Flinthammer Hall

The Northspear’s gangplank dropped heavily on the Valgarde dock. The dwarves and men crowding the dock waiting for the ship stepped back in surprise when the roar issued from on deck. The series of gunshots fired off a moment later sent some of them running for cover.

“Stop yer grinnin’ and drop yer linen! Let me at th’ Lich King!”

Ringo Flinthammer rode down onto the gangplank on the back of his great white bear, Frostmaw, the stowaway murloc child seated on the bear’s neck, Ringo shooting off his rifle as he came. Behind him followed his wife Beli, rolling her eyes.

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“What is it with this family and murloc babies?” Ringo Flinthammer growled, flopping down beside Widge, Voca and Belsun and watching the Northspear’s progress through the Frozen Sea.

“Frostmaw wouldn’t let you near our stowaway, would he?” Voca asked. “Beli said you tried to toss him overboard earlier.”

“The damned fool bear seems to think he’s the wee bugger’s pop. Ye’ve never been woken up in the middle of the night when a damned clammy murloc climbs into bed with ye because he had a nightmare. And now, I’ve got two of them to deal with.”

Voca snickered and Widge continued knitting what looked like a very small rug.

“You know,” Widge said quietly, treading carefully, “I always wondered why you never went to Northrend to find your brothers. I mean, you always seem to have some plan, and I know there was something about the king …”

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“Bael gets fussy around mid-morning, so have some milk ready then, and try and put him down for a nap,” Beli said, licking her thumb and neatening her son’s eyebrows.

“I’ve raised three children, Beli,” her mother Dorae said, shouldering the backpack full of Bael’s things. “Stop yer worryin’.”

“Stormwind’s such a big city, though,” Beli said, stepping out of the way as a bouncer hustled an angry drunk out of the Deepwater Tavern.

“Life in the district’s not much diff’rent than Anvilmar. Certainly more properly dwarvish than Quel’Danas has been. Yer father is working on a big new construction project there, and there’s plenty of dwarves around, including plenty of little ones for Bael to play with. When ye’re back, he’ll be waiting for ye.”

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“Meow.”

“Meow.”

“Meow.”

“Beli …”

“Meow.”

“Meow.”

“Beli.”

“Meow.”

“BELI!”

“What, what?”

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