These two statements kind of contradict each other. The High Elves Quel’Lithien Lodge struggled for years in the Plaguelands to survive, were killed by Nathanos (and amusingly the Blood Elves didn’t even know that Nathanos had been raised until this short story, despite that the Blood Elves had been allied with the Forsaken since the beginning of Burning Crusade) and then some mysterious artifact (likely the Crystal of Zin-Malor given Aurora Skycaller’s quests involving it back in Classic) turned most of them into Wretched, and you don’t think this is a rough road?
Beyond that, my preference is for the High Elves still at Quel’Danil Lodge in the Hinterlands, though I do acknowledge that the Silver Covenant High Elves would be the simpler group to implement, and they have it pretty nice in Dalaran.
It is also pretty long, but here are some excerpts if you’re interested that are the relevant parts of what I’m talking about (though the rest of the story itself is quite interesting, and for once paints elements in the Alliance just as morally reprehensible as elements in the Horde, and elements in the Horde that are as morally upstanding as the elements in the Alliance, and even addresses the Horde and Alliance having worked together at Mount Hyjal. It’s a good read, though could have used better pacing):
"Look," Baenan responded, "I'm a dwarf. Me people are a straightforward bunch. Ye say ye're here on reconnaissance. Well, ye may be, but we got no way o' knowin' that. We just want our holdings in Theramore tae be safe. Let us escort ye back tae Durotar's waters. That's me captain's offer."
Captain Aldrek burst out laughing. Baenan’s heart sank.
“And that’s precisely the offer I’m rejecting,” the orc said. He snapped his fingers at a guard.
“This dwarf is our prisoner.”
Bound uncomfortably in the bilge of the Warchief’s Fist, Baenan could hear distant rumblings that sounded like the march of feet and the rolling into place of heavy cannons. The filthy orc captain was preparing to launch an attack against the Elwynn, and Baenan couldn’t do anything to stop it. There was nothing worse than helplessness. He raged at the Horde.
Captain Aldrek hadn’t left Baenan alone in his prison. A haughty blood elf, Talithar, stood guard, looking decidedly bored. Baenan hated him with every fiber of his very being.
“Ye worthless Horde,” Baenan snarled. “Captain Heller will sink ye tae th’ bottom o’ th’ sea as snacks fer th’ naga.”
“And you with us, if he succeeds,” Talithar replied. “Tragic, really. In order for you to live, your friends have to lose.”
“If I die, I’ll die happy, knowin’ ye’re goin’ with me,” Baenan retorted.
“How very noble of you to feel that way.”
Baenan spat on the floor near the elf’s feet. “Ye blood elves wouldn’t know nobility if ye had th’ definition tattooed on yer foreheads. Pathetic, slavering magic addicts, ye even sold out yer own people!”
Talithar’s face whitened, giving Baenan the satisfaction of having hit a nerve. He realized it was unwise to bait his jailor, but he was too angry to care.
“Aye,” he pressed, “I’ve met high elves in me life. I know what ye did tae them. I come from Loch Modan; I’ve heard th’ stories from th’ Farstrider lass there—”
In a surprising display of raw physical strength, Talithar crossed the room in a single stride and lifted Baenan clean off his feet, slamming him into the wall. He held Baenan there at the blood elf’s own height, almost twice that of the dwarf’s, and stared him dead in the eye.
“Do not ever—ever—mention her in my presence.” Talithar’s voice was calm, but had a menacing undercurrent that made Baenan’s hair stand on end. He’d intended to upset the elf, but the depth of Talithar’s reaction was shocking. Still, the Horde had taken Baenan captive and denied him the chance to fight with weapons, so he battled with words. And this mage was a symbol of everything he despised.
“I see ye know Vyrin Swiftwind,” Baenan said, purely out of spite. “Someone special tae ye? Well, she hates yer kind now, an’ everything ye stand fer!”
Talithar threw Baenan to the floor. The dwarf landed painfully on his shoulder, bracing himself for the mage’s wrath, but Talithar possessed a surprising amount of restraint and took no further action.
Baenan managed to push himself into a sitting position. His shoulder throbbed, but it was worth it to have provoked the blood elf. Talithar’s head was bowed, and his fists were clenched and white at the knuckles. He looked up, and Baenan’s mouth fell open.
Talithar’s face was streaked with tears.
“A wife does tend to be someone special to her husband.” His voice was thick with rage, humiliation, and despair. He reached into the front of his robe and wrenched a thin gold chain from around his neck, hurling it at Baenan’s feet. The necklace boasted no beads or pendant, just two exquisitely crafted rings, a man’s and a woman’s, high elven in design.
“You think I do not know what I am? We sin’dorei were given a choice: our integrity or our well-being. As if that were any kind of choice at all. I chose my well-being. My wife chose her integrity.”
The entrance to the bilge had been barred. Chen took a deep breath and kicked down the door, rushing inside and swinging his staff. It whistled through the air harmlessly. Chen stopped, reevaluating the situation. Baenan, the dwarven ambassador, was sitting miserably on the floor with his limbs tied. Sitting equally miserably against the wall was Talithar, the assigned guard.
Chen lowered his staff. One eye on Talithar, he addressed Baenan.
“I’ve come to help you escape,” he said. “Talithar, I’m warning you—”
The elf surprised him with a short, bitter laugh. “I am not going to stop you. Just get out of here.”
Talithar’s attitude puzzled Chen, but he wasn’t about to question it. Quickly he knelt by Baenan’s side, retrieving a knife to cut his bonds. The dwarf looked up at him gratefully.
Chen turned to leave, but the dwarf hesitated, reaching down to retrieve a shiny object from the floor. To Chen’s shock, Baenan offered it to Talithar.
“This is yers,” the dwarf said awkwardly. “Ye should have it back. And”—Baenan paused—“I’m sorry fer what I told ye. It was cruel o’ me.”
Chen blinked. Clearly, he had missed something.
“No,” Talithar said softly. He reached out and caressed the two rings, then withdrew his hand. “You were right. Vyrin left me for a reason. I made my choice. It had its consequences.”
“Aye, but…” Baenan hesitated again. "There’s something else. She used tae talk about ye. I mean, I didn’t know it was ye in particular, but she did mention she had been married. She never told me why she left her husband.
“She doesn’t hate ye,” Baenan said. “I know she’s angry, but she does miss ye.”
Talithar’s expression had gone through several permutations while Baenan spoke, and settled at last on wistful melancholy. Still, he did not take the necklace.
“Keep it,” Talithar said. “But do me a favor, please.”
Baenan nodded cautiously.
“When you return to Loch Modan, take the rings to her. Tell her I miss her, and that I never stopped loving her.”
“I will,” Baenan said. “I promise.”
Talithar stood up. “You will only have one chance to escape,” he told Chen and Baenan. “If you are caught, you will be executed on the spot. I will do what I can to distract the sailors.”
“Thank you,” Chen said. “Truly.”
Talithar smiled, though the sadness didn’t leave his eyes. “Get going.”
Chen risked a glance back down. He counted six crew, including Karrig. The pandaren swore. Fighting them would waste a lot of time.
“Go!” called another voice. Talithar came running into view and threw himself before the foot of the ladder below. “I will hold them off!”
The two fugitives didn’t hesitate. Mouthing silent words of gratitude, Chen hauled himself up the rest of the ladder, and he and Baenan ran.
“You are a disgrace to the Horde, Talithar Swiftwind!” roared Karrig. “Backstabbing, worthless elf!”
“I fought for the Horde on the snowfields of Icecrown,” Talithar replied calmly. “And I was proud to do so. But the Horde does not claim all of my loyalty.”
“Get out of our way,” Karrig snarled, “or die.”
Talithar lifted both his hands, red balls of flame hovering above his palms. The harsh light brightly illuminated the contents of the hold. Lining the walls were barrels full of gunpowder, extra ammunition for the cannons.
“Oh,” Talithar said, smiling peacefully, “I have made my choice.”
“We got tae get over there,” Baenan declared. The pandaren and the dwarf sprinted toward the lifeboats. Chen could see his tol’vir craft among them.
Chen’s feet were torn from the solid wood beneath them. The roar and heat of a great explosion engulfed him, throwing him and Baenan across the deck, where they crashed into the lifeboats.
The battle to retain consciousness was one Chen knew he could not afford to lose. Each joint aching, he forced himself onto his knees. A short distance away, Baenan lay face down, his helmet lost in the blast. Chen noticed his own staff rolling a few feet away, and he lunged to grab it, ignoring the pain in his legs. Nothing seemed broken, at least.
“Baenan!” He shook the dwarf sharply. “Now’s our chance!”
“That damned fool blood elf!” Baenan groaned as Chen helped him to his feet. “We were in th’ munitions hold!”
“He couldn’t have survived that,” Chen said heavily, surprised to feel a pang for someone he had threatened just that morning.
“Aye,” Baenan replied. He looked up at Chen. “Th’ entire ship’ll sink in a matter o’ minutes,” the dwarf said. “Time tae go.”
Flames licked out from the hole that had been blown in the Warchief’s Fist’s hull. The ship was taking on water fast and listing to one side, making it easier for Chen and Baenan to launch the tol’vir boat.
“By Muradin’s hammer!” he exclaimed, pulling out Talithar’s necklace, both rings still threaded on the gold chain. “I fergot I had this.”
“What is it?” Trialin asked.
“It was Talithar’s,” Baenan answered softly. “He was a blood elf on th’ Horde ship. He saved me life. The rings were his and his wife’s.”
Nita furrowed her brows. “What?”
Baenan turned to his sister. “Trialin, do ye remember Vyrin Swiftwind, o’ th’ Farstrider Lodge?”
“Back in Loch Modan? O’ course I do.”
“Talithar was married to her,” Baenan said.
“I… haven’t seen him among the other boats,” Nita said. Baenan shook his head.
“Ye won’t.” He closed his fist around the twin rings. “‘Twas he that caused th’ explosion on th’ Fist, tae help me an’ th’ pandaren escape. He’s dead.”
“What are we goin’ tae tell Vyrin?” said Trialin.
“That her husband died a hero.” Baenan looked up fiercely. “Which way’s fastest tae land? I got a message tae deliver.”
