The elf stepped slowly into the chamber, light shinning in through several windows laced about the vaulted ceiling. The throne was empty, its gold shining slightly in the filtered light. Varian was off to the side, pouring over something on a table. The draenei ambassador stood next to him looking rather pensive, and the two were muttering things back and forth. Off to Varian's right was the mane of silver hair tinted purple. From the look of the armor, it appeared to be a man.

The elf walked slowly towards Varian, swallowing quickly several times. The ambassador turned up to look at him, and the elf was transfixed with a stern, slightly angry glare. The silver haired man turned around and regarded him as well, eyes shinning through his helmet. His cloak was ripped and tattered, the entire bottom seemingly cut off.

"Warden, I do not believe we should go from this direction. There is a more suitable side hatch we can use to assault this keep…" Varian said, still facing the table. He looked toward the warden and noted that he was no longer staring at the table, and turned to regard the guest.

"Ah, Rict'thiel, excellent. I'm glad you were able to answer my summons." He said, beckoning Rict closer. Rict kneeled, lowering his head, causing his dark black hair to fall around his face.

"I-I am glad to be so looked upon my lord." He managed to stammer after a moment. He rose again and tentatively moved towards the group. The gaze of the draenei softened as he cast a slight knowing smile. The draenei turned back the table with Varian, while the Warden kept his gaze upon the Rict.

Rict could have sworn the elf shivered slightly. He advanced to the table, and noticed a roster on the table, listing names. His name, and the ambassador's were crossed out, along with Tyrande Whisperwind's, which had a tiny side note written beside it in illegible print. Varian's writing was apparently not one of his strong suits. That left four names on the roster. Directly after his own was that of Jaina Proudmoore, followed by both King Magni Bronzebeard and his brother Brann. The final name was that of Velen, which was being blotted out by Varian, who wrote ambassador replacing next to it. Rict swallowed even harder as he read the list a second time. Sweat began to collect at his brow.

Rict'thiel to his place across the table and noted that there were maps upon the table. They were of some continent he had never heard of. He still wasn't perfectly fluent in common, and the only part he could make out was the last letter, "d." The words appeared to be in Varian's writing again. He raised his head, and opened his mouth to ask why he had been summoned when Varian began to talk.

"This is Northrend Rict'thiel. I know you can't remember your past, but tell me, have you heard of the scourge?" He said, still starring at the map, his hands gripping the corner of the map.

Rict'thiel felt a shiver go down his spine at the mention of that word, but he couldn't figure out why. Rict turned his gaze to the ambassador, but caught only the side of his face as the draenei looked away, his eyes glazed somewhat.

"I'm sorry my lord, but no, I have not. Is it a weapon of the horde?" He asked, his gaze drifting to that of the warden, who simply locked eyes with those of Rict'thiel. His hands were trembling ever so slightly, but if he made any notice of it, he said nothing. Rict'thiel turned away, looking back to the map, unnerved even more then before. He felt his hand growing hot, but ignored it.

Varian silently looked at the map, and said, " Thank the light, no. No, the scourge is something much worse then the Horde. Let me ask you a different question. Do you know of the undead?"

Rict'thiel nodded his head, assenting that he had, "Only from the textbooks your scholars have shown me my lo-" Varian cut him off. He raised his hand, silencing Rict. He raised his head and regarded the elf.

"This is a meeting of equals, and I would prefer if you referred to me as Varian, or Wrynn. This royal political nonsense is not important right now." He said, his tone causing Rict'thiel to go stiff as a board.

"I- I am sorry my lo- Varian." Rict managed to stammer through his sweats. Varian smiled lightly and opened his mouth to say something when the doors to the chamber burst open. Varian, turned around, pulling out both his swords. The warden simply vanished. Rict was the slowest to react, and the only thing he could do was begin chanting the cantrip of a spell. He was nearly at the end when he noticed Varian's stance become relaxed.

"Aye, Wrynn ye damned dog, is this how ye treat ye're allies. We come to ye're summons and… by Moradin's beard, ye've already started." Said a regally dressed dwarf he came in beside another one, dressed in traveler's attire. The second dwarf had his face in his palm and his hand on the other ones shoulder. The warden came in behind the two, placing a pair of umbra crescents under his cloak.

"I'm sorry Varian, me brother here got impatient when the tram broke down. Decided to open the tribute early." He said, grinning slightly. From Rict's view, it looked like the king was smiling.

"Pfft, ain't nothing to be lost from it. We brought plenty o' ale." As if on cue, three dwarves came in, each carrying a case of dwarven liquor. As the second dwarf said, one of the cases was open, and six of the twelve bottles were empty.

Varian turned back to the table and crossed out the names Brann and Magni. While he was doing this, Rict noted the warden walking back to the table, his hips swaying slightly. Perhaps he was injured. Rict felt the heat in his hands and he turned to Varian.

"Wrynn, I'm sorry, but I need to be excused for a moment." He said, managing not to stammer this time. While he said it he subconsciously looked at his hands. Varian regarded him for a moment and then nodded.

"Go take care of it. The stairwell over there leads to the servant quarters. Go find the cook, I'm sure he could use it."

Rict nodded, and the two dwarves looked at him curiously, while the warden looked away, his body shivering. The draenei looked sympathetic, and Varian was beginning to look annoyed.

"Go elf, before you can't contain it any longer."

Rict snapped his head, and began to move towards the door. He opened it and began down the stairs, hearing a faint, "Bloody spell casters," in a distinct dwarven accent. He continued down the stairs, removing the gloves on his hands as he went, pocketing them as he came down to the kitchen.

Almost immediately, a giant pot confronted him. A woman was on the other end, yelping in pain, and Rict subconsciously took a step forward to help her. This turned out to be the wrong decision, as she over balanced and moved towards him. Their impact sent her flying towards the main fire pit, the liquid contents of her pot leading the way.

Acting as quickly as he could, Rict grabbed the woman's waist, and pulled her away from the pit. The two went tumbling into a stack of flour, Rict's hair being dusted to a silvery yellowish sheen. They coughed away the flour, and Rict opened his eyes to see the woman peering down at him.

She wasn't very pretty, and appeared rather portly and stout. If she was perhaps a foot shorter she could have passed for a dwarf, but she had the distinct freckles of a human. The sleeves of her shirt were burnt slightly, but she had her arm out to lift him up. He smiled at her, but used his own arms to lift himself, being sure to use the stones and not the flour sacks. When he stood up, you could see black hand marks on the floor.

"I'm sorry. I was carrying the pot and I didn't see you and I slipped and I crashed into you and… Are you hurt?" She asked moving closer to see if he had any bruises. Rict shook his head and looked to the ground where the liquid from the pot, some kind of fish stew, had extinguished the main fire and most of the subsequent additional flames linked to the oven.

"No, no I'm fine. It's no trouble, really. I was just coming down to see the cook, and you looked like you needed help." He said, scratching his head, and wincing in the process. Her reaction wasn't what he expected. She broke down and began to cry, sobbing about being unable to do anything right. Rict opened his mouth to console her when someone screamed.

"Who the fuck spilled all of this shit onto the fire! I swear by the light Check, if this was you I'm going to flay you alive." A tall auburn haired man in an apron yelled. He turned to regard Rict'thiel, "You! Elf! What the hell are you doing down here. I didn't call for any new cook hands. Did you do this?" He Shouted, pointing at the smoldering fishy mess.

The young woman next to him stopped crying and spoke up suddenly, "No Venst, it was me. I was trying to carry the pot to the prep area when I lost my balance. He was trying to help me, but we went tumbling into the fire instead." She said through soaked eyes. She began to cry again, and Rict expected her to be yelled at again, but the expression on the cook's face changed to a softer one.

The cook, Venst, came over and helped the girl up. He smiled as he pat the flour out her hair, and she hugged him lightly. "There, there Melida, you're still new at this. Nothing to worry about, we'll get this cleaned up." He raised his head and looked crossly at Rict. He then turned to a boy and said, " Check, go tell the king's attendant that dinner will be served slightly later then usual. Brith, go get a mop. Annelyse, bring some water pails with Francis. Come on people."

Melida let go of her father, and it was then that Rict realized she wasn't a woman at all, but a teenager. She looked only roughly fourteen years old, and she was wearing an oversized apron and shirt. "I'm sorry dad, I'll go get a mop too." She said pulling away from him.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, holding her in place. "No honey, the others will do that. I need your help with something right now." He turned to Rict. "You said that you had business with me." He said regarding the elf, his head cocked slightly. Rict responded by nodding his head.

"Uh, Varian, ah, King Wrynn sent me down to help you. I, I cast a fire spell that I wasn't able to use, and well," He lifted his hands to show them, now glowing hot, "He thinks you might be able to put a little flame to use."

Venst grinned and said, "Damned elf, you wouldn't have been useful two minutes ago, but it seems you've made yourself a little work. You help us cook this meal and I'll forgive you, and claim the delay of the king's meal as my own responsibility." He said turning around. He walked towards a door near the back of the kitchen, and came back with eight logs in his burly arms.

"Well," he said, "Get lighting!" He turned to his daughter and said, "I need to speak with the attendant, make sure he doesn't blow anything up."

Rict smiled and looked at her soothingly. "I won't," he promised, and turned back to the cook. "Maybe you'd like to wait until there are a few more logs… and that the stew is cleaned."

"Mhh, you're right. Melida, take him to the back and have him help you make a new stew. When this is cleaned up, come light it okay elf?" he said, taking one last look at the pair of them before disappearing up the stairs.

Melida turned to Rict and smiled. She tugged a little on his shirt as she led him to the back of the kitchen. When they reached the back she went under a counter and pulled out two pots. She then moved to the back room and returned with a log in each arm.

She filled each pot with water, and then turned to Rict'thiel. "Can you light the logs so we can get this boiling?" She said, turning to go get some vegetables. Rict regarded her for a second then said.

"I have a better idea." And he placed his hands on the side of the pots. The flushed expression in his face diminished slightly, and the side of the pot began to glow slightly. The water began to boil immediately. He grinned as he turned to see a rather peeved Melida returning with leeks and onions in one arm and gutted salmon in the other.

She looked into the pot, then turned and grabbed a pair of mitts. She picked up the first pot and proceeded to dump the contents into the drain by the wall. She then re-filled the pot and placed it back on top of the burner.

"You have to light the logs, because you can't add the vegetables to boiling water. If you do, the flavor doesn't come out, and the broth is pretty tasteless. My dad says this is why he doesn't like high elves." She said before grabbing the second pot. Dumping it, she returned with it refilled. "He says you guys don't think anyone else's way of doing things is the right way."

"I see…" Rict said, slightly embarrassed and angry. Who was she to insult him for trying to come up with a better way of doing things! He was about to say something when she turned back to him and smiled.

"Oh well, that's just him. I think it's really cool that you can make water boil instantly. Hehe, I bet you have a lot of fun at the public bath." She said, before she grabbed a knife and began cutting the leeks. The baths she was referring to were located in the trade district of Stormwind, and were run by a pair of goblins, the Peekoboils. Rict had never been there in his short stay, but he had heard of it many times.

"Oh, here comes brother." She said, looking over her shoulder to spot a wheat haired boy with freckles approaching them. Rict lit both logs before turning to regard the youth approaching them.

"Hey, uh, the fire pit is clear and stocked with wood. You can light it with your magic tricks now." He snorted, before he turned away. Melida stuck her tongue out at him, and then turned to Rict. "Check can be a jerk sometimes. Just ignore him. Or…" She said with a mischievous grin, "You could set him on fire."

Rict smiled, but shook his head. He then began to walk towards the fire pit. He reached the halfway point when Melida turned back from her vegetables and said, "Hey mister elf, I don't know your name yet."

Rict grinned at her and said it was Rict'thiel. She said it a few times to herself before responding, "That's a pretty name. It sounds like a girls." She said laughing through tears as she cut the onions now.

"Hey miss elf, we're waiting over here for this fire. Come on!" Check yelled from across the kitchen. Rict looked at him for a moment, then, swallowing his anger, he moved to the fireplace. "You are going to want to step back." Rict said to the staff gathered around the pit. They all shuffled away, all except Check, who grinned and said, "Just light it."

Rict sighed, nodded, and snapped his fingers. Flames burst out from them, engulfing the logs pilled into the pit, and filling the entire kiln with a huge roar of flame. The kitchen staff balked away from the blast and shielded their eyes from the flames. Even Rict'thiel had to shut his eyes from the bright light and heat. Finally the burst of flame stopped, and the pit was roaring as the others had never seen it before. But that wasn't the only thing. Check's apron had caught fire.

Check yelled and began swatting away at the fire. It finally took Melida's knife to cut it of him, and then it was thrown onto the logs. Finally he calmed down, and he turned to look at Rict.

"Well elf, it seems you guys aren't all talk. Good job. But don't make it so damn big next time." He said before going off back to other end of the kitchen. Melida gave Rict a hug, and he grinned slightly, rubbing the back of his head. His hand came back white, and it was only then that he realized that his hair was still covered in flour. He shook his hair out, and coughed as the flour got into his nose and eyes.

Blinking away his tears, he opened his eyes to see one of the guards standing in front of him. The guard looked at him, and said, "King Varian Wrynn requests your presence again. Please come with me."

Rict blinked a second, and then realized that he was just supposed to come downstairs and get rid of his spell, not cook a royal dinner. He grinned to himself and felt Melida pushing him in the back.

"Go on, go talk to Andy's dad. I'll see you when we serve dinner." She said smiling at him. She pushed him again, and he walked back up the stairs. He coughed lightly, and noticed the guard had begun to talk to one of the cooking staff. He continued up the stairs, fixing his shirt and robe. He opened the door, and was greeted by an audience of the most powerful leaders of the Alliance.

Jaina shrieked, and the next thing Rict'thiel knew, there was an icebolt flying directly for his face. Rict'thiel's jaw fell open slightly, and he raised his arm to absorb part of the spell. He had never experienced the cold of a frost bolt first hand, but he'd had read about it in the castle's library. He dodged to the side, hoping to avoid part of it, and glimpsed the summoning of a water elemental. He moved faster, hoping to avoid more of the initial spell.

It didn't matter. Rict struck the ground hard, and shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them again, he saw the Warden standing over him, his cloak upraised about his person, the frost bolt completely absorbed in its cloth. Rict eye turned to the Elemental towering over both of them. It raised its arms, preparing to bring its bulk down upon both of them.

Rict quickly began the cantrip of a spell, but he didn't even get past the first word. In an instant, the Warden's arm shot out, and the two bracers of the elemental split in half. Fifteen feet away, a pair of knives was buried into the wall. The elemental dissipated, but Jaina began to summon another one, before she was tackled by Varian.

"Jaina! Jaina calm down, its not him!" He said, pushing her staff from her arms and pinning her to the ground. The dwarves Rict had noted earlier were crowded around the two on the floor, and the Warden has holding his arm, shivering again. Rict got to his feet, steadying himself against the wall. He noticed that the Warden's shivering was getting worse, and he removed the sure-coat to his robe, offering it to the man. He received an ice-cold glare in return as the man teleported back to his seat. He held his right arm in his left, Rict noted, and it seemed to leather was torn open.

Jaina was struggling against Varian, tears streaming from her eyes. "Like hell he isn't! Get off me! I'll not let him fool us again!" She cried, pushing against him. For all her spell casting might, she couldn't even begin to dislodge the king. Varian silenced her with the following sentence.

"Calm down, and check for yourself then." He said quietly. He slowly rose up from on top of her, and she regained her composure. Lifting herself, and nursing a pair of bruises upon her forearms, she turned sharply towards Rict after making a grab for her staff, and shot a wave of green light at him. Rict dove out of the way. He went flying into a corner, and was hit by a second wave of green light. This time he was un-able to avoid it.

A moment later, Jaina collapsed back onto the ground. She sat there, tears streaming down her face, her arms slumping into her lap and staff going limp in her hands. Rict leaned against the wall and everyone was quiet as she simply broke down and cried for several minutes.

Finally Varian knelt down beside her and helped her up. She took his arm and they moved to her seat at the table, and she took her place. She stared at Rict through glazed eyes, while Varian came over to him and ushered him to his own seat. Varian guided him to chair next to his own. Jaina sat across from him.

There was another moment of silence before Varian finally spoke up again.

"Look at his eyes Jaina. Do you see any green? He is high born. He is not that man." Varian said quietly. "Your spell proves it as well doesn't it?" He said after another moment. Jaina nodded without speaking, looking away from Rict. It became very quiet again for another few minutes.

After the silence had been kept from five minutes, it was interrupted by Magni's slurred voice. "By the gods Varian, ye didn't need us dwarves to get drunk t'eh ruin ye're party! Ye durned humans and elves seem to do a fine good job of that yerselves."

The second dwarf put his face in his palms, but Varian simply laughed, "Yes, I'm sorry about that. We all lose our composure once in a while." He turned his attention to Jaina, who was looking away and biting her finger. "Even you miss Proudmoore. Do not doubt that I understand your reaction."

Jaina looked at him for a moment, and then wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and Rict noted the grateful expression in her eyes. She stood up again and said, "I need to excused for a moment. I shall be back in several minutes." And with that she left through the door to the said of the hall. Her dress flowed behind her as the doors shut. The draenei turned towards Varian and nodded his assent.

"She tries far to much for a child of her age. She is too young to have such responsibilities. It is unfortunate that she is not older, that she did not have as much time to reflect upon all that has occurred to her." He said slowly. Varian nodded, smiling warmly as a father would. He turned to Rict'thiel.

"Please, don't be dissuaded by lady Jaina's reaction. She has been through… much. I'm sure you will understand why, if she ever tells us why she reacted in that way." He said warmly to Rict, who felt himself calm considerably as the king spoke. Finally, he nodded, and turned his attention to the other guests at the table.

"I understand my lord, and I do not mean to call your judgment into question, but why am I here?" He said, finally turning back to Varian. Varian looked cross for a moment, and then got to his feet and walked over to the table he was at previously. He picked up the map off of the table, and returned with it.

He placed it upon the table that everyone was seated around. There was a large icon on the right side of the map that was highlight in black ink. Varian paused for a slight moment, and then crossed out another icon near the middle of the map. Finally, he raised himself and turned towards the rest.

"Two matters have been brought to my attention. Firstly, our base at Valgarde has been fully secured, and the Vrykul there have been expelled from the surrounding area. In addition to this, the forsaken of Vengeance Landing have expanded their territory to match out gains at the base of Utgarde keep. Currently they are capable of bombarding our ships to a small extent as they enter and leave the cove." He slowly turned to the others and opened his mouth to continue when the doors opposite him opened and Jaina rejoined the others at the table.

She looked much better then she did before she left. Her hair was back in place, and her eyes were completely dry. She sat down in her seat, and turned to Varian. Varian looked at the others and continued talking.

"I've already briefed Jaina with this. The other piece of information that we've acquired is that Bolvar is… Bolvar is dead. The forsaken of that damned royal apothecary entrenched in Northrend turned on both the horde and the alliance at the wrath gate. Stormwind led an incursion into the city of Lordaron, hoping to remove the Forsaken faction from that of the Horde. We failed, and," He turned to Jaina, "Lady Jaina managed to save me and many others from myself."

Jaina quietly nodded to herself, and Rict noted that she seemed much calmer then she had before. He also noted that she was looking at everyone except him. He turned to Varian, who continued talking.

"I've called this meeting to tell you that. That, and that the Alliance Vanguard will be pulling its forces away from the area surrounding Utgarde. While most of the Vrykul in this are have been routed, no amount of siege pressure will be able to dislodge them from their fortress right now." He said slowly. Finally, he turned his gaze upon Rict.

The regally dressed dwarf snorted, but nodded.

"Instead, we will be sending a strike force into the Keep to remove its leaders and upper echelon of warriors. My friend Rict'thiel here, Brann, and the emissary from Darnassus will be this strike team." He said quietly. Rict backed away in his chair. He had never openly aggressed another person or creature before. He could only remember fighting once, and that was to protect himself from a pair of cutthroats in the trade district of Stormwind.

Brann, the dwarf with the hat, nodded his head. "Them Vrykul have some tablets I'm meaning to examine. Hopefully they'll be able to help me decipher some runes I captured in that durned Ulduar." He said. His brother was completely tanked in his chair, but even he noted the steel to Brann's gaze and voice. The dwarf adjusted his seat, causing the chair to grind.

Varian's gaze turned to the Warden, who simply nodded his assent. Finally, he turned to Rict'thiel, who was opening his mouth to protest.

"My lord, I do not know how to fight. I can barely manage to control the fire spells I am able to cast properly." He said quickly, sending an imploring look to the king. Varian returned his gaze with one of grim determination.

"Rict'thiel. Please, do no doubt yourself right now. I have complete faith in what I am asking you to do. Believe me, I would not send you if I did not find you capable." He said, and the Rict heard the Warden snort. "You are necessary for this. I am not asking you this as your king, I'm asking this as your friend. I saved your life once, and I ask that you repay me this one favor. After that, you will be free from whatever obligations you might feel towards me."

Rict was silenced for a moment. He knew that the King had been the one to find him, and that it was his clerics and medics who had kept him from succumbing to his burns. Varian had been the one, who had helped him figure out why he was where he was when he woke up after that fire, and he had been the one who had granted Rict access to the castle libraries in order to pacify himself while he was bed ridden.

Rict thought this over for a moment, and finally turned to the King and nodded. The thought of going into an enemy keep terrified him, but he knew that Varian needed him this moment. He did not understand why. He did not care to understand. It was terrifying, and yet he felt as if some hole in him had been filled by this request. He was needed.

There was one thought that terrified him even more then Varian's request though, but Varian did away with this right away. Those cutthroats had been incinerated in seconds. "I do not see you as a weapon Rict'thiel. If you think you can not do this, then please, tell me this right now." The king said, his eyes not turning from Rict's.

Rict swallowed slowly, and finally said, "If I am needed my lord, then I shall go. Believe me when I tell you that I'm terrified, but I will go."

"Bah, the durned elf sounds like a woman. Get ye're blasted arse in there and kill yerself some durned Vrykul!" The Dwarven king said after Rict had finished talking, and that brought a wave of laughter from everyone at the table, excluding the warden who sat impassively, nursing his arm.

"Yes, I believe our dwarven friends have just about summed it up perfectly," Varian, said. He looked towards the warden and said, "Believe me, you will be with the best warden the Alliance has ever seen, and the famous Brann Bronzebeard beside." He said with a look of pride.

While this got no reaction from the warden, Brann blushed and rubbed the back of his head. "Don't know about famous, but I'll be glad t'eh take any title from the king of Stormwind." He said, grinning to himself. Varian nodded, and turned to Jaina. She looked slightly out of it, but she snapped back when everyone began to stare at her.

"How soon can you prepare a portal to Valgarde Jaina?" Varian said, his arms rising as the servants began to bring food out to the table. Rict noticed Melida carrying a large pot of stew, and she seemed to be slipping again. This time he rose swifter then before and helped her carry it to the table. He helped her place it in the middle, and she then curtsied him and scurried back down the flight of stairs the servants seemed to be flowing out of. She waved at him before vanishing into the shadows.

"Immediately if need be." Jaina replied after the servant pouring the stew for her moved away. Rict noticed Check bringing up a roast pig with the help of another servant. He also noticed his lack of apron, or eyebrows for that matter. Rict'thiel sniggered a little, and began to relax as the conversation began to turn towards matters that no longer concerned him.

----------oOo----------

Rict relaxed contented, and even enjoyed a touch of smug satisfaction that the stew he'd helped Melida with was the favored dish of the evening. Brann was also now slightly tipsy, and he was engaged in a conversation with the draenei ambassador about harpies and their mating habits.

"They do it in the air don't ye know." He said between swigs of the dwarven liquor. Rict'thiel quietly smiled to himself, and noticed that the warden hadn't even touched his food. He hadn't said a word to anyone in fact. He simply sat there, staring off into the distance of the room, his eye glimmering behind his helmet. Rict couldn't help noticing a slightly tormented look in those eyes. Perhaps he wasn't one for social gatherings, which made sense. He was also still nursing his arm.

Varian rose from seat his short while later, and called for some guards to help escort the drunken king home. Brann rose as well, and went from the room. Jaina and the ambassador rose next, the ambassador taking his leave. That left Rict'thiel at the table, along with the warden. Varian, turned to Rict and said,

"You're things were packed while we ate. I know this is sudden, but it is best if we send you and the others immediately." As if on cue, a human came in carting Rict's few possessions, most of which he'd received from Wrynn himself. His eyes darted to Jaina, as her hands flashed, and she summoned a bundle of cloth to her hands. She turned to Rict, and after a moment, said,

"I- I want you to take this. If you should ever find whom it belongs to, I ask that you return it. Tell him I'm sorry, but it can never be." She said, a single tear sliding down her face. "Before you find him though, I ask that you might wear it. I bears a few enchantments that might prove useful to you when you encounter the Vrykul." She said.

Varian placed a hand on her shoulder, and Rict'thiel moved forward to take it. She gave the clothes to Rict, who then placed them upon the trunk his possessions were packed inside. He turned to Jaina.

"Thank you my lady. I- I shall try to find the owner of these if I ever come across his path. Is, well, is there anyway I'll be able to identify him?" He said after he stepped away. The warden snorted again, and rose from his chair.

"You'll know when you see him." Was all Jaina said. At the same moment, Brann entered the room with a backpack. In his arms he carried an ornate gun, and on his belt was a bag of pre-packaged ammunition.

"Well then Wrynn, let's get this damn portal business done with." He said, turning to the king and sorceress. Jaina nodded, and motioned the three to a cleared area of ground in the center on the room.

Rict, Brann and the Warden formed a rough triangle, and Jaina's arms went into quick work, her voice going over the cantrips of a spell. Her hands began to glow blue, and an orb of light began to grow between the four of them as she reached the crescendo of the spell. Suddenly.

Suddenly, she was sent flying as the spell backfired. Varian was fast enough to catch her, but the other three weren't so lucky. Brann went toppling into the table, sending the contents of it into the air. Rict'thiel went flying back into the wall, and felt something hard and metallic smash against his ribs. His eyes were shut by the impact.

He opened them, and noticed the hard metal to be the Warden's helmet. It was warm in his hands, and he slowly rose from his position. His eyes first registered Brann, completely covered in food from his crash into the table. Jaina was being supported by Varian, rubbing her head.

"I told you he wasn't him." Varian said quietly, but Rict'thiel's ears managed to catch it anyway. Jaina nodded, and rose to her feet. Rict'thiel followed suit, and began to walk towards the other two, the helmet in hand, when something grabbed his shoulder. He turned his head to meet eyes with a sharply beautiful night elf. Her eyes glistened with a look of distant torment, and she spoke.

"My helmet." Was all she said, and all she needed to say for Rict'thiel to hand her back the helmet in his hands. She placed it on her head and walked back to the group. Rict noticed that the swaying of her hips wasn't the same as that of injury. He shook his head and joined the rest.

Jaina looked at him, and smiled warmly. She looked at him and said, "I guess you have never been to Northrend." She said, fixing her robe. " I can't make a portal if you haven't been there before." And with that, she turned and Varian, patted him on the shoulder, and stepped back slightly.

"It seems our hopes of removing the Vrykul threat will have to be put on hold for a period of time." Varian said, turning to Rict. He pulled the elf closer to him with a hand, and gave him a nice shake. "You're just nothing but problems for me aren't you?" he laughed. Rict smiled nervously, and broke away from his grip.

"Anyway, I guess there's nothing to do but wait for the next boat to leave from here to Valgarde." He said. "If memory serves me well, then the next one leaves in three days."

Ha said with a laugh. Brann coughed at this.

"To hell with that. I've been t'eh that blasted frozen rock already. Send me now, and I'll see what I can do while I wait for this one." He said, pointing at Rict. Varian nodded, and stepped away as Jaina opened another portal. When it finished, Brann stepped through and faded from sight. Jaina wiped a bead of sweat from her brow, and turned to look at the warden. Varian said,

"The Warden will be accompanying Rict'thiel by boat. I don't want him traveling alone. Its not that I doubt you, it's just that I want you getting there as fast as possible." He said. The Warden nodded, and vanished. She left a faint outline of herself before diminishing completely from sight.

Varian turned to Rict and said, "Relax Rict, you're in capable hands with Maiev Shadowsong." He said. "She'll keep you safe and on the straight and narrow until you reach Valgarde." He said.

Rict nodded, and bowed. Finally, Varian smiled." Well, I believe that there's been enough excitement for one evening. You should return home and get some sleep. I'll have some new books sent to you, and you'll have your possessions carted back." He said, patting the elf's shoulder. Rict smiled, and said,

"Thank you my lord."

"Varian" Varian said with a look of mock anger on his face.

"Varian," the elf conceded, smiling and breaking away from the king's grip. "If you should need me again, please do no hesitate to ask me."

Varian smiled, nodded his head and said, "I believe you've already done what I need most."

And with that, Rict'thiel took his leave from the castle. He walked out of the room with the bundle from Jaina in his hands. Walking out of the castle and into the night's cool air, Rict relaxed slightly. The Warden's name sounded familiar for some faint reason. Perhaps she was mentioned in one of the texts he'd been reading. Anyway, he continued off into the night, heading for the direction of his home.

Varian turned to Jaina and said, "I swear, there's something I'm for getting to tell that one…" Jaina simply shrugged, and began teleporting herself home.

Rict'thiel began to whistle, and found he was horrible, so he simply began to hum a melody he couldn't recognize. He felt contented, if nervous, as he made his way home.

He could have sworn the shadows were flitting about more then usual.