It took an hour of scrubbing to make Shia presentable again. A foot of his hair was cut straight off, or it would have taken another two hours to get the sap and pinecones out. By that time Stormrage had taken to his eagle form and flown back to Stonetalon Peak. The other two Druids had left to make a survey run about Ashenvale, and the remaining forces, a number of sentinels and a mixed race party, were left to settle down for the day.
Shia made his way to the alliance party camp, a small affair outside of the island, a few feet down the road. Two Dwarves, a Gnome, a Human, and a fellow Elf were setting up a small, inconspicuous camp and a small watch tower. The sight of non-elf faces sent Shia sighing in relief, and without hesitation he strode up to one of the Dwarves, a bald, dark hunter who was sitting on his bear and barking out orders to the other four.
"Hello brother."
"Wha' was tha'?"
The Dwarf spun around on his pet and almost fell off the side. The bear growled at being jostled and shook its rump, which gave the Dwarf the nudge needed to send him toppling sideways onto the ground.
"Ach! Dangit! Damn b'ar always slippin out from under meh!"
The other four party members burst out laughing. The man in the party clutched at his side and the Gnome shrieked enough to put nails against glass to shame. Shiawase felt weeks of tensions melting off of him. This was better than that bath!
"Alrigh', whose a** I gotter stick mah gun up now?"
The Dwarf had managed to pick himself off the ground and was now leaning on his bear, his head poking over the pet's back. "Oi, an Elf! Another one! They're commin outta the woodwork they are!"
"This is practically the Elven homeland, Rimar. Of course the Elves here are as many as the trees." The Even lady had approached Shiawase, and with a wide smile bowed low. "Hello brother. Please don't mind my friend here. The Dwarven race isn't as, um, softly spoken as we are."
Shiawase laughed. "Their words are as hard to swallow as their cooking I think."
Everyone went silent.
"What was tha' pointy ears?" The Dwarf was glaring at Shia, and his hand drifted to the gun at his side.
"Oh nothing, only that I don't find rock tack to be the epitome of cuisine."
"An you think yer berry stew is any better? Yer damn bird feed's foul enough ta kill a grown man!"
"The smell of your mead will murder him before a taste of it can do the job."
"You insultin' a Dwarf's drink lad?"
"I didn't realize drink was the Dwarven word for poison."
The Dwarf, Rimar, narrowed his eyes and stared Shia down, or up, as it were, before grabbing his side and bellowing with laughter. "Bwa hahaha! Where'd you git yer humor lad? Ain't from your cousins that's fer sure!"
"I've spent too much time amongst you trogg licking lot."
"Careful there boy, mah mama wasn't a stinkin troll."
Shiawase shrugged. "You have me there."
Rimar stepped out from behind his bear and extended a hand, which Shia gratefully took.
"Rimar Boulderhand at yer service."
"Shiawase Deeproots. It's a pleasure."
"Oh, your name is Shiawase?" The human stepped forward.
"It is."
"You don't happen to be affiliated with the Retribution of Arathor, do you?"
"As a matter of fact, I'm a member of that fine organization."
"Ah! Well, I have a letter for you from one of it's members, a Ravine something-or-another. I was at the tavern and mentioned I was coming here on duty, and -"
"Alright damnit! Business later!" Rimar shoed his compatriot away with both hands. "Always business with you damn people! Now where was I? Ah! Right. This 'ere rude b*****d's Derrick." The human, a young man with close cropped brown hair and sporting vestments of the Light, bowed politely. "An' then there's the runt Gazzel." The Gnome, pink haired, bright faced, and sporting two deadly black daggers at her side, waved and curtsied in her leather vestments. "An' here's mah brother in arms, Rolger." The second Dwarf nodded curtly and turned back to the small tree lookout that the group had been building before Shia interrupted them. He had stripped down to his shirt and trousers, but Shia could tell at a glance that Rolger was a Dwarf best at home snug in plate mail and swinging a great axe.
"And this," Rimar jerked his finger at the Night Elf beside him, who chuckled. "This is Loren. She's an Elf. Don't trust 'er. But I guess you know that already don'cha?"
Shiawase nodded solemnly. "Thank you for the warning. Is there anything I can do to help you get comfortable?"
The rest of the night was sent securing the camp. Shiawase explained the layout of the land and the weaknesses in the towns defenses. He laid out the horde positions to the last peon. He showed Rimer and Loren the best sniping spots and the more strategic points in the layout of the land. And when he had done his best to drill into them the knowledge he had gained from walking every inch of the forest not yet felled from a loggers axe, he took them to the Zoram strand from an evening of claming.
The fire was dying down at camp and the group had begun to settle to sleep. Loren sat in the lookout tower keeping watch. Shia and Derrick were alone in front of the fire, tossing small bits of dirt and twigs into the flames to incite it to dance about.
"Well friend Elf, now that the excitement of the day is over, would you like the letter from your comrade?"
"I'd forgotten all about it," Shia admitted. Derrick handed over the parchment and Shiawase looked it over.
"The person who gave it to me said that you had left for Ashenvale some time ago, and that you were due back to the Retribution last month. I promised her that if you were still here I'd see to it that you got this."
Shia broke the seal open.
---
Shiawase,
It's been a little over a month after we had expected your arrival back at the Crimson Jewel, and as you've yet to come back and this kind young man agreed to deliver a letter, I thought I'd try to contact you. We all hope you're not in any trouble, that you’re healthy and doing well, and that only some minor reason has kept you from returning to us. The Dwarves are getting grumpy that they don't have their cat to torture, and the rest of us are simply worried that a friend has been gone so long without contacting us. If you get this, please send word of your condition by way of currier as soon as you can. You don't need to come back if you can't, but we want to know that you're safe.
And of course, if you can, hurry home! There's a clam chowder with your name on it waiting for you!
Regards,
Ravine
After reading the letter twice, Shia folded the it neatly and tucked it into his shirt.
"Thank you for delivering this brother. I needed it."
"I'm sure your friends will be glad to find out that you're alright. You should make the trip back to them if you can. It seems that Astranaar has plenty to protect it right now."
"That's true." The image of flying into the burning village was still fresh in Shiawase's mind. The smell of the charred wood still still clung to his nose. "I'll send them a letter, but right now my duty is to this town."
"Fair enough. But for someone so dedicated to protecting this place, you don't seem to have any interest in stepping foot in it."
"Ah well that... I'm not sure how happy my brothers and sisters are with me at the moment. I had promised to protect their town before, and neglected that promise."
"I'm sure they'd be willing to forgive you after you spent all this effort to protect them now, and at the cost of returning to your friends on the other continent even."
"I suppose, but Elves tend to have long memories."
Derrick laughed. "Well, I don't know anything about that. Loren seems to forget the tricks the Dwarves play on her rather quick."
"The Elves of Astranaar are much more typical." Shiawase gave Derrick a halfhearted smile. "And besides, even if they forgive me, my neglect resulted in the death of two people I considered my friends. I can't very well go about things as if that didn't happen."
Derrick nodded. "I suppose that’s true, but everyone has a story like that. A misstep, a bad calculation, something small that resulted in tragedy. When I was starting out on the path of the Light as an acolyte I came across a gravely wounded man at a crossroads on the way to Menethil harbor. I knew from his garb that he wasn't an alliance man, probably a mercenary or at worst an outlaw, but if I didn't intervene he would die. So I did what I thought was right at the time and healed him, left him with some bandages and food, and went on my way. Later that evening while I was resting at the inn he came into the harbor, murdered a store owner and the owners daughter, and took off with two sacks full of goods. I considered abandoning my calling right then and there. For a month I was a wreck, fasted, broke into cold sweats whenever my assistance was needed... I eventually talked with a tutor of mine and he told me of his own experiences. Wouldn't you know it, the same sort of thing had happened to him. It happens to everyone. It's the nature of the world we live in."
"And if you saw a dying man at a crossroads now?"
Derrick laughed. "I'd heal him, bless him, and accompany him to the next town myself for questioning."
Shiawase smiled and poked at the fire, which was now little more than a few smoldering embers. "There's not much I can do but apologize I guess."
"You mean you haven't even done that?"
Shiawase shook his head. Derrick chuckled and pat the Druid on the back. "Friend, how do you know the villagers won't forgive when you haven't even asked them for forgiveness?"
"Let's just say, I'm familiar with the ways of my people."
"Alright, alright. In any case, tomorrow, go to town, apologize for what you have to apologize for, and if they run you out you can hide behind Rimar's bear."
