The sun was still peeking over the mountains of Dun Morogh
as the day waned, the dying light glistening off the freshly fallen snow
surrounding the little home cut into the rock. A warm glow was coming from its frost covered windows, wafts of smoke floated out of the little chimney. The scent
of the nearby pine trees mingled with the tantalizing aroma of cooking. Inside, a crackling fire was burning merrily in the hearth,
warming the small room, in the center of which stood a table filled with bowls and trays and platters filled with steaming food of all sorts. In the center of the table was a conspicuously empty space.
Around the table were seated an eclectic mix of people. At the head
of the table sat a tall, dark-skinned man, powerfully built and dressed in a
simple tunic of silver and gold. He was sitting on a cushion on the floor so as
to be at the right height for the table. Next to him was seated a ferociously
red-haired Dwarf wearing a festive red dress, trimmed with an intricate gold pattern that set off her pale,
freckled complexion. She was chuckling at the gnome seated across from her.
The gnome, whose head and shoulders barely rose above the table height, peeked around the large, foaming mug of ale that
she had placed in front of him that completely blocked his view and grinned, "Now that is a proper sized drink, Thallie."
"Aye," she smiled, "Tis nearly as large as yer head. But wha ye’d expect from a dwarven draught?"
Thosif gave a hearty laugh and shifted on his cushions to
get more comfortable. "I’ve always wondered where you managed to store all the
ale that you drink, Krupel," he said as he took a drink from his own glass. "Truly,
it is a marvel that such a tiny little creature can put back such a quantity!"
"It's an ancient gnomish secret; very hush-hush,"
Krupel laughed in his squeaky, yet oddly gruff voice as he wiped the foam from his white moustache.
"Indeed," said Thosif seriously. "And where is that husband of yours,
Thallie? He's been sequestered away in that kitchen for hours, it seems. One must wonder if he plans to feed his guests in a timely manner or merely let us waste away!"
Krupel placed his mug on the table with a loud and empty thud. "I don't blame you for being impatient, Thosif," he said cheerfully. "I image that you're sick of eating those severed fish heads and greasy whale milk that you Paladins do. Ick!" The Paladin scowled at the gnome as he continued, "Getting some hearty Dwarven food into your belly will be good for you. But I've gotta agree; Fannon sure is taking his time!"
A string of dwarvish swear-words, uttered by a deep, gruff voice with a thick Dun Morogh accent came from the kitchen doorway, "Magni's beard! A little patience, a'ready! Th' food'll be done when it's done!"
From the opposite corner of the room a piercing cry interrupted the laughter of the guests. Sitting in a comfortable armchair was a young, fetching woman holding a tiny baby who had just begun to cry. She had a startled look on her face, as if she was unsure what to do. She stood up, bouncing the baby to try and calm her down, whispering, "It's alright, little dwarfling. Shhhh."
After a moment, the crying subsided. "She likes yeh, Ophelie," Thallie said, "Ye're a natur'l."
"Thanks," Ophelie said, smiling. "She's adorable! And thanks so much for inviting me over to share in the holiday feast."
"Nae mention it," Thallie winked. "Consider yersel' part o' the family."
Between sips Krupel chuckled, "That means you have to do the dishes, Ophelie. It's not as great a deal as it seems like at first."
"You don't seem to complain too much as long as there's plenty of food and drink, Krupel," said Thosif.
Thallie gave Krupel a playful slap, "Quiet, you. Ophelie, find yersel' a place t' sit 'round the table, the rest o' th' guests should be here any minute. An' Fannon should be done w' th' food soon. I hope, a' least." She gave a skeptical glance towards the kitchen, where a great deal of worrysome noise and the occasional curse could be heard. "I should go check on 'im, make sure he's -"
Just then a knock on the door resounded through the house. Thallie moved to open it, and from outside heard, "Vidyala, my love, I do not think I can fit though this door."
Opening the stout, wooden door revealed a large, blue-skinned Draenei crouching low so that his head would clear the top of the it. "Greetings, my dear Thallie. We are so glad to join you on this auspicious occasion," Vosskah said as he twisted and contorted his huge frame through the diminutive, dwarf-sized opening. His wife, Vidyala, followed him through with considerably more grace. She was nearly as tall, with pale, almost translucent skin, her long brown hair styled smartly around her horns. "That's how it's done, Voss. You just need a little more dexterity," she laughed.
"We warriors are built for power, not dancing, my darling," Vosskah said gently, smiling. "Hear hear! Built for power!" slurred Krupel in the background, who raised his tankard in salute before guzzling it back.
"Welcome an' welcome again t' our home, both o' ye!" Thallie beamed, "Fannon an' mesel' are s'glad t' have ye!" The distinct sound of something breaking came from the kitchen. "Errr, dinner'll be in a trice; Fannon's just finishin' up sae details," she continued, a slight flutter of concern in her voice.
The newcomers found a seat at the table and got comfortable. After a moment, Ophelie began animatedly telling a story of her many travels to exotic lands, while Thallie busied herself getting drinks for the new arrivals as well as Krupel - who was now starting on his third gigantic stein of beer and showed no signs of slowing down.
Suddenly, the door flew open and a man burst in. Clad from head to toe in simple black leather, he quickly shut the door and sprinted for the fireplace and began to warm himself up, shivering. "Winter in the mountains!" he said mockingly. "I'm not sure why on Azeroth we couldn't have met at my place where it's warm!"
The company laughed. Thallie hugged the latest guest, "Good tae see you too, ElBne," she laughed. "Th' weather would nae be s'bad if only you'd dress for it!"
ElBne smiled at Thallie, "Do you know how hard it is to move around stealthily when you're wearing six layers of bear skins?" he asked. "My professionalism wouldn't allow that!"
"I would think the clinking of the wine bottles in your cloak would tend to give you away more than the bulkiness of a winter jacket," joked Vidyala.
ElBne grinned and pulled out two bottles of wine from his cloak pockets, "I come prepared for anything!"
"Welcome, laddie," Thallie said warmly, "Now we're just waitin' for our last guest. ElBne, did ye chance tae spot Corath out there a' all?"
"As it happens, I did. I think it's alright to start without him, though," ElBne said. "When I saw him last he had accidentally attracted the attention of a few of the guards of Ironforge and they were chasing him through the hills towards Gnomeregan. I think it will be a while before he loses them and makes it back here."
Thallie sighed, "It's a pity tha th' guards dunnae know him as we do. I know he's a Tauren an' technically the enemy, but he's such a sweet little cow. I hope he escapes."
"I'm not certain there would be room in here for both of us," said Vosskah. He was sitting on a cushion on the floor next to the table, his head bent at an odd angle to keep it from hitting the wooden beam of the roof.
A long series of alarming sounds suddenly burst forth from the kitchen, accompanied by a loud hooting and more than a little smoke. The dwarfling, whom Ophelie had rocked to sleep and put in a fur-lined basket near the fire, began crying again. Thallie picked her daughter up, sat down on the hearth and began softly singing an old Wildhammer lullaby to calm her down.
Thosif stood up at the table suddenly, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the ceiling, and pulled everyone's attention away from the drama that was happening in the kitchen. "Please friends, find a place to sit around this magnificent table," he said formally. "Whilst our host is, uh, otherwise occupied with the preparations for our repast, I would take this opportunity to offer a toast.
"I would like to thank you all for coming tonight, on this most excellent holiday," he began solemnly. "Each one of us have, at one point, stood up against the worst evils that Azeroth has to offer and has come out victorious. But not one of us could have achieved these victories without the help and support of the people around us. Friendship is what allows us to endure the unimaginable hardships and succeed when we feel that the Light has abandoned us, for we know that our comrades will stay true and show us the path through the darkness."
He raised his glass, "To you, my friends. To Vidyala and Vosskah, who came from so very far away to see us tonight. To ElBne and, yes, even our "enemy" Corath. And especially to you, Ophelie. All of you, your friendship means so much to me that it is truly impossible to properly describe. I salute you."
The room was silent as each person raised their glass and took a sip. The dwarfling gurgled in her basket.
"Brilliant!" Fannon exclaimed, appearing at the kitchen entrance holding a large, red cooking pot. "Finished a' last!" He was a mess. His elegant white robes - made of a shimmering material and trimmed with black and gold - were covered with stains and several rips. The hem of both sleeves bore the unmistakable scorch marks of being recently set on fire. His white beard - pulled into a thick braid in the front and tied with an ornate silver band - was frizzy and disheveled, with a still-wriggling fish tail protruding out of it. "Tuck in!"
With a flourish, Fannon placed the feast in the middle of the table. The room was suddenly quiet for a long, awkward moment. The guests glanced at each other nervously.
Krupel broke the silence, "Umm, isn't that lobster supposed to be dead?"
