“Dearest Bael,
“I hope you never read this letter. Your Ma is holding onto it in case I never come home from Icecrown Citadel, or come home as something other than your Da.
“I was not much older than you the day the orcs invaded Khaz Modan. War eventually took your Grampus and Nana Flinthammer, at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. Like me, your Grampus and Nana knew what might happen, and went anyway. (Your Uncle Widge can tell you more about that.)
“Hunter!” called the young mage on the steps of the bank in Dalaran. “Come close quickly; I must have a word!”
“‘Hunter?'” Ringo Flinthammer said, looking around. “Ye mean me? Is it the bear? He gets gassy when he eats them jellyfish. Just light a candle and it’ll clear right up.”
The mage sighed and continued, ignoring Ringo’s explanation.
“My patron, the Lady Jaina Proudmoore, has uncovered a hole in the defenses of Icecrown Citadel into a place she referred to as ‘The Forge of Souls.'”
“Well, ‘uncovered,'” Ringo said, making air quotes with his fingers. “She sent me wee pal Widge at the citadel with a flying carpet full of seaforium. Not so much ‘uncovered’ as ‘blew a bloody great hole in a solid stone door,’ really.”
“She sent word before she left for me to find any help that I could,” the apprentice soldiered on, looking dubiously down at the dwarf. “And, well, I was hoping that might be you.”
“Out of lovesick gnomes, is she?”
“Please, find her there as soon as she can.”
“Fine, fine. Keep yer tabard on.”
“Ringo! Beli! Come quickly!” Widge Gearloose burst into the Silver Covenant Pavilion. “Jaina! She’s given me a mission!”
Beli Flinthammer closed her sketchbook and kicked her husband in the shins, waking him mid-snore.
“What’s that, Widge?” she asked, bundling herself up as she emerged into the frigid air of Icecrown Glacier.
“She’s sending me behind enemy lines!” the gnome gushed as he piled supplies onto a hovering magical carpet. “The very thing to win her favor!”
“Or a suicide mission,” Ringo muttered.
“No, no, not at all!” Widge gushed. “Well, at least, probably not. Anyway, you know how the Argent Crusade has captured those twin val’kyr?”
“Heh,” Ringo chuckled. “Twiiiiiiins!”
His wife slapped him loudly on the back of the head.
“Ow. Baelan or Cohhen would have laughed at that.”
“His Majesty, King Varian Wrynn, and Lady Jaina Proudmoore have touched down upon the tournament grounds!” roared a herald. “Make way!”
“Ooh!” Widge Gearloose squealed and darted out of the Silver Covenant Pavilion. Ringo and Beli Flinthammer ambled after him, snacking on leftovers.
Standing on the front steps of the pavilion, Ringo scratched the ears of the family’s rams, Sam and Beer Run.
“Hail, Thane,” a black-bearded dwarf said, snapping to attention and saluting, hit boots kicking up a spray of slush as his boot heels snapped together. “Missus Thane.”
Widge squeaked in outrage and came bounding past on four outraged hooves.
“Er, hail,” Beli said, shooting a husband a “who in the Hellfire Peninsula is this guy” look.