Bellows of laughter shook him as the dwarf laughed heartily. In his hands he cradled a golden goblet filled with thick dwarven mead. The goblet itself was heavily encrusted with emeralds, diamonds, and rubies, making it sparkle and dazzle in the torch light of the King’s Hallway.
Aegwyn sat at the right side of the dwarven king himself. She gently rocked her own cup, making the rich red wine splash back and forth between the golden walls. Around her numerous dwarves celebrated their victory of the Battle of Goblin Pass. The scent of fresh meat and rich, sweet bread filled her nose and the air of the hall. Tarmand and Galion were singing alongside the dwarves in their great song of victory, drunken as sailors.
Dwarven mead was too strong for anyone. Except for the dwarves of course. Aegwyn had barely taken a sip and she still felt woozy.
The king had a deep gray iron beard and a thick shock of silver hair, combed neatly backward down to his neck. He had bushy eyebrows that were in raised arches as he chuckled loudly. He raised his goblet and stood up. “A toast! Tae the brave dwarves who fought! And tae our guests!”
“Cheers!” all the dwarves, shouted in unison. Tarmand and Galion also attempted to make a toast but they fell to the floor as they tried to stand up.
“And a toast! Tae the return o’ thae Guardian!”
Aegwyn felt herself blush as she heard them all give her a round of cheer. She tried to hide her reddening face in the cup but the stinging taste of the wine caused her to recoil.
The king laughed heartily to her reaction to the wine. “Tis all right, milady, many a man can no ‘andle Redwood Ale!” The king glanced briefly at Tarmand and Galion, who were struggling back into their chairs. His mouth broke into a big broad smile and his red rosy cheeks grew as his grin broadened. “Tis all right.”
The dwarves began feasting again. The king leaned towards her. “And, if I may ask, what brings the lady Aegwyn, Guardian of Tirisfal, tae my ‘umble abode?”
Aegwyn dropped her gaze. “Please, King Tarin, I don’t deserve the honor.”
King Tarin laughed heartily and slapped her on the back. “Don’t deserve the honor? The lady who ‘elped lessen the power o’ the Wicked Earthquake? The lady who fought bravely against the Daemonlord Sargeras? The lady who helped protect man, elf, dwarf, and gnome alike against the dangerous abyss o’ the nether void? If these things do not deserve honor, then nothin’ does!” He let out another chuckle. It seemed like all the other dwarves heard him and they let out another round of cheers.
Aegwyn felt the memories flood back into her mind. She had lost so much, giving it all to Medivh. It brought tears to her eyes. Aegwyn stood up and walked out of the hallway, trying hard not to cry.
She walked along the empty, dark hallway. Torches lined the walls and the wooden doors seemed to gaze balefully at her as she passed.
Aegwyn felt something tug at her cloak. She turned to see that King Tarin had followed her. His eyes looked at her from beneath his gray bushy brows, deep with concern. “Something is wrong, I can feel it.”
The king motioned her to come to one of the stone benches. He scrambled atop the bench and stood, so that he could be the same height as her. “What troubles the Guardian?”
Aegwyn turned and brushed away her tears. “Don’t call me that.”
“Well what should I call ye?”
“Just Aegwyn. Nothing more.”
“Aww, come now lassie. What troubles ye?”
Aegwyn turned to King Tarin, trying hard to keep the tears down. “Do you know Medivh?”
The king frowned deeply. “Aye, I knew the blasphemous warlock. Or I should say, I knew ‘im.”
Aegwyn felt her eyes widen. “Don’t talk like that about my son!”
The king looked honestly startled. “You son? ‘ow could that evil ‘ellspawn be your son?”
It was too much. Aegwyn felt herself begin to break down. Tears streaked down her cheeks. “I gave it all to him. I gave all my power, all my knowledge. I gave him everything.”
King Tarin looked at her, seriously troubled. “Ah. That would explain the portal.”
“The portal?”
“Didn’t ye know? The warlock Medivh opened the portal.”
Aegwyn stood there, her jaw hanging open. She was honestly shocked. “No...” she said, her voice so soft it was like a whisper.
“Twas good that the Azerothians killed ‘im.”
“What!?”
“An Azerothian raidin’ party invaded ‘is tower. They killed ‘im.”
Aegwyn could see it. The picture burned in her mind. She could see his broken body, bleeding. She could see him frantically fight them off with his power, with his fading magic. She could see his pained face, feel the traumatic waves that trampled across the astral plain. Could see the hurt in his eyes.
Aegwyn burst into tears. Her son! Her son! She ran down the hallway, wishing for the darkness to catch her.
All the power, the power of the Guardians of Tirisfal, was gone… forever.
She continued running into the surrounding blackness of the dwarven tunnels. When her legs could hold her no longer, she fell to the ground, and cried her tears away.
