"So you don't know what to do about your longing for that enchanting elven lady, or the strained relationship between the High Elves and the Alliance?"
Anduin Lothar sat bolt upright at the edge of the bed, watching the young man slumped dejectedly in a chair. He shook his head helplessly, folded his hands over his chest, and said with a smile, "You think far too highly of yourself, young man."
"You're nothing more than an ordinary Alliance Warrior. You may be my adjutant, but believe me, you have no power to influence Anduin Lothar's judgment of the current situation or the course of the war. Nor can you affect Quel'Thalas, far to the north of the continent."
"Besides, whether to aid the High Elves isn't something I can decide on my own. The entire command staff has to discuss it before we can reach a decision."
As he spoke, the middle-aged man rose and walked over to Turalyon. He rested one broad hand gently on the young man's shoulder and offered some advice.
"So stop agonizing over it. I've been around the block, so here's my advice: don't worry about the relationship between elves and humans. Be brave and go after what you want. Better to regret doing something than regret never trying. That's advice from an elder with more than forty years of life experience."
With that, Lothar helped the young man to his feet and slowly ushered him out the door. In a somewhat flippant tone, he gave an order: "Go tell them we're meeting in two hours. Until then, stop keeping me from sleeping. I haven't closed my eyes in over a day. You don't want me presiding over the meeting with dark circles under my eyes, do you?"
The Orc troops that had briefly appeared