Post by Magdha on May 30, 2005 13:15:47 GMT -5
It was early, as it always was, when Magdha rose to do her shopping for the day. She dressed, braided her white hair neatly out of the way, and took her basket from its hook by the door. On the way out, she hammered briskly on her eldest son's bedroom door.
"Up and about, you two! No slovens in this house!" she shouted, and continued down the stairs. The house belonged to her son, but she had lived here since her beloved Dolph had gone to meet the Hearthmother many years gone, and it was as much her house as his, she supposed. What Magdha supposed usually came to be.
Downstairs, she found her granddaughter, Dorga, crying as her older brother held a doll out of her reach. Magdha's hand moved like a striking snake, boxing the boy's ears and twitching the doll from his grasp in the same movement.
"Shame, Gath!" she snapped, leaning down so the full force of her green gaze bore down on him. "Go now and do yer devotions, twice, then ye'll make the girl breakfast.....and I'll know about it if ye don't!" Gath fled, and Magdha gave the girl a hug, wiping her face with her pristine white sleeve. "The trick is to let them know who's the one givin' the orders, lass," she said with a solemn wink. Dorga brightened, and an impish grin stole across her round little face. "That's better," her grandmother continued. "Now go and do yer own devotions, then ask him for eggs - he hates cookin' em."
The streets of Ironforge were fairly quiet at this early hour, so there were only a few hundred or so folk out and about. If an observer had watched Magdha striding purposefully along the main thoroughfare, they could have come to only two conclusions; either she had cast some sort of repulsion spell to move people out of her path, or they had had far too much thunder ale and should go for a little lie down. Magdha bustled briskly through the crowds, but not once did she move aside for anyone else. It was as if those who approached suddenly realized who she was, or with a flash of instinctive self-preservation, knew that they were about to encounter the fabled unstoppable force, and moved aside.
Magdha followed her usual early morning route; stop to chat with the fishmonger, gossip a moment with the baker, pause for a quick chat with the fruit seller, then pop into Bruuk's Corner for a little restorative (purely medicinal, of course). She had just decided that it was time to browbeat the blacksmith for not having her new cooking pot ready when the vision struck.
The street before her dissolved in a flash of blinding light, and she was assaulted by a series of images: a human village overrun by trolls, people screaming amongst the flames and the flash of steel; a Tauren woman in robes pursued by elves, cut down as she tried to flee; an orcish camp overrun by human and dwarven warriors; a wave of thousands of Horde assaulting the very Halls of Ironforge; blood and pain and suffering...
Just as she thought she could endure no more, Magdha saw something that took her breath away. A gathering, of dozens of folk of all races, together in a forest glade. More folk were coming, a winding line of people from both sides of the war, coming from all directions. In the middle, amongst those who were to speak and lead this remarkable parley, was her own self, an old woman who had never before left her mountain home. A sense of hope stronger than the despair that had washed over her before filled her, and she knew without a doubt that what she saw was the future. She was also sure, with a thrill of awe, who had sent her this knowledge.
Magdha opened her eyes to find herself on her knees in the middle of the road. At least three dwarves had stopped to help her, and asked in respectful tones whether she needed help.
"Can't ye see I'm fine, ye yammerin' fools!" she snapped, shaking them off and heading to the only place she knew she could find some peace to think. The Temple of the Hearthmother was a place known only to the dwarves, and a place that the men avoided at all costs. As she stepped into the quiet coziness of the chapel, she felt herself coming back from the horror of what she had witnessed. She knelt before the altar, with the warm glow of the Hearth's everlasting fire on her face, and prayed.
She did not know how long she stayed there, but finally a sound roused her from her meditation. She turned to see a tall figure wrapped in a cloak sweep into the chapel, and drop down on the bench at the back, its head bowed with a weariness that a blind drunken dwarf could have seen. Kneeling as she was in front of the first bench, she watched unseen as the figure pulled back its hood and shook out his long white hair.
An elf? Magdha thought, mystified. What is an elf - and a man, for that matter - doing in the Temple of the Hearthmother? She watched a moment longer as the elf muttered briefly to himself, then settled back with a sigh of what seemed like relief. His eyes glowed the color of the flames that danced in the Hearth, and his dark skin shone violet in the flickering light. Magdha's keen eyes searched his face, and despite his alien features, she could see that this young man had witnessed much more than the young should ever have to see. She strode silently to the back and plopped herself down on the bench.
She had heard that the elves had very sharp ears, but this one must have been lost in his thoughts. As she seated herself, he jumped like a scalded cat, and his glowing eyes widened as he focussed on her.
"Were ye lookin' fer someone in particular, or fer nobody at all?" she said, smiling at him in a gentle way that only her youngest grandchildren would have recognized. The elf drew his cloak back around himself, and scowled at her.
"I am looking for no-one," he said haughtily, lifting his chin and rising to his full height, which was considerable. "I am the Lord D'ana'no, and I seek nothing except a brief solace from the masses."
"De-an-" Magdha struggled with the foreign pronunciation momentarily, then settled on something she could cope with. "Danny, is it? And a Lord, ye are? Well, I don't care whether ye're a fancy noble or ye push a plow fer a livin', this is the Temple of the Hearthmother, and ye'll keep a civil tongue in yer head when ye're talkin to one of Her own or I'll clout one of those great ears to remind ye!"
The elf stared at her, his mouth open in amazement. As she continued to glare at him, he blinked, and his expression changed.
"This is a....holy place? I am sorry. I did not know...." He gestured toward the door, and appeared to search for words. "It is just that there are so many people..."
"Ah, I see." Magdha sat down again, and patted the bench beside her. The elf hesitated, then sat, seemingly against his will. "Ye're lookin' fer peace, then?"
The elf nodded, then did a double take, his eyes searching her face. "What - do you mean by that?" he asked slowly, his gaze sharpening. Not slow on the uptake, this one, Magdha thought approvingly.
"Ye look like ye've seen enough of - people - to last a lifetime, Danny," she replied, taking his hand in hers. It was such a motherly gesture that he left it there for a long moment before, with sudden awareness, he pulled it away.
"Who are you?" he asked, the furrow between his white brows deepening as he stared at her. Without warning, Magdha saw him, not here in the chapel, but in the vision she had experienced this very day. He was one of those in the clearing, one of those on whom the peace she had been shown depended.
As she came back to herself, she saw that his expression had changed from suspicion to concern, and her mind was made up.
"Why Danny," she said, smiling the confident smile that had ruined many a dwarven man's day, "I'm yer new advisor. We've a lot of work to do."
"Up and about, you two! No slovens in this house!" she shouted, and continued down the stairs. The house belonged to her son, but she had lived here since her beloved Dolph had gone to meet the Hearthmother many years gone, and it was as much her house as his, she supposed. What Magdha supposed usually came to be.
Downstairs, she found her granddaughter, Dorga, crying as her older brother held a doll out of her reach. Magdha's hand moved like a striking snake, boxing the boy's ears and twitching the doll from his grasp in the same movement.
"Shame, Gath!" she snapped, leaning down so the full force of her green gaze bore down on him. "Go now and do yer devotions, twice, then ye'll make the girl breakfast.....and I'll know about it if ye don't!" Gath fled, and Magdha gave the girl a hug, wiping her face with her pristine white sleeve. "The trick is to let them know who's the one givin' the orders, lass," she said with a solemn wink. Dorga brightened, and an impish grin stole across her round little face. "That's better," her grandmother continued. "Now go and do yer own devotions, then ask him for eggs - he hates cookin' em."
The streets of Ironforge were fairly quiet at this early hour, so there were only a few hundred or so folk out and about. If an observer had watched Magdha striding purposefully along the main thoroughfare, they could have come to only two conclusions; either she had cast some sort of repulsion spell to move people out of her path, or they had had far too much thunder ale and should go for a little lie down. Magdha bustled briskly through the crowds, but not once did she move aside for anyone else. It was as if those who approached suddenly realized who she was, or with a flash of instinctive self-preservation, knew that they were about to encounter the fabled unstoppable force, and moved aside.
Magdha followed her usual early morning route; stop to chat with the fishmonger, gossip a moment with the baker, pause for a quick chat with the fruit seller, then pop into Bruuk's Corner for a little restorative (purely medicinal, of course). She had just decided that it was time to browbeat the blacksmith for not having her new cooking pot ready when the vision struck.
The street before her dissolved in a flash of blinding light, and she was assaulted by a series of images: a human village overrun by trolls, people screaming amongst the flames and the flash of steel; a Tauren woman in robes pursued by elves, cut down as she tried to flee; an orcish camp overrun by human and dwarven warriors; a wave of thousands of Horde assaulting the very Halls of Ironforge; blood and pain and suffering...
Just as she thought she could endure no more, Magdha saw something that took her breath away. A gathering, of dozens of folk of all races, together in a forest glade. More folk were coming, a winding line of people from both sides of the war, coming from all directions. In the middle, amongst those who were to speak and lead this remarkable parley, was her own self, an old woman who had never before left her mountain home. A sense of hope stronger than the despair that had washed over her before filled her, and she knew without a doubt that what she saw was the future. She was also sure, with a thrill of awe, who had sent her this knowledge.
Magdha opened her eyes to find herself on her knees in the middle of the road. At least three dwarves had stopped to help her, and asked in respectful tones whether she needed help.
"Can't ye see I'm fine, ye yammerin' fools!" she snapped, shaking them off and heading to the only place she knew she could find some peace to think. The Temple of the Hearthmother was a place known only to the dwarves, and a place that the men avoided at all costs. As she stepped into the quiet coziness of the chapel, she felt herself coming back from the horror of what she had witnessed. She knelt before the altar, with the warm glow of the Hearth's everlasting fire on her face, and prayed.
She did not know how long she stayed there, but finally a sound roused her from her meditation. She turned to see a tall figure wrapped in a cloak sweep into the chapel, and drop down on the bench at the back, its head bowed with a weariness that a blind drunken dwarf could have seen. Kneeling as she was in front of the first bench, she watched unseen as the figure pulled back its hood and shook out his long white hair.
An elf? Magdha thought, mystified. What is an elf - and a man, for that matter - doing in the Temple of the Hearthmother? She watched a moment longer as the elf muttered briefly to himself, then settled back with a sigh of what seemed like relief. His eyes glowed the color of the flames that danced in the Hearth, and his dark skin shone violet in the flickering light. Magdha's keen eyes searched his face, and despite his alien features, she could see that this young man had witnessed much more than the young should ever have to see. She strode silently to the back and plopped herself down on the bench.
She had heard that the elves had very sharp ears, but this one must have been lost in his thoughts. As she seated herself, he jumped like a scalded cat, and his glowing eyes widened as he focussed on her.
"Were ye lookin' fer someone in particular, or fer nobody at all?" she said, smiling at him in a gentle way that only her youngest grandchildren would have recognized. The elf drew his cloak back around himself, and scowled at her.
"I am looking for no-one," he said haughtily, lifting his chin and rising to his full height, which was considerable. "I am the Lord D'ana'no, and I seek nothing except a brief solace from the masses."
"De-an-" Magdha struggled with the foreign pronunciation momentarily, then settled on something she could cope with. "Danny, is it? And a Lord, ye are? Well, I don't care whether ye're a fancy noble or ye push a plow fer a livin', this is the Temple of the Hearthmother, and ye'll keep a civil tongue in yer head when ye're talkin to one of Her own or I'll clout one of those great ears to remind ye!"
The elf stared at her, his mouth open in amazement. As she continued to glare at him, he blinked, and his expression changed.
"This is a....holy place? I am sorry. I did not know...." He gestured toward the door, and appeared to search for words. "It is just that there are so many people..."
"Ah, I see." Magdha sat down again, and patted the bench beside her. The elf hesitated, then sat, seemingly against his will. "Ye're lookin' fer peace, then?"
The elf nodded, then did a double take, his eyes searching her face. "What - do you mean by that?" he asked slowly, his gaze sharpening. Not slow on the uptake, this one, Magdha thought approvingly.
"Ye look like ye've seen enough of - people - to last a lifetime, Danny," she replied, taking his hand in hers. It was such a motherly gesture that he left it there for a long moment before, with sudden awareness, he pulled it away.
"Who are you?" he asked, the furrow between his white brows deepening as he stared at her. Without warning, Magdha saw him, not here in the chapel, but in the vision she had experienced this very day. He was one of those in the clearing, one of those on whom the peace she had been shown depended.
As she came back to herself, she saw that his expression had changed from suspicion to concern, and her mind was made up.
"Why Danny," she said, smiling the confident smile that had ruined many a dwarven man's day, "I'm yer new advisor. We've a lot of work to do."
))