VALENTYNE at IRON FORGE

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AURYNN IN SOUTHSHORE

AURYNN
Prologue: The discovery of Holliegh was every bit as much Aurynn's story...

Another Winterveil's Day at the Aberdeen household. Aurynn watched her father sit lost in thought, as he often did this time of year. He had just been out gathering wood from their stockpile, and now he sat in front of the fireplace, leaning on the back of his chair. She followed his gaze, and wondered what he was seeing. Whatever it was, she thought it burned like that fire in the hearth. Whatever he focussed on seemed to disappear through the flames and deep into the orange coals. Her mother was busy in the kitchen, baking and cooking... In fact that was where Aurynn had been for several hours, helping chop vegetables and fruit, and grinding the dried herbs into powder for the goose, the pies, and the potatoes.

The kitchen still smelled pleasantly of cloves and cinnamon. Her mother was rolling out dough, a few strands of her reddish hair falling down softly about her shoulders; the rest tied back in a bun. Like Aurynn's father, she too had a distracted look to her, until she had finally noticed her daughter's intense observation. At that point she had shooed her out of the kitchen. "Really Aurynn, ye mustn't look at me like that," she admonished, her cheeks reddening a little. "Honestly, I'm fine... I can't think when you keep staring at me as though you think I'm daft!"

The two of them, Eston and Glenavon Aberdeen, always seemed a little far away this time of year. Aurynn had tried asking about their somewhat "off" behaviour. Her father usually just clasped her hand or hugged her, as though she was a precious jewel, and then would tell her, "It's nothing, luv, nothing," he would say. "I just get extra thankful around this time of year to have the family I do around me." Her mother, like the awkward moment in the kitchen, would say in exasperation, "Dear, ye worry too much about everybody else! Now quit your brooding and go find something to do..." Aurynn always felt glad for this time of year, but she felt that her parents, although happy and doting... always their joy seemed a somewhat subdued or muted. There was always the faintest hint, a feeling she held inside that tasted like wine that wasn't aged enough, or like warm sunlight muted by a fine layer of clouds.

Aurynn contented herself with reading from her scrolls. She was amusing herself with translating an old Elvish proverb (she was trying to find one that matched similarly with both a Dwarven and Human Proverb), when there was a sharp rap at the door.

Husband and wife looked up at each other with astonishment. Both at the same time they looked at each other and said, "Were you expecting someone?" and simultaneously they shook their heads, no. Then they both turned to their daughter, who was taken aback by their sudden looks. She shrugged. "I have no idea who it is!"

Glenavon nervously wiped her hands on her apron and looked expectantly at Eston, who stood up hesitantly. "Well, go get the door then!" she admonished her husband. His feet still seemed rooted to where he was standing, so Aurynn got up to get the door. She flung it open.

"Hail there, my young princess!" It was their friend Dragonscale come to visit. The Dwarf picked up Aurynn by grasping her around her knees and she laughed as she almost toppled over. She leaned on his shoulders for support until he placed her gently back down.

"Merry Winterveil to ye all!" he shouted and barged into their home to give bear hugs to all around. He was slightly out of breath.

"Good heavens, Dragon," Glenavon said, flustered and awkward again. "What on earth brings you out to Elwynn Forest, all the way from Dun Morogh, far from your family on this day of days?"

"Ah! I got my reasons, lass," he said by way of explanation. "Have I got a story for you!" He pulled a couple of finely decorated wine bottles from either of his pockets as though he was drawing for a gunfight.

"Dragon, you said that you were saving those," said Eston, eyes popping somewhat, and moving toward them as though to stuff them back into his friend's pockets. "Surely a visit to our humble stead doesn't warrant you to open those prized bottles of yours!"

Dragonscale said, "Oh, it's time," he said, nodding vigorously and setting them down a little harder than necessary onto the table. "And even if it weren't time, lad trust me when I say this: ye'd still want to have a strong drink after I tell you my tale!"

Aurynn grinned. She always looked forward to Dragonscale's tales of adventure and warring. "Everyone sit! Sit sit sit!" Commanded Dragonscale, as Eston brought some wine glasses down from their high up shelves. "Yes, you too, Glena. You of all people are gonna need to be sitting, whether or not ye have a swig o' this stuff, once I'm through. It's a bit long and involved, so ye best get yourselves comfortable."

Aurynn watched her puzzled parents look at each other, with a expressions ranging from furrowed brows to worried smiles. She ran to the sitting area to grab a pillow to place on her chair. "My tale begins, actually Eston, when I spoke with you last summer. Ye may not know this part, missus," he said bowing in apology to Glenavon and looked at Eston.

Eston actually covered his face for a second. He pulled away his hands to reveal a sheepish grin, and said, "I know of which day Dragon speaks," he confessed. "However, I didn't think anything would come of it..." he turned suddenly to face directly in the Dwarf's direction. "Did... something.... Come of it?"

"What are ye talking about?" said Glenavon, shrilly. She smacked her husband playfully on the arm. "Spit it out, man! I don't need the suspense!"

Aurynn was surprised when her father faltered. He looked at Glenavon meaningfully and then his eyes travelled over to Aurynn. Glena watched his expression and followed his gaze. She looked at him as though begging him not to speak and whispered hoarsely as though Aurynn was not there, "Today?" Eston nodded. Her mother's acceptance suddenly made her face turn from animated to an almost resigned expression. She nodded for her husband to continue.

"Aurynn, it is time you learned this. You..." he started, and then hesitated, looking up at the ceiling. "You have... had..." he was looking down and then finally forced himself to gaze softly in her direction."...A sister." Then he let out a breath that he seemed to be holding.

Aurynn at first wasn't sure if he was serious. She looked at him with a grin on her face, waiting for the climax of the joke. But then she noticed her mother's pale somberness, and her smile faded.

"But, father," she asked. "Why did you not tell me of this before?"

"I am sorry, Aurynn," it was her mother that spoke and placed a loving hand on her arm. "We were going to tell you sometime. We just didn't want to burden you with our burden."

"I am not angry," protested Aurynn. "I am just... Surprised... I guess. Um... Maybe more shocked. I don't know how to feel right now."

"Well, Eston," her mother looked at her husband sternly. "Why did we have to tell her? Today, of all days??"

"That's where I continue the story," jumped in Dragonscale again. He had just finished pouring them some wine in their small wine glasses. Glenavon gulped hers down and pushed her glass to him across the table and without hesitation, he filled it up again. "Eh.. heh, yes, these glasses are... quite... erm.... dainty."

"You're probably used to your big stein!" laughed Aurynn.

"Well... Heh! My big fingers aren't accustomed to wrapping around the neck o' these fancy little things, but I'll try not to break it.""Get on with it, will you!" snapped Glenavon. "I'm an impatient woman!"

"Ahem, yes." Dragonscale sat back down. "Here's why Eston had to tell ye about your sister. See, as you recall, I came down to your farm last summer, when you ladies were in town for somethin' and I took your man down to the local tavern for a wee sip."

"A wee sip, you say," said Glenavon doubtfully. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She looked at her husband, and then at her guest with some disapproval.

Dragonscale ignored the comment and continued...."The reason I took my good friend down for a drink, y'see, was because I could tell something was bothering him mightily. I innocently had mentioned to him that a relative of mine had managed to start a fire in his kitchen. Hell, I thought it was hilarious! Har! I still do. I mean, burning water? That's quite a feat! But in the midst of my tale, which I was expecting a smile or a guffaw, I look up and see Eston here as pale as a ghost and very troubled. He recovered very quickly, but his wane smile tipped me off that somethin' wasn't quite right with him.So I said to him, 'You know, you look like ye could use some fresh air. Let's go get some.'

So we left the house, and we wandered out to the main road, and somehow our feet led us to the Goldshire Inn. So I got a drink for my friend, who helped out our family when ye all lived in Dun Morogh by-"

"What? Dun Morogh?" Aurynn sat up straight on her seat. "When were you two ever living in Dun Morogh!? This is all too-"

"Relax, princess," said Dragonscale patiently, patting her on the hand. Waving his hands in the air a little over-dramatically, he intoned: "All will be revealed... "

"Right. Your parents used to live on the sunnier, warmer side -if there every was such a thing- of a mountain in Dun Morogh, and they had a right nifty Gnomishly-built greenhouse. It was made with glass as thick as my fist and was insulated tighter than a drum, and it was heated by day by the sun, and had a great furnace to keep it warm all night. It was as big as a farmer's field. The Gnomes wanted to experiment with that idea, ye see, since the war was causing our supplies to dwindle. They didn't know much about farming anything other than ores, and neither did any Dwarves that I've ever heard of, so they found some willing participants.

Eston and Glena agreed to try it out, risky though it was. The Gnomes were delighted and assisted with the upkeep. And your parents taught them about farming. So, as I was saying, you saved our skins, Eston and Glenavon. You supplied us with food from yer farm to the army. Glenavon here is a fair enough medic, too, what with her herbs 'n' poultices and bandages. And that much ye know, I'm sure, Aurynn. But they may not 'a' told you which army!

It was the Dwarven Army in Dun Morogh, the regiment I was in at the time. I was just a Private then, and I saw a lot of my buddies die for the lack of food, near as easy as dying from fightin'. I never forgot your mom and dad's generosity, and I told my parents about it. Our families have been friends ever since. That's why, when ye come to Dun Morogh, Aurynn, and ye tell them who your parents are, you'll get a warm clap on the back, and most likely you'll be offered a pint! Har!

So now, you know about that. But you need to know more. Your dad was tellin' me at the bar, after I'd bought him enough ale to losen his tongue a bit, that the reason he was feelin' bad, was because when I mentioned the fire, it brought back the memory of the night his entire family was burned alive in their brother's house. Which is probably news to ye, too, judging by the look on yer face.

I felt awful that the tragedy had slipped my mind. I felt even worse that I managed to conjure up those kinds of memories, especially in this man! He said to me that he wished someone could tell him what happened, because in the space of a few hours that they had left for town to buy some extra blankets and food, and stopped briefly at our place to wish us a Merry Winterveil, their whole world had been torn apart. And it was worse because there was no explanation.

It seemed odd to him that none escaped alive, since if it was a chimney fire, there were sufficient number of adults who were supposedly awake and could've at least attempted to save the others or save the building they were in. He said no one could find any evidence of foul play besides the fire, which was ruled as suspicious. I cried a few tears in my ale with 'im. And then I pledged to find out all I could. I do fancy myself a wee bit of an investigator, ye know, especially after a few ales!

So after I had seen Eston home, I promised him I would look into things. I stayed a week with ye and your parents, and never spoke a word of it to either of you ladies, as I promised I'd keep my great yaw clamped tight. Eston didn't want to give ye false hope, Glena. Upon my return to Dun Morogh, I went back to the site of the fire.I walked around the foundations, and saw what little burnt debris was left, the remenants of floorboards, beams and a half-melted stove. A tumbled-over chimney was heaped over to one side. I knew there were no bones left, as what was left of the charred remains had all been carefully gathered into an urn and buried.

For a month, I would come by in the afternoons as often as I could. I meticulously looked around inside the house, scraping away snow and moving pieces of burnt wood around. The next while I tried to see if I could see anything around the outside perimeter. I even dug down a ways into the snow and placed a little stake where ever it was I last looked, so I wouldn't look over the same place twice. As time went on, I painstakingly circled further out and around in wider and wider circles. Once in a while, one of my relatives would accompany me, or a friend would 'happen' by. They wanted to watch crazy Dragonscale pick away at years of snow, under birds' and rats' nests. They told me, 'Come home, Dragon! Everyone is talking about you!' I refused. I said, 'I need a hobby, even I'm no good at it!'

Eventually, sometime around the beginning of December, I finally got to the treeline, and it was my intent to see if there was anything like clothing or hair snagged in the branches of the trees, or anything that may have been dropped.

Of course, I knew it would be useless to look for tracks in the snow from way back then, so that's why I was a little surprised to see a set of footprints that must have been pretty fresh, considering it had snowed earlier that morn.I followed them a little ways, careful to step into them so as not to leave another set, and I saw that they cut through the forest, and then disappeared near some hoofprints several trees in from the clearing. The horse's tracks led back to the main road and then got lost in all the other tracks. I doubted the stranger had left while I was there, else I reasoned from that distance, I surely would have heard jingling reigns or the horse's heavy steps or neighing. I decided, if this was a clue, no matter how obscure, or no matter how unlikely, I was going to meet this person again.

The next morning I came again, but much earlier. And this time I came around from the back and hid behind a small embankment, sippin' a little whiskey now and again to keep warm. I had just about had enough, as my behind was feeling mighty cold, when I heard the horse coming. I was perfectly hidden between two trees and some bushes, so I peaked out.

From the pine trees, a scruffy traveller walked over to stand behind what looked like an old wagon all covered in snow. He looked up for a moment, from his spot, and then bowed his head. I got a decent look at 'im. He was unkempt and his clothes coulda used some mending, and he looked like he coulda used some o' your home-cookin' there Glenavon. I hadn't seen him around those parts before, that's sure.

I watched him standing there for about a half hour. And then he left. My mind was boggling with all sorts of thoughts. But I wasn't going to jump to conclusions. I went back several more times, and once or twice he wasn't there, but he seemed to make the effort to come when he could, and always quite early in the morning. Then he would leave on his scruffy grey horse. Finally, it was about a week later, and the routine was once again unfolding. I couldn't stand it anymore, I had to do something. It could've been a fella who was just eyeing the place for rebuilding, or perhaps he was an old friend of yours coming to visit the resting place. I had other ideas floating around in my head, but I hoped against them.

The last time, what I did was, while he was looking at the place where the house once stood, I snuck around to his horse. I had some sugar and a few carrots, and fed the beast to show him I was friendly. I then untied him and he seemed to be happy enough to come with me, as I made my way to the man waiting at the wagon.

Well, he reeled around to see what was going on, as he heard us coming. And as quickly as he turned, I saw a knife slide outta his sleeve into his hand. But when he saw that I had his horse, he wavered.

'Easy there, lad!' I said holding up my hands with nothing but the reigns in them. 'I just saw yer horse and came to have a look. And then I saw you standing over here, and I thought I'd come see what yer looking at.'

The man didn't speak right away. He eyed me up and down, probably saw my wicked double axes nestled on each side of my belt, and watched my hands holding the reigns of his horse. 'I'm not looking at much, stranger,' he said, cocking his head. 'There isn't much here to look at, friend.' He said that last word after just a bit too long for me to believe him wantin' to be my bosom beer-drinkin' buddy.

'Ah, but I've seen ye looking at nothing here all week, actually, sir,' I says casually. 'Tell me why you come here, to my friend's farm.'

I got the feeling he was weighing the words with my tone, watching my hands and my axes, and thinking about a reply. 'Why, who is your friend?' he asked finally, returning my casual tone.'They were but simple farmers visiting relatives at this spot some 21 years ago. They left their daughter here in safety with three brothers and their families, and two sisters and their families.' I noticed his face fell somewhat, as my words seemed to have an effect on him. I continued warily, still standing there holding the reigns. 'Aye. There were at least 12 children there, including my friends' three month old daughter. The tragic story is that they all died in a horrible fire on Winterveil Eve. They were all burned, every single last one of 'em.' The fellow looked an odd colour behind his bristles and there was something wrong with his breathing. 'My friends, they came back about 4 or 5 hours later and the sight that beheld them, tore them to pieces...

''ENOUGH!' the stranger suddenly fell down to his knees, clapping his hands over his ears.

'Not a single survivor,' I said dropping the reigns.

'NO!' he shook his head violently, eyes focussed on the ground. 'Not true!'

'Of course it is,' I argued, slowly advancing. 'No one found anyone alive.'
'NOOO!' he gave a strangled sounding yell and startled me by smacking his head several times with his hands. He choked off a sob. By this time I was close enough to attack. I ran at him and bowled him over backward, so that I ended up sitting on his chest.

He was quite the mess. He was frightened, that much I could tell. I seemed to have knocked the breath outta him a moment, but his eyes bulged and he squirmed like a worm caught under a rock. I wasn't sure if he was trying to get away from me, or if he was tryin' to escape from somethin' else that seemed more terrifying to him at that moment. At that close proximity, I could smell stale ale on his breath and see his bloodshot eyes. He smelled faintly of sweat as well, as though he hadn't bathed in a while, save perhaps in ale.

'Well, then, friend,' I said through clenched teeth as close to his face as I could stand. 'Tell me the truth.'

'Please... I been running...' he gasped. 'I been running from that. I was 12 at the time... I had to run. Didn't want no part of it...'I realized that he was no threat. He seemed all limp and cryin' like a baby. So I gave him some relief by gettin' off his chest. But I held an axe to his neck, just in case. I helped him sit up. I hadn't realised he was only in his early 30s. He looked much older than that. I even helped him sit up. From what I could figure, he was more used to the liquid diet than solid food kind, which could account for his pathetic state.

'Explain, then,' I demanded. 'And I may spare your life.'

'It don't matter none,' he said, wiping his eyes. He was all hunched over, his arms just lying there as though there was no feeling in them. 'If you kill me, then at least my old master can't. I was too weak. I wasn't strong enough-'

My ears perked up. 'Oh?' I asked, raising an eyebrow. 'What kinda master would treat his apprentice like that?'

'A mean one, my master was. He named himself Blade-Eye,' he snorted contemptuously. 'The knife wound was nowhere near his damned eye, so I don't know why he called hisself by that name. But he'd sure enough stick a blade in your eye. Or mine.' Then the words started flowing from him like a spilled drink.

'I was the one who climbed up on the roof,' his eyes squinched up again as he was pointing to what was left of the house. 'I was the slimy bastard who put the blankets over the chimney. But I swear, I didn't want to do it. I tried to leave, but I was starvin'... My master wouldn't pay me. And he had been planning the heist for weeks. I knew he'd beat me to a pulp if I didn't do it. So I pretended like I was brave like the others in the gang, pretended I couldn't feel nothin' like they did. It almost worked... But then I saw the people come outta the house, all chokin' with the smoke and I saw what they did to them all. All.... all the blood.' He made as if to wretch for a moment. 'I was frozen up there on the roof, I wanted to tell them to stop, but nothin' came out my mouth. Not even air. I stopped breathin' as soon as I saw the first knife disappear into someone's ribs. Damn moon was so bright...' he trailed off. His nose was all runny and his face looked all the worse, if that was possible, so I gave the vile thing a hanky, which he blew into noisily. 'Not everyone died in that house,' he said after. And it nearly exploded my head when he said that.

I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and pulled his face to mine (although not as close as the last time) 'How's that?'

'I'll show you... No, I'll show you...' he said struggling to get up. I kept my hands on his collar and pulled him up.

'Aye. You will,' I said to him and let go. He nearly fell down again, but managed to stagger a bit towards where the back of the house used to be.

'Here...' he said, smiling stupidly. 'Here is where I saw him!' He pointed convulsively to a spot where a prickly bush grew. He was shaking with the cold air, or his nervousness, I am not sure.I looked at him, waiting.

Finally I raised my arms and rolled my eyes to the sky, and annunciated, 'WHO!?'

'The Dwarf! The Dwarf!' He giggled hysterically. 'He looked like you, he did!'

I looked at him as though he was was sprouting extra arms. The only Dwarf that resembled me in the slightest is my brother, Thoom. And I hadn't seen him in over 50 years. So the rogue might as well have been saying that he saw me there, and I knew that I wasn't. He saw my look of shock and disbelief.'Aye! Aye! He was like you, only he had his hair tied back, and he didn't carry nothin' but a staff. I seen him with my own eyes, because my master sent me back to make sure all the tracks were covered. But it was really because I threw up when I got down from the roof. I was clearing up some of my new tracks, and then I heard a baby screaming...' An involuntary shudder overtook him for a moment. 'I heard someone shoutin'... I looked up at the back door of the house and I saw this fella fly outta there all yellin' and arms flyin' and he was holdin' something in his arms. I saw him lift it and put it in his jacket, and watch the burning house for a while. And then he walked away... In that direction...' He pointed north.

I looked at him, trying to keep the sound of hope from my voice. 'You're sure. You saw a Dwarf that looked... like me. And he had a bundle that may have been one of the children from the house, and he went north?'

The young man nodded and bowed. Suddenly he was down on his knees again. 'I beg you sir! Please don't tell no one what I did! I promise you, I reformed my ways. I jest been hidin' in these woods, tryin' out huntin' and fishin'...

'And how's that workin' out for ye?' I asked, but I felt I knew the answer. The only thing he probably hunted for these days, was where he last saw his still. And the only thing he probably fished for was his hat outta a pool of vomit.

'I'm gettin' by, sir,' he sighed. 'Only I wish someone could teach me better.' I stood there thoughtfully a moment. "Well, sir, since you finally made a full confession, I am wonderin' if I told ye we could get you a job in a place far from here, and had someone watchin' ye and lookin' after ye, and feedin' ye, would ye take it?'

The man stood up slowly. 'Ye mean it sir? Ye can do that for me? I reckon I would do it! Would I get pay?'

'In a manner of sorts,' I said. 'I tell you what. I know a Paladin who will take you in. You'd get three squares a day, your own room, a warm bed at night. He will watch over you, make sure you stay sober, make sure you stay outta trouble. He runs a sort of hotel. There are a couple others a lot like you there. Similar situations. He likes helping his fellows reform. He volunteers at a stockade, teachin' inmates trades and readin'. You would have to live by his rules, but you wouldn't have no one coming after ye. I can guarantee it.'

The fella looked like he was going to start blubberin' again, so I told him I would send him word and he would come personally to see if he was still interested. 'It's up to you. If ye don't want to come, and decide ye want to stay with what ye got, that's alright. He won't force ye to come back with him, as he knows it's no use draggin' someone away against his will.'


That all happened about eight days ago. I went back to my home and gathered up a travelling bag, sleeping mats and food. I was goin' on a hunt. It took me five bloody days to find my elusive brother. I first spied his trail once I had travelled about fifteen miles from the scene of the crime. It was a faint indentation in the snow. I was on Odin, my ram, so I knew it would only appear to him to be an animal crossing his path. I did the waiting game again, and it took another two days of me freezin' my arse for him to bloody well show up. I was watching the trail from partway up the mountain, where I was nestled in a bit of a cranny to shelter me from our trademark winds. Sure enough, I saw him walking along, and I got on my mount and high-tailed it down the mountainside.

I was just past him and out of his line of sight, but then to make the best of an unpredictable situation, I hollered out his name in the mightiest voice I could muster and Odin & I leapt down in front of Thoom.

Ye should've seen his eyes! Har! I thought our noses were our most prominent feature! His eyes were buggin' so far out of their sockets, I thought I'd hafta catch 'em from fallin' onto the ground! Ha ha ha!

After the initial shock wore off, we greeted each other.

'Well!' said Thoom. 'This is certainly unexpected!'

'Well!' said I. 'So is finding you! And so are you going to invite your poor brother in for a snack? I've been practicing bein' an icicle for two days, waitin' for ye to pass by!'

'Oh, well, absolutely,' he said, bowing. 'Follow me.'

So we talked all the way to the cave. I caught him up on the goings on in our family. I told him I wanted to see more of him. I let him know, I never felt anything badly about him. His shadow magic was just another way to combat evil, like I used my axes. I told him I had been trying to convince our ma and da that was the case, and I was sure, even though they might not like the path he chose, they still missed him. It started to snow as we went along, muting everything and adding to the strangeness of the whole event.As we came up to his modest dwelling, I was just getting into the reason why I had come looking for him, when the door to his cave flew open...'

Aurynn grabbed the edge of the table. She watched her father stand up suddenly, toppling his chair over. He walked over to her mother, who was covering her face.Glenavon was clutching her apron to her chest, eyes bright.

"You mean to say...?"

"Aye!" said Dragonscale, and he looked back to Aurynn, "Standin' there was a young lady, with red hair to match yer own, my lady." Dragonscale bowed to Glenavon. "And with eyes like yours, my friend!" He bowed again to Eston. "She was pretty shocked to see someone with Thoom, I can tell you!"

There was a thick silence.

"Where is she now?" Aurynn asked slowly, not sure if she was actually talking. "My... sister..."

"Oh, me and my brother, we got to know each other again, and we also talked with your sister. We discussed it, and she wants to see you. She didn't know for the longest time that you were still alive. Thoom thought you were in the fire with your relatives, and he had no way of knowing otherwise. So that is what he told her. She wants to come by today, if you don't mind. I can go and get her at the Goldshire Inn. She insisted that I ask you folks first. And she goes by a different name, Glena, just to let you know. What did you call her when she was first born?"

"Odessa," she said... "What does she go by now?"

"She's callin' herself Holliegh."

********************
EPILOGUE: Although the Aberdeens all pressed him to tell them, Dragonscale said he had to be true to his word, and would not tell them where he sent the fellow who had told him how to find Thoom. And he would not give the name, nor say that he knew it. The Aberdeens were just happy to have gotten their daughter back, and although they wouldn't become instantly close, they certainly kept in close communication and visited often, gaining a meaningful relationship. Holliegh still feels the father and daughter bond strongly with Thoom, but she was also relieved that she got to spend time with her blood family, for the time she did.

Eston and Glenavon were much older when they married than most couples of the day, and they waited 5 years before having Aurynn, so they were well into their 70's when they found Holliegh again. About 7 years after they reunited, their parents died and the two sisters became even closer. Aurynn and Holliegh both regard each other as precious blessings... most of the time. They became instantly inseperable, although prefer fighting with their own group of friends, instead of together. They are a little superstitious about being together in battle. They each agreed that if everyone in the party died, they would want the other sister not to be with them, so that someone would still be able to carry on their bloodline, if not their family name.

Aurynn felt this turn of events was miraculous, which is the reason she gives for joining the church as a Paladin. It is the reason she chose her path.

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HOLLIEGH IN SOUTHSHORE

HOLLIEGH

The full moon looked down upon Dun Morogh, its lidless eye pierced through a violet-blue velvet canopy of evening, save the holes where the stars shone through. The glare of the moon caused all it touched to sparkle like hot tears, all iridescent pearls and diamonds, blue and white fire. A wolf implored to the mountains, and his wistful query echoed back to him eternally and into oblivion.The pine trees, laden with freshly fallen snow, shot upward like jagged darkened teeth in the subdued gloom, surrounding the outline of a house. Windows gazed warmly out onto the snow, a bright and amber stare that spited the northern wind and the cold fingers of snow that clung to the sides of the house. The sound of enclosed laughter and music floated through the air.The door opens suddenly, the light suddenly thickens. A couple pass through the doorway, arm in arm, waving over their shoulders.

"Yes! Yes, of course, we insist!" said the woman, stopping for a moment while the man hooked up the horses to the sleigh. "It isn't fair to make you feed the whole crew!"
"We'll be back with more food and supplies in a bit - we want to stop on the way to wish a Happy Winterveil to a friend on the way back to town!" said the man. "We promise we'll be back soon - in a couple of hours!"
"Alright, then brother," replied a fellow at the door. "Stay warm out there! We'll wait up for you!"

The man assisted the woman into the sleigh, and she giggled as he wrapped her up to her chin in furs. They whispered and murmured to each other, as though to speak in the silence would be sacriligeous. Then with a snap of the reigns, the two horses cut out a new trail to the main road, bells chiming to their hoofbeats. The sleigh and its riders became smaller and smaller on the hill, and then disappeared over the crest. The sounds of merriment in the house continued.

Behind the house, the shadow of a tree, it seems, appears to separate from itself. A wide-shouldered human form, bent low, walks slowly and warily up to a wagon that sits unattended and horseless between the trees and the house. He stays there frozen as ice, peering into the warmth. Cold, dark eyes glint with reflected moonlight. His head is smooth, save for a jagged scar that runs up one side of his face, narrowly missing his eye, and then over part of his scalp. He turns back to the trees, and makes a sharp motion with is hand.

Several more shadows release themselves from the wood, and with equal stealth, slink up behind the man already at the wagon. With no words, and without looking at the others, the man signals sharply to the left and right and to the opposite side of the house. Three fingers each pointing in those directions, three shadows slide eeirily following his direction. He then turns to the remaining followers. He points to three more, and then points to the spot next to which he stands.

He then brings his eyes to the young lad shivering, holding some heavy blankets, and points up at the chimney, where a billowing pillar of smoke is pulling steadily into the sky. The lad, points at himself and then at the three story summit, and then back at himself; he also says nothing, but his saucer-sized eyes and raised eyebrows beg a question. The scarred man, grins sardonically, and with a smooth and casual motion, repeats his gesture, pulls a piece of gold from his breast pocket and wave it in the boy's face. The boy makes a motion to take it, but at that point the scarred man pulls the coin back into his fist, and crosses his arms. The look the thin boy gives him turns from anger to resigned obedience.

He maneouvers ever so softly over to the corner of the house and begins to climb. The boy, his face now visible in the moonlight, glances down at all shadows below, gazes fixed upon his thin little shadow's progress. He pauses to rub his hands and the scarred man, glares at him. The boy suddenly looks in his direction, as if the man's gaze had poked him with an icicle, and continues the climb.Soon the boy disappears behind the chimney. The smoke breaks its line as the blankets cover the chimney. The dark forms on the ground unsheath weapons and tense, eyes toward the sounds in the house.

At first, the continuing singing and music continue to pierce through the evening stillness. From the outside of the house the silhouettes watch, unmoved and unmoving, as the smoke from the connected fireplaces starts to fill the upper floors, where the youngest of the children lay sleeping. Some smoke manages to leak out the windows, obscuring the top of the house. Then there is a kind of pause, and different noises begin to eminate. Concerned voices, raising now.

"Why is it so smoky in here?"
"Is there a fire upstairs? Wake the children!"
"For God's sake open the door!"
"I can't see where the door is!"

The scarred man raises his arm. He watches with satisfaction as one member of each trio stationed around the house, raises an arm in response. Sounds of coughing and yelling out names, then screaming. The front and back doors bursts open, and several men and women blunder out, some dragging unconscious children, some carrying blankets or empty buckets. They are coughing and trying to speak and their eyes burn with the smoke. One man is holding a woman back from entering the house.

As soon as the doors open, the scarred man brings down his arm in a sudden slashing movement. He doesn't even look to see what his men are doing, and leaps into the small group by the front door with the efficiency of an ermine. Slithering up like reared snakes, they are all advancing in practiced and expert unison; shivs, scythes, clubs, knives and poison daggers drawn. Striking. Eyes are focussed, jaws are set. They don't even flinch when the blood sprays into their faces, or they hear neck bones crunching, or when the blades slip into ribcages, lower backs or eye sockets. They all step back and look at the scarred man, who nods. At this motion, they all bend to loot their victims. The man signals the boy on the roof to take off the blanket and come down.

The youngster clambers down, clumsily, and nearly falls. "Something bothering you, apprentice?" He sneers, his scar seems to glow a darker pink than a moment ago. The young man, looking as pale as the moon, manages to shake his head. He avoids looking down at his comrade's busy work. "Aren't you going to take anything? You worked as hard as anyone this evening." The scarred man, waves airily to the twisted mess. The boy looks up helplessly at his master.He suddenly turns away, and bolts to the shadows of a tree. No one can see him, but they do hear his noises as what little is in his stomach boils out of him.This elicits a chuckle from the scarred man, and he shakes his head. He throws the gold coin in the direction of the wretching sound, looks to his faithful group and shrugs, "Apprentices!" This causes the others to snicker and laugh softly, subdued to prevent detection. "Let's go finish up in the house."

***********************

A dwarf walks through the wood, carrying a bag of herbs he has hunted for, toward his cave, thinking of his warm little fire... So much so, that he chastises himself for thinking he actually smells smoke. "But wait a minute," he stops in his tracks. "That is smoke!" The dwarf's curiousity gets the better of him. "Oh, Thoom, you old fool," he mutters, as though he is used to arguing aloud with himself. "You've been alone all this time. Who cares if you smell that something's on fire?" He hesitates a moment longer, then sees a strange glow on a clearing in the wood from his vantage point above the tree line. "What the devil?" Something else is blocking the starlight and spreading in front of the moon. "Smoke alright!"

His pace quickens, and then he sees some horses tied to a tree. He turns his head a little and sees another set of horses several yards away. Checking out the opposite direction, he sees yet another trio of horses tied to trees. "Oh... that can't be good..." Something about a whole team of horses spread out over several yards sets of an alarming thought in his head. Thieves!

He drinks an invisibility potion - something that he has stocked well in his little cave. He runs carefully, but as quickly as he can, conjuring up the illusion that the snow he trod on did not leave footprints. To his left he heard, then saw movement. He froze, hardly daring to breathe as he watched several humans stomping past him in the snow, carrying bundles and bags. Behind each group, one other would sweep a bundle of pine branches and cover up the tracks again with snow. Soon enough he could hear all the horses and their riders leaving, and he then made off toward the sound and smell of burning wood in earnest.

He reached the clearing and was appalled at the scene. The house was in high flames - the old dry wood was burning almost as fast as kerosene. His brow furrowed as he observed that around the house, in the snow that was now quickly melting, blood was spilled. "Well, there won't be much evidence of that left," he muttered, thinking of the lost lives. He wasn't sure how he felt about his discovery, other than he wished that he hadn't given in to his curiosity. There did not seem to be anything he could or should do.

He turned around to head back in his original direction. "That'll teach ye. Pokin' yer great snout in where it don't belong... Ye silly ol-"He suddenly did an about-face."Wha' was tha' now?" Was it the sound of creaking timbers? "I coulda swore I heard -"

That was what he heard. A baby screaming."Great Grandfather's Beard!" He shouted. He didn't really think about what he was doing, but he charged in, placing himself in a spell of temporary invincibility. He leaped through the front door, and although he couldn't feel the heat, he could certainly see it. "Bloody lunatic! What are you doin' jumping into a burnin' inferno, are ye crazy??!" He listened, but he didn't hear anything. "Where are ye?" he bellowed, as a large piece of wood fell down from the ceiling just next to him. He tried not to gag as he noticed bodies around him and smelled the searing flesh. The cries began anew. A huge chunk of what might have been a piece of burning ceiling bounced off his magical shield, startling him. He swore under his breath and followed the sounds until he came to a table in the kitchen, near the back of the house. The table top was almost burned to nothing. A small bundle wriggled and screamed in a small cradle underneath. "Well, you're certainly outta the way -" He managed to grab the little bundle just before the table it was under collapsed from a piece of burning debris falling on it. "Now I'm gonna get ME outta the way!"

He made a sudden burst of speed out the back door, just as his invincibility spell dissipated. The whole top section of the house tumbled on to the main floor as he lay in a prickly holly bush in a snowbank with a bundle of warmth wrapped safely in his arms. "Ah! Well! I didn't realize I could move that fast!" he panted, looking in wonder at the wreckage.He lifted the sooty blanket, and saw a little tuft of red hair, and bright blue eyes. The infant looked at him in wonder, and touched his grizzled face. "Well... Now what do I do with you, little one?" He said, and marvelled at the tenderness in his voice. He cleared his throat, "Ah, well, yes," he said, pleased that he sounded more matter-of-fact. "I don't think I know anyone who I could get to take care of you..." He got up, and gingerly placed the bundle inside the top of his coat, keeping his arm under the bundle so it wouldn't fall out the bottom. "Well, no one for certain knows me." He began his leisurely walk back to his cave. "Hum... No one left to look after you, ye poor thing." He scratched his head with his other hand. "Well, nothin' to be done but sleep on it," he said and quickened his pace. "That's it. For now, my dear, you'll be with me, until I figure out what to do with ye."

He got home, and left the baby on the bed, propped up with pillows and blankets and covered in his fur coat. He started up his fire. The infant fussed and cried, and he tried to think of what to do. He consulted some of his books, and thought back to when he and his brother were being raised. He flipped through some books on raising young. "Hmph, sounds like what I need. Comfort, warmth, and a full belly." He scratched his head, and made an effort to concentrate through the bawling sounds. He stared hard at the little face all scrunched up in discomfort. "I suppose I could get you milk from my goats to feed ye... " He frowned...

He wasn't so pleased when he finally figured out that he needed to change the child's diaper, as not only did he find it most unpleasant, but he didn't know what to use for subsequent diapers. "Well! Thoom, you're a bloody genius, so bloody well think of something!" He finally settled on cutting into squares some old blankets he had in storage. "They will have to do, I suppose." At least this way, he found out that it was a girl he was dealing with. "Oh, great... A young lady!" He found himself surprised that he fervently hoped she would like him. "Ye know, I'm not too savvy with the females..." he told her honestly as he retrieved the baby and brought her near the fire with him. The babe lay in his arms, with half-closed eyes and tearstained face, looking contented now. She let out a sigh."Well, now... what should I call you?" He mumbled. "Well, I landed in a holly bush, when I was rescuing you. This situation is as prickly as the bush was, and I'm not sure that I know what to do about this whole mess," he looked with utter disgust in the direction he had buried the dirty diaper. "And whether or not I like it or not..." He stared hard at the little face sucking a thumb, her eyes opened slightly and fixed on his. "Ha! What the hell! Suppose I should call you something... call you... Holleigh?"

As if in response, a little hand reached out, and the tiny fingers closed around the tip of his nose. The baby laughed. "Well! I am glad enough that you like my prominent nose. Runs in the family, y'know! Right then, Holliegh you are... Or at least you are for a while..."

*******

The couple that left the house that evening to get supplies were Holliegh's parents. The ones that killed her entire family and thieved from them are known as Defias, and that is why, to this day, Holliegh hates them with all her heart. As it turned out, Thoom is the dwarf Priest that raised Holliegh until she was almost an adult. *** FOR PART II, AURYNN WILL WRITE THE REST OF THE STORY FROM HER POINT OF VIEW ***

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