Going somewhere.
Helthir finally returned my good dagger, the one I’d left with him in Stranglethorn the other night. He sent a painfully brief letter along with it, too. He said something about Aelvern needing to see a doctor, and that he had last saw him at Sunsail. After I read this, I spent all of fifteen minutes determined to ride straight to the other end of Eversong to collect my husband. To find out what the fel is going on. Ael went to a doctor? What kind of doctor? What for? Why was it left up to Helthir to tell me and why, exactly, did it take him so long? But then, as I was lacing my leather boots, I thought about how furious I would be if either of Ael’s fiancés showed up here at my house. As much as I feel I have the right to know what’s going on with my husband, I respect their right to privacy. That’s not my home, it’s Alacade‘s. I will not be disrespectful.
The letter arrived right as the landscapers were leaving. I had hens-and-chicks planted along the stonewall surrounding the wall at the front of the house. “Welcome home; no matter what.” He’ll be home. Sometime. And even if I’m not actually here, I’ll be waiting. That was a promise. That’s why we got married. So that, no matter what, he’d have to come back eventually.
I need to get some sleep. Three, maybe four, days now. I’m going into Silvermoon later today to swing by the apartment. I want to pick up the potions I left behind there, I really need to get some sleep. I ’d also like to see if Crow ever made it back. I figure he didn’t actually kill anyone. I’m in no condition to hunt him down again, so hopefully someone has seem him or he’s resting comfortably in my spare room. Suppose I’ll find out when I get there. The sleeping potions are my first concern. Can’t afford to go even longer without sleep. Finding Helthir is high on that list, too. He knows more than he wrote in that letter.
Once I’m well rested, I’m going back to the Argents. I think I’ll be checking in for a longer stay. I believe I’m ready to be deployed into Icecrown. Small skirmishes here and there have been fun, but I haven’t seen real warfare in ten years. What am I putting myself through all of this for? To ride Clover around and look damned good in my fancy plate armor and sleep with other rich, bored paladins who look damned good in their fancy plate armor? Maybe. Aelvern had once said war is a rich man’s sport. Perhaps I really have no place on the battlefield. Maybe my bloodlust as long since stopped being useful and I only kill because I like it and not because it’s worthwhile. I’m not sure. I do honestly believe that after a lot of rest, all of these things will make more sense and I’ll know what to do. Either way, I’m ready to go back to the Crusade.
The letter arrived right as the landscapers were leaving. I had hens-and-chicks planted along the stonewall surrounding the wall at the front of the house. “Welcome home; no matter what.” He’ll be home. Sometime. And even if I’m not actually here, I’ll be waiting. That was a promise. That’s why we got married. So that, no matter what, he’d have to come back eventually.
I need to get some sleep. Three, maybe four, days now. I’m going into Silvermoon later today to swing by the apartment. I want to pick up the potions I left behind there, I really need to get some sleep. I ’d also like to see if Crow ever made it back. I figure he didn’t actually kill anyone. I’m in no condition to hunt him down again, so hopefully someone has seem him or he’s resting comfortably in my spare room. Suppose I’ll find out when I get there. The sleeping potions are my first concern. Can’t afford to go even longer without sleep. Finding Helthir is high on that list, too. He knows more than he wrote in that letter.
Once I’m well rested, I’m going back to the Argents. I think I’ll be checking in for a longer stay. I believe I’m ready to be deployed into Icecrown. Small skirmishes here and there have been fun, but I haven’t seen real warfare in ten years. What am I putting myself through all of this for? To ride Clover around and look damned good in my fancy plate armor and sleep with other rich, bored paladins who look damned good in their fancy plate armor? Maybe. Aelvern had once said war is a rich man’s sport. Perhaps I really have no place on the battlefield. Maybe my bloodlust as long since stopped being useful and I only kill because I like it and not because it’s worthwhile. I’m not sure. I do honestly believe that after a lot of rest, all of these things will make more sense and I’ll know what to do. Either way, I’m ready to go back to the Crusade.