The border between Quel'Thalas and Lordaeron largely followed the continuous mountain ranges north of Eastweald, which would later become the Eastern Plaguelands. The humans had built the major northern stronghold of Stratholme in the border mountains, but the High Elves lacked the population to build a large fortress. They had only built an outpost called Quel'Lithien Lodge where the main road from Quel'Thalas to Eastweald crossed the border.
After Arthas led the Scourge on its rampage, more than half the population of Quel'Thalas had been lost. By then, the outpost was all but abandoned, with only a group of Wretched tormented by their addiction to magic remaining.
For now, however, normal High Elves were still stationed here, and the outpost remained intact. Its buildings, predominantly gold and red, were magnificent and exquisite. Compared with the various outposts and camps in Lordaeron that Aaron had seen along the way, the elves at Quel'Lithien Lodge enjoyed much better living conditions.
Still, the shortage of personnel here suggested that the old king in Silvermoon City probably no longer attached much importance to this outpost. From what Aaron had seen, its entire garrison consisted of a dozen or so rangers and one rather down-and-out-looking Archmage.
It was hardly surprising that so few people were stationed here, though. With nothing to do, Aaron had paid some attention to the road and discovered that very few people traveled along this main route connecting the two kingdoms. Half a day could pass without a single caravan appearing, for reasons he did not know.
"Ah, ever since the Orcs passed through here twice, there have been far fewer caravans coming and going," the ranger captain who had received the two of them complained as he stood at the watchtower entrance.
According to this ranger, who had been stationed here for over two years, the population of this land had dwindled considerably since the Second War reached it. The human kingdoms were also all rebuilding, so there were far fewer caravans.
On top of that, after the Orcs' rampage, the Trolls of Zul'Aman had begun stirring again, posing a serious threat to merchants traveling along this road. Yet the High Elf settlements outside Silvermoon City had also suffered at the Orcs' hands during the Second War. Besides rebuilding those settlements, the High Elves had to fight for territory against the increasingly restless Trolls, and even murlocs and Naga. They simply could not spare anyone to protect traveling merchants. This left the road even more deserted, and merchants now preferred to trade by sea.
After all, the cost of transporting the same goods overland and by sea differed enormously. Moreover, Lordaeron's most prosperous heartland was Tirisfal Glades. Merchants departing from there could reach Sunsail Anchorage in Quel'Thalas in three or four days by sea. Taking the main road would not only triple the travel time, but the route was unsafe as well. Over time, hardly anyone traveled this way anymore.
This had also led King Anasterian to consider simply abandoning Quel'Lithien Lodge. After all, maintaining the outpost consumed considerable resources without providing any benefit.
As for the security of Quel'Thalas, that naturally fell to the rangers stationed at the Elfgate north of the outpost. That gate, which embodied the achievements of High Elf magical technology, was far more defensible than this outpost.
When he spoke of these matters, the elven ranger, who felt he had been sidelined, could not conceal the resentment in his voice. As he put it, abandoning the outpost was not a problem in itself, but His Majesty had begun by reducing its supplies before abandoning it, making life difficult for the elves stationed here.
"Miss Vereesa, it looks like you'll have to wait a while longer. Supplies used to arrive every day, but now they only come once every three or four days. This time, it looks like the wait will be even longer," the ranger captain told Vereesa.
"Then we'll just have to wait." Vereesa stood atop the watchtower, looking north as she spoke. Aaron stood beside her, gazing at the empty road, which even showed signs of neglect, wondering when the supply convoy they were waiting for would arrive.
The two of them were waiting here because, according to the ranger captain, the Jungle Trolls active in southeastern Quel'Thalas had recently been roaming the mountains between Quel'Lithien Lodge and the first Elfgate. If they returned on their own and encountered those wandering Trolls, they would probably be overwhelmed.
According to the ranger captain, however, the supply escort was due to arrive today, and Aaron and Vereesa could return with it. Yet it was already afternoon, and the convoy that should have appeared that morning was still nowhere to be seen.
"It looks like the day we head back isn't far off." The ranger general sighed, shook his head, and prepared to leave the watchtower. The later the supply convoy arrived, the less importance was being placed on this outpost.
"Wait, something's happening." Vereesa suddenly pointed north, toward the edge of their field of vision. Aaron strained to look, but could only make out a few black dots. Before long, however, those dots drew closer.
"They're finally here... something's wrong. Prepare for trouble!" The ranger captain had only just spoken in delight when he suddenly cried out. He shouted to the elven rangers below the watchtower, then hurried down himself.
Seeing this, Vereesa took the longbow from her back and followed him down. Aaron watched her retreating figure, then took another look from the top of the watchtower. He simply summoned his snow-colored gryphon and, with a whistle, flew toward the distant figures.
As he approached through the air, Aaron made out their situation-a dozen or so elves were moving toward the outpost around several large crates that hovered in the air on their own, with twenty-odd green-skinned Trolls in ragged clothing following behind.
Half of those elves were warriors in heavy armor, carrying swords and shields. The remaining half were rangers armed with bows, and a female elf in robes, holding a staff, was sheltered behind them. The female elf did not seem to be in good shape, however. She had not cast a single spell, making it hard to tell whether she was a mage or a priest.
Almost all of them were wounded, though none appeared seriously injured. That was the only good news.
The Trolls pursuing these elves looked a little better equipped than those Aaron had previously seen in Khaz Modan. At least every Troll had managed to acquire a crude piece of armor, and their weapons were no longer covered in rust.
Once Aaron understood the situation, he unhesitatingly hurled a Hammer of Judgement at the Troll pressing closest, smashing him to the ground. The blow also drew the attention of everyone below to Aaron flying overhead.
"A human? Reinforcements!" The elves' spirits naturally rose. After being pursued by these Trolls all this way, they could no longer tell how far they were from the outpost. Seeing a human now seemed to suggest it was not far away. But since when had the humans possessed a gryphon-mounted air force?
At that moment, however, the elves had no time to dwell on such things. Reinforcements were a good thing, regardless.
The Trolls, meanwhile, were especially wary of Aaron after his successful opening sneak attack. Their probing attacks soon came, however. At one Troll's command, two others hurled their axes at Aaron in the air.
Aaron steered his gryphon clear of the flying axes while shouting down to the two sides fighting below, "Reinforcements will be here soon. Hold on!"
Hearing Aaron's shout naturally lifted the elves' spirits, and the Trolls' attacks grew somewhat hesitant. But a Troll at their head shouted, "Hurry up and knock that flying one out of the sky! Finish these guys off before the reinforcements arrive!"
At that order, the Trolls intensified their attacks again. Under their leader's direction, several Trolls took turns throwing axes at Aaron. They were not trying to hit him, only to keep him too occupied to interfere with the battle on the ground.
For a time, the Trolls' relentless attacks on Aaron came as continuously as a dense curtain of rain. All Aaron could do was dodge, with no chance to launch another attack to harass them.