Chapter 1: Orphan of War

Author's Note: Hello, this is my first fanfiction. I've been looking for a way to practice my writing skills. I appreciate constructive criticism and advice

A young troll rogue wandered through the dusky forest of Ashenvale. His coarse black hair was kept in a thick braid which rested on his shoulders. His dark eyes spoke of a bitter contempt for the events taking place around him. Garrosh (just thinking the name sickened the troll) had just wrested the area from the resident night elves. The rogue knew that such a flagrant act of aggression would inflame the Alliance more than ever, and that this rapid consumption of resources would not be necessary unless one was making plans for war. This seemed an all too likely prediction, judging by the mounds of Night Elf bodies scattered through the woods. Just as he was shaking his head at the thought, the troll heard a small, strange noise.

The sound was unidentifiable at first. It was a small, musical gurgle, more beautiful than birdsong. Its beauty is what stood out in the middle of this rampant destruction. The moment the troll identified the noise, a cold, dreading feeling spread through his chest as he prayed to the Loa that he was mistaken. He walked toward the direction of the sound, and saw a Night Elf woman in simple dress lying broken and lifeless on the ground. Her fate was clearly the work of the Kor'Kron, as few else were near who could've enacted such brutality on another living creature. The troll then turned his head to the source of the sound. There were two small ferns at the base of a large tree, which the rogue approached. His trembling, three fingered hands parted the fronds to reveal, hidden there, an infant with glowing white eyes, and dark blue hair just starting to grow on its head. There was a small note tucked into the basket where the baby was nestled, and the rogue was suddenly grateful for his language lessons.

To the one finds this note,

The Horde aggression in Ashenvale has increased of late. I have decided to take my daughter, Ladoreith, and leave the area. If you are reading this, it means I didn't make it. I am the only family my little girl has left, and I will not have her in an orphanage. If my daughter still lives, please, keep her safe.

The troll knew that the decision he made at this moment would change his life forever. On the one hand, he was holding a child of an enemy race, and could be charged with treason for aiding her. However, Ladoreith was just that, a child. So, the rogue decided not to consider what the "Warchief" would tell him to do, but what Vol'jin would tell him to do. So the troll removed his cloak, and gently wrapping the baby in it, whispered, "Hello, Ladoreith. My name is Halkek, and we are going to find a place where you can be safe".

And so began the journey of an unlikely father for an orphan of war.