find these trolls. For months they journeyed before feeling the stir in the air. There was something there that they were not used to smelling in human lands – fear. None of them could understand any more than a few words of common, but the smell spoke to them strongly.

It wasn’t until weeks later they found out what was causing the stir. The orcs were freeing themselves. They could see the green flesh moving through the forests, far in the distance, but fear kept them at bay. The land around them was getting greener, fresher, the soil richer, the animals more plentiful, and with it came new hope.

~~

Kali, Grot and Lae sat together around a large bonfire, shared with them by other older orcs who all stared at them judgmentally, their red eyes dulled but with the same penetrating stare as they listened to their tale from the words of Grot.

“We had to leave,” he was saying, “so as to protect Lae here, to protect the future of our race.” He smiled proudly at the two of them, unflinching at the cold gazes of the Blackrock Clan. “And Kali, she wanted to go fight when she heard about Blackrock, but we were starved by then and didn’t know where to meet the orcs or even if we’d be welcomed. Then we heard about the camps, and were almost captured ourselves! So we kept moving, looking for the trolls, and heard that the orcs were being freed!” He smiled as he spoke, speaking excitedly, only touching on the most important points of his story.

They slowly nodded, one of the orcs at the side speaking in a low, gruff voice. “You heard right. The orcs are being freed, from both internal and external prisons. We have Thrall to thank for that.”

Kali looked up at him, confused, tilting her head to the side, “whossat?”

~~

The news of the death of Doomhammer hit Kali hard. She had just found out that the man she idolized had lived for all these years, and before she even got to see him raise his hammer in triumph once more, he had fallen, the young Thrall stepping into his place. She grieved deeply with Grot and Lae on either side of her, both having heard the love and admiration in her voice as she spoke of the orc that freed their people. Now, however, they had a new orc to once again free them, this time in a more literal way, and this time Kali was dedicated to helping. She was older, and though she was weak with hunger, she was stronger, harder, and able to be of great use to this new Horde, led under the mighty Thrall.

She listened in awe as the others told her of Thrall’s ability to once again call upon the elements. As children, Grot and she had only heard the quiet whispers of such things, as it had quickly been deemed treacherous to prefer the shamanistic means over the fel.

“Drek’thar taught him, I heard,” one orc named Rakshak spoke, his voice low. They sat around a small bonfire once more, the three of them old enough now to speak with the adults long after night had fallen. The air was sweet and warm in Arathi Highlands, still a buzz of excitement and happiness in the air. It was only a few weeks ago that Thrall had freed those in Durnehold, calling for peace between the humans. Though there had been very little fighting, Kali could sense from the other orc’s voices that they weren’t pleased with the idea and knew war would not soon be leaving the orc’s lives.

Kali raised her eyebrows slightly, looking to Grot, then back at Rakshak. “Drek’thar?”

He nodded gruffly, looking around the fire at the half a dozen sitting there, leaning in close and lowering his voice even more. “They say that he always regretted believing Gul’dan, and when Durotan died, I guess he must have started looking for another way.”

Kali leaned in closer, lowering her voice as well. “Durotan died? When?”

He shrugged his heavy shoulders, pulling back slightly and narrowing her eyes at her. “I didn’t bother asking.”

She nodded politely, not pushing the point. She squeezed Grot’s hand a little, exchanging a look with him. They weren’t children any more, long past the age that they could have been naturally fighting; they were adults in every right. Over the years their friendship had deepened and they held an important bond, able to read one another’s looks easily. He nodded to her, turning the corner of his lips up in a small, gentle smile, revealing his tusks.

She smiled back, her blue eyes flickering in the fire. Lae looked up at the both of them, leaning against Kali’s side. Kali grinned down at her, resting her arm over her shoulder and hugging her tight. The three men across from them spoke long into the night of fabulous tales of bravery in the last few months, though they rarely spoke of the last ten years. They could only assume that their prisons were worse than being alone in the strange wilderness, and the guilt they felt at their inability to fight back wouldn’t make things better.

The three curled up, smiling happily as they listened to the stories, falling into eventful dreams.