Friends ((A thank you))

The morning came late as Butha stretched his anxious limbs from their slumber.

"Come duel me Butha", came Ries' siren-like call. He marveled at her voice, sexy, yet strong, but most all he envied her accent. Unlike Butha's heavy darkspearin dialect, hers was clean and clear. It was distinct and uniquely hers.

"Sho' ting! Joo outside da south gate?," Butha responded. " I go an gets some poisons fo' us."

"Don't bother, I never bring any."

"Butha, bring your trinket. I want a try at ya," Lochly's call joined Ries' for a test of skills.

"Joo bet mons. I always gots dat ting wit meh. Joo nevah knows when jya be needin it."As Butha rode to the gate, his mind began to wonder. Ries hadn't asked for a duel in sometime. She was content and satisfied with her training, and Ries, being Ries, did not know boredom. "Mebbe, she jus wunts ta see Da Butha sweat," he snickered to himself, his mind drifting to thoughts better left unknown.

As he cleared the south gate, Durotar opened up to him, as it does every Horde. He loved this part of the world. This was home. The high late morning sun baked the clay beneath his feet. The hot and dusty air, suffocating to outsiders, warmed Butha's lungs. He knew he would die here one day, his spirit not to return, but today was not that day.

Smearing poison onto the flats of his hammer, Butha looked about and smiled. Many of his friends stood near. That thought alone, the fact he had many friends, made the troll's grin grow wider. He had been blessed.

Duel after duel, Butha tested himself, against these friends. The only thing Buthaleirus loved more than testing his skills were those he tested them against.

The actions and words spoken next remain a blur. A gift box, wrapped in blue, laid before Butha's feet. He paused a moment, and lifted his vision from the gift to those gathered around him. Ravageclaw, Vinylic, Purloin, Lochly and Ries all stood within an arms reach of the troll.

Ries spoke. Her words danced to Butha's ears. The gift was for him. The gathering, the odd-duels, the gift, Buthaleirus knew. His hands began to tremble and tears slowly crested his eyes. Buthaleirus knew. Carefully, he tugged at the bow. Gently, he loosened the paper, and slowly he raised the box's lid. He wanted to savor this. To remember his feelings forever.

The Ebon Hand laid before him. He grasped the greatest of hammers, binding it to his soul.

Congratulations and cheers filled Butha's ears. Some were an arms distance away. Some were carried by the wind. All congratulating him on receiving the great hammer.

He appreciated everyone of the words spoken to him, but they were all mistaken.

Congratulations were indeed appropriate, but not for the newly received gift. Rather, one he already had in abundance, friends.