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| - It rained heavily outside. Tyrande Whisperwind was sitting alone at a table in the inn, quietly muttering to herself and reading a newsscroll (the headline of the day was "Still no clue in the Astranaar child abduction case" as she drank her murky brew. The Jolly Treant, the inn was called, a quite new establishment owned by a good-spirited (in all meanings of the word) dwarf known as Jolly Uncle Woodenmug. Too good-spirited, Tyrande though. She had drunk quite an amount of the dark liquid, and for each drink, she became more and more depressed. Not many others were in the inn at the time, and most of them dwarves from an Explorers' Guild expedition passing through the night elf capital. No-one of seemed to pay much attention to the kaldorei leader at the corner table but for one person, a night elven male, a noble, by the looks of it. He had long, dark blue hair, a dark purple complexion, and wore a pair of small, elegant glasses. He was dressed in elegant green and blue clothes, with a short cape trailing after him as he approached Tyrande. "May I sit down?", the man asked. "Sure, can't possibly get any worse," Tyrande mumbled in reply. The man sat down on a chair at the opposite end of the wooden table, and attempted to start a conversation. "It is a pleasure to meet you, high priestess, even if it is in an environment such as this. I am Meranan Shadoweye." "Shadoweye, huh? Don't think I've heard of your house before." "Alas, the House of Shadoweye is, and has always been, a small one. I come from Ashenvale, where we live in our humble abode, me and the other quasi-nobles. Tell me, how come the high priestess of the kaldorei is sitting here and drowning her insides in this foul stuff?" "If I had any problems, why would I reveal them to a complete stranger?" "You are quite right, of course. I just guessed you needed someone to speak to, and if I may say so, I have a small reputation back home for being a kind and gentle soul." "Does that line usually work?" "You'd be surprised." "Ah, I guess it can't do any harm. I'm just wondering: what is the meaning of all this?" "And here I thought such questions were usually asked to you." "It's just that, that, ah, it's kinda hard to tell." "If anyone can, it's you." "Well, I guess it's Furion's fault, in a way." "Go on." Now Tyrande's behavior changed, she became quite loud. "Does that man just expect me to wait for him? He's always gone in that Emerald Dream of his. He's doesn't have what it takes in a relationship. It could have been so much more had he just at least tried. By Elune, that man is irresponsible! At least his brother tried, but he went mad. I'm starting to think it runs in the family. Several of the partying dwarves were now listening eagerly to the conversation. "And even if we don't mention my so-called boyfriend, then there's that moron Staghelm. He thinks he's so superior to everybody else, especially to me." "Tyrande..." "Don't you dare interrupt me when I'm ranting, mr. Eyeshadow!" "It's Shadoweye..." "Whatever. Where was I? Ah, Staghelm! He's probably sitting in his fancy throne, planning to overthrow me as we speak! Eh, did you want something, Eyeshad, eh Shadoweye?" "I was just going to inform you of said archdruid's spy sitting a few tables behind us. Don't look." "A spy? I knew it! You see? It's just not my paranoia!" "I think it's Fylerian Nightwing, that druid spy of Fandral's. We'd better leave." "You may be right." "You know a good place?" "My house is close by. I think." "Your house?" "What, you though I stood in the temple all day? It's a simple house, much like yours, I guess. Come, let's move. Oh wait, what about the spy?" "Let me take care of that." As he rose from the table, Meranan shouted in a loud voice: "Bar brawl!". At this exclamation, all the dwarves (and a few inebriated night elves) started chucking chairs, tables, mugs, and various pieces of equipment at each other. Meranan shrugged. "Dwarves, you know." Tyrande couldn't help but chuckle. The confused spy lost track of the couple as they slipped out the back door, and after a short run in the rain, they arrived at Tyrande's house. "You think we lost him?", Tyrande asked. "Most probably. I have worked with that guy before. He's not really that great a spy." "And what do we do now?" "Well, do you have any spare clothes? These noble's clothes are suprisingly vulnerable to rain." "I know what you mean. The same goes for my clothes, I'm afraid. I have some spare robes in the bedroom, but not much for you, I'm afraid." "Ah, too bad, then. Wait, I think I have an idea: why can't I sleep here. If you have any spare bed, of course. I stayed at the inn, and I don't think going back there tonight is such a good idea. By now, Uncle would have found out I started the fight, and will be wanting my blood in a mug. Besides, these clothes dry fast, and I'm sure they'll be as new in the morning." "I don't think I have a spare bed, but..." "But?" "You can sleep with me, if you know what I mean." "Are you sure that's appropriate? I mean, you have a fiancee." "I hate long-distance relationships. If he wants to be more than a generic friend, he'd better wake up from his Dream. So, what do you say, mr. Shadoweye?" "Please, call me Meranan. And if that is the way you feel, I accept your challenge." And so the night went by, rather intensely for Tyrande Whisperwind and Meranan Shadoweye. When the high priestess woke up next morning, she found her companio gone, with a note on the bed beside her. She picked up the note, and read it semi-loud for herself. "Dear Tyrande. I greatly enjoyed our time together, but the thing is, I recieved instant summons from my family to return to Ashenvale. I hope you can come visit me soon. -Meranan." Tyrande sighed. It was fun while it lasted, she thought as she rose from the bed. While she got dressed, she felt her stomach hurting. Hunger? No, not that. She didn't really know what it was, but she went to have breakfast anyway. - - - Fylerian Nightwing slipped into Fandral Staghelm's chamber. The Archdruid stood with his back to his spy, but still both noticed and recognized the rogueish druid. "I can't help but notice the failure in your stride, Fylerian," Fandral coldly said, still without facing the subject of his words. "You are right master, forgive me. I was careless, I lost the girl and her friend." "You know what this means, of course. Only half a ration of grain for you." "No! Please! I want it! I need it!" "You may leave me now, Fylerian. And remember, always titulate me as Master." "But..." "Two fifths, Fylerian. Leave me, I said!" "Yes, master." As the ashamed druid left, Staghelm took forth a pouch from a box on the floor, and emptied the Morrowgrain within into his mouth. "Delicious." After doing this, he went forth to his desk and picked up two, tiny spheres of black crystal, held them in his hand, and inspected them closely. "Soon it will happen. Not long now." - - - A week had now passed since Tyrande's meeting with Meranan Shadowsong. As she had did the previous mornings, she woke up in her bed, but now she felt her stomach hurting again, and more so than previously. She looked down on her belly, and to her surprise, discovered that it was larger than before. At first she didn't understand, she had not been eating more than usual, but then she knew. That fateful meeting a week ago. But pregnancies never went this fast! And besides, something felt wrong. Tyrande decided to try to cover it up, but after another week, the pregnancy had progressed so far that it was impossible to hide it. The High Priestess decided to go find the father of her unborn child. She went to Ashenvale. After some time of searching and inquiring, Tyrande found the abode of the Shadoweyes, but not in the way she expected: it was on fire. As she rushed to help, she noticed a note stuck on the still-intact front door of the mansion. She ripped it off the dagger with which it was pinned on the door, and read it. "Priestess Whisperwind, we felt the need to take your lover into custody. We know all about your little will-be offspring, and if you decide to try to act heroic and attempt to rescue mr. Shadoweye, we will release the information to the public. Needless to say, your life as a respectable member of kaldorei society would be over. The same goes if you try to reveal the existence of this note. Have a good time, Tyrande, while it lasts. -The Archdruid Staghelm Being the free soul she is, Tyrande Whisperwind wouldn't let any unscruplous political rival stop her from saving the man she loved. It was time she visited an old friend.
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