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| - "Tað lovaði eg bæði faðir og móðir, ei heldur tað hvassa stál." ("I promised my father and my mother, Nor the sharp steel.") - Torsteins kvæði, traditional Faroese. Elizabetha watched them sleep, side by side, calm, peaceful, ignorant of the turmoil that was everywhere on the world of Azeroth. Yes, even in Outland. She found it almost strange that she, the humble daughter of a former farmer-turned-soldier and a blacksmith's daughter - she, a former Missionary of the Scarlet Crusade - she, betrayed by a beloved, hated by the Light-haters, scorned by evil-doers, belittled by profiteers...should know such wonderful and thrilling happiness.
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| - "Tað lovaði eg bæði faðir og móðir, ei heldur tað hvassa stál." ("I promised my father and my mother, Nor the sharp steel.") - Torsteins kvæði, traditional Faroese. Elizabetha watched them sleep, side by side, calm, peaceful, ignorant of the turmoil that was everywhere on the world of Azeroth. Yes, even in Outland. She found it almost strange that she, the humble daughter of a former farmer-turned-soldier and a blacksmith's daughter - she, a former Missionary of the Scarlet Crusade - she, betrayed by a beloved, hated by the Light-haters, scorned by evil-doers, belittled by profiteers...should know such wonderful and thrilling happiness. They were so peaceful, so serene, so beautiful. Perfect. She kissed them again on their foreheads. Waited a minute, and then kissed their cheeks. "My little gems," she whispered lovingly to them, and happy that her caress didn't wake them up. "My beautiful children." The rays of the sun tore through the leafcovered roof of the trees of Ashenvale, and the birds sang anew their morning songs. It was a tad misty, but not enough to blot out the sun. Nouala was sleeping nearby, only awoken once during the night when the twins had started crying - yet the crying only reminded her... Elizabetha sighed contentedly, and lied down on her back, gazing at the roof above. And for a moment she pondered the construction, remembering Illidor telling her of how the Kaldorei made their houses out of living wood. She'd yet to see just exactly how, but the fact that the wood itself wasn't dead was pratically awe-inspiring. It was living. She smiled, turning her head to behold her sleeping twins again. Alive, just like you, my beloved children. Yet not as free as you both will be. You will shine brightly like the sun, and people will love you for your Light - and shadow wrecks will fear you. Rolling over on her side again, she kissed each twin in turn, and again caressing them gently on their cheeks. Annika stirred a little, whimpering ever so slightly - and Elizabetha softly began to hum a peaceful tune, lulling her little daughter back to sleep.
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