Harry began to cast a Shield Spell on Gibble, but it was no use; as soon as he started his spell, he knew that the demon's axe was carving through the air too fast and that he would never be able to finish it in time. Suddenly, a golden shell formed over Gibble, and the demon's axe bounced off it like rubber. Harry saw Sharla with her arms raised and a bright yellow light pulsing from her hands.
"Harry! I can nae hold th' shield much longer!" she yelled. "Get rid o' the demons!"
Harry steeled his nerves and turned back to the felguards. The two that Gibble had summoned, Rivinzeras and Krimkorak, were looking at him suspiciously.
"That is the human! Destroy the others, but capture him alive!" grunted the unnamed demon.
"Too pathetic to fight your own battles, Bruudhun?" sneered one of the demons, although Harry didn't know which one was which.
Bruudhun roared in anger. "Ignorant imp!" it yelled. "They knew not my true name, Krimkorak! Now you have given them a weapon!"
The other demon said nothing in reply, but placed a well-aimed kick at Bruudhun's chest. He doubled over, snarling, while Rivinzeras laughed cruelly.
"Treacherous fool!" shouted Bruudhun. His attention diverted, he furiously threw a devastating left jab at Krimkorak. It landed squarely on the jaw of the other demon with a sickening crunch.
Krimkorak swept an armored leg across the ground, tripping Bruudhun - and accidentally hitting Rivinzeras, who stopped laughing.
"Flailing whelp! Watch what you're doing!" he growled.

Sharla crumpled, overexhausted, as the golden shield around Gibble buckled and collapsed. Fortunately for them, the three felguards were more focused on fighting each other than on their targets, and Harry took advantage of the momentary distraction to spring into action. "Ventus!" he shouted, flicking his wand and aiming not at the demons but the water in the pond. An enormous swirling waterspout sprang up from the lake. It spouted like a whale, and Harry directed it to the arguing demons. They looked up just in time to see a ceiling of water crash down on top of them, knocking them face-first onto the ground and pinning them in place.

"Rivinzeras! Krimkorak! Bra-Bren...", sputtered Harry. "Bruudhun! Return!"
Moments later, the water had dissipated and the three demons had disappeared. Gibble stared at Harry, visibly shaken. "I...I do not understand, Harry. A demon cannot be summoned unless its name is known, or it is commanded by a greater demon. I was unfamiliar with the additional demon and I must humbly apologize for the ambush. You have, of course, won the contest, but I fear the prize is not worth the effort involved."

Harry wanted to say something, but a low moan from Sharla brought him to attention. "She's injured. Where can we take her?" asked Harry.
Gibble beckoned Harry. "The other paladins in the Mystic Ward will be able to revive her. If they ask, we can say she was injured fighting demons, which will be the truth."
Harry sighed, not really having a choice. Wordlessly, he conjured a stretcher and very gently floated Sharla onto it, and followed Gibble down the hall.

The paladins did not ask many questions, and soon Sharla was up and about, a little tired but otherwise healed. She, Harry, and Gibble were on their way to the Deeprun Tram, the fastest way to Stormwind. He had told them, truthfully enough, that a friend of his had opened a portal directly to Ironforge, and that he wasn't sure how to get back to Stormwind. As they walked, Harry had a few questions for them, and wondered whether he might obtain a token or memento that represented themselves.
"I'm a sort of...collector, I suppose. This is for an...anthropological survey."
Sharla's ears perked up. "Oh, aye? Are yeh interested much in culture an' history, then, Harry?"
Harry nodded. "Let's just say it's in my best interests to learn as much about all the different races as I can."
Sharla smiled. "It's great ta see a human so keen on learnin' history that did nae involve other humans."
"Why's that?"
"Well, fer starters, history ta a human is nae the same as it is ta a dwarf, or a gnome. Yer history only goes back a few hundred years or so. Yeh're a young race, Harry. Yeh don't live as long as dwarves, so yeh make up fer it by havin' scores o' wee ones. An' humans are given to flights o' fancy. Yeh're flighty and fickle and change yer minds twenty times a day."
Harry started to protest, but Sharla smiled. "I'm not cuttin' a jibe at yeh, Harry! I mean no disrespect. But yeh got to look at it from our point o' view. What yeh humans call 'a day's work', a dwarf calls 'impatience'. When a dwarf does or says somethin', she's got tha foresight to consider what might happen ten or twenty or fifty years from now. And a human doesn't have that long."
"So yeh grow up fast. Yeh only stay young about twenty years. A dwarf is a youngun' till about fifty. Why, I'm barely a lass out of school and I'm seventy-eight! If I were a human, I'd be a doddering old crone by now. And night elves are even worse. Some o' them have been around for ten thousand years! D'yeh see what I'm meaning?"
Harry nodded, though he did not have the faintest idea what a Night Elf looked like, only a vague description of them as tall purple elves. They passed the Explorer's Hall, and Harry could see a number of large plaques and displays set out in a sort of museum highlighting a brief history of dwarven exploration and archaeology; trophies, artifacts, and skeletons dotted the colossal cavern. It all looked very interesting, but Harry did not have the time to stop and admire the antiquities. "Rhonin said something about dwarves having a lot of resolve. He said you're the first to enter a fight and the last to leave."
Sharla grinned at the compliment. "Aye, that we are. Yeh humans call us stubborn, and mayhaps there's a bit o' truth ta that, but our word is our bond, Harry."
"So what would you say is an item that represents you?"
Sharla narrowed her eyes. "I wouldna try ta shovel us all in th' same boat, Harry. But we all have a bit o' the earth in us. 'Swhy we built Ironforge inna great mountain. A human mighta tried to go around, and a gnome mighta come up with some fantastic machine to go over it, but to a dwarf, it's just as easy ta go straight through. We - ach, so sorry, Harry," said Sharla. Harry had felt a small jolt on the back of his shoe and looked to see what Sharla was apologizing for when he saw a small pebble, smooth and round. He bent to pick it up, but Sharla was already down on one knee, reaching for it. She grabbed it and stood up abruptly.
"This be exactly what I be referrin' to, Harry. A dwarf is just like a stone," she said, handing the pebble to Harry. "I hope this adds to yer collection."
Harry took the pebble with a smile. "This will be fine, thanks."
They had entered a tunnel, and Harry could hear a number of high-pitched, excited voices and a number of mysterious clanks, buzzes, and explosions coming from the other end. Gibble snapped out of his quiet contemplation. "Did you have any questions pertaining to the history of gnomes? Admittedly, there is precious little oral history; most of our documents were kept in the archives in Gnomeregan, and they were, of course, destroyed when the city fell."
Harry shrugged. "Err...well, I'll ask the same question. What would you say a gnome is in one word?"
Gibble pondered for a moment, scratching his chin. "Ingenius," he said at last. "A gnome is never truly happy unless he or she is creating something new, or improving upon something existing. It is what drives us to infinite success. There are, of course, pitfalls and setbacks, but we persevere. Even the fall of our home city and the eradication of approximately fifty percent of our population - and not completely our fault, either - could not diminish our capacity for invention. They exited the tunnel and came upon a section of the city inhabited by several gnomes, male and female alike.
Gibble beamed. "Our cousins the dwarves were kind enough to allow us refuge in Ironforge, and this is where we currently reside. Welcome to Tinker Town!" Harry paused for a moment and looked around. A large tunnel with a sign saying "To Deeprun Tram" welcomed him, and a number of shops were inset along the walls, advertising things like "Berryfizz's Potions & Mixed Drinks" and "Springspindle's Gadgets". Here and there gnomes were deep in conversation, inspecting hand-made machinery and gearworks. Harry was amused. "Err, Gibble, what's with the names? Are there a lot of Berryfizzes around here?" said Harry.
Gibble laughed. "Oh, no, no, Harry. Gnomish naming conventions do not follow those of humans. Humans give their children their own surname, which was passed down from their father, which was passed down from their father, and so on and so forth. A gnome is given a name at birth, and then when they are of age, they may choose a surname that reflects their own accomplishments and not those of their families. It is a mark of independence and free spirit when a gnome chooses not to be burdened by past transgressions and instead opts to learn from his mistakes. I myself chose the surname Geartoggle when I was fifty-two, due to my fascination with engineering."
"Engineering. Gears and bolts and whatnot?" asked Harry.
Gibble nodded. "Essentially, yes, although there is significantly more to it than that. I'm afraid my fingers are more accustomed to crafting machinery out of parts than to raw manufacturing - I leave that to the dwarves. But yes, gears are vital to engineering."

He reached into a bag on his hip and pulled out a thick, shiny bronze gear, and passed it to Harry. "You may have this; I have many other similar ones on me at all times. One never knows when inspiration may strike." They reached the entrance to the Deeprun Tram, and Sharla and Gibble paused. "This is where we'll be leaving yeh, Harry. We've still business to attend to here in the city. There's two trams, and they run on a tight schedule so yeh've not long ta wait; if yeh miss one, tha other'll be along directly."
Harry extended his hand, and Sharla grasped it firmly. "Best wishes to yeh, Harry. Perhaps our paths will cross again in the future."
Gibble shook Harry's hand in turn, clasping it with two small hands. "Fortune favors the prepared mind. Expect the best, but prepare for the worst. Good luck!"
Harry grinned. "Thanks."
Harry could not help but be a little forlorn at having to leave his two new friends, but he had a mission to accomplish, and so with a last wave, he turned and headed down the long hallway that led to the Deeprun Tram.