Chapter 6 – A Blessing

Nerisen introduced Tiene to Lord Jorach Ravenholdt. Jorach, Lord of Assassins, was a human rogue who put skill and dedication high above faction. He cared not whether your kin were high elf, night elf, dwarf, gnome or human as long as your dedication was to your craft.

Proud though he was of his own guild of killers and thieves, he had no qualms about inviting those from other guilds into the manor. He firmly believed all like-minded individuals and groups should work together in honing skills and learning from each other.

That was not to say, that all who arrived at the manor were of the same frame of mind. There had been on occasion, some unappreciative visitors who allowed politics to cloud their judgement. They were despatched. Immediately.

By all accounts, Nerisen was a fairly regular visitor to the manor and was welcomed by all he encountered as he showed Tiene through the academy. He was warmly greeted by another elf, Myrokos Silentform and they spoke as if they were old friends. He did however, express that he thought it may be unlikely they could stay long, as many soldiers were using the manor as a rest stop en route to their homes.

There were in fact, quite a large number of people visiting the manor this day. A lot of battle-weary rogues were coming and going as Tiene was being shown round the premises. A few hunters, paladins and warriors were also amongst the visitors as were priests and a few druids. It was not the norm for those not of the rogue's persuasion to be in the grounds, but these were friends and fellow soldiers who had accompanied the rogues to the manor on their way home, wherever home was.

As her trainer seemed distracted in his catch-up with Myrokos, Tiene wandered around, listening in to some of the conversations of those returning from battle. A few of those she neared nodded their heads in greeting or said a quiet hello. She was struck at how the faces of the men and women were so haunted looking. The snippets of conversation she overheard made it fully understandable. The horrors they had seen were truly stuff of nightmares. Her breath caught in her throat as she heard tales of their comrades and family members being hacked down by the trolls and other races aligned with the Horde. Friends, brothers, sisters and fathers and mothers had all fallen. Villages razed to the ground where nought survived. Her mind suddenly filled with pictures of Duthan heading out to fight the Amani trolls on the border of their homeland. A gasp escaped her as the terrible possibility of losing him hit home. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"My child," a kindly voice spoke. She turned to find a little human priest speaking to her. A solitary tear trickled down Tiene's cheek. "Oh my dear, have you lost someone close to you?"

Tiene stared at the holy man. He was a slightly odd little man. He had a kindly face, but there was an air of melancholy about him. He was well dressed, in robes of purple edged with eternium embroidered runes around the hem, neckline and long open cuffs. Yet, he did not appear to be of particular affluence. He inched a little further forward lifting his face up to look at her better. His eyebrows hitched up high on his forehead in a wordless enquiry. She shook her head a little and focused squarely on the priest.

"No, I haven't, thank you. I was just...well I overheard some of their stories and..."

"Ah, yes. Many have experienced much sorrow and loss. Now they must heal in more ways than a simple potion or spell can manage." He smiled wanly and turned to leave.

For some unfathomable reason, Tiene felt she needed to express her concerns about her brother. Who better than a holy man to voice such fears to. "I am worried now about my brother though," she said quickly as his little form moved away.

The priest came back to her and placed a consoling hand on her arm. "I see. Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"Yes," she heard herself saying.

"Shall we stroll outside then, child? It is a little overcrowded in here for now," he glanced around making sure he had assessed the situation correctly then, seemingly satisfied with his assumption, looked back up at Tiene with a crooked little smile. "Tis a lovely day outside, and fresh air does help to clear the mind of its troubles too." He bowed and gestured for her to go first.

She was quite taken by his quaint manners and slightly frail little frame. He looked in need of some care himself if truth be told. Nothing that a good meal and hot steaming cup of honeymint tea wouldn't put right, she thought.

They ventured out into the small garden area and walked slowly between some of the growing vegetables and herbs. The abundance of lavender and peacebloom soon masked the more pungent scents of goldthorn and silverleaf which seemed to be relatively rife in the area. There was a bench half way along the allotment, where the priest gestured for Tiene to take a seat. She smiled her thanks and he sat down beside her.

"What do I call you?" she asked.

"Oh, forgive me. I am Fynn Godwin. And your name, child?"

"Tiene Firefury," she answered. "How do I address you though? I cannot call you just Priest."

He smiled, a small chuckle tumbled from his thin lips. "I do not have, nor do I believe in titles, Tiene. Fynn will do nicely."

"Fynn," she repeated as if testing how it sounded.

"Now then, your brother. Tell me about him."

She proceeded to talk about Duthan and his current mission to fight the Amani trolls with the Farstriders. As she spoke of him, her heart swelled with pride. He had worked hard as a ranger and had deserved his position as lieutenant. The rangers under his command were loyal and respectful men and women, who Duthan always saw were well rewarded for serving their Ranger General and protecting their home of Quel'thalas.

Now however, with the second war, as such, recently over and the incarceration of some of the orcs and others sent back through the Dark Portal, it remained to the rangers to root out the Amani trolls who had joined the Horde during the war. The trolls were a fierce race, well versed in war strategy and tactics. She feared that they would be even more formidable having adopted the aid and influence of the Horde. Ultimately, she feared for the safe return of her brother and also Lor'themar, who was basically like a third brother to her.

Fynn listened without interruption as the young elf told her story. She clearly had a very strong bond with her brother, something which he felt a little envious of.

Sadly, he lacked a good relationship with his sibling, and his father for that matter. His brother was the favoured one, as a warrior, he was out fighting whenever, wherever he was required. Fynn, on the other hand, had been a bit of a disappointment to his father and that was putting it mildly.

He was as good as disowned when he announced his wish to join the priesthood. His father considered it a coward's way out of serving his king and Azeroth. He would not listen to Fynn when he tried to explain that he would be a devout priest who would go out to the battlefield and aid those brave men and women in the midst of war so they could return to their homes and families and fight another day if need be. But his father would hear none of it, and that was the day Fynn "lost" his family.

He looked at the young girl in front of him and saw so much love in her heart for her family. It touched him deeply. Even when she continued on past her concerns for Duthan's safety and told Fynn about the jests and tricks he and her other brother, Inaris, liked to put her through. She smiled fondly as her memories of their teasing spilled forth. She spoke also of how they tried to ready her for a future in the livelihood of a rogue, an assassin, a thief. She apologised at that point for wanting to kill people, but said she felt she had a path to follow, and that path was in her parent's footsteps, and it would only be done for the better of elf kind and all the allied races in Azeroth.

"Well," Fynn said when it was clear she had finished her story. "I am sure your brothers, even your adopted one, Lor'themar, was it?" he paused for confirmation. She nodded. "They will look out for each other, and all their fellow rangers will do likewise. There are no guarantees in this life child, but friendship and kinship are strong forces in themselves. And what's more, they have you to come home to. Now what better safeguard could there be? Other than the Light of course." His little eyes sparkled.

Tiene seemed to take comfort from his words, and she smiled her gratitude. "What of you, Fynn. Where is home for you, and what about your family."

The priest sighed slowly, the light in his eyes dimmed momentarily then shone again as he answered, "My home is in Stormwind and my family..." he gestured back up to the manor, then more generously across the vista in front of them. "...they are all who go to battle, child. It is my calling to tend to the wounded and the sick and offer comfort where I can." He looked into her azure eyes. "Although I pray you never suffer such injuries as those I have tended to over the years, I also hope I may be at hand and able to help if needed."

Tiene took hold of the priest's frail hand and thanked him.

"There you are!" Nerisen's voice called as he neared her and Fynn. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You have some serious studying to do, Tiene. However, as it is so busy here today," he nodded respect to the little priest," I think we shall borrow the books needed and head home. It will be your night-time reading."

Tiene stood. There was a touch of regret that she was leaving so soon, and strangely, it was not because it was the rogue's academy. She had enjoyed the company of the little priest. She smiled fondly at his thin face and sparkling eyes. "Thank you Fynn," she said. "You have eased my mind. I hope we meet again someday, and preferably not on a battlefield."

"I hope so too young Tiene. May the Light bless and keep your family safe."

Before she left the manor grounds, she turned back and looked up the hill. Fynn was making his way back inside, and being greeted and thanked by many of the war weary fighters. She noted there was a sadness he bore and she thought it may go deeper than the things he had witnessed in war.

"Elu'meniel mal alann*, Fynn Godwin," she whispered.

* Elu'meniel mal alann - May peace calm your heart