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And here we arrive at the great plot chasm.

The below has been edited out of the final, but is the link to my unedited parts. Here Whitemoon and Shia have not had their spat about the camp, and remain friendly. Instead the conflict comes from Faldreas.

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The two Elves spent the rest of the morning talking. Shia told Whitemoon about his nightmares, and the upsetting sleep he had been suffering from since they had begun. Whitemoon pushed more stew onto him and asked him about his friends in the Retribution. They reminisced about when they had met, what had passed since then, and speculated about the future. As the sun began to settle on its apex, Shia found himself full of stew and unconcerned with the possibility of a sudden attack from invisible forces.

When the two stepped out of Whitemoon's cottage the townsfolk were up and about. They looked up at Shia as he appeared, bowed curtly, and turned to their business. Some turned pointedly away from him. Well, Shia thought to himself, Faldreas' gang wasn't there to stir up trouble. He had gotten out of it easy.

For the next week Shia felt his mood improving dramatically. The other two Druids in the area kept to themselves. He rarely saw them. He spent his time with Rimar's party, training and fooling around. Loren would accompany him on patrols now, and he found he could concentrate much better knowing there was someone at his back. He introduced them to Whitemoon as well, and more importantly too Whitemoon’s cooking. It was a bit of an effort to cram all five of them into his friend's little cottage, but somehow they managed, and Whitemoon spent the entire night growing flustered at the Dwarves’ jives and throwing glances Shia's way for help. Shia insisted that the only cure for a Dwarf's blabbering was ale, which Rolger and Rimar had the foresight to have packed. They managed to get Whitemoon smashed, and the older Elf ended up spending the light passed out next to Relara in bed as the rest of the group played drinking games.

The next morning everyone was snoring soundly as Shia slipped outside to relieve himself. He was walking down the path to pick up his own things and grab a remedy for the hangover he knew Whitemoon was bound to have when he ran into young Faldreas coming in the opposite direction. In his hands were a bundle of blades, and across his shoulders hung five bows.

"Good morning brother," Shia said, bowing.

Faldreas narrowed his eyes at the Druid. "Morning brother. Where are those Dwarf friends of yours?"

"Still sleeping."

"That figures."

"Are those for the Sentinels?" Shiawase asked, gesturing to the weapons in Faldreas hands.

"Yes, now if you'd excuse me." The Elf's shoulder collided with Shia's own as he walked briskly by. Shiawase shook his head and continued on.

Back at the cottage, Whitemoon had woken up, and sure enough he was nursing his head in his hands and groaning. "Good morning sunshine." Shiawase jibbed as he fixed up his anti hangover herbs.

"Drinking that cursed dwarves’ poison was the worst idea of my life."

Shiawase laughed. "It makes you a stronger person."

"If it doesn't kill you first."

Shiawase pushed a hot mug of his antidote under Whitemoon's nose. The older Elf gagged and turned his head away. "What the blazes is that?"

"I doesn't go down all that smoothly, but if you can finish all of it that headache of yours will go away."

"Trading one poison for another am I?"

Shiawase shrugged. "Your choice. And do you know if the Sentinels are having issues with getting equipment?"

"Not that I know of. Why?"

"I saw Faldreas walking down the road with a bunch of weaponry. It's not safe to have a villager going out to get supplies. We have more than e-"

"WHAT?" Whitemoon tried to shoot to his feet and ended up toppling over Shiawase, who managed to get his mug out of the way just in time to prevent it from burning them both with foul smelling medicine. The other people in the house stirred awake at the outburst. "Damnit, that idiot's going to get himself killed."

"What are you talking about brother?"

"Go find him Shia. Faldreas still has it in his mind to throw himself against the Horde, and he has a bunch of townsfolk dumb enough to follow him. They're up to something, without a doubt."

Shiawase's chest tightened. He thought back to time he had watched the furblogs throw themselves upon the Horde defenses only to be cut down with less resistance than the trees the Orc's were butchering. And the camp had bolstered its defenses since then. Faldreas wouldn't be able to make it to within sight of the camp before he was slaughtered.

"Wake everyone up. Tell Loren to track me down as soon as possible. I'll try to stop them."

Without waiting for a response from his friend, Shiawase had morphed into his panther form and was dashing out of the town.

Faldreas' field of operations, if it could be called that, was a small grove on the edge of was could still be considered Alliance territory, only a stone's throw away from Warsong Gulch. Shiawase came upon it as Faldreas and his little militia of eighteen young villagers where strapping on their armor and giving their swords a few tentative test swings. This is going to be a nightmare, Shiawase told himself. But he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped into the clearing.

At his appearance the Elves closest to him jumped into what Shia assumed to be a defensive stance, with legs spread apart and broadswords wavering in-between him and them. When they realized who it was who had crept up on them they snorted and let their swords drop into the ground. The blades followed their own gravity and dug into the dirt by an inch.

"What are you doing here brother?" Faldreas pushed his way in front of his two comrades and faced Shiawase squarely, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

Shiawase swallowed. "I'm here to stop you from doing something ridiculous."

Faldreas laughed, and the group laughed with him. "And what would that be?"

"Throwing yourself against real warriors in your tin getups there."

Faldreas tapped his sword on his shoulder plate. Unlike the other Elves, there was a hint of training in his motions. Shia felt his muscles tense in preparation for a fight. "And how do you plan to do that."

"By any means necessary."

"Oh excellent, we have another avatar of the trees do we?" Faldreas twisted his face in to a mock impression of Stormrage, complete with furrowed brow and humorless scowl. "A tulip is more important than you boy. Watch me toss all you whippersnappers around all impressively, but stay away from the Orcs, their axes send me running with my tail between my legs.

"Well Stormrage flew off to take care of his precious balance, and we're stuck with the consequences of his indecisiveness. Those Orcs don't give a damn about your 'tenuous peace'. When they run out of trees on their side they're just going to step over the line to ours, and you'll back up to accommodate them. Well that's fine for you, who can just run off to who knows where and cavort around with the mortal races, but this is our -home-. And we're going to -defend- it."

Shiawase grit his teeth. The small war party had lined up in front of him, and it seemed to him that they were eager to warm up for their big fight on a hapless Druid.

"I'm not Stormrage." he said.

"Is that all you can say? 'I'm not Stormrage'?" Faldreas spat on the ground. "You're right. You're not Stormrage. As cowardly as he is, at least he has the nerve to throw people weaker than him around. You couldn't swat a fly without hemming and hawing about it." Faldreas nodded and smiled. "I bet you knew that Horde party was coming for Astranaar. That's why you hightailed it out of here and came back just in time to snatch some glory.”

"I would never-"

"Then prove it. Help us bring the lumber camp down. You're a great big Druid. You can do it, can't you?"

"No, there's no way I could do it alone. And you won't be able to do it either. You'll be cut down before you can put a single dent in their operation."

"I don't care!" Faldreas swung his blade in front of him. "I don't care! Understand this Druid, some of us don't have the leisure to preach about the great balance. For us we either die waiting or we take our lives in our hands and -do- something. If your Dream-warped beliefs about how this world works are that strong, than stop us like Stormrage did. If you can't do that, then get out of our way."

The line advanced. Shiawase took a step back. "I don't want to fight you."

"Then get out of our way."

"I can't do that."

"Then fight us. Fight your own kin for your precious flowers Druid."

The line pushed Shiawase out of the grove and back into the trees. "I'm warning you brother," Shia said, keeping his voice soft to hide its shaking. "I don't have the control Stormrage does. If I try the same thing a few of you are going to get hurt."

"Come up with a better excuse Druid."

The gang had their weapons drawn. Faldreas picked up his pace and shifted into an offensive stance.

Come at me alone, Shia thought. Let me cut of the lion's head without worrying about its claws.

"I'm sick of talking," Faldreas shouted, his sword raised for combat. "Fight me!"

He ran forward and the crowd fell back. Shia sighed in relief.

The moment he came within swinging distance Faldreas brought his sword down towards Shia's head with a cry of rage. Shia shifted to let the sword pass by and with a light shove sent him careening to the ground.

"I'll make a deal with you brother. Cut me and I'll let you go. If you can't even do that I suggest you give up the idea of committing suicide on the tip of a Troll's arrow."

"You think you're being funny?" Faldreas didn't wait to re-establish his stance before he had lunged toward Shiawase again. Predictable. Shia dodged the sword again and hopped back in anticipation of the back swing, which was quick in coming. Faldreas readjusted himself quickly. He had closed his mouth and was eyeing Shia with a new scrutiny. Shia shook out his limbs. The contest was getting serious. The other Elves were watching intently.

Shia had no intention of letting them attack the camp, whether Faldreas managed to plant a hit on him or not, but if he were to loose this contest, there would be no redeeming his honor.

"Why are you fighting us Deeproots? I had hoped you shared our ideals."

"I thought you were sick of talking."

Faldreas growled and came at Shia again, this time low. He had closed the holes in his attack and was waiting for Shia's dodge. So, he was starting to think a little ahead. It was time to change tactics. With a twitch of his mind Shia reached out to the moon and pulled a string of its power down to the ground like lightning. The ensuing flash engulfed Faldreas. Its strength was hardly enough to give the other Elf tingles, but it did blind him for the moment Shia needed to slip into his opponent's attack, elbow the other Elf in the chin, and rip the sword from his stunned fingers.

Faldreas was on the ground, his entire face red with rage. Shia stood over him with his opponent’s sword resting in his hand.

"I don't want to fight you brother. I don't want to fight any of you. I am -not- Stormrage. As a Druid, the balance is important to me, but before that is your lives. I don't care if you bring down the apocalypse or all you do is give those grunts a laugh. The point is that you will -die-. Do you understand? You will die, and your friends and family will weep and wonder how they could have saved you and what they'll do without you."

"Are we supposed to believe you care, Druid, when you left us so easily before?"

Shiawase looked at the young Elves watching him. Their armor was so ill fitting. He wanted to tell them to just stop playing and go home to their families.

"You don't have to believe me."

"Shia!"

Rimar came crashing through the forest. Loren was in front of him, leading their whole party, with Whitemoon struggling in the back to keep up.

"Damnit Elf! You don't jus say 'track me' and disappear! You know how ‘ard it is ter keep up with a cat leaping on branches?"

"I'm sorry brother, I was in a hurry."

"Never mind it. What's this all about then?"

"Nothing. Those stubby Dwarf legs of yours got you here too late."

Faldreas had picked himself off the ground and recomposed himself. The rest of the Elves watched for his lead.

"Hmm? Looks like a party to me."

"There's no party here Dwarf." Faldreas extended his hand for his sword, which Shia handed to him. "We were practicing."

"You go this far outter yer way for practicing?"

Shiawase rolled his eyes. "Your legs deceive you brother. It takes an Elf the fraction of the time to get here than it does you."

"You want I should hack off a few feet of those legs o yours and see how easy ya look down yer nose at me then Elf?"

"Anyway," Whitemoon cut Shia off with a look as the Druid was about to volley back a retort. "Let's discuss this on the way back, shall we? The townsfolk are going to wonder about where we went."

"You're right." Shia turned to Faldoras, who was scowling daggers at him. "Shall we go back?"

Faldoras turned to his gang. "We'll practice later." The Elves nodded and the group made their way back to Astranaar.

A crowd of villagers were waiting for them at the entrance. When they saw Faldoras and the other young Elves approaching, a cheer broke out and a number of villagers ran racing up to meet them. Faldoras' mother was one of them. She flung herself at her son and pressed herself to his chest, weeping. One of the men had grabbed his daughter by the ear. "What were you thinking," he cried, "Your mother is crying at your bed thinking she'll never see you again! What would your brother have thought if he knew he gave his life for us just so you could throw yours away like that?"

A few of the younger Elves had started crying themselves as they were ushered into the town. One of the townsfolk turned to Shiawase and bowed low. "Thank you for bringing them back brother. The last thing this town needs is another tragedy." The other parents bowed to him as they passed. Shia bowed back, until the street had cleared again, and immediately retreated to Whitemoon's cottage.

His friend patted him on the back and handed him some steaming tea. "Thank you for stopping Faldoras. What did you say to him?"

"Nothing. I just told him he was committing suicide and that he should come back."

Whitemoon laughed. "And that was enough to convince him?"

"I doubt it. If you all hadn't showed up there's a good chance he would have kept trying to get past me. But I could have kept it up all night. They really are children, aren't they?"

"Yes, they are. They don't realize just how lucky they are that they have family that would weep over their deaths. For so many people in this world now, they've lost everyone that ever held them dear."

Shia smiled warmly at Whitemoon, who had become pensive, and said, "I suppose. But as we loose those we love, we find there are others that take their places. It's the natural order of things."

"Hrmph." Whitemoon shook his head in amusement. "You're getting good at fancy language. Well, you might find love again, but you can't replace the people you've lost. Don't forget that Shia. Some things don't come back."

"I'm starting to realize that."

Whitemoon nodded sternly. "Now what should I make for supper? All that running around has me starved."