Earthroot

[Threnn]

The tray was a wedding gift from Anna - a light, sturdy wood native to Ashenvale, lacquered and painted with twisting vines. When Threnn had turned it over and seen the artist's mark, she'd passed it straight to Bricu, afraid of breaking it if she held it too long. He handled fine things as part of his trade - jewels and filigrees, thin golden chains; Threnn didn't have to be so delicate with swords and shields. Threnn knew very little of Kaldorei art, but this was a name she'd heard before. His work didn't come cheap. Anna'd laughed and suggested there'd been a discount involved whose percentage was based on the quality of a kiss.

Six months later, the tray sat before her, laden with the remnants of breakfast. Bricu had been awake at least an hour, commandeering part of the Rose's kitchen before he went out on a job for the Scryers. There was nothing unusual about its contents: two plates and two sets of silverware, a bowl of sugar, a creamer with the inn's golden rose carved on its side, the paint chipped away here and there. The flower-seller must have been by while Bricu was setting up - a sprig of wild steelbloom peeked out over the rim of a glass.

And of course, the tea. Two pots, three cups, just like every day. The bigger pot held their regular Hillsbrad black, the smaller, Threnn's dose of earthroot. She'd poured three cups, just like she always did, and dumped three spoonfuls of sugar into the steaming greenish liquid.

Nothing was different from any other morning.

Only...

The cup of earthroot tea sat to the side on the tray, untouched, barely acknowledged. Most days, Threnn waited until it was just cool enough that it wouldn't burn her mouth, then she'd drink it down in one long swallow. No matter what she put in it - sugar, cream, honey, even once a healthy dose of whiskey - it always tasted foul, like she'd mixed dirt into brackish water. Today she'd poured it and stirred it until the sugar dissolved, then set it aside.

Bricu's eyes had flicked to it once, but they might have been playing five-card draw, for all his expression gave away.

It will probably taste even worse if I wait until it's cold.

All they'd done last night was to reaffirm what they both already knew: someday, they wanted children. But the rest had been an intricate dance of if and do you, its steps filled with more dodging than they'd done since the days when they pretended they weren't falling in love. Neither could say yes, or now, and maybe that was all the answer she needed.

"Tonight, we go home and start tryin'. An' if the mornin' comes an' yeh don't want t'drink the tea, love, then don't."

Her dreams were filled with children and snow. In one, she'd sat before the fireplace, and he'd looked up from rocking a cradle and smiled, and she'd been content. In another, she'd sat before a cold, ash-filled grate in the dusky gloom of a winter day, one hand on her rounded belly. The window blew open, driving snowflakes and cold across his workbench, scattering papers and uncovering his wedding band on a length of black velvet - the eternium cracked and caked with old blood.

She'd woken up shaking from that one.

"War's always comin'."

It was true, and it was a poor excuse. But Northrend... If they tried now, if it even worked, would she be pregnant when the scouting began? Or if she wasn't, and they survived whatever waited up there, what would be her next excuse?

"We don't have t'decide right now."

But there was a cup sitting in front of her, between them. Decision dug from the earth, ground up, boiled and steeped; a choice she made anew every morning. Maybe tomorrow, she'd let the cup go back down to the kitchens, cold and untouched. And maybe the day after, or a week from now, she'd tell Bricu to stop brewing it altogether. Maybe in a month, she'd shake her head when she went into the apothecary's shop, before Morgan Pestle could reach for his jars, and he would smile as she patted her belly and laughed at what might be. But today...

I'm a bloody coward, she thought, and drank it down, turning away so she couldn't see whether relief or disappointment crept into his eyes, or whether he kept his poker face.

She'd been right; earthroot tea tasted worse when it was cold.

[Sunshine]

Delicious Thrennfiction, OMNOMNOMNOM.

[Threnn]

((There are two posts written from Bricu that belong between these, both of them in other threads: "Together" and "Skipping Rocks," from Uthas' Missive thread. I'm putting this in here rather than in with the Missive stories since its focus is more about Threnn and Bricu and their story than it is about going north.))

---

Kara's cooking had certainly improved in the last year or so. Her bacon didn't come out quite as crisp as it did when Bricu made it, and the scrambled eggs were a bit more runny than his, but all in all, their breakfast was quite good.

There was only one pot the table, the last remnants of the lavender tea her mother had brought along a month ago steeping inside the delicate porcelain. Threnn wondered if Bricu was trying to make a point with it or if he'd simply wanted her to have something she liked with her morning meal. It didn't matter, really. By staying in, she'd made her choice.

"We'll either buy the tea in the mornin' or have Kara cook us breakfast. Sound like a plan?"

It was a plan, but was it the right plan? Would she regret the choice if, by some cruel joke of the Light, her womb quickened and a month or two later the boats began sailing North?

"As long as he's... no, as long as they're up there in the North - Uthas and Arthas - you'll have one foot out the door. I knew that when I married you." He admitted it, at least. Bricu wasn't one for pulling punches or dodging the truth, not with her. But whatever comes, we face it together. He said that, too, and I believe him.

"Threnny? Where did yeh go?" Bricu closed his fingers over hers, dragging her back to the present.

"Not far. I'm still here." She gave his hand a squeeze and surveyed the empty plates. "Going to help me clean these up before your very important game of tag?"

"No."

"No?"

Bricu stood, still holding her hand, wickedness in his pale green eyes. When he started walking, Threnn was forced to follow. "I figure," he said, and drew her close, "if we let Kara clear 'em up, we can take a bit more time for ourselves before we part ways for the day."

"Best tip her well," she said, grinning.

"Och, later."

He led her up the stairs.

---

Once Bricu had headed off for his shift at the orphanage, Threnn found herself wandering aimlessly around the Trade District. She wasn't scheduled to be at the forge for another hour. The Pig's booze order was done for the week. It was far too early for lunch. She let her steps carry her without any direction in mind. As she passed shop windows, she paused to glance into them but didn't really look at the merchandise displayed.

Until she came to the Apothecary. Morgan Pestle had the usual herbs drying in the window and a small table set up with a pyramid of ointments in glass jars. They caught the sun, light reflecting through liquids of varying color and viscosity. Large canisters lined the bottom of the window, summer flowers winding around their bases: Silverleaf, Dreamfoil, Wild Steelbloom, Earthroot.

Threnn stared at the last one. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. I've made my choice. I have.

So intent was she on the display, she didn't hear the bell tinkle as the door opened, or the thud of boots on the old wooden stairs as a patron left the shop. It wasn't until the other woman waved a hand in front of her eyes that Threnn realized it was her sister standing beside her.

"Oi. Threnny." Anna peered up at her from beneath the brim of a floppy hat. The summer sun made her fair skin prone to freckles, and (as she said) bards shouldn't have sunburned, peeling noses when they took the stage. She was carrying a large sack full of supplies - dried herbs, vials in several shapes and sizes, what looked to be a packet of seedlings for her garden behind the chandler's shop. Protruding from the very top of the bag were several of Pestle's red and white peppermint sticks. One already hung from Anna's lips like a sugary parody of Bricu's cigarettes. "If you need anything from Pestle's," she said around the stick, "I probably already have it in here."

Threnn glanced into the sack. Sure enough, beside a jar marked "catnip," she could see one of the wooden boxes Morgan Pestle always used for his teas. "No. I-- I'm fine. Just woolgathering."

"Uh-huh," said Anna. "Walk with me." She started towards Old Town and didn't turn around to be sure her sister followed. Threnn hurried after her; begging off would only make Annalea more determined to find out what was going on.

When they got to the chandler's shop, Anna led them through the alley beside the building rather than going upstairs to the apartment she and Cylinn shared. Behind the shop was a small patch of ground that, when Threnn had lived there, had been filled with grass and nothing more. Annalea, however, had begged her landlady's permission and turned it into her own herb garden. Plants grew in neat rows, the names of their inhabitants written on stakes in Anna's strong hand. Vines hung from trellises - the scents of their blooming flowers mingled on the breeze without being overpowering.

A short bench sat dead center, where anyone seated upon it would have a lovely view of Annalea's handiwork. Threnn lowered herself onto one end of it and watched the dappled sunlight play over her sister's hands as she unpacked her goods from Pestle's. Everything got sorted into neat piles: herbs and seeds for planting, alchemical supplies...

The box of tea.

Anna set the box down close to Threnn, but she didn't speak. Instead she returned to her other piles and organized them further, only sparing a glance at her elder sister every minute or so. She pulled a new pair of gardening gloves out of the sack and slipped them on, flexing her fingers to stretch the cotton. Then she got down on her hands and knees in the dirt and began making room for the new plants. She kept her back to Threnn.

The silence stretched.

Some time later - Threnn didn't know how long - the clock upstairs began to chime. Anna straightened up and took off her gloves. Her peppermint stick was nearly finished; she sucked the last half inch into her mouth and dropped onto the bench with the box of tea separating her from Threnn. The only noise in the garden was the crunching of the candy.

"You," said Annalea at last, "are a bloody godsdamned idiot."

Threnn blinked at her. "What the hell did I do this time?"

"It's what you're thinking of doing. You think I didn't hear about all the going-North talk last night? Fin said you and Bricu looked like you were fighting, and then you both went for a walk." She reached over to one of the piles and selected another peppermint stick. "But you weren't fighting, were you? You were second-guessing, and Bricu called you on it."

"Anna..."

"And this morning I find you standing outside of Pestle's looking as guilty as the day you spilled ink all over Mama's Sunday dress. I know what's going through your head."

Threnn stood. "I don't need this." She got no more than three steps, however, before Anna was in front of her, blocking her path to the gate.

"Oh no, you bloody don't. You're going to sit your arse back down and listen to me." Lacking any truly menacing weapon, Anna brandished the peppermint stick. "Sit, Threnny."

Threnn snorted - She can't be serious - and put a hand on Anna's shoulder to move her gently out of the way. She'd always had the height and weight advantage on her younger sister, though she very rarely used it. Now, though, she wasn't about to sit through a lecture.

Anna swatted Threnn's arm away with her left hand and, with her right, jabbed the end of the peppermint stick at the taller woman's belly.

"Ow! What the hell--?"

Anna jabbed again, higher, catching her just below the breast. And again, as Threnn turned to protect the soft parts of her front. Three quick pokes to the upper arm, and the paladin began to retreat, driven backwards by a madwoman wielding a piece of hard candy. The backs of her knees hit the bench, and she sat down so suddenly her teeth clicked together.

The priestess crowed a triumphant "Ha!" and adjusted her hat before placing the peppermint in her mouth. "You so much as fidget while I'm talking," she said, "and I'll stick the wet end in your hair."

Threnn sighed, defeated. "What are we, twelve years old again?"

"You tell me. You're the one acting like it." Anna began to pace, working herself into a good fury.

"Me? You just chased me with a--"

Anna whirled and cut her off. "Yes, you, Threnny. You're going to go back on the fecking tea and you're not planning on telling Bricu, are you?"

Her eyes went wide. "I..."

"Right. Let me guess. There was all kinds of doom and gloom about the North last night in the Pig, then you two talked after everyone dispersed. He wants you to stay off of it, and you don't want to let him down. So you - being a colossal git - think you can keep it from him."

Threnn hung her head. "'s about right. Especially the part where I'm a git." She laughed hollowly. "I just... I don't know what's right anymore."

There was a soft rustle of skirts as her sister knelt before her. "Threnny. You're clever, yeah, but Bricu is, too. Likely more so, and twice over when it comes to you. He's going to know." She looked up, waiting for Threnn to meet her eyes. "You haven't lied to him yet. It's not the time to start. And you know leaving something like that out would be lying all the same." For just a moment, Anna glanced away. "Worse, even."

She's thinking about the one she lost, and Fin. Threnn opened her mouth to reassure her, to tell her it was different - that their budding relationship was too new for so big a truth - but Anna turned her storm-grey eyes back and shook her head. Two years, and she still won't let me touch upon it.

"If you're going back on the tea, Threnny, that's fine; it's your choice. But you brew that pot in his presence, and you look him in the eye when you drink it down."

"I know. I will. I think I'd've told him before the night was out, anyway." She rubbed at her temples. "And here Tarquin was, telling us how bloody brave we were for trying. Turns out I'm not so brave after all. But they said... They said Uthas sent assassins last time, after everyone except Bricu. What if he sends them again?"

Annalea frowned. "If he really has eyes-and-ears here, Threnny, do you think he knows you two are married?"

"'s what I'm afraid of. I don't know if it buys me immunity or makes me more of a target. Did he order them away from Bricu out of old loyalty, or was he aiming to hurt him by taking away everyone he cared about?"

"Blessed Elune," breathed Anna. She stood up again and paced a bit more, working at the problem while she nibbled at the peppermint stick.

Threnn watched her for a while, until the clock upstairs chimed the half-hour. "I'm, uh, supposed to be at the forge in a few minutes. Am I allowed to get up now, or are you going to come at me again if I do?"

Anna stopped mid-stride and pulled Threnn to her feet. "It's all right, you can go. Just don't keep this from him, Threnny, yeah?"

"I promise." They walked to the gate, arms around one another's waists.

"Wait," said Anna, letting go and dashing back to the bench. She returned with the box of tea. "Here. I have enough for a few more days." She pressed it into her elder sister's hands. "If he talks you out of it, though, no dumping it in the canals. Bring it back to me, okay?"

The box contained nothing more than crushed, dried leaves, but it still felt heavy as she held it in the crook of her arm. "Will," she said, and hugged Anna goodbye. "Am I still a git?"

"Always," said Anna, laughing. "Now get the hell out."

Once she was out on the street again, Threnn didn't feel like going to the forge. The orphanage's morning shift would be over soon; if she went home now, she could catch Bricu when he went back to the Rose to change his clothes. I wish I could be braver for you, she thought, and turned her steps towards the inn.

Their room was as they'd left it - the bed in disarray, a stack of papers from the spice business on the desk, waiting to be read. Threnn moved them to the side, careful not to disturb them too much, and set the box down in the middle. She sank into Bricu's chair, breathing in the familiar, faded scent of his tobacco, and waited.

[Threnn]

Threnn counted the days. Two weeks gone by since she should have bled; her courses had always come reliably. Always.

This can't be right. I must have just forgotten. Or counted wrong. Or I've been more worried about Anna and Bricu than I realized, or...

But Bricu's illness had been cured over a month ago, in the healing pools in the Temple of Elune. She'd stood beside him, helping the druid Abaris' magic draw the Nightmare out of her husband. His improvement had been so rapid, he'd insisted on making an appearance at the Rose Ball after only a few hours' sleep.

And Anna was all right -- like Bricu said, Fin was arse over teeth for her. He wouldn't let her come to harm.

So it wasn't stress.

She counted again, pulling out the ledger she used for ordering the Pig's booze and staring at the calendar clipped to the cover. No matter how long she glared at it, the neat blocks of days didn't rearrange themselves. I've been sick, though, this last week. Stomach bug...

Bullshit.

Cursing, she shoved herself away from the desk and strode over to the open window. The Rose was quiet at this hour, the lunch rush done, the dinner crowd two hours away. Laughter drifted up to her, the sound of Kara and Diana downstairs sweeping and discussing their plans for the Harvest Festival. It was a fine afternoon - the inn's doors were open wide to let in the breeze with its late summer warmth. Though, every now and then, there was the slightest hint of fall on the air.

Fall... or winter?

I'm on the tea. It has to be something else. I can't be pregnant. Not with winter bearing down on us. Not with everyone preparing to ship North soon. It's why I'm back on the bloody tea in the first place.

"Sometimes the tea don't work, sugar. Ya think you're makin' your own plans, but sometimes life has other ideas." Seylon had drawled that to her long ago, and though Threnn had never forgotten it, neither had she given it much thought.

Now, she had to.

"Get it over with, you godsdamned coward," she muttered.

Reluctantly, she left the window and lay down on the bed. Threnn closed her eyes and listened to her own breathing. The Light came to her hands quickly, a gentle warmth waiting for her to guide it. She drew it inside herself, looking at her own body the way she might an injured soldier who'd come into the healing tents, searching for any signs of sickness that had gone overlooked.

Nothing, and nothing, and nothing.

But if she were pregnant... of course she wouldn't find anything, looking only for sickness. She laid her palms against her belly, feeling her own life, the health of the blood flowing through her veins. Everything, working as it should, everything perfectly fine...

There.

The tiniest spark, fleeting beneath her fingertips. A flutter of something new, different, there and gone.

She started again, slower this time, truly looking now. Her heart slammed.

There.

So small that if she hadn't been looking for it, she'd have passed it by. Had, in fact, passed it by when her first bouts of nausea had hit and she'd thought it a flu. But now that she'd felt it, she couldn't deny its existence.

I'm pregnant.

No. Aloud.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered to the empty room. She let the Light go, turned on her side, and stared out the window, wondering how she was going to tell Bricu.

[Threnn]

"Ow. Gods damn it."

"That's why you need a thimble."

"Feck your thimbles. I have callouses from the forge. They should be more than en -- OW."

"Uh huh. Threnny, take a gods damned thimble." Anna shook her sewing basket at her sister. "You asked me to teach you how to do this. At least try being agreeable."

They sat on a blanket in the Park, beneath one of the trees that still bore some of its summer leaves. Erich Lohan trundled by with a wheelbarrow full of pumpkins and haybales, preparing for the Recluse's Hallow's End celebrations. He let go of one of the handles to wave at the sisters and nearly lost control, bringing the cumbersome thing to heel just before it veered into a wall. Anna giggled and tipped her sunhat to him, then returned her stern gaze to Threnn. "Thimble."

"Fine." Threnn sighed and fished a thimble out of the basket. "Seems I'm remembering why I gave it up in the first place, though. I'm bloody hopeless." She looked down at the length of fabric resting in her lap. Today's lesson was, according to Anna, a simple one: learning to sew a straight stitch. Lines of black thread criscrossed the yellow cotton, not a one of them straight or even. Splotches of red dotted the fabric, too, evidence of the many times Threnn had pricked her finger. "This kid's going to his Name-Day looking like he's been through a battle. Or she."

"If you keep whining about it rather than practicing, yeah." Annalea winced as, even armed with a thimble, Threnn managed to stab herself again.

"Gods damn it." She shook the thimble off to suck on the injured finger. Tears stung at her eyes. She tried convincing herself that they were from the pain rather than the frustration, but it was a shabby lie at best. I've done worse to myself at the forge and I don't end up a weepy mess. "Lunch break?" she asked hopefully around her wound. They'd been at this for an hour, and she wasn't learning anything new.

"You going to be able to hold it down?"

"I hope so." As if to confirm, her stomach yowled. Breakfast had been a disaster; just the smell of the sausages had made her flee the Rose's common room. Kara'd brought her dry toast and weak tea out of pity, but she'd only nibbled, not quite trusting her belly. Anna had arrived in time to catch her tipping the plate into the rubbish. The priestess insisted their lesson take place outdoors to get Threnn away from the lingering greasy smells from the kitchen and rebuild her appetite; so far, it seemed to have worked.

She rummaged through the other basket she'd brought along, producing a loaf of crusty bread and a plate of --

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Yeah. I stopped in at the shop to pick up the scraps for you to practice on and found out Mama baked a ham last night. Dad sliced some of the leftovers up for us."

"Don't think I've ever been so glad to be back on speaking terms with them." Threnn tore off a chunk of what her sister offered her and chewed slowly, silently begging her stomach not to rebel. When it didn't, she grinned. "Think maybe I can even handle a proper sandwich."

Anna set about putting them together. She waited until Threnn took her first bite before she pulled several neatly labeled packets out of the picnic basket. "Now. You keep eating and listen to me. I want you to start taking all of these. This one," she said, holding up the first packet, "you can steep like a tea. Tastes a hell of a lot better than earthroot, too. And this one," she held up another, "take every night before you go to sleep. This one here..." She trailed off at Threnn's expression. "It's a lot to remember, I know. I wrote it all down, though."

Threnn swallowed. "'s not that. I'm more wondering when you became my nurse."

"Your midwife, you mean." Her voice was soft, but she didn't look away.

"Anna..."

"Threnny. You don't have one. There aren't going to be many up North, are there? And I don't suppose either of you have abandoned the foolish bloody plan to sail with the rest of the Riders, have you?"

"No." She lifted her chin, but Anna held up her hands, palms out.

"I'm not arguing that today, Threnny. Today. But if you're set on going, then by blessed fucking Elune, you're not having this kid without some sort of midwife."

"We performed our own wedding." She shrugged. "Guessed we'd figure out midwifery, too."

"Those are two completely different things, sister-mine, and you know it."

Threnn shrugged again.

"I have six months to learn. Or you have six months to find someone better. Until then, you're stuck with me. All right?" Anna folded her arms, confident she'd won.

"You're not just following me up there, are you?"

"If you think I'm leaving my niece or nephew's birth up to field medics, you're an idiot." But her eyes were focused somewhere over Threnn's shoulder.

"You're a shit liar, little sister. You're going up there to keep Fin safe, too."

Anna hmmphed. When Threnn didn't follow it up with a comment, she began shuffling the herb packets. Her hands drifted to the sewing basket, smoothing out some of the scraps. Every now and then, she'd glance at Threnn, who watched her calmly, her blue eyes full of knowing. At last, she couldn't stand it any longer. Folding her hands in her lap, she met Threnn's gaze. "I love him, Threnny."

Threnn grinned. "Does he know that?"

"Yeah." She ducked her head. "And he loves me, too."

"Told you."

"It was so much easier when you were all I had to worry about." Fear flickered through her eyes. "Now I have to worry about him, too. The other night, I dreamt he died up there. They left him in the snow." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Woke myself up and he was right there, warm and solid, but I thought my heart was going to break anyway. I can't... I can't stay behind."

"Now you understand why I can't, either."

"Yeah."

Threnn reached out and took the younger woman's hand. They sat quietly for a while, watching the lunch crowd at the Blue Recluse dining outside, taking advantage of the warm day. It might be the last before autumn's chill drove them inside for the next few months of meals.

Anna pulled away from Threnn's with a resigned sigh. "Listen. Fin doesn't think it's safe for me in Stormwind right now. He's insisting we go to Stromgarde for a few days, maybe a week or two. We're staying with his sister. Will you be all right?"

"'course I will. You going to leave enough herbs to carry me through 'til you get back?"

"I will. I'll get them ready today. Threnny..." She fidgeted.

"What?"

"What if... what if his sister hates me?"

Threnn blinked at her. "Why would she...?"

"I don't know!" Anna wailed. "But what if she does? He was engaged before. What if I'm not as good for him as she was? Or what if I say the wrong thing, or if she just hates me for no reason at all? This isn't funny!"

Wiping the grin off her face took an effort, but at last, Threnn got her expression under control. "Anna. She'll like you just fine. And if she doesn't, that's for Fin to handle, not you. Same as if you're meeting with the Merchant's Guild - smile, compliment her, ask her about herself. You've been doing this for years and never fucked it up yet."

She nodded, some of the flush that had crept into her cheeks fading away.

"Fin's a good man, Anna. And I think his sister'll think the same of you. All she or I can ask is that you make each other happy, yeah?"

Another nod, then, "I, um. I know we can butt heads sometimes, and it probably gives you fits, but Bricu's... He's a good man, too. Things'll be all right for you both."

"'s not fair. You're going to make the pregnant girl cry." Threnn's eyes shone as she blinked back the tears that threatened.

"Right," said Anna, pretending to adjust her sunhat so Threnn could compose herself. "Finish your sandwich and then pick up that cloth. And the thimble. Lesson's not over yet, and you're going to sew a straight line before I leave town, damn it."

[Threnn]

He found her at the the harbor, watching the dockhands load cargo onto the ships. She sat in her favorite position for brooding: knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. There was still another month or two before she wouldn't be able to sit like that anymore.

"It's cold out here, Threnny," he said, easing himself down beside her. The stone bench only made that all the clearer, its chill seeping through the heavy fabric of his clothes. Above them, the sky was the grey of a gathering storm, though whether the clouds were natural or yet another ill-tempered gift from Arthas was anyone's guess.

"I know."

"Yer not wearin' a cloak."

"I was at the forge." Still, she didn't object when he took off his own and settled it around her shoulders. "I went by the shop, too" she said after a moment. "My dad said they've had a hell of a run on wool. Soon as it comes in, it's right back out the door again."

"Aye. People are preparin'. It'll be cold on the sea. An' even colder up north." Bricu pulled out his tobacco pouch and rolled a cigarette, noting how his wife tilted her head and sniffed the air as the match caught, the little smile that turned up the corners of her lips. "I hear the tanners are makin' money hand o'er fist, too. Anythin' with a pelt within ten miles o'here's feelin' nervous."

"You blame 'em?"

"Not a bit."

Threnn unfolded herself and edged closer to Bricu, nudging at his arm until he put it around her. They sat like that for a while, watching the gulls wheel around ships' masts. The sounds of the dock workers carried up to them, their voices made thin by the wind.

Bricu finished his cigarette, grinding out the butt with the toe of his boot. For a moment, he thought Threnn might have drifted off. She'd taken to napping in the afternoons, though in the last week or so some of the exhaustion had started to wane. But when he began playing with her hair, catching a tendril and winding it around his fingers, she stirred. "What are yeh thinkin' 'bout, love?"

"Hoping I've packed everything we'll need. Light only knows how often the supply ships'll come once we're up there."

"Bah. We'll be fine. Whatever we don't have, I can bribe or charm off o'someone who does."

She snorted. "Somehow I think baby clothes'll be hard to find."

"Ballacks. Any war, yeh have a second army o'camp followers behind the main force. Soldiers' whole families stayin' nearby, cookin' an' mendin'. Yeh know that. There'll be other women with wee ones growin' out o'their clothes. Not that I think it'd get ta that. Annie's goin' ta spoil this kid rotten." Just yesterday, the first chest had arrived, filled with clothes , toys, and books. Threnn had noted the marks of several Stormwind and Stromgarde crafters, but some of the things were of Kaldorei design, too. She'd punched his arm when he declared them poncy.

"'s true. I have a whole separate trunk packed for... for when the time comes."

"Threnn."

She lifted her head from his shoulder to look at him. Calling her "Threnn" rather than "Threnny" meant he was being serious. "What's the matter?"

"Yer sure about this? Once the ships sail, it'll be too late ta change our minds."

"I'm sure," she said. "I'd go crazy if I spent the next five and a half months being useless around here. They'll need as many hands as they can get in the healing tents. Off of the battlefield but... close to you. It'll have to do." She slipped a hand out of the folds of his cloak, reaching up to run her fingers through his newly short hair. "We'll be fine. I know we will." Shifting a bit, she pulled him closer for a kiss.

A high-pitched giggle broke them apart. "Bricu an' Miss Threnn, sittin' in a tree..." A mop of sandy brown curls appeared over the back side of the bench, followed by a pair of wide brown eyes. Gil had apparently taken the day off from tormenting Donna and wandered to the harbor.

Another voice joined his. "They're not in a tree, you stupidhead. They're on a bench."

Bricu twisted around to see James crouched down, picking something shiny up off the ground; a soldier had probably lost a button in the previous night's attacks. "Oi. Does Matron Nightingale know yeh two are out here?"

"We're on our way back from the Cathedral..."

"Don't give me that line o'ballacks. Yeh can see the orphanage doors from the Cathedral steps."

Gil looked appropriately sheepish. "We wanted to see the ships, though."

"Well, yeh've seen 'em. Now yeh'd best start runnin' back home for dinner."

"But..."

"Tomorrow I'll take yeh down meself. We'll even tour one o'the ships. There's a captain that owes me a favor. But if I have ta get up an' chase yeh two, yer not settin' foot outside o'Cathedral Square for a month, yeh understand?"

"Yes, sir," said Gil.

"Yes, sir," echoed James.

But they didn't move, eyeing Threnn sidelong, hopefully.

"Oh, sweet Light," she said, trying to fight a grin and losing. She reached into her pocket and held out her hand. "Here. My last two butterscotches. Don't you dare spoil your dinners."

The boys took them eagerly and darted back off to the orphanage, yelling thank-yous as they went. The breeze gusted and Threnn clutched the cloak more tightly around her. Her fingers played along the edges, tracing the trim. After a moment, she peered at him. "Can I have this?"

He blinked. "What?"

"Your cloak. When we go North. Can I have it?"

"I... suppose yeh can. But what'll I wear? I'll freeze me stones off. "

"Depending on how the spring goes, I might be okay with that."

"Strewth!" He bent and lifted the hem so she could see it. Even sitting down, the garment was obviously way too big. "It'll be long on yeh."

"I'll have Anna hem it. Besides. I wouldn't take yours without replacing it." Threnn pointed to the ground on the other side of the bench, where she'd piled her blacksmithing things. "Go look in the box under my tools."

He eyed her curiously for a moment, but aside from her smile reaching them, her blue eyes weren't giving anything away. The box was stamped with the al'Cair name, but as Bricu picked it up and set it down on the other side of his wife, he noticed that it didn't look particularly new. The light wood had darkened with age; its surface bore scratches and scuffs. The metal clasps had tarnished long ago. Yet, when he unlatched them, they were silent, as though someone had oiled them even if they hadn't bothered to polish. The scent that wafted out of the box wasn't the musty smell he'd expected from something this old. No, whoever had packed what was inside had first lined the bottom of the box with thin planks of cedar. Bricu pushed the layers of paper aside and pulled out what lay within.

"Och," he said, shaking the folds out of it and holding it at arm's length. It was a cloak, the outside made of black oilskin, the inside lined with grey wolf fur.

"Try it on."

He swung the cloak around and let it settle on his shoulders. Threnn stood and adjusted it, smoothed it out. She stepped back and grinned. "It fits!"

"Aye, it does. Threnny, where did yeh get this?" It was warm. The chill from the wind that had been slicing through his shirt was gone, now. He brushed fingers that had started going numb down the soft fur.

"It was my grandfather's. My father's father. Dad said he used to go to Dun Morogh to trade with the dwarves. You want their respect, you'd better be able to bear the cold." She grinned. "Anna and I used to use it when we played dress-up."

"Really? What were yeh?"

She grimaced. "Uh. Barbarian queens of the frozen lands."

"Barbarian... Queens o'the..." He threw his head back and laughed, long and loud. When he finally got his breath back, he said, "That sounds like the title o'one o'those books that sends Tarq inta fits." He braced himself for the punch, but Threnn was giggling, too.

Their composures finally returned. Bricu marveled over the cloak a little more. "Yer sure yer da wants me ta wear it?"

"'Course he does. 'S nothing better if you have to walk through the snow." She stepped forward, slipping her arms around his waist. He pulled the cloak around them both as she continued. "My mother's knitting about a thousand pairs of socks for us, too. Not nearly as colorful as your Forsaken friend's but warm enough, at least. Only, don't wear through them too fast. I can't darn a sock to save my life."

"We'll have ta thank 'em."

"Yeah. We'll stop by before we sail."

The wind gusted again, and with it came the first fat, cold drops of rain. "Come on," said Bricu, disentangling himself gently and hefting her sack of tools. "Let's go make sure Gil an' James did as they were told an' get home before it starts pourin'."

The paladins set off towards the orphanage, hand in hand. Behind them the dockhands loaded the ships that would soon carry them all to the North.