For his second meeting with Eitrigg, Tirion Fordring brought his warhammer with him.
For most Paladins, the warhammer is the more suitable weapon.
Tirion Fordring stroked the sacred Runes on the hammerhead, staring at the shimmering golden light, feeling a chill run down his spine. He knew he had to make a decision.
"This is a critical moment of life or death," Tirion Fordring told himself.
The warhammer is Tirion Fordring's last resort; its use signifies that negotiations are not going well.
If faced with that dire situation, Tirion Fordring must quickly kill Eitrigg and flee with his family.
Given the current situation in Lordaeron, the chances of escaping the encirclement and pursuit of the Silver Hand, the Orcs Legion, and the Elf Rangers are probably not very high.
Especially when he has a beautiful wife and a young son.
"May the Holy Light protect me, and may I not need you today, my old friend." Tirion Fordring kissed the Runes on the hammerhead. In his decades-long, rather colorful life, Tirion Fordring had never been so nervous.
The morning mist hadn't yet dissipated, and the lush green grass was covered with glistening dewdrops.
With many concerns, Tirion Fordring spent several hours winding his way along mountain trails, gazing at the lush greenery and breathing in the fresh air, and his emotions gradually calmed down.
"I don't need to worry about too much, I just need to be myself."
Tirion Fordring regained his courage and confidently rode forward, stopping in front of the collapsed sentry post.
The Orcs Eitrigg sat on a large rock, picking his teeth, with cleanly gnawed bones lying beside him.
"It must be the bone of some kind of wild animal," Tirion Fordring reassured himself, trying not to look at the shape of the bone.
Tirion Fordring knew this was self-deception; Hearthglen was a human settlement, how could large wild beasts roam there?
Upon seeing Tirion Fordring arrive, Eitrigg, who had been waiting impatiently, jumped up in a fit of rage, about to roar and shout.
Eitrigg, who was about to roar with his mouth wide open, stopped. He saw the warhammer hanging from Tirion Fordring's horse and sensed that Tirion Fordring's aura was noticeably different from last time.
Eitrigg was clever; angering a beast driven to desperation was never a good thing, even if it was just a sheep.
Last time, Tirion Fordring nearly killed Eitrigg with his awkwardly wielded longsword; this time, he switched to his signature weapon, the warhammer.
Eitrigg felt his chances of winning were slim.
How did Alton treat you?
Tirion Fordring tried to ask in a friendly tone, trying not to think about the unpleasantness from last time.
Eitrigg pouted and complained, "It's a bit chewy and doesn't taste good. The maids in the Castle were much tastier. It's a pity there weren't many; I ate them all long ago. It's a delicious treat I really miss."
"That beast deserves to go to hell."
Although it was expected, Tirion Fordring still couldn't help but curse inwardly.
Eitrigg grinned with a look of lingering satisfaction. Tirion Fordring reminded himself to stay calm. Before negotiating, he needed to confirm one thing, something very important.
"I need to know if it was you who rescued me from the collapsed ruins and led my horse back to the road."
Eitrigg was taken aback at first, then looked puzzled, unable to figure out what Tirion Fordring meant.
"I beat you until you were crying for your parents, begging for mercy, I almost ate you up, and I even tried to pull down your pants and carve my name on your butt. Why would I be kind enough to save you? Don't you have a brain, Tirion Fordring?"
Eitrigg found it particularly amusing and was about to deliver a sarcastic remark when he suddenly noticed Tirion Fordring's expression and detected a hint of ingratiation.
Is this a uniquely human way of yielding? A subtle form of compromise?
The old Orcs stared at Tirion Fordring for a long time, then nodded. "I did it."
Tirion Fordring breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to relax, as his deepest hope was confirmed. Eitrigg's ability to save his life meant that negotiations could continue. Tirion Fordring lowered his head, trying to adopt a humble posture, and said:
"Eitrigg, since the last unpleasant negotiation, I've thought it over carefully. My wife and children are everything to me; I can't lose them. Apart from that, you can make any demands you may make."
Eitrigg grinned victoriously; this was exactly the result he wanted.
"Tirion Fordring, you've finally come to your senses, you know? Your good deeds have saved Azeroth. We Orcs now have military provisions, allowing us to completely wipe out the remnants of Lordaeron and exterminate Lordaeron Evil people. This is a great character, a noble quality; no amount of praise in the world can adequately describe your magnanimity."
Eitrigg paused, pondered for a while, and felt it necessary to make appropriate concessions to demonstrate the Orcs' magnanimity.
"I'm willing to suggest to Thrall that we preserve one hundred, no, fifty households for you. You can choose a good piece of land in Hearthglen. Although you won't be a lord, you can still live the life of a wealthy farmer. Rest assured, we Orcs never mistreat those who have treated us well."
Like King Terenas, whose head was smashed by Thrall's hammer? Tirion Fordring thought to himself.
"Thank you, esteemed Eitrigg, your kindness truly moves me." Tirion Fordring was also considering, feeling it was absolutely necessary to curry favor with this favorite of Thrall, even though his request was truly excessive:
"The hundred unborn ones you mentioned last time are not a problem at all. I can easily help. I have some connections, friends who are pirates at sea. As long as they are given enough gold coins, they can easily take care of it when raiding ports. It's a piece of cake for them."
Eitrigg was overjoyed. He had a secret he couldn't tell anyone, and he'd heard about a special remedy that was very effective.
"Tirion Fordring, you are a good man, a noble human. From now on, we are friends. I assure you, besides fifty households, you will have your own servants and villa. All the Wealth of Hearthglen will be yours, not a single piece of our Orcs Tirion Fordring, but yours alone."
And so, an Evil deal was made.
The two sides also discussed some details, such as when the Orcs would take over Hearthglen, how they would process the "military rations," how to do so discreetly and without leaving a trace, and how to pin these crimes on the Undead.
In a harmonious and friendly atmosphere, Tirion Fordring and Eitrigg both made appropriate concessions and quickly reached an agreement.
Tirion Fordring was finally relieved; the outcome was better than he had anticipated.
"Race doesn't define everything." A satisfied Tirion Fordring proclaimed loudly, "I know some Orcs who are as venerable as the noblest knights. Salute to you, noble and venerable Eitrigg."
A human, as Evil as the most cruel Undead Scourge, suddenly emerged from the forest.
Barthilas walked towards Tirion Fordring empty-handed; the tall, thin young man wasn't even wearing armor.
"My lord!" Barthilas remained respectful, bowing meticulously to Tirion Fordring.
"How long have you been here?" Tirion Fordring asked in a cold voice.
Barthilas pointed at Eitrigg: "I've been here since this noble Orcs had his breakfast."
So you heard everything?
Tirion Fordring looked grim. He wasn't afraid of what people would say, but what he feared most was that his wife and children would find out. He had emphasized this point during his negotiations with Eitrigg, insisting that it be kept a secret from them.
I especially don't want to be seen as an Evil father by my child.