Chapter 9 – Going Once, Going Twice … SOLD!
Nestled in between the hills, the home of Erik Longmaster looked the same as it did the day Drew had left Azeroth. Strangely, it felt like he was coming home.
The chimney puffed out grey plumes of smoke which swirled and dispersed on the light breeze whistling in from the mountains to the north. The fields below were starting to burst with brightly coloured flowers and herbs. It had the appearance of a vast rippling, rainbow infused carpet. Air currents danced up across the meadow imbuing the path to the cottage with the sweet and exotic scents of nature's perfumiers.
A little distance from the cottage, a couple of fawns grazed in the company of a passel of hogs with their litters. The odd squeal from the younger pigs had the adults milling around them on the lookout for danger. All was safe and tranquil though. The bears and wolves would be further into the forest at this time of year, if Drew's estimation was correct. He remembered it had been late summer when he'd left. Going by the foliage and the slightly cool air he surmised it was spring in Azeroth. He had missed this little cottage and the surrounding Elwynn Forest, even though it had been less than a week in his time.
The scene was somewhat marred however, as he was still bristling from the exchange with Mick, Mel and Bernie. Especially Bernie. He'd been stupid enough to think they had a connection. What its root was he had no idea, but he'd sensed something – something elusive - yet it kept trying to surface from the pit of his mist-covered memory.
He'd felt a particularly strong paroxysm in the gardens of Princes Street when they were observing the cat stalking its prey. There had been a glimmer, a ripple of some buried link with that moment and... He shook his head, frustrated not only at not understanding it, but also that he was bothering to deliberate about it at all. Bernie had been right about one thing anyway. He was gullible.
As he approached the front door of the cottage, two butterflies crossed in front of his face. Their sudden appearance startled him from his reverie and he lifted a hand to swat them away. As he did so he was rooted to the spot. His inner eye hurtled to another place and, he surmised, another time.
He saw a man's hands holding a jar. They were his hands. No. They couldn't be. He did not recognise the moment nor the clothing, of which, granted, there was only a small amount on show. All he could see were dark blue sleeves, of a jacket, most likely. It seemed to be finely tailored by what he could make out, but he knew he had never possessed anything like that. His attention focused on the jar again. It had a linen cloth top tied with a vine that was moulded into a handle for carrying.
The hands passed the jar to someone else. A female going by the slender, elegant fingers. They hovered over a black dress which shimmered from tiny gems sewn into it. It looked expensive. There was something familiar, but what could possibly be familiar about a scene which Drew had truly no recollection of whatsoever? He desperately wanted to see the face these hands belonged to. Maybe then...
The female lifted the jar, he cuaght a glimpse of golden hair. His breath caught in his chest, the anticipation of seeing who had been given this bizarre object... But, the vision honed in on the linen-topped glass once more. Inside were three brightly coloured butterflies. One of the female's hands reached out to the male's ones. Fingers entwined...
He staggered as his vision retracted with an almost audible whoosh and once more he was back in present time. He stared at his hand, still raised to swat the butterflies, which had long since fluttered over the path and down towards the meadow.
He was gasping. What he had just envisioned was no whimsical daydream. It was so much more meaningful that that. It was like... a memory. But not one of his. His thoughts returned to the incident in the train station. Had he somehow become host to someone's spirit? Was he possessed? An unnerving consideration indeed, but one which he attempted to cool by thinking that something as innocent as butterflies would not be associated with any objectionable entity, surely. He hoped not anyhow.
Again he shook his head. What a ridiculous way of thinking, he chastised. Ghosts hitching a lift! Even in this fantastical dimension, such a thing was far-fetched. Wasn't it?
He straightened, flexed his neck and rounded his shoulders before continuing towards the door of the cottage. A sturdy wooden table with two benches tucked underneath, sat to the left of the door. Upon the table was a quiver, half full of arrows and a splintered bow beside it. To the right and nearer the slope of the path, was the carcass of a boar, slung up in the centre of a sturdy tripod. It's throat was slit, a bucket below to catch the blood. He couldn't help but peer over at the family of hogs in the meadow. Hope that isn't their Uncle Hamish, he thought.
However, he knew Erik only hunted bigger game if there was a celebration occurring. Suddenly aware of the battered carrier bag in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder if that celebration was a birth.
The sound of pots rattling came from within the cottage. Drew moved to the door and was just about to grab the handle when the door shot open. He jumped back at the suddenness of it, dropping his bag of baby clothes and the teddy.
There in front of him holding a large frying pan, was a fierce looking black-haired female dwarf. "Dinnae even think it!" She growled. Going by the glare in her eyes she had every intention to use that pan as a weapon.
Drew held his hands up in surrender. While she was a good two feet shorter than him, his experience of the race told him not to under-estimate the strength and ferocity of the dwarves. That was a particular consideration now as he was faced with this very angry looking woman armed with a sturdy cooking implement.
"Honey, ah'm home!" A shout from round the north side of the cottage announced the welcome arrival of Erik Longmaster, Supreme Hunter and, thankfully, good friend of Drew Stewart.
Drew glanced back at the woman in the doorway. She hadn't moved an inch, her stance informing him she still intended to clobber him if he so much as sneezed.
His eyes quickly turned back to the side of the house. He could hear footsteps crunching across the gravel. It nonetheless seemed to take an age for the stocky figure of Erik Longmaster to appear from round the edge of the cottage. When he did however, his abundant swatch of red whiskers rose on his face suggesting a broad smile.
"Drew! Laddie! Yer back!" he shouted as he dumped the three dead rabbits he had been carrying near the corner of the cottage. He ran forward, holding out a hand in greeting. He slowed as he realised Drew's stance mimicked someone facing a fierce beast. Turning his head, he caught sight of the woman lurking in the doorway, frying pan still at the ready. "Pit that away, Gwen! It's jist Drew." He scolded the female.
The woman bristled but was still reluctant to down tools. Her eyes darted between Erik and the tall young man in the black leather jacket. "Jist Drew he says! Well, he could huv bin onybody!" she grumbled. "Comin' tae ma door, armed wi'...wi'..." Her eyes fell to the ground at Drew's feet.
Erik also looked at the carrier bag and the teddy on the ground. He tutted. "Wi' a bairn's stuffed toy?" he said incredulously. " Ye daft bissim, Gwenmora." Erik rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.
The woman lowered the frying pan, but her glare turned on Erik. "Dinnae ye be usin' ma Blessed name Erik Longmaster or cawin' me a bissim in front o' folk, or ah'll huv yer beard for garters."
Erik's beard twitched and he shifted back against Drew. "Now lass, ye ken fine ma beard is off limits so dinnae be comin' oot wi' empty threats..."
"Empty!" she stepped out from the doorway, hands on hips, her brow knitted, eyes blazing and that frying pan still held firmly in her right hand.
Erik moved back again. As did Drew. This woman put him in mind of a snapping turtle and he felt the need to put some more distance between them. "Erm, will I come back another time?" he asked hesitantly, trying to gather the carrier bag and teddy by using his foot to bring them nearer him.
He glanced at the cuddly bear with it little tartan waistcoat. It had had a few collisions with the ground since his arrival in Azeroth and its fur was starting to show the effects. He picked it up and blew on it, trying to rid it of the dry soil and grass blades it had accumulated. "Can't really give this to Sarah now," he said a tad dejected.
Gwenmora's hands fell to her sides. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yer that Drew."
Drew looked up, not quite sure what to make of her statement.
"Of course he's that Drew!" Erik said. "Whit other Drew div ye ken, onyway?"
Gwenmora ignored Erik and marched over to the human holding the teddy bear. "Gie's it here lad, ah'll mak' it as gid as new fur ye." She held out a squat hand. Gingerly, Drew surrendered the teddy bear. Gwenmora looked at it, and a soft smile crossed her lips. "Ocel will love this," she said.
"Ocel?" Drew asked. His eyes were wide and the trace of a winsome smile played on his lips.
Gwenmora looked up at him. "Aye. The bairn. Sarah and Khadgar huv a bouncin' baby boy."
Drew's mouth formed a silent Oh.
The female dwarf shook her head. "Did ye no ken? Where on Azeroth huv ye been, lad. She hud the bairn four days ago."
"Actually, I've just arr..." but before he could finish, Gwenmora had spun round and disappeared back into the cottage with the teddy bear.
After he made sure she was out of range, Erik grabbed Drew's hand and shook it warmly. "Ah, it's gid tae huv ye back lad," he beamed, his little eyes glinting from under the wayward bushy brows.
Drew smiled. "It's good to be back," he said. The fact three others had come through with him however, made him wonder if he would continue to feel that way. He glanced at the cottage door. "Have you got something to tell me?"
Suddenly, Erik became all coy. He stared at the ground, swaying slightly from side to side, hands clasped behind his back. Drew smirked. It was uncanny how like the game models these Azerothians could be at times. "Come on now," Drew coaxed. "Tell me who she is."
"Her name's Gwenmora."
"That much I gathered. Come on Erik, tell me more."
"She's the daughter o' Fargo Flintlocke, the warrior engineer."
"Okay. And?"
"And whit?"
"How did you meet?"
Erik took a very deep breath before looking back up at him. "I won her," he simply said.
"You what?" Drew gasped. He was suddenly overcome with laughter.
Erik got all flustered and pressing a chubby finger against his bearded lips, while flapping with his other hand at Drew, shushed the human from making any further noisy outbursts.
Drew was having a hard time keeping his face straight as Erik proceeded to tell him the tale.
"It wis Sarah's idea. She said they dae this kinda thing back where ye's come frae and it's a' hermless fun. It wis a charity doo tae raise monies fur those that were less fortunate efter the Legion attacks. They decided tae huv an auction...o' wimen."
Again Drew had to stifle his laughter. Erik was still embarrassed and fidgeting, a foot aimlessly pushing a pebble round where they stood.
"So, obviously you won."
"Aye, laddie." His voice dropped lower. "An' ahm no' tellin' ye fur how much, neither. But it was only meant tae be fur a night. Yin night! Y'know, jist a nice evening wi' a meal and some music, that wis a' tho'."
"Uh huh," Drew stood, arms crossed, with one hand trying to hide the fact he was still laughing. "And erm...how long ago was this charity auction?"
It took the dwarf a considerable time to reply. "It wis held at the stert o' the year." Erik hung his head again.
Drew made a rather strange sound from behind his hand.
Erik scowled at him. "Ye git yaist tae hur."
"So it would seem. Honey, ah'm home?" Drew mimicked.
Erik scoffed, turning away for a moment. What flesh was visible under his beard and whiskers was almost as red as his hair. When he looked back up at Drew, however, his eyes were sparkling. "Well, ah kinda like huvin' hur aboot, now. She mak's a mean rabbit stew and...she keeps ma taes warm in the cauld weather." His bushy whiskers twitched and he winked at Drew.
It was the most comical meeting Drew had heard of, but he was very happy that it seemed to be working out for his friend.
Erik grinned and gestured the way forward.
"Come awa' in lad. She disnae bite – much."
Stepping over the threshold, Drew instantly noticed Gwenmora had applied the woman's touch to the hunter's lodgings. It was even cosier than he remembered.
You could actually see out the windows now without having to strain your eyes or rub a clear spot on the panes and they all had curtains, held with decorative tie-backs. The armchairs had been freshened up and plump brightly coloured cushions rested in their crooks. Even the rugs had been replaced, no more threadbare ones in sight, just rich, deep-piled luxury underfoot.
The dining table had a crisp linen cloth draped over it and a small vase of fresh cut flowers. A new sideboard was positioned near hand and plates were neatly stacked in small piles on its surface. Cups were hung by their handles from small hooks and glasses sat neatly in a row under them.
The glow of the fire gave the whole room a very welcoming ambience. A small pile of logs sat at the right on the hearth in a basket and an iron companion set on the left. The large solid mantle was free of clutter and an enormous Dun Morogh landscape, its focal point the great mountain fortress Ironforge, hung on the chimney breast. A fond reminder no doubt of home for the dwarves.
As Erik closed the door behind them, he grunted to Drew and eyed his boots. Drew instantly understood, removing them and placing them next to the door where a coat rack also stood. He hooked his jacket over it for good measure. He also placed the carrier bag of baby goods down beside it. Erik then ushered him over to one of the armchairs.
Just as he was about to sit, Gwenmora emerged from the small hallway that led to the rooms at the back of the cottage. Drew instantly straightened again as she neared.
She held the now pristine teddy bear in her hands. Her mouth in a proud smile she looked up at him. "There's nae need tae stand on ceremony lad. Although..." she threw a quick glare at Erik, "...it's awfy nice tae see someone has manners when a lady enters the room."
Erik muttered under his breath.
Gwenmora handed the teddy bear over to Drew. He smiled when he saw it. It looked as good as new. "Thank you, very much Gwenmora."
"Gwen!" she said. "I prefer jist Gwen."
"Okay. Then, thank you, Gwen." He bowed lightly, further indicating his gratitude.
She suddenly seemed to go all coy and a strange little chortle came from her. Erik grunted and with arms crossed he huffed at Gwen's reaction.
Drew noted the hunter's sulk and suppressing a smile, sat himself down in the armchair.
"Git the lad summat tae drink then, why don't ye!" Gwen barked at Erik.
Still grumbling under his breath, Erik went through to the larder and came back with two tankards and a skin of Dwarven Ale. Gwen just stared hotly at him her hands back on those hips. With a deep sigh, he returned from the larder once more, a third tankard in hand. When he handed her a full tankard, then she smiled at him. She settled herself down in the other armchair as Erik poured ale for Drew and himself.
"Thank you," Drew said as he accepted the ale. They all drank heartily.
Gwen leaned on the arm of her chair and looked at the human next to her. "Sorry aboot afore, Drew. Wi' the frying' pan, ah mean."
Drew hitched his right foot up so it rested on his left knee and relaxed back into the armchair. "Quite understandable," he said. "You can never be too careful."
"Ma thought's exactly," she replied, shooting another judgemental look at Erik.
"Och, wumin! Yer perfectly safe oot here and ye ken it!" Erik took another long draught of his ale. "It's no as if ye cannae look efter yersl' is it? Drew can attest tae that." A small ripple of laughter spread between them.
Drew was curious to how things had been since he left. "So how's everyone been faring since the defeat of the Legion?"
Erik scratched at his beard and sat on the poufe facing him. "Well, tae be honest, it's a bit tough fur folk still."
Gwen sighed. "Aye," she nodded in agreement with Erik. "The fight hud dragged oot fur such a long time, ah think a lot o' us are still regaining oor strength."
"Yeah, well, it would take time to recover from that," Drew said. "I was only involved briefly really, but it was intense and a lot of good people were lost."
The dwarves nodded and they all sat in silent reverence for a moment or two.
"How's things bin back hame fur ye lad?" Erik spouted.
Drew's mouth twitched. He knew Erik was referring to returning without Sarah the last time. It was still hard to shrug off more recent events however, namely three others who were now roaming Azeroth in search of the Horde. He decided he should keep that bit of information to himself for the time being, at least from Erik. He knew he would need to come clean though with Sarah. And Khadgar.
"Surprisingly, I was quite efficacious, in that I managed to convince our managers she has just upped sticks and moved abroad. They were none too happy, although there isn't really much they can do. They asked for a forwarding address, but I said I didn't know who her friends over the water were or where she was actually living. What I didn't consider, was her flat. I've kept up the rent for it even though I know she's never going to come back. But, I need to go over that with her. I mean, everything she owned, is still there."
Erik nodded. He thought highly of Drew for trying to do right by Sarah in their home world. It was no mean feat trying to be cover for someone at the best of times. It was a testament to their friendship.
Gwen looked on in silence over the top of her tankard as Erik and Drew continued chatting. Erik updated him on some of the other individuals the lad had met on his last visit.
Events involving Sarah, and eventually Drew, had all started long before Gwen had met Erik. She had of course heard stories about the mysterious woman from another dimension who had been instrumental in saving King Varian's life on the Broken Shore. The way she had been vehemently defensive about Illidan Stormrage, the Betrayer had also reached her ears. And of course, the most frequent line of gossip about this strange woman, was that she had won the heart of the most eligible batchelor in Azeroth. Archmage Khadgar.
Gwen had never met her until the Auction was announced. As a means to raise some much needed financial support for those who had hit particularly hard times following the Legion invasions it appeared by all accounts to be an innovative and fun way to do things. When the opportunity to speak with Sarah arrived, Gwen was more than impressed by this now hybrid, half human, half demon hunter individual. It was obvious this woman felt deeply for the all people, not only those in Stormwind, but in Azeroth as a whole.
Gwen had jumped at the chance to be included in the Auction. It had after all been a long and hard slog during the attacks on Azeroth. Tending to those injured, homeless, grieving, lost and desperate individuals who had fought so bravely during the war, eventually tired one out. She had travelled the length and breadth of the continent with like-minded individuals, assisting the druids of both the Cenarion Circle and the Expedition. Together, they had given aid and support to those who had suffered.
So the opportunity to discard the old leather and cloth working attire in favour of a pretty, colourful and flattering dress, was a must for Gwen. Plus the possiblility that she might be wined and dined by some tall and handsome warrior, be he human, or perhaps the more exotic night elf was a major attraction. She even considered a worgen as a potential beau for the evening - purely out of curiosity. She couldn't help wonder if they ate with utensils or simply buried their snouts in a bowl on the floor. Once she really mulled that one over though, she decided a worgen was not desirable company after all. As it turned out of course, it was none of the above who won her. It was Erik.
Sarah had been delighted it was the hunter dwarf who had bid successfully on Gwen and congratulated both of them enthusiastically. The human was obviously very fond of Erik, making a great fuss of him. They had developed a strong bond.
Erik had proved to be the perfect gentleman that evening. Attentive, mannerly, polite, complimenting Gwen many times on how lovely she looked. She ended up quite taken by the red-haired hunter. As they stood at the door of her family's home, he was very gallant and kissed her hand. His beard had tickled the back of her hand, making her giggle. It took Gwen the blink of an eye to decide this one wasn't going to get away, so she told him she would up at his cottage the next morning. His eyebrows had crawled up under his unruly red mop and she was certain his mouth was open under the plaited, wiry facial hair. She then nodded goodnight, turned and closed her door firmly before he could object.
Erik's laughter pulled her from her reverie. Blinking she glanced between the two men trying to catch up on what subject their conversation had reached.
"An' apparently she near shredded his han'," Erik roared, near spilling his ale.
"Ouch!" Drew commented.
"He's no very gid at the nappy changin' neither..."
"Now ye ha'd yer wheest, Erik Longmaster," Gwen scolded him as she instantly realised the poor Archmage was the topic of his mirth. "Dinnae ye be disrespectin' that man."
Erik puffed out his chest, instantly defensive. "Ah'm no disrespectin' onybody, wumin. He laughed aboot it himsel' when he telt me."
"Even so. I'd like tae see you try an' change a bairn's nappy."
"Oh ye wid, wid ye!" he was still annoyed at her reprimanding tone.
"Aye! I wid!"
Drew shifted on his chair. The couple's little spats were amusing, though if he wasn't mistaken, he thought there was a small hint of hope in Gwen's words. Watching Erik's face, as the last comment sunk in, it seemed he too had got that impression. The hunter dwarf was suddenly lost for words and chewed, involuntarily, on a long wayward, whisker from his moustache.
"So, erm... they live in Stormwind now?" Drew ventured.
"Eh?" Erik mumbled, still staring at Gwen. Their eyes were locked.
"Sarah and Khadgar," Drew explained.
With a quick shake of his head he turned his attention back to Drew. "Aye! Though Khadgar keeps his apartment in Dalaran fur when he's attending' business wi' the Kirin Tor. I dare say yer keen tae see them though?"
Drew nodded and smiled his appreciation.
"Right then, ah'll tak' ye roond in a wee while, yince ah skin them rabbits." Erik turned back to Gwen. "Wid ye mak' yer prize winnin' rabbit stew fur oor dinner, Gwen. I wis tellin' Drew how gid it is, afore?"
The female dwarf smiled at him. "Of course, Erik. Ah widnae huv oor guest gan hungry now, would ah?" Then, her voice, a little softer. "Nor you, fur that matter, dearest."
Erik grunted, but his eyes displayed pleasure at her comment. He rose from his seat and went to prepare the conies.
