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| Details |
| Author: | Athena |
| Summary: | Oranna Stormbreaker made it through the Siege of Ironforge at a cost. For twenty years she's used coping mechanisms to get through the trauma alone, but they were never meant to last forever. Bargrimm Flintspark has offered to help her stop holding the pain so close. All she has to do is start reaching out, and finally realize she's no longer alone. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Bargrimm propped his feet up on a barrel, which canted slightly to one side. He smirked as Keane perked a single ear in tacit curiosity from where the wolf lay sprawled on the stone floor. “We’ve waited in worse places, lad,” the hunter murmured, hand reaching out for the whiskey flask and eyeing the passers-by out of a narrow window. Foot traffic between the gates and the Military Ward was never light, and this lodging held a better vantage point near the junction of the Outer Ring and the Great Forge than most. "She'll be along as soon as she's along."
Oranna walked into the Military Ward with brisk steps, Befound trotting near her serenely, and turned to the buildings. She appeared to be counting either doorways or windows, and her lips moved in a way that seemed to be saying, residence, someone's home, shop, shop, residence. Then, ah, there it is. She took several very even breaths before she approached the door, and knocked. "Bargrimm?"
The dwarf scrambled to his feet with a wide smile, accidentally tumbling his stool to the floor. "Oranna! Grand t' see ye, lass. Yer letter sounded fair dire; everythin' goin' well enough?" He bent down to right his seating into position and gestured to an open chair nearby. Keane lifted his head and sniffed in Befound's direction before deciding the cat was not actively encroaching on his territory in any unwelcome fashion.
Oranna sighed and ran a hand through the front of her braid. By the unusual disarray of the hairs escaping it, it's clear she's done this more than a few times. "Ah, I don't…know that it's dire, no one is dying or anythin', but it's no' exactly nothin'." She walked over to the chair Bargrimm indicated, and sat down heavily. Befound studiously ignored everyone in the room and went to settle down near the fire, only her ears periodically twitching back at the sound of Oranna’s voice.
Oranna sighed and clasped her hands together, her right thumb beating out a rapid staccato on her left hand. "I… I'm no' sure where ta start…but, ah. Were ye in Menethil Harbor, recently?"
Bargrimm nodded. "Aye, spent a week or so huntin' th' marshlands. Raptors an' whatnot. Menethil's th' safest basecamp in those parts, so a fair few nights I was there. Why d' ye ask?"
Oranna nodded and tried to keep her voice light, but it was clear from the way her thumb kept tapping and the strain in voice she was not as calm as she was trying to appear. "An' did ye happen ta meet a lass at cards, ah, light brown skin, dark brown hair, brown eyes? Had a green parrot with her? Name o' Kenna?"
Bargrimm nods slowly, trying to recall details. "Aye, struck me a bit o' th' nervous type, but tha' might ha' been due t' th' old fella at th' table. Card sharp, he was, turns out. Miss Kenna mentioned she was waitin' on th' rest o' th' Company t' arrive from th' south, an' we spoke a bit 'bout our mutual acquaintances."
Oranna let out a breath like she'd been holding it, and leaned back in her chair, some small amount of tension leaving her shoulders, and her thumb stopped it's tapping. She paused a moment, before leaning forward again, meeting Bargrimm's eyes earnestly.
"Bargrimm, if I asked ye ta promise ta keep somethin' secret, would ye? No matter what? Even if ye maybe thought I was wrong or makin' a bad call in keepin' it secret, tha' ye would trust tha' if things went wrong, tha' I'd tell whoever needed ta know?" Her eyes were almost desperate in their silent plea, her hands squeezing together hard enough that her knuckles went white.
If Oranna was looking for a consideration or hesitation, she did not find it. "Oh, aye, lass. Everyone's needin' secrets, time t' time. There's more'n one I'll likely take t' the stone. Ye can spill whatever y' need an' I can promise it'll stay 'twixt ourselves. An' if it comes t' th' pinch, I'll no' ever be thinkin' poor of ye for keepin' whatever confidence y' need — from me or anyone else."
Oranna smiled warmly at Bargrimm, more tension leaving her shoulders, and held his gaze for a moment. Her hands relaxed and one seemed to almost move to reach out towards the other dwarf, but she stilled it before it got very far. "Thank you."
She dropped her gaze down at her hands, her smile fading. "It's. Well. It's started a while back. We had a new recruit show up an' ask ta join. Introduced herself as Kenna, an', well, she had tha' bird with her. An'," she began to frown, hesitating. "I…recognized it." She looked up and shook her head. "No jus' like tha type, but the specific bird, ye understand? Ye know how tha' is, right? Animals jus'…look distinct, if ye know wha' yer lookin' fer." She paused, as though waiting for some sign of agreement or puzzlement.
The dwarf's eyes narrowed fractionally as he tried to follow the lines of thought. "So a new lass shows up, an' ye recognize her critter. Like ye would if someone else wandered in an' Keane was at their heels, rather'n just another white wolf of his lineage." Bargrimm glanced sideways, piecing together a few disparate concepts. "An' I'm guessin' ye got a touch concerned tha' Kenna has a connection t' wherever or whoever ye last saw th' bird with?" He raised an eyebrow behind his goggles, looking directly at Oranna to respond.
Oranna nodded enthusiastically, a relieved smile on her face. "I wasna e'en sure where I'd seen it a' first an' then, Sandy was talkin' about being a pirate an', well, it hit me that the last time he'd been talkin' like tha' was in the Deadmines." She paused and looked over at Bargrimm. "With the Defias. It was the same bird." She sighed and shook her head. "I couldn't get it out o' my head, so I, well, I talked to Sir Elohad." She smiled briefly at the memory.
"He's so kind, an' he made me realize that if someone had joined up with the Defias Brotherhood, an' then wanted ta leave, what better time could there be than now, when they had ta be in disarray from losin' their leader?" She paused and looked at Bargrimm with a smile. "An' it wouldn't be our first, either. A dear friend o' mine got fooled inta joinin' up wi' them, an' left." She looked down at the ground, her hands coming back together. "An' I thought that would be enough. Tha' I could let it go. But. I…I couldn't. I jus' kept thinkin' about it." She hesitated.
Bargrimm leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Keane glanced up at the movement and then rolled back over, apparently hoping to scratch a stubborn itch on his back. "Righ' then, lass, so ye have a newcomer what's maybe been wi' the criminals down in Westfall for a spell, an' that's eatin' at ye. Understandable, given th' run-ins between that gang and yers. So what's next?"
Oranna smiled again at Bargrimm, but it faded quickly. "I…well. I knew someone who would be able ta get the answers I knew I couldn't. So, I…hired that person ta look into her. Inta Kenna, an' find out." She breathed out and bit her lip a little as her right thumb began to tap her hand again. "At first it seemed like I'd been worried fer nothin'. Jus' lettin' myself worry myself inta a paper bag again. But then, this person…looked deeper into her past, an'…" She hesitated again.
Then, tapping a beat on her arm in a pattern that matches the syllables of her words, she said in a low voice, leaning in close, "KW's family name is definitely of Elwynn/Stormwind origin. Some record in Westfall. All clues indicate likely involvement with DB at some point, and the group seems intent on hunting her down. Not yet able to determine level of status if/when she was involved." She stops tapping her arm and sags back into the chair.
"So it sounds like yer a righ' keen detective yerself, lass, with those instincts," Bargrimm smiled, "but I'm gettin' the distinct impression there's a bit more t' th' take, since yer not sittin' back an' grinnin' that ye were on th' righ' track." He didn't push or press, but seemed content to wait for her to reveal everything at her own pace.
She looked almost stricken at his words and her bottom lip trembled briefly before she pressed her lips together hard. "I jus'….I thought it would be better!" She leaned forward and pressed her face into the palms of her hands, her elbows resting on her knees. "I thought if I jus' knew, then it would be easier ta…ta, I don't know. But, it's no' better. It's worse than e'er before." She drew in a shaky breath. From her position by the fire, Befound stirred, and her tail twitched back and forth, but she remained on the floor, seeming to be waiting for some sort of signal to move.
"I don't know what ta do, Bargrimm. Do I try ta get her ta tell me the truth? Carry on like I don't know? What if she's in real danger from the Defias? What if they hurt her because Sir Elohad sends her out alone, an' she can't fight them off, because he doesn't realize how much danger she's in?" She pressed her hands harder into her face, her words tumbling out faster and faster. "What if it's worse. What if she's no' on our side at all? What if she still thinks we're the bad ones, the ones who killed her…her version of Sir Elohad?. How do ye convince someone tha' yer no' like tha' without jus' sayin' it? Tha' she deserves better than the Defias?" Her voice shook with emotion. "I'm sorry, I jus'…I don…I don't know what to do. I'm no…no' good a' this sort o' thing."
Bargrimm's mouth twisted as her outburst washed over him. "Well, beggin' yer pardon, lass, but ye might have answered yet own question a bit ago. Ye get t' decide who ye share yer secrets with, aye? An' it's up t' others t' decide if they can trust ye with it. Tha' be my take lookin' at Kenna as a new comrade o' yers. An' Sir Elohad seems fine with her presence, aye?" He pushed the goggles up onto his forehead, eyes gazing at Oranna with quiet certainty. "An' as far as the tactics o' th' situation go, tha' all depends on if ye trust Ference t' make good decisions or no."
She took a moment to absorb the words, taking very rhythmic breaths. "I…I do trust Sir Elohad. He knows what he's doin'. I…I jus' don't know tha' I…" She paused and seemed to sink deeper into herself. "I don't trust tha' I won't do somethin' ta mess it up. Tha' I'll blunder my way inta somethin' terrible."
She turned her head a little to look at Bargrimm, her mouth pulled into an attempt at a smile but her eyes still stricken and sad. "I'm sure ye've noticed I'm no' exactly a master at subtly. I say things wrong, all the time. An' I…jus'…if I were to say somethin' I shouldna had said, or said it wrong like, an' chased Kenna away an' the Defias caught up ta her, I'd ne'er forgive myself. But I don't…I don't know how ta say tha' she can belong here wi' us without tellin' her tha' I know what I know. An' tha' I went behind her back ta learn it." She put her face back in her hands, muttering inaudibly.
Bargrimm reached over and patted her shoulder. "There, there, lass. Showin' instead o' sayin' can go a long way. I wager ye have some good friends in th' Company already, an' they like ye just fine. Just keep on bein' yerself, an' there's no reason Kenna an' ye shouldn't get on wonderfully. After all, nothin' ye said has sent yer first friend scurryin' back t' th' Defias; why should it be any different with Kenna? An' when th' time comes, if ye need t' ever unburden yer mind about th' investigation, ye trust yer friends t' understand why."
Oranna froze at the touch on her shoulder. Befound half rose from her position at the fireplace, but settled back down from a small gesture of Oranna’s hand. She took a few moments, listening, and then raised her head. She gave Bargrimm a very wobbly smile that she seemed to still with effort, before pulling back from his hand to sit back in the chair. She swallowed twice, keeping the smile that was little more than her lips pulled into the correct shape firmly fixed on her face.
"I," she started and cleared her throat a little. "I'll…try ta do tha'. More, ah, actions. Less…less talkin'." Her hands clenched a little on her knees, but she seemed to force them to relax again, and pushed her smile wider. Befound's tail lashed twice. "I'm… I'm sorry fer…fer draggin' ye out here fer…well. I'm sorry. I…jus'…when I got tha information. I…panicked. An' I couldn't think who I could tell, who wasn't in tha Company, who mi' be able ta stay objective about the Defias, except, well." She gestured weakly with one hand to Bargrimm, her face still pulled into a smile. "I…if ye took a gryphon jus' ta get here thinkin' it was, ah, dire instead of jus' me…" She swallowed again. "I…I could, tha' is…the silver" She flushed a little, unable to continue any further, still with a small smile on her face that did not come close to reaching her eyes, which were just a little too wide, and gleamed a little in the firelight.
Bargrimm's own face froze for just a split second, and he very carefully pulled back his hand and blinked soberly a few times as she continued. Waving away her offer, he stepped over to the fire, settling a kettleful of water into the coals. "Nay, lass, no need. Sorry 'bout tha'. Yer a grand hunter, a good person, an' someone I'd be happy t' help any day for any matter." He turned away to allow Oranna some comparative privacy, half-expecting her to bolt out the still-open door while he gathered some supplies for tea from a nearby cupboard. "Dealin' with folk is no' always easy, and sometimes we make th' wrong move. Good friends can forgive a fair bit, tho, an' I doubt ye have much t' concern yerself on tha' score. I was goin' t' make up a bit o' tea, if ye nee- want any? I remember ye aren't much for harder spirits, aye?" Bargrimm turned back with his tray of Oldstone Biscuits and tea to check and see if Oranna was still present.
Oranna let her smile slip a little as Bargrimm turned away, closed her eyes briefly, and pressed her palms hard against her eyes for a few seconds. She took several measured breaths while he worked at the fire, and then carefully dropped her hands back into her lap. Befound stirred again by the fire, but relaxed when nothing more happened, her ears twitching only slightly.
"Oh, ah, thank you. I…yes, I…tea is…good." She cleared her throat a little. "I don't, ah, drink…much else besides water, most of the time, aye. I'm no'…well, I…the smell o' it doesn't bother me, but I can't…it's tha taste of spirits an' beer." She paused, and sighed. "I… I'll take yer word on it, about…friends. I expect ye know a lot more on it than I do." Her voice was softer, almost quiet enough that it was as though she spoke more to herself than him.
The tea was made with almost mechanical swiftness as water boiled, leaves steeped, and cream and sugar appeared from somewhere. Before long, a reasonably representative tea was set on a nearby crate with a sprig of juniper lying alongside as a garnish. Keane sniffed curiously but ultimately opted to continue lazing on the warm stone floor. Bargrimm resumed his seat and sighed. "Oranna, ye do concern me, time t' time. I know ye t' make reference t' yer own experience now an' again — an' like I say, a lass' secrets are her own affair an' I've no need nor intent t' poke an' pry. Jus'… I know ye hurt, an' I can see it happenin' live as a spring sprout in front o' me own eyes. No shame in it, an' no call t' hide it, but if ye need anythin' at all, ye can always ask, aye?"
Oranna's eyes lightened briefly at the sight of the tea tray, a genuine smile forming. She reached forward to take a cup as he spoke. Her eyes dimmed at his words, and she sat back with the cup, almost curling around it, as though trying to make herself smaller. "I…it's tha' obvious, is it?" Her voice was quiet and soft. "My family always did say I had a terrible poker face."
She cupped the tea, but didn't drink. "I'm sorry ta…ta concern ye, as ye say. I'm fine, lad." She realized immediately how untrue the words sounded, and amended it quickly. "I'll be fine." She rubbed a thumb over the edge of the cup, sinking deeper into the chair. "Ye probably ha'…have things ye need ta do that's no' jus' sit here. An' as ye say, ye don't…well, ye don't need ta know tha reasons…why I…" She swallowed and tried a smile. It didn't quite stick. "Ye didna ask…" She stared into the liquid in the cup, as if looking at her reflection. "Ye ha' yer own troubles an' ye don't need ta carry mine. I'm sorry."
Bargrimm reached over and dipped an Oldstone into his tea, letting it sit. Conventional wisdom held that a five-minute dip was best employed so as to not risk the consumer’s teeth. “What I’m gettin’ at, lass, is tha’ I’m a wee bit concerned ye haven’t employed a basic technique for helpin’ with fixin’ yer hurt. Ye carry yerself like yer still on th’ wall, tampin’ down th’ pain t’ get on with whatever duty ye decide is yer own at th’ moment. But wounds need air, sometimes, an’, well… yeh, t’ th’ point, I’m askin’ direct — when ye need someone t’ talk to, put me down on th’ list o’ potentials, aye? I’m not goin’ t’ badger ye on it, but I’ll be damned if I let th’ wars keep scorin’ slow casualties after th’ battles are over.”
Oranna said nothing for several long moments, considering his words. She took a sip of the tea, swallowed, and chewed on her lip as she set it back down in her lap. "I…I've been tryin', with the Company. Tryin' ta be honest, so they know who's there at their back, so they know I'm no'…" She trailed off, leaving the words hanging.
"After the Second War…after the Siege, I thought, I jus' needed ta be alone. I was…" She sighed and shrugged. "Well, I'm sure ye see it. I was no gates of Ironforge." She looked into her tea. "But I don't know how it's done, this…talkin'. I…didna ha' people I talked ta, when I was younger, who wasna part of tha family, and then it was, well, warriors were supposed ta jus' brush it off." Her brows drew in together, her eyes seeing something far away. "I dinna know how friends jus' talk ta each other about things, or how they jus' air tha wound, as ye say. It's why…why I thought maybe, with Kenna, ye would know what ta do. I…I've ne'er really had them before the Company an', well," she said muttering inaudibly. "Friends, I mean," she said slightly louder, although her voice held a tentative note, as though she had been trying not to say it. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at this, and she looked away.
Bargrimm shrugged, testing the biscuit against the rim of his cup. "Talkin' on dark things is a bit o' a skill," he allowed, "but ye practice it same as any other. Find a willin' soul and a comfortable chair, an' then ye just start an' see where ye end up. 'Tis a wee bit like explorin' a new landscape; ye might have a rough idea o' what's out there, but sometimes ye stumble across somethin' ye no' expected, an' th' pair o' ye handle it when it arrives."
She stared into the tea like it held the answers of the ages, and frowned sadly at what it seemed to say, before reaching over and placing it back on the table. She ran a hand through the front of her hair, before sighing a little, and turning in the chair to look at Bargrimm. Befound's ears twitched and the leopard made a small chirping sound. Oranna swallowed hard, and reached out a hand towards his arm, hesitating in the air above him for a moment as though she were unsure. Her fingers trembled a little.
"Bargrimm?"
The hunter closed his eyes for a moment, letting the steam from his tea carry the aroma upward. "Aye, lass?" Keane perked his ears and exhaled loudly in Befound's direction, but was otherwise silent.
She pulled her hand back, dropping it into her lap, her shoulders dropping. “It's alri’,” she said, her voice low and soft. “I think I understand. Yer a tinkerer.” She smiled slightly as she looked down at her hands even as tears welled in her eyes. “An’ so when ye see somethin’ so obviously broken.” Two tears spilled over onto her cheek as her voice caught on the word ‘broken.’ “Ye can't help but want ta fix it, jus' because that's what ye do.” She brushed the tears off roughly with the back of her hand, and shook her head. “But ye don't have ta do tha’. Ye don't owe me tha’, or anythin’ really. I’m no'…no' goin’ ta be another casualty of tha Wars. I promise.” She stood up in a smooth motion, her eyes firmly on the floor, and Befound seemed to almost blink into existence at her side.
“Ye don’t need ta force yourself ta…” She swiped her hand at her cheek almost frantically as another tear slowly rolled out. “Tha’ is…I don't wan’ ta be someone’s…project. I’ve been tha’ afore. An’ I…” She took a shaky breath, and closed her eyes for a moment.
There was an audible and firm clink as Bargrimm's cup returned to the tray. "Nay, lass, tinkerin' is what I do, not who I am. But this is no' a chore, or a duty, or a responsibility, or anythin' o' that sort. Yer a fine person, an' one I'd easily call a good friend, both t' me an' others. There's all sorts o' reasons t' help them as are hurtin', an' t' be frank, nobody's gettin' far on their own with no help. When I offer t' lend a hand, it'd be from wantin' t' do it, no' because I think I have t' try. Yer no more broken than a lot o' folks over th' years, an' if ye decide t' wait 'til yer feelin' more stable… well, 'tis yer life an' yer choices t' make, an' no one should be faultin' ye for it. Jus' know there's folks about t' assist whenever ye might need it."
Oranna smiled gently at the floor in his direction, unable to meet his eyes, her eyes distant and over bright. She turned her face away from his line of sight. “I understand. I'll try ta follow yer advice. Trust Sir Elohad more. Say less when I don't know what ta say. Stop pryin' inta people's secrets. And to talk ta…ta my friends ta try ta fix…ta get more…stable…” She trailed off, and hunched her shoulders. She swiped a hand up to her face again, quickly.
“I'm sorry I made ye come all tha way here. If you e'er need any—" Her voice broke on the word and she cleared her throat, still looking at the ground. “Well. Ye know my address.” She began to walk to the door, turning just a little, Befound at her heels. “So long, Bargrimm.” She paused at the doorway.
About a dozen frustrated thoughts tumbled through Bargrimm's mind as Oranna began her departure. He rose from his seat with a half-wave. "Jus' remember, Oranna — yer no' a cost or a burden t' anyone that knows ye. Yer a beam o' light into a dark mineshaft we're all tryin' t' scramble out of, an' th' rest o' us jus' want a chance t' be the same for ye, understand?"
Oranna turned halfway to look back at Bargrimm, her face a study of confusion, meeting his eyes very briefly before dropping them. She blinked several times at the ground, and bit down on her lip, before turning away. "I'll…I'll be here, tha rest o' the week. In Ironforge. I…sometimes I go fishing out in Dun Morogh. For Befound. I…if ye…" She trailed off and shrugged, and directed a wave of a hand behind her as she walked out the door.
Bargrimm watched her go with a quiet sigh that eventually turned into a vague scowl after she was well out of sight. With a grumble, he siezed his rifle, his traps, and whistled for the white wolf, who rose swiftly and padded to the dwarf's flank. "Tha' girl — someone's goin' t' need t' figure her language out, Keane," the hunter growled, his Hinterlands accent coming on stronger with temper. "Lass reads words outta me mouth that are nae even tae mind. Dinnae see a lass so shy a-pride but still so hard passin' a-helpin'. I best no' be crossin' y' folk wha' bin done by her t' th' pass we have. Bullets up th' bahookie th' lotta them, aye!"
Slamming the door, Bargrimm stalked out toward the gate. There were still trolls in the Dun Morogh hills, and in lieu of more desirable targets, he would make do.
Cressidha slept soundly on the inn bed, as Oranna Stormbreaker sat on the small inn chair reading a book. She took a loud crunching bite of an apple. She choked a little on the apple, coughing loudly. At the noise, Cressidha blinked and startled awake.
“Mnn?”
Oranna coughed more. “Oh, ah, I’m sorry, lass. Didna mean ta—“ She coughed again, pounding a fist on her chest. “Wake ye.” Oswald, unconcered by the noise, oozed over to Oranna like the stretchy kitty he is.
“Mrrp?” he asked.
“Ah, hello, lad,” Oranna replied to the cat. She pet his head very gently, rubbing the little spot above his nose.
“Mm…no, it’s fine…” Cressidha said, with a yawn that she covered with a hand. She looked over at Oranna. “Do you want some water?”
“Oh, ah, yes,” Oranna said. “I should probably. Drink something.” She reached over to grab her pack, and rifled through it, blinking blearily at the contents. Cressidha traced a sigil in the air, and passed Oranna a bottle of water, looking half-asleep.
“Oh, ri’, ye…can…make tha’.” Oranna accepted the water, her eyes looking bloodshot even in the dim light of the lone candle burning.
“I can,” Cressidha agreed. She looked at Oranna, as the dwarven hunter took several long drinks of the conjured water. “Um…are you all right?”
“Hm? Wha’?” Oranna blinked. “Yes, I’m…I’m fine. Jus’…doin’ some readin’ on…” She looked down at the book, seeming to have forgotten what it was she was reading. “Somethin’?” The book was clearly upside down. Oswald put his front paws on Oranna’s knees almost as if to peer at what had her attention when it was clearly, and incorrectly, not him.
“Is that a puzzle book?” Cressidha asked, turning her head to the side as if to see if there was some reason it was upside-down. Oranna looked at the book, and seemed to finally realize that it was, in fact, upside-down and righted it before putting it down.
“Oh, ah, no, I was…” Her shoulders slumped. “I…couldna sleep, so I thought…I’d…read.”
“It, ah…” Cressidha paused as though trying to find a polite way to put it. “Doesn’t seem to be helping.” She looked at the rug where Oranna had made a small bed up. “Do you want your bed back? I can take the rug, it’s no trouble…” Oranna rubbed her hands over her face a few times.
“No, no, it’s no’ tha bed. I’ve…slept on worse, actually. This is a nice rug.”
“Ah, well.” Cressidha walked to the chair near the dwarven woman and sat down carefully. “Um, is there anything I can do?”
Oranna looked at Cressidha and it was clear from the look on her face that she was conflicted. “Oh, ah, I mean. I don…think it’s anythin’ ye could.” She sighed.
“Find a willin’ soul and a comfortable chair, an’ then ye just start an’ see where ye end up.”
Well. She was sitting, in a chair one could even say was comfortable. And Cressidha had asked. Oranna stared at the floor, and tried to find a way to say what it was that was wrong.
“I’m jus’…I…ah, did ye e’er share a room, wi’ yer brothers?”
Cressidha sighed in response. “Only when I was little.”
Oranna nodded at this, and tried to shrug, but found her shoulders unwilling to do more than vaguely lift and fall. “Well, ah, was it e’er…when ye stopped sleepin’ all in the same place, did ye ha’ a bit o’…difficulty sleepin’? Like ye felt somethin’ was missin’, almost?” She leaned back in her chair, the exhaustion setting in.
“I suppose,” Cressidha said, her tone light. “It wasn’t so bad for me. My family stayed on a farm for most of my childhood, but I never had much trouble sleeping…” Oranna nodded at the words, grateful at least for a place to start.
“It’s jus’ tha’, lass. I’m…no’ so used ta…havin’ someone wi’ me. Here.” She looked up her eyes earnest. “But, really, it’s fine. I jus’ ha’ ta get used ta it, an’ I’ll be fine.” She brought up one of her best smiles. “I used ta be a champion sleeper, when I was young.”
“I do hope I don’t snore. I don’t believe so…” The young human woman seemed to mildly be concerned about this, and Oranna chuckled. “Is Oswald knocking into things in the middle of the night? I can put him in his carrier.”
“No, lass, yer fine,” Oranna said sincerely. “It’s no’ ye a’ all. It’s me. I’ll…settle, I’m sure. Jus’…takin me a moment longer than I thought it would.”
There’s too many people breathing around her. Nothing is in sync. Callum coughs. Jazia sighs loudly. Gradjet sniffles. It’s constant noise. A cacophony of tiny sounds of life that feels like creeping death. She can’t get out and she can’t leave. There isn’t home anymore. Home is gone.
Oranna felt her thumb begin the control tap against her hand.
“You seem exhausted,” Cressidha observed. Oranna fought to still her hands.
“I…I would rather ha’ ye stay here. I…tha’ is…I don’t want ta be tha kind o’ person who can’t…sleep.” She put her hand onto her face and muttered about not able to start another misunderstanding with someone. “I don’t think I’m makin’ much sense.”
Cressidha considered this, looking at Oranna. “You want to get used to it again, it’s just taking time. Is that it?”
“When I…tha’ is…I havna shared a space, like this since…the Second War. I…don’t wan’ tha’ ta be…” She shrugged, trying to find a way to say it directly. “Yes. I want ta be able ta sleep, jus’ normally. Again.”
Oswald chose that moment to jump onto the table, and then onto a shelf, and then began to wander the room looking for small objects to shove off of shelves. Oranna raised one eyebrow at Oswald, and gestured to Befound. The giant snow leopard yawned and curled up, creating a little space that would look decidedly inviting for a small cat. Oswald looked at Oranna, who looked at the space. Well, his small face seemed to say, if the queen insisted, he would deign to snuggle with the Big Cat.
“Hm,” Cressidha said to Oranna, her lips pursed ever so slightly in thought. “do you want, um, a bedtime story? Chamomile tea? Ah…” Oranna laughed a little, although she definitely considered it, if for no other reason to see what kinds of stories humans used for bedtime tales.
“I…don’t know tha’ I’d turn down tea.”
Two cups of tea with cream and sugar, placed on a crate, a tiny sprig of juniper next to them.
Oranna brushed the memory aside. “I’m curious about the stories tha’ ye mi’ tell, lass, but…I think tha’ the book proves it’s probably no’…” She gestured to the book. “Ye don’t ha’ ta try ta take care o’ me, I can’—“
“What I’m getting’ at las, is tha’ I’m a wee bit concerned ye haven’t employed a basic technique for helpin’ with fixin’ yer hurt. Ye carry yerself like yer still on th’ wall, tampin’ down th’ pain t’ get on with whatever duty ye decide is yer own at th’ moment.”
A jolt of sorrow went through her at the memory. At the time, she had only been able to hear how he had said that he would help her, as a duty he was willing to undertake. But, now the words seemed to have taken on a new meaning.
“Why don’t you take the bed?” Cressidha continued, as Oranna pondered Bargrimm’s words in a new light. “Maybe if we make the situation more like you're used to…you can just forget I’m there?”
She tries to close her eyes. She can hear Cressidha’s breathing. It’s faint, softer than the ever present hum of Ironforge, and yet it’s as if it’s being projected through the air directly into her ear, and she can’t sleep. She can’t even close her eyes. Every breath the human woman takes magnifies by twelve more, the memory of the others in Merrily’s house scurrying like mice in her memory, scampering over her mind. And she can’t sleep.
“I…don’t think tha’…will do it, lass,” Oranna said with a shake of her head. She twisted her hands in her lap, and cleared her throat. “The thing is. During the Siege? I…I had ta share a room. Wi’…lots of people.”
The gnomes put their bedrolls together so closely they nearly overlap. She and Topa stand awkwardly, holding on their own, trying to find a way to leave more space between them and the others, but there’s no room. There’s no more space to take up. Topa looks over at her, and says in her deep, soft voice, “Would ye rather be between me an’ one o’ them, or me an’ tha wall?”
“The wall, please,” she whispers back and she knows she’s putting Topa where she can’t be, but she can’t, the thought of all those people being so close…Topa nods, and begins to lay out her bedroll with her arm, using her chin to compensate for the other missing.
“Ye understand,” Oranna said, her eyes on Topa’s face in her memory. “It’s a big city, but there were a lo’ more o’ us in here than before, an’, well. I…my cousin Topa an’ I, we didna ha’ a place ta go. This wasna our home.”
“Do you have a place to go?” The voice is high pitched, but the gnome uttering the words is old, her eyes ringed by wrinkles, and her hair entirely gray with strands of pure white.
She can’t breathe. Every time she tries to speak, her words get caught in the scream stuck in her throat. Topa rubs a hand up and down her arm.
“No,” Topa says and the word is a blow of pain, a ram butting into her lungs.
It’s final, it’s real, and they’re gone. Home is gone. Everyone is gone. She keens, her voice caught on the note of the scream.
“Well then.” The gnome looks at Topa. “You do now. I have a place there, and now so do you.”
Cressidha nodded quietly. Oranna pushed the words out. “An, there was a good gnome lass. Merrily. She…she offered us a place, wi’ her family. It was good o’ her. But…” She could feel her throat threatening to close. She reached over and drank more of the conjured water, which tasted incredible. She drank more than she had intended, mostly out of enjoyment for the remarkably crisp and clear taste. “But, there were jus’ so many o’ us.”
“How did you sleep then?”
“I.” She swallowed hard. “When I…” She cleared her throat. “I stayed busy. Durin’ tha day. So busy tha’ I would be able ta come back, an’ jus’ collapse. Then when I woke up, I’d jus’ go back to tha Wal—“ She stopped. She wasn’t ready to tell Cressidha about the Siege, about what she’d done, who she’d had to become.
“Take yer time, lass.”
“To working,” Oranna continued, trying to cover her pause. “An’…repeat.”
“Oh.” Cressidha bit her lip. “I’m…sorry. I don’t really have a solution.”
“I ne’er really…ye understand, it’s no’ like I really…did anythin’ ta fix it,” Oranna said. “But tha’ was, well, it was extraordinary circumstances. An’ a’ first, none o’ us thought it would last so long.”
“I give ‘em three weeks tops afore they realize they’re ne’er gettin’ in here. We break them against th’ doors, and then we crush wha’s left.”
“An’ now, I’m realizin’ I…cannae jus’ wait it out, or jus’…hope it goes away an’ ne’er comes up again.” Oranna sighed deeply. “So, I don’t want ta jus’ run away from this, or jus’…change it so it’s no’ happenin’. I want ta face it this time.”
“All right,” Cressidha said. “But you do need rest, Oranna.”
“I know,” she agreed. “I’ll…ah. Tonight I’ll try tha old way. Go get myself tired enough so a’ least I can sleep. An’ I’ll try ta find a way ta…help this. In tha long run.” She gave Cressidha a warm smile. The human mage looked thoughtful, but eventually she sighed and returned the smile with one of her own.
“All right. But,” she said kindly, but with a note of firmness. “If you want your bed back, just say so.”
Oranna chuckled and winked. “I will lass. I…if I need somethin’…I’ll try ta ask fer it. Deal?” She held out a hand with a tired smile.
Cressidha grasped the dwarven hunter’s hand without hesitation and shook, firmly. “Deal.” Oranna felt her eyes widen at the surprising strength in the human woman’s grip, and smiled wider. Cressidha refilled the water Oranna had drank, and then headed back towards the bed. Oranna gave her a gentle wave, before gesturing at Befound, who stood. Oswald looked up from the movement.
“Lad,” Oranna said to the cat. “I don’t want ta hear tha’ ye’ve been disturbing’ tha’ lass tonight, all ri’?” She pitched her voice in the pleasing range for cats. “Because yer such a good boy. Yes, ye are. Tha’ best boy.” And she put a treat on the chair, one of her best bits of fish. Befound studiously ignored this, while Oswald gave Oranna another “Mrrp.” With that, Oranna walked over to the door, and opened it, determined to find a way to sleep.
Fishing had seemed like a good idea at the time. She had thought she’d done so much fishing recently that she could do it in her sleep.
That might still have proved to be true, but what she could not, apparently, do very well, was fish while very, very tired. Oranna cast the line again and tried to focus on the bobber.
“Ye carry yerself like yer still on th’ wall, tampin’ down th’ pain t’ get on with whatever duty ye decide is yer own at th’ moment.”
The words wouldn’t stop coming to her mind. She wanted to shove them away, to deny them, but they were undeniably true. Every time she went to refute them, to say how far she had come, how much progress she had made, her mind went back to the room, hearing Cressidha breathing, and feeling as though the Siege had been mere minutes before.
She clenched her hands around the fishing pole, looking down at them. It had hurt, to be seen so clearly, to know that Bargrimm had looked into her eyes and seen all the ghosts she carried, had known just how badly broken she was. All she had wanted to do was run away from his keen eyes, from the bright intelligence that put together all the tiny pieces of the puzzle of her until he knew just how much of her was held together with nothing more than twine.
“Yer no more broken than a lot o' folks over th' years.”
She had not wanted to say what went through her mind, as she thought of some of the others in Cobalt Company, who she knew carried their own ghosts, had broken edges where life had torn off some of their pieces—they had real reasons for it. Sir Elohad had lost his family to a tragedy, his own child. Bargrimm had lost a leg. Dane had lost…well, from the way he talked, it sounded as though he’d lost it all, and as a child, nonetheless. Oranna had known others who had lost their family that day she did, who had been part of those who didn’t make it to Ironforge in time. And they hadn’t fallen apart at the end of the Siege. They had charged out of the gates, and gone on to do more. Topa had been part of the efforts, fighting in her own way. The other dwarves had been on the Wall, had fought, had killed for the war effort, and none of them had needed to run away for twenty years.
Oranna brought a hand up to her face and pressed her fingers on the bridge of her nose. It did no good to think of it. She needed to just fish until she thought she’d fall over, and then she’d get back, and she’d sleep. Then things would make more sense. Probably.
She wasn’t sure she’d know what to do any better tomorrow, either, but what other choice did she have?
“Oranna — yer no' a cost or a burden t' anyone that knows ye. Yer a beam o' light into a dark mineshaft we're all tryin' t' scramble out of, an' th' rest o' us jus' want a chance t' be the same for ye, understand?"
She closed her eyes to the words. She was fairly certain no one had ever called her something like that before. It had made her hesitate. It didn’t match with what she had believed he thought of her. You didn’t call something you thought was broken a beam of light. It had meant that either he had been trying to make her feel better, or that she had misunderstood his words before. A part of her wanted to be convinced that he had only been trying, again, to be kind. But, it had sounded almost…desperate. As though he had been trying to say one last thing before she walked away, trying to make her understand better. Her heart had hurt too much then to turn back, to ask him what he meant, but the words had echoed in her steps on the way back to the Stonefire.
She sighed and looked at the water. The bobber was gone. She’d probably lost it to fish that had tugged on the line, and hadn't ever felt it. She reeled in the line, which had snapped at some point. She hadn’t noticed.
“I don’t know,” she said to Befound, who seemed to be asleep nearby. Her ears twitched in Oranna’s direction. “I…I don’t think I…handled it well, lass. I…I thought maybe he jus’…” She shook her head. “I’ll try ta think on it later. I…think I’m too tired ta think straight ri’ now.”
She went through the motions of setting the pole back up. Her eyes ached with exhaustion, but she knew if she went back to the room, all she’d be able to do would be stare at the ceiling, trying not to listen to the ghosts of the Siege. She closed her eyes and cast the line by muscle memory.
“I know I need ta get off tha Wall, lass. I jus’…I don’t know how I’m supposed ta do it.” She could try to go back to Ironforge, wake one of the Company maybe, and ask for their help, but she thought how much it might worry one of them. No, it would be better to wait, until tomorrow at least. She just had to hold on until tomorrow. She would keep fishing, and then she’d get too tired, and she would go back and she could slee—
She blinked wearily at the water, and pulled in the fishing line she had cast. She scoffed as she realized she’d forgotten to bait it.
“Oranna! How’s th’ fishin’?”
It was as though she’d summoned him from the Light itself. She turned to look over, half expecting to see no one there at all, just a figment of her imagination playing tricks on her. But, no, standing in the snow with more than a little blood covering his clothes, was Bargrimm Flintspark.
“Bargrimm!” She smiled by reflex, before she remembered the last time they had spoken. Then, his words caught up to her brain. “Ah,” she said as she looked down at the fishing pole still in her hands. She still hadn’t put the bait on. Or, apparently, a hook. “I, uh. Not, ah, great. I think.” There were no fish next to her either, which meant she either hadn’t caught anything or Befound had eaten them. She was too tired to remember if either was correct. “Tha’…I…” She started, unsure what she intended to say.
Her mind nudged her to look at Bargrimm. And the significant amount of blood on him. Something in her chest lurched at the realization, and she stood up, crossing over to the other hunter in several fast steps. “Is any o’ tha’ blood yers?”
He shook his head, and she felt a rush of relief. “Nay, not any o’ mine.”
“Tha’s good. I…ah.” She coughed, and looked down, her thoughts a tangle of words that made no sense.
“What’s wrong, lass?” He asked, and she could practically feel his eyes running across her features, taking notice of the dark circles under her eyes, the way her braid had bits of hair sticking out at odd angles from tossing and turning. She poked the snow with a boot. “How long ye been out here?” The concern in his voice was audible.
“I,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t…know?” It was honest, at least.
“Well,” he replied, and there was something hesitant in his voice. “Have ye at least been eatin’? Supplied?”
“Find a willin' soul and a comfortable chair, an' then ye just start an' see where ye end up.”
Well. The snow wasn’t exactly a comfortable chair, but it would have to do.
She sat down on the snow, hoping that the weather proofing on the pants held. She looked over at Bargrimm for a moment.
“When I offer t' lend a hand, it'd be from wantin' t' do it, no' because I think I have t' try.”
Even if he only offered it out of a sense of obligation, the truth was that he was there, and well, if he changed his mind, then at least she’d have tried.
She patted the snow next to her, half sure he would decline, say he would rather stand, tell her he was just passing through. Instead, he looked slightly surprised, and took a seat quickly, as though he were almost afraid she would change her mind.
“I cannae sleep,” she confessed. “An…I. Tha’ is, I’ve been thinkin’ about wha’ ye said, before. About how I’m…still there, on tha wall. In tha Siege.” Her words began to tumble faster and faster out. “An’ Cress is stayin’ in tha room, an’ it’s, she’s there, an’.” She put a hand over her face, resting for a moment. Her mind whirled, trying to say everything at once. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I think I’m doin’ this all out o’ order.”
“Take yer time, no rush,” Bargrimm said, in that voice he used when she had started to panic. It was low, and soft, and sincere. She pulled her knees in close to her body, and gave Bargrimm a small smile.
“I. Well. Ye know how I said before, about the Company, bein’ here? In Ironforge?” He nodded. “I, well. I ha’ a place, already, in the Stonefire. An’ well, I offered ta ha’ any o’ the Company stay wi’ me, ye know, save on the cost, or e’en jus’ no’ ha’ ta find a place. An…I…” She sighed again, and shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of exhaustion sticking to the words, pulling them out of her mind. “Cressidha, she came ta stay wi’ me.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “Stands t’ reason.”
“An’ I didna realize tha’ I’d still…” She swallowed hard, a rush of sound in her memory, of the sound of thirteen other people breathing in the same, small space.
“I know ye t' make reference t' yer own experience now an' again.”
No, she thought, she needed to back up even more, be more specific. She tried again, with a steadying breath. “In th’ Second War. In tha Siege? When…when Topa, my cousin, an’ I made it in. We…we didna ha’ anywhere ta go. Ye know? Tha’ wasna our home. An’…there were so many people.” It hurt less, somehow, saying it to Bargrimm, than it had with Cressidha. Maybe it was the repetition of it, the words losing their power with the second telling.
“Those first few days, it was chaos,” she continued. “An’, well, there was a gnome woman, who saw tha’ we had nowhere ta go. She offered us a place, at her home.”
“Aye, lot o’ that by all accounts,” he agreed. She could feel her mind tugging her out of place, trying to rush away from the memory of it, and she pulled back on it, hard, as though she held a lead on an unruly goat. She squeezed her hands together, and curled into her own legs tighter.
“It was a kindness, really. I…I’ve always been grateful t’her. She an’ her family were kind ta us, an’ they didna ha’ ta be. But…” She closed her eyed.
There’s too many people breathing around her. Nothing is in sync. Callum coughs. Jazia sighs loudly. Gradjet sniffles. It’s constant noise. A cacophony of tiny sounds of life that feels like creeping death. She can’t get out and she can’t leave. There isn’t home anymore. Home is gone.
“There were jus’ so many o’ us,” she said, hearing her own voice strain. Bargrimm nodded, slowly, but stayed silent. “She had her whole family wi’ her, ye know? An’ it wasna e’en her house entirely. She shared it wi’ three other families. An’…so we had a room. Ta sleep, really, that’s all ye could do in it. There were fourteen o’ us in there, jus’…room for a bedroll.”
“Aye, lot o’ mouths, makes it tougher on th’ defenders,” he said.
Their eyes meet over the top of the young gnome girl’s head. They know that it’s been going too long. That this might be the last time any of them can eat like this again. Eventually, food is going to run out.
She looked over at Bargrimm, wondering what had happened in his own past that lead to such insight, but afraid that if she stopped now, she would never want to start up again. “There was always something goin’ wrong. E’ery day, somethin’ was happenin’. An’, I wasna used ta tha’ kind o’…bein’ around so many people, all tha time. An’ I couldna sleep. Jus’…all the sounds o’ e’eryone breathin’ an’ jus’.” She shrugged, just a tiny movement of her shoulders.
“Aye,” Bargrimm said. “Ye grew up more solitary. I reckon that’d be happenin’.”
“So, I went out ta do things, durin’ tha day. Work. I started wi’ bandages. It was somethin’ I knew, an’ especially those early days when half tha people in there had some in wi’ injuries.” He nodded. “I was workin’ a delivery o’ bandages, fer tha…for e’eryone workin’ on th’Wall. An’….an orc go’ in a lucky shot. Took one of the riflemen down. It happened, time ta time. An’…”
“You there, lass! Can you fire a gun?” She can’t take her eyes off the dwarf, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Hands shake her roughly. “Lass!”
She meets the eyes of dwarf who can’t be much older than her. His voice is hoarse from yelling. He’s desperate. Her hands are shaking, the basket filled with bandages that she was delivering hits the ground.
“Yes.”
“Then, please, lass, please.” He shoves the gun into her hands. It’s nothing like Great-aunt Nettie’s gun, but the principles seem the same. “Hold this spot.” He moves the body of the dwarf with a quiet sob, and she takes the dead dwarf’s place.
“Don’t let them take more o’ us.” It’s a prayer. She doesn’t know if he’s talking to the Light or to her, but she braces against the ledge and sights down the scope.
She won’t.
“They asked me…if I could…an’…I could,” she said, her voice unexpectedly steady. “So, I did. I…how did ye say it tha’ time? I…plugged tha hole, ta help. An’ it was…bad. I…” Her voice broke, and she found she couldn’t say the words out loud. It was too much. Maybe, someday, it would be easier. She cleared her throat. “An’ then I’d go back, ta Merrily’s house, an’ there was ju’s no room ta be…” She waved a hand in the air, trying to express how it had felt, as though she could never let her guard down, never be seen crying. The gnome family with their unrelenting positive attitudes had encouraged her, but they had not wanted her to dwell on things, they’d said. She need to look forwards, not backwards, and moping wouldn’t help anything.
She could feel Bargrimm’s eyes on her, his gaze sharp, but there was something comforting in it. “An’ I couldna sleep. So, I…went back out to tha Wall until I was too tired ta stand. An’ then I’d come in, collapse. Wake up, go back to tha wall. I took extra shifts. I…sometimes I’d jus’…show up, ask if anyone wanted a break.” She looked over at the other hunter. “We werena supposed ta do tha, ye know,” she confessed. “Fatigue, an’ all tha’. But, especially as we started ta lose people, they didna really check too closely.”
“Stressin’ th’ regiments, aye,” Bargrimm said knowledgeably. “Things get dire, officers’ll take whatever they can find.” She nodded, remembering the way they had turned a blind eye at so many small things. No one had wanted to be the one to try to enforce military standards, not when everything was just one more thing away from falling apart as a system. She sighed deeply and swallowed hard.
“An’ tha’ worked. Ye know, for tha Siege. I…I know tha’ it was jus’…whate’er I had ta do ta survive it, tha was what had ta be done.”
“Just get through it, lass. Listen ta me. I’ll get ye through it. Just trust me.”
She shoved that memory back, hard. Not that one. She didn’t want to think about that one. She definitely did not want to tell Bargrimm about that one.
“An’ I thought,” she continued. “After all this time…An’ then Cress was there. In tha room. An’ I could hear her breathin’. Or, I dinna e’en know if I could hear it, or jus’…she’s quiet, tha lass. But, it was like I knew she was there, an’…I havena, since the Siege, no one has been there.”
Bargrimm nodded, a faintly sad smile on his face.
“An’ it was like I was ju’s…back there. Again. Like no time had passed a’ all. An’…” She shook her head, the words she wanted to say tumbling out of her grasp. She was afraid she was rambling now. “An’ then, earlier, I woke th’lass, tryin’ ta read, an’. She…she asked me if there was anythin’ she could do, an’ I realized…tha’ it was like ye said. I…jus’ keep doin’ wha’ I did before. Push it down, an’ wait it out, like it’ll jus’ stop hurtin’.” He nodded again. “An’ tha’ I can’t keep jus’….it’s no’ a Siege anymore. I…” She broke off, trying to get herself back under control, and she felt herself forcing a smile to cover the words.
“I realized I need ta actually…find a real way, ta deal wi’ it. So, I came out here, ta get tired enough ta sleep tonight. An’, then, tomorrow, find out wha’ I could do, really. Ta…no’ jus’ go back on tha Wall, again.”
“Aye,” he replied earnestly. “A good choice.”
She rubbed a hand over her face. It felt as though she was holding herself together with nothing more than sheer willpower. “Aye, theoretically.” Her eyes burned, and there was a faint headache just behind them. Her jaw felt tight as though she’d been clenching it, hard, unknowingly. “I’m jus’…” She pulled her legs in tighter to her body, wrapping her arms around them, and squeezing. “I’m jus’ so tired, Bargrimm.” Her voice sounded small to her ears.
“I’d imagine,” he said. His voice was gentle. “But no’ just for sleepin’, I’m guessin’.”
Oranna smiled a little, and laughed quietly. “A’ tha moment, I’m no’ sure I can tell the difference. I…I don’t think I’ve slept since…ah. Since, well.” She tried to gesture with a hand to suggest the last time they’d spoken. She didn’t want to say the words out loud.
“Oranna — yer no' a cost or a burden t' anyone that knows ye. Yer a beam o' light into a dark mineshaft we're all tryin' t' scramble out of, an' th' rest o' us jus' want a chance t' be the same for ye, understand?"
“Well,” Bargrimm said. “Damn.”
Agreed, she thought.
“So, what now?” He asked. “What’re ye thinkin’, if no’ goin’ back t’ th’ wall?”
“I don’t…know,” she answered honestly. “I…was goin’ ta see wha’ I thought in tha mornin’ an’….well.” She cleared her throat.
“If ye need anythin' at all, ye can always ask, aye?"
Well, she thought. He had said.
“Ask…fer help, I guess,” she said.
“Ye deserve t’have any help needed, lass,” he said quickly. “Anythin’ ye ask, I’ll be there.”
It was said without the slightest hesitation. Something that had been clenched hard in her chest since she’d heard him call out her pain in plain words, relaxed its grip on her. She smiled, and put her head on her knees. “I…well. I’m…tha’ is, I’m open ta suggestions. If…ye…wanted ta…” She wasn’t sure how to ask him if he had anything else to add to the list beyond chamomile tea and bedtime stories. But, perhaps he had been through something similar, having been in a different kind of pain, a real pain, when he’d lost his leg. “Did ye…ha’ trouble, sleepin’? After…after wha’ happened? In tha First War?”
“Oh, aye,” he replied. “Dreams can take ye on journeys ye’ rather no’ retrace. Sometimes avoidin’ ‘em seems t’be th’only option.”
She looked over at him, scanning his features, with a small, concerned frown.
“Ye…it was yer dreams? Tha’…ye wanted ta avoid?” She had never really gotten the dreams others seemed to. Her ghosts haunted her in the brightest afternoons, just waiting for a moment of distraction. But, once she slept, she slept deeply, unless they nudged her awake. It wasn’t the same for him, then, that he had wanted to sleep and couldn’t. He had been trying to avoid it. But, that didn’t mean his solution couldn’t work.
“What did ye do? T’avoid them, I mean.”
“Eh, bad choices, mostly,” Bargrimm replied, a wry note to his voice. “Equal parts insomnia an’ spirits.”
“Oh,” she said. Well, that wouldn’t work. Just the thought of drinking a cup full of spirits had her stomach roiling in warning. But, if it had worked for him…maybe… “Did…did it help?”
“Helped wi’ th’ dreams. Kinda ruined everythin’ else.”
“Oh.” There was something oddly vulnerable about the other dwarven hunter, despite the casual tone of his voice. She looked over at him, her eyes soft and sad. Something in her chest felt tight, and she felt the urge to reach out to him, but quelled it. She didn’t want to see him pull away. “I’m…sorry.” Before the urge could get any stronger, she said, “It was…yer way o’ jus’…stayin’ on tha Wall? Ta no’…ta no’ sleep?”
“Aye,” he agreed. “So t’ speak.”
Well, he didn’t look sleep deprived. Unless he was actually only in his mid-seventies and not his two hundreds as she suspected. But, she was willing to bet on not sleep deprived.
“How did ye get…off tha Wall, so ta speak?”
“I gave meself back t’forgin’, an’ tinkerin’, an’ learnin’ from whatever books I could find. Caught a deal o’ scorn for it, ye ken, but it was workin’ an’ that’s what mattered for me. But…I think t’would have gone easier if there’d been an ear t’ talk to. I made it through wi’ what I had.”
Her mind caught on a word, and she frowned harder, looking over at him in surprise. “Ye…scorn? Why?”
“Ye dinna — ye know much about th’ Wildhammers clan, lass?”
She shook her head, fighting off a blush. She had not thought she could stumble into anything with another dwarf, but she had been wrong. She’d missed something, some crucial bit of knowledge somewhere. “No, no’ really, no,” she answered honestly. “I mean, far enough back, one o’ my ancestors was, on my mother’s side. Whene’er I got too, ah.” Her mind cast about for another word to say besides, “wild.”
“Whene’er I’d run around,” she said, rephrasing. “She’d say it musta been because o’ tha. But, I wasna…I’m only 92. I ne’er really…met many.” She was not sure she wanted to admit that the closest she’d ever really come to meeting a Wildhammer before Bargrimm was during a skirmish when she was younger, when her family had come to blows with a Wildhammer clan. And how her family had talked about the northern dwarves, and the War of Three Hammers, until her mother had silenced them with a dark glare. “But, when I was younger, there was a lot o’…well, ye ju’s weren’t supposed ta talk about it.”
“Wildhammers dinna take t’using anythin’ much more complicated than a hammer or a lightin’ bolt,” Bargrimm explained.
Oranna felt genuine confusion at this. “But…why? I don’t…it’s amazin’, tha things ye can do. I…tinkerin’ has always been somethin’ I wish I had tha mind fer. I…”
“I’ve jus’ spent a long time on my own after…after the Second War.”
“Much the same. First one for me, but still.”
“Oh, aye? After ye…well, after ye needed ta heal up? Ye didna ha’, well, family o’ friends ta help ye? Or did ye jus’ no’ want ta be around other people?”
“Little o’ both. Flintsparks tend tae keep themselves in th’ air like most Wildhammers, so th’ whole focus on engineerin’ kinda gives them th’ jumps. Anyway. Bit o’ a black sheep, as th’ humans say.”
She had thought that once they had seen what he could do, how he had reinvented an entire leg.
“Yer family mus’ be proud o’ ye now, after all tha’.”
She had said it so blithely. As if there could not possibly be any other way.
“Oh,” she said as the realization hit her like a gust of cold wind. “I…when ye said tha’ yer family…they….after yer leg, when ye…they didna think it was brilliant o’ ye? Ta…ta be able ta do tha?”
“Spendin’ that much time on tinkerin’ instead o’ workin’ along th’ gryphon-flight an’ chuckin’ rocks at mountain trolls…me family think I’m a stain on th’ old clan honor, t’ be honest.”
A rush of boiling hot rage like nothing she’d felt before coursed through Oranna. She was on her feet before she knew what she was doing, yelling, “Tha’s! Yer! They’re wrong!” Her fists clenched, hard. How dare they, something in her mind howled. Then, like crash of thunder after a lightning strike, she realized what she was doing. She looked down at her feet, embarrassment taking the place of anger. “I…I’m sorry. I’m…” She cleared her throat and sat down, praying to the Light he didn’t think any worse of her than he had a moment before.
He chuckled wryly. “Nay, no need, Oranna. Ye no’ changin’ minds tha way.”
She fought off a blush. “I…I’m sorry. I’m…tired.” It was true. Possibly unrelated, but she would hide behind it for now. “An’ I don’t mean ta speak ill of yer family, Bargrimm. But, they’re wrong. If they’re e’en half as good as ye are, then they’d still be some o’ tha best people I’ve known.”
Bargrimm shook his head. “Then I’m right glad ye have better folk near ye now. Ye deserve t’ have people t’ give ye a lift up if ye need.”
“Oranna — yer no' a cost or a burden t' anyone that knows ye. Yer a beam o' light into a dark mineshaft we're all tryin' t' scramble out of, an' th' rest o' us jus' want a chance t' be the same for ye, understand?"
“I…I’ve said it afore, tha’…I’m tha last Stormbreaker, at least, o’ my line? I…” She kicked out a boot, moving the snow around a little. “There were people, in my family, who if they weren’t dead, they’d be telling me I had no’ ri’ ta carry tha name.”
“Not so different, then, aye? I know a bit o’ that feelin’.”
“When I joined tha Company, I thought about takin’ another. Name, I mean. But…I couldn’t. E’en known I’m probably no’ doin’ it proper.” Her voice had faded on the last few words, almost down to a whisper.
“Proper?” Bargrimm repeated. “Yer doin’ it more than proper, lass. Ye have a good heart, ye do yer damnedest t’ do right by yer friends. So, ye don’t carry a shield, an’ I can’t fly a gryphon thru a thunderstorm. What’s that matter?”
It was as though he’d reached into her chest and pulled something out that had been stuck inside so long she had thought it was just a part of her. There was relief in it, but pain as well.
“Go. Topa, take her. Get her out o’ here.”
The years she’d spent wondering, had they saved her, to carry on the family name? Had they believed that she would reach her full potentional as a warrior, and trusted her to keep the Stormbreakers going? Or had they cast her off, not a rescue at all, but a severing, and if they had known she had kept the name, they would have crawled out of their graves to take it from her?
But Bargrimm hadn’t asked what she thought they would want. He had asked why it even mattered anymore what they thought.
Her eyes filled with tears, a strange sort of feeling rising with them. “I…don’t know. It’s a good question. I don’t know why, e’en after e’erythin’, it still matters ta me. Why…why they didna…why they saved me, or why they…didna want me ta stand wi’ them…” Even as she spoke, she felt the familiar tread of the memories beckoning her. But there was something new. A path she hadn’t yet walked, a thought that she hadn’t quite had, shimmering off to the side.
“I…couldn’t’ say, lass,” Bargrimm said. “Can’t tell rightly what might — “ He glanced over, and pushed his goggles up onto his head. They pressed into his red hair gently, and his dark green eyes looked solemn, and concerned in the moonlight. “Ah…do ye need a kerchief, or a hug, or anythin’? Ye look a mite…misty.”
She wasn’t sure. “Oh, ah,” she said. She brought a hand up to her face, almost surprised to feel it come away a little wet. Bargrimm dug through his pack, and pulled out a handkerchief. It was soaked in troll blood, more red than whatever color it might have once been. He hurriedly jammed it back into his bag.
Oranna watched, blinking. She felt a laugh bubble up in her chest, and then burst out in a wave that caught her unaware. “Tha’s…” She tried to imagine using the blood soaked handkerchief to dab at her eyes, and laughed harder. Whether it was just the exhaustion, or the ridiculousness of the unusual handkerchief, Oranna laughed loudly, hearing her voice carrying through the night like a shot fired from an unmuffled gun.
Bargrimm let out a hearty chuckle. “Offer stands, anyway.” This only made her laugh harder for a moment. His eyes crinkled up in a broad smile, and there was a faint gleam of something in the corner of one of them. Oranna managed to get control over herself enough to stop laughing, and looked over at him, still smiling, feeling lighter than she had in days.
“I…thank ye. I needed tha’ laugh,” she said, her eyes bright with mirth.
“Glad I was here t’ help it along.”
She smiled warmly. “I don’t know tha’ I can do yer way, ta go forgin’ an’ tinkerin’ ta stop from no’ bein’ able ta sleep when someone else is there. But…” She took a deep breath. “I think…I think I can go back now. An’…maybe tomorrow, I’ll…try talkin’ some more. An’…maybe it’ll get easier.”
Bargrimm nodded quietly. “Many’s th’ time I could have used an ear t’ bend, lookin’ back. Ye need someone t’talk to, ye can always call on me, aye?”
When he had offered before, it had seemed to her as though it had been made out of pity, that he had said it out of a sense of obligation, that he could see so clearly that she hurt, and he had felt compelled to offer assistance, like the paladin who had healed her after the liberation of Ironforge.
Now, she wondered how much of him extending his hand out to her was just another way for him to do what he had wished someone had done for him. Her heart gave a painful thump at the thought.
She smiled and nodded, standing up and brushing the snow off her pants. She considered putting a hand on his shoulder, trying to convey to him how much she appreciated what he’d done, what he’d been trying to do. But, it seemed too small. The worst he could do, she thought, is say no. And, besides, he offered first.
“I…if the…tha’ is, if the hug still stands, I…” She waved her hands nonsensically in the air. How did you mime out a hug with your hands? Shake them? No, that would be bizarre. Move them around? No, Light above, she looked like she was trying to mimic a gryphon. Why was she even trying to mime it at all? She felt oddly nervous, different than from when she had hugged Ivri or Sir Elohand.
Bargrimm stood up quickly, looked down at the blood, and then grabbed a handful of snow to scrub off some of it hastily. He held out his arms in a classic gesture. Oranna laughed again, the nervousness melting away like the snow still sticking to bits of the braid of his beard, and stepped into his arms.
It was very different than hugging Ivri. He was much closer to her size. She put her head very gently on his chest. The top of her head came to just below his chin. For a moment, she struggled, unsure where to put her arms. With the humans, it had seemed best to just try to wrap them straight around whatever she could reach, but there were suddenly a lot more options. Did she go up? Down? Finally, afraid she’d end up just doing something even more bizarre like rubbing his back up and down trying to figure it out, she settled on just lightly touching his back, right in the middle. She considered thumping it, as Dane had, but it didn’t seem right.
Bargrimm held her lightly, and she could sense the tension in his arms, as though if she were to even flinch in the slightest, he would back away. It was oddly reassuring. She relaxed against him. It felt good, to be held, and a small sigh escaped. It was different from when Topa had hugged her, briefly, during those months in the Siege. Different from when the gnomes had tried to shower her with affection. It was warmer there in his arms, and quieter, his body blocking out some of the sounds of the forest at night. Bargrimm’s chest was pleasantly firm encased in the tough leathers he wore, like a vertical bed she could just lean against. The smell of gun oil and leathers was stronger than the smell of blood and snow, and it was a comforting scent.
She could feel herself drifting off to sleep on her feet.
“It’ll get easier; jus’ takes time.” His voice sounded different this close — she could hear it in his chest, a deeper rumble.
She shook herself awake. “Tha’s…wha’ I’m hopin’, anyway.” She pulled away. The air felt strangely colder than it had before, out of Bargrimm’s arms. “I…think I really need ta get back. Before I jus’ decide tha’ this is a good place ta sleep.” She smiled, and resisted the urge to slap at her face repeatedly.
“Aye, that’s a risk o’ freezin’ I’d rather ye didn’t risk. Need company back t’th gates? Or are ye stoppin’ in Kharanos.”
She shook her head and yawned. “Oh, I was jus’…going ta Hearthstone back. I…don’t think I’d make it, if I tried ta walk it.” A brief flash of a thought of him needing to carry her the last part of the way, her stamina too worn, woke up her a little more. Yes, Hearthing would be preferable to him seeing how bad she was flagging.
She began to walk a bit aways, before she turned back. “I’ll…see ya again, soon? Ri’?”
“Ye can see me soon’s ye like, then,” he said with a broad smile. She returned it with one of her own.
“Thank ye…fer…well. Fer listening. An’…” She thought of the handkerchief again, and fought back a laugh. “For…the…handkerchief.” Bargrimm chuckled again.
She waved goodbye, and activated the stone, one hand on Befound, who had roused herself from what appeared to have been a genuine nap, readying herself for the unpleasant sensation of the stone transporting her back. He returned the wave.
The Stonefire was peaceful and still when she made her way back to her room. She opened the door as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb Cressidha. She caught sight of Oswald’s eyes in the dark, and she made a small motion with her hand, showing the tiny little morsel of a treat. He moved to her side rapidly, and she glanced around the room for any evidence that he had done any mischief. Seeing none, she leaned down and murmured, “Tha’s a good lad, tha’ is.” She gave him the treat, and let him finish before stroking down his cheeks gently, scratching at the underside of his chin. “Who is jus’ tha best lad?”
Bargrimm’s dark green eyes crinkled up in laughter flashed in her mind.
She blinked in the dark. She really was very tired. She rubbed a hand over her face, and laid down on the rug. Befound curled up next to her on one side, and Oswald settled on the other side. For a moment, she thought she could hear Cressidha breathing, the ghosts in her mind ready to echo it a dozen fold.
But, it didn’t come. There was just the quiet hum of Ironforge, the deep, gentle purr of Befound, the smaller, almost aggressively loud purr of Oswald determined to not be outdone by the giant leopard, and the slight rustling sounds of Cressidha shifting a little in her sleep.
Oranna closed her eyes, and slept.