You R teh silleh with that image of The Thinker, Rig. XD
Aanyway… after some serious soul searching, I have decided to cut the mention of Varian and Broll from the story 
Like I’ve said, people are already expecting Kael and Arthas to come rushing for an epic battle of Twu Wub or something like that, and introducing His Royal Majesty Butchgrunt would only raise the expectations even more - in a way I’m not willing to deliver. I meant to have those two mentioned there as a sign that things are still moving along as they should, offside, but it’s not the image it’ll give. I realize that.
Sooo… that means we need something to replace that scene with Bashana Runetotem. Something that’ll also create tension with the nelves and force me to write a scene with Fandral Staghelm
WAIT WHAT NOOOO D:
Le sigh. Oh well. I do it for yooou! You better appreciate it. grumbles
Anyway, so the scene with Bashana is out, sorry dear cow. Annnd this is in instead.
She flashed out of existence and reappeared to find herself standing before Thrall, in his chambers, him wearing full armor. The dark look on his face did not make the sinking feeling in her gut any favours.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There’s been another battle in Warsong Gulch,” he said, voice deep in his throat as he motioned at somebody behind Jaina. “I’m afraid my side initiated it, too.”
Jaina sharply turned, finding a young male orc standing there, between two grim Kor’kron Elites, his face set tight and hands clenched. He wore simple leather armor, looking more like a scout than a warrior.
“Not so, honored Warchief,” he said, “as p-per your orders we stayed in our camp, but we had to gather fresh water at some point, and that group ran into a group of Sentinels. There was an argument and- saying who started that is- b-but one of our men threw the, the first punch-”
Jaina didn’t need to look up at Thrall to know the way his expression soured, it was enough to just hear the messenger’s stammering and broken sentences.
“It was just a skirmish, nobody lost their life,” the young orc quickly finished.
Small mercies, Jaina thought. It was a relief to hear that, but the damage was still done. She didn’t speak, could think of nothing to say – this was once again Thrall’s territory, but she understood why he had called her there to hear this news in person. They would have to reason about this, and he needed to contact the night elves.
“Return and tell your superiors that they’re to make no move,” he said.
There was a growl in his voice, but one had to admire his restraint. All of them could see the anger in his blue eyes, yet he refused to shout at a scout who bore no blame. The young orc still gulped loudly as he nodded and saluted.
“Very well, you can go,” Thrall said and waved his hand.
The scout and the Elites saluted, then left. The door just closed before Thrall reacted.
“I told them…!” He let out a loud growl, baring his teeth for a moment. When Jaina instinctively drew back he settled however, and offered his hand. He quickly spoke, shaking his head. “Pardon if I seem brutish, but it makes me furious. They just won’t listen.”
She shook her head, regretting her recoil.
“Think nothing of it. I understand your anger,” she said and laid her hand in his, drawing close again.
He hummed, gratefully touching her shoulder. They remained like that for a moment, allowing themselves a brief respite from the world. After a few seconds though, Thrall took in a breath and took a step towards his writing table, still holding her hand.
“I must write Lady Tyrande and apologize at once, whatever good that may do,” he said, looking at her. “Perhaps if you add some words as well.”
“Of course.”
They both took a seat. Thrall pulled up an empty sheet of paper and wet the pen in the ink bottle, then paused and rubbed his forehead.
“What is it?” Jaina asked, the frown returning to her forehead.
He looked up and shook his head.
“I see I will have to take drastic measures to stop this,” he said. “But the Warsong clan will not take lightly to such disrespect to their honor.”
Jaina squared her jaw. She might not have an intricate understanding of orcish politics, but he had just expressed a real fear. Now, more than ever, he needed all his people’s support. A stitch of guilt bit into her – he had been the one unsure about their marriage. If not for this new state of things, this skirmish would have been an everyday annoyance and not an inflammatory act of defying orders. It may have been just a skirmish, but the Warsong orcs had gone against a direct command of the Warchief.
Perhaps those involved in that fight in the Gulch realized their mistake, maybe they regretted it. Maybe they didn’t. In the end, it didn’t matter – the deed was done, and their defiance set a dangerous example. The next step was Thrall’s to take, and he would be judged by it.
She tried to shake herself out of the dark thoughts, but it was not easy.
“What will you do?” she asked.
His lips twisted into a wry half-smile.
“Call Garrosh to scream at them and try to drag them away from there,” he said, then glanced down at the paper when she stared at him. “Although I’m not sure if I should let the night elves know that Grom’s son might pay their lands a visit. It does not sound politically correct.”
Despite everything, Jaina felt her lips twitch at his grim humor in the middle of everything. Reaching forwards, she touched his hand and he looked up.
“That sounds as if you want them to be mad at him and not you,” she pointed out, raising her eyebrows.
He blinked, then chuckled dryly.
“It was actually not my intention, but that’s a more pleasant idea,” he said. “He should not care, for as long as he remains in Nagrand.”
“I much prefer that to you taking the whole blame.”
For a second he just looked at her, then his smile softened. It changed his expression utterly, from the all consuming scowl to a look that stilled Jaina’s whirling thoughts.
“You needn’t worry about me,” he said, tilting his head slightly.
“Of course I do,” Jaina replied. She didn’t even have to think about the words before she spoke. “You are my husband.”
“True…”
He spoke it slowly. His hand turned over, one large, green fingertip brushing against her palm. Instinctively Jaina lowered her hand into his grip, reassuringly – as if he would need that. But, strong as she knew he was, everyone knew he was, that was really no reason to deny him a bit of reassurance for a change. Not when it came down to it. She certainly hungered for a bit of such herself, in her darkest moments – and Thrall was just as mortal as she.
The look in his eye told her that she was right.
It lasted for only a moment. Too soon his expression melted back to the businesslike look, and he wet the pen again. They worked over the letter for a little while, discussing what could be done. Soon enough Jaina found that Thrall had a rather audacious idea about how to put the fighting on hold, and she had to chuckle at his gall. Still, she easily admitted that it could work.
After reading through the letter for the last time and signing her name beside his, she nodded and gave it back to him so that he could seal it.
“Funny how I get even more involved in orc politics, as Tandred said,” she muttered, thinking aloud more than anything.
The letter almost fell out of Thrall’s grip.
“Pardon?” he said, giving her a sharp look.
“Ah yes.” Jaina rubbed her forehead somewhat sheepishly. “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind. Luckily, it’s not as worrisome news as I feared it might be.”
In silence he listened to her brief account of her brother’s arrival and eventual, grudging… if not acceptance, then at least lack of furious rejection.
Hmm… well, at least this also gives me an excuse to have Garrosh enter the tale 
This one is more of a grand treaty of love and war (and I can see the Head Educator trying to make the little princes study the young thing, cause do you think ruling is all about killing dragons? Huh?
I assume we’ll see something like that… unless this ends with Thrall somehow dying to save Garrosh, thus teaching him an invaluable lesson.