"When you fly too close to the sun, you end up on the ground."

Anonymous

Too Close to the Sun

"I'm thinking two gates, or maybe three. One for the southwest, one for the southwest, and one for the south as well."

"Three gates, your grace?"

"Well, you're the architects. I'm just the one who pays you your gold."

Stifled, polite laughter trickled out of the mouths of the gathered elves. Talanas Windrunner didn't join them, but as he walked as part of the group, he nevertheless forced a smile. Even in this land, over 4000 miles and 500 years from home, Highborne culture still lingered among the quel'dorei. Smile. Laugh. Do that at the right times, and you'd get far in life. Whether it be in the palace that Dath'Remar Sunstrider was constructing in the centre of Silvermoon, or out here on the walls that were being erected around the city.

"What say you Talanas?" Dath'Remar asked. He led the group of courtiers, conjurers, and architects to a halt, and looked at his ranger-general, caught in-between the elf king's group, and the pair of Sunbreaker guards behind him. "Two gates, or three?"

Talanas couldn't help but frown. "I'd be happy with one, your grace."

"One?" Dath's eyes narrowed.

"Every gate is a weakness in the wall. Wood, however reinforced, will never be as strong as stone."

"You speak as if we were under siege."

We are, Talanas reflected, but the words did not touch his lips. None of the people before him were stupid, but there was far more comfort to be gained in lies than truths. So many Highborne had embraced the former over the latter, and joined Queen Azshara in oblivion for it.

"One gate is too few," Dath said. "You may not yet see it, but in centuries, nay, millennia ahead, Silvermoon will be the jewel of this continent. Trade routes, going in and out of the kingdom, to rival, nay surpass anything on Kalimdor of all."

"Hear hear."

Talanas forced a smile. "Then two," he said. "One for goods and people coming in, one for those coming out. Besides…" He walked over to the ramparts and cast his gaze to the forests of Quel'Thalas. "The craftsmen have done such a good job with these walls. It would be a shame to dismiss their wood and kill more trees to do so."

It was a joke. Looking at the faces of his betters, he could tell that they knew it was a joke, and they weren't impressed with the message lurking beneath the surface.

"Very well," Dath said. "Two gates." He patted one of the architects on the shoulder. "See it done Tharolen. I want initial plans before the week's end."

He bowed. "Of course, your grace."

Dath nodded. "Now, if you excuse me, I have more other matters to attend to." He glanced at Talanas. "One may say I'm knocking on wood, but I'm sure I'll get through that stone head eventually."

Talanas felt like dying, and the laughter wasn't helping. As the courtesans and their ilk headed for the nearest stone stairway that led to the wall's inner side, he found he actually experienced more comfort in seeing Dath's shining eyes narrow, and his lips turn into a frown. Honesty, he could deal with. The games the high elves played, so inherited from their forbears, were harder to swallow.

"I value your counsel Talanas," Dath'Remar murmured. He walked over to the wall beside his friend and looked out over the kingdom. "What I don't value is your ideas of making your tongue barbed."

"Better a rake than a spade," he murmured.

"And better a man who uses words as a river rather than an ocean." The king looked at him. "For what it's worth, I'll see that Silvermoon has two gates. Even if millennia from now, we'll no doubt be lamenting the lack of a third."

"Millennia is a long time."

Dath'Remar snorted. "This is Quel'Thalas. Land of eternal summer. Or will be, once our enchantments have done their work. Millennia is long, but eternity is longer."

Talanas remained silent. He suspected that his ancestors had once considered their civilization to be eternal. They'd have believed it until the day Azshara betrayed her kind to consort with the Burning Legion, the result being death, devastation, and a mark eternal upon the world. It was the reason that when the Highborne had left their kin, they had had to sail rather than walk.

He'd never known that life. Dath'Remar, and a few like him, had. Dath'Remar, who even now, had a slight violet hue to his skin, while Talanas had golden hair, pale skin, and was a head shorter than his liege. The Highborne hadn't just left the kaldorei culturally – as soon as they'd arrived on this continent, they'd diverged from them physically as well. Shorter in stature, shorter in life. But, Talanas reflected, as Dath'Remar continued to talk, not shorter in aspiration.

"Magnificent, isn't it?"

Talanas blinked. "Pardon?"

The king scowled. "Silvermoon."

"Silver…ah, yes, of course." He looked out over the city – right now walls, a palace, and a few houses that had been set up as part of the grand plan Dath had designed. "Yes. Very grand. Very…silver."

"Leave the jokes to my wife Talanas, she's far better at them."

He shrugged. "I aim to please."

Dath's scowl didn't disappear. "Sometimes I wonder."

It wasn't the scowl that put Talanas off – Dath'Remar often scowled. He'd scowled every since leaving Kalimdor, or so the tales said. He's scowled in Tirisfal as his people had begun to succumb to disease, he'd scowled as he'd led his people east, harried by the overgrown beardless dwarves that called themselves humans, and he's scowled since they'd entered Quel'Thalas, ever harassed by the forest trolls. Scowling wasn't the issue. His tone, however? That was.

"Silvermoon," Talanas murmured. "We create the Sunwell. You pivot our society to worship the sun, helped by how you've steered us to be diurnal."

"And?"

"And you call it Silvermoon." He smiled. "Isn't that the exception? Like, not, Golden Sun? Or, Silver Sun? Or, Moonsun? Or-"

"Talanas, I've never doubted your loyalty or intelligence," Dath'Remar snapped. "Was I wrong?"

Talanas bowed. "No. Of course not."

"Good." He turned away from his city. "Then let's hear it."

Talanas raised his head and met his liege, his friend, in the eye. "Hear it?"

Dath'Remar made a gestured with his hand – the two Sunbreakers walked away.

"Well?" Dath asked. "I know something's bothering you. What, after naming you ranger-general, I can't imagine, but very well. I'll hear it. Let it not be said that the first Sun King did not have the ears to listen to his subjects."

Talanas found himself running a hand over his own ears. Ears that pointed upwards, rather than the curved ones their ancestors had possessed. "Your grace," he said, talking slowly. "None of us doubts your faith, or your devotion, or your-"

"I'm long-lived but not immortal Talanas. Hurry it up."

"…but I can't help but wonder if we're doing too much, too fast. And if it will cost us."

Dath's eyes flashed, and Talanas readied himself for the response. However, none came. Instead, the king folded his arms. "Go on," he murmured.

"Your grace, we…" Talanas cleared his throat. "I don't doubt the wisdom of a city. But from what my scouts have told me, Silvermoon is built on the ruins of an Amani-"

"A what?"

"Forest troll, city, one that remains sacred to them. They've been attacking us since we arrived, and now, they have all the more reason to hate us."

"You think I care what some superstitious pagans think?"

Says the person who turned us to sun worship for the sake of distancing us from Elune, Talanas reflected.

"You said it yourself, the forest trolls have attacked us since we arrived in this land," Dath'Remar said. "They'll keep attacking us until we're all dead, or they understand the power we're dealing with."

"Yes, the power," Talanas murmured. "Some say that we're being too careless with magic-use." His eyes lingered further up the wall, where he saw craftsman hauling wood, and conjurers using spells to strengthen the walls. "None doubt that magic is our birthright, but if the Burning Legion-"

"I have plans to deal with the prying eyes of demons, Talanas."

The ranger-general didn't doubt. But nevertheless, he-

"And as for the forest trolls, I created the Ranger Corps to deal with them. And you, after killing so many, are the one I chose to lead them. House Windrunner exists because of me, I bequeathe you Thas'dorah, and what do you do with it?"

"…kill trolls?" Talanas murmured.

Dath'Remar snorted, smiling. "True. Very true."

It wasn't a joke. "But we need more," Talanas said. "You may not know it, the people don't realize it, but we're at war. The Amani see us as invaders, and if there's a chance to resolve this conflict peacefully, it's rapidly slipping away."

Dath'Remar's smile faded, and Talanas realized he was walking up the wrong road.

"Or…if I could enlist the age of some sorcerers, or-"

"No. Absolutely not."

"My grace, I-"

"No," Dath said. "We are few enough already, and those who wield magic to the extent of sorcerers are the jewel in the crown. I won't risk them out in the forests to kill some naked savages when they're needed here."

"For what? Building the palace?"

"That," the king murmured. "And walls, and roads, and houses. And that's to say nothing of the Sunwell."

Talanas didn't contest the point. It was true, he silently admitted. Magic was the birthright of the Highborne. Magic flowed in the blood of every quel'dorei. It flowed in his blood, it flowed in his friend's blood. It even flowed in the blood of the children at the base of the wall that ran past them, pretend sword fighting with wooden sticks. Dath'Remar waved at them, and they waved back, before running away giggling. Talanas, for his part, just gave them a quiet nod.

One day, he knew, Allerion Windrunner would take his place as ranger-general, and the bow of Thas'dorah would pass to him. But before that day came, he wanted to give his son at least some of the joy he'd seen in the eyes of those children below. Joy of those who'd grow up safe behind walls, in a new land, in a new culture. Who would not see themselves as outcast descendants of the Highborne, shunned by the kaldorei, but high elves. But to do that…

"Already the flowers are blooming," Dath said. He looked at Talanas. "But, I'm sorry. We were arguing, won't we?"

Talanas took the hint – the conversation was over. The friendship would continue. Continue the argument, and the friendship might not.

"We were," Talanas murmured. "But healthy debate is good for society, no?"

Dath's eyes twinkled. "Very true. So true. Why, I might have better employed you at court than out in the field." He patted Talanas on the shoulder. "Fear not Talanas. I know the forest trolls threaten us, but I didn't survive fire and water to fear their ilk." He turned and began walking to the stairway, to his Sunbreaker guard.

"Is that true?" Talanas asked.

Dath looked back at him. "Pardon?"

"Is it true?" he repeated. "That you might have employed me at court?"

"For the sake of our conversation…let me say yes."

Talanas pressed in. "Then will you take my advice?"

Dath'Remar looked irritated, and when he spoke, sounded irritated as well. "I suppose, if you make it brief."

And Talanas took the opening. "You're my king," he said. "Our king. You've done things that-"

"Brief, Talanas."

"But Azshara moved too quickly. She looked to the heavens when her eyes should have been on the ground. She underestimated the Legion, our people did, and we paid the price. The whole world did." He took a step forward. "Climb to the sun, and you go blind – that's a saying I know, even if I never knew the society that created it. Just…" He sighed. "Take your time, Dath. Please. If we have millennia to build the jewel of this land, let's take the millennia to get it right." He put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Please?

Dath scowled. "You're young, Talanas. You have time." He removed the ranger-general's hand. "I don't."

And with that, Talanas reflected, the conversation was over. So he watched in silence as his king rejoined the Sunbreakers. As Dath'Remar Sunstrider, the Sun King, walked to the palace in the centre of the city. He watched as men bowed, and as children hid behind their mother's dresses. He watched, and wasn't sure how to feel.

So he turned away. Out to the verdant forests of Quel'Thalas. Forests where the Amani still dwelled. Forests he knew well. Forests, he hoped, would one day know the sound of songs rather than steel.

4000 years later, the forests were burning.

A/N

So, two little things.

First, the above quote isn't technically anonymous, as I saw it by chance on the back of a book cover while at work, hence why I drabbled this up in the first place. Unfortunately, I didn't get the name of said person, and I've been unable to find out (obvious references to Icarus aside). So if Mr (or Mrs) Anonymous Person is out there, please forgive me for making you anonymous. Or, I dunno, maybe you'd want to be for this.

Also, second thing, when I checked the timeline, I admit that it undercuts the ending somewhat. 4000 years pass between the founding of Silvermoon and the Troll Wars, whereas when I wrote this, I thought it was much shorter. Still, maybe it still works...I dunno...certainly wasn't going to write 6800 years before the Third War and all that, because by most measurements, even by the standards of the setting, that's a pretty good run. 0_0