1.

The rift opened, and Ovistine squinted through it. There was… a dwarf on the other side, yes, that was promising, a tall dwarf with a strong stocky build and a somewhat erratic beard, one carrying a huge axe with traces of frost wisping out around all sides.

"–vi? Ovistine! I see you, I–is that you? Can you hear me? Ovistine!"

"Yes, it's me, but who are you?" Ovistine yelled at the rift. There was a brief pause, and then–

Another dwarf. This one with long brown braids and a terrified expression, and then–her hands came up to her face as eyes met eyes through the rift, and Ovistine's own hands flew up to cover her mouth. Me. She stretched out a hand, as if she could actually touch the rift, and the dwarf on the other side was doing the same thing. If she'd needed any proof, there it was: she and this other Ovistine had the same thoughts, the same instincts. But on the other side of the Dimensional Ripper, this Ovistine was an elf, and if the Ovistine on this side wasn't mistaken, the other dwarf must have been Valinar.

A world where Ovistine was an elf and Valinar was a dwarf. Ovistine had never thought to see something so strange, but it was there, big as life and swimming before her eyes.

Swimming–no, not swimming, no, but the image was getting murkier and murkier around the edges, fading fast.

"–this time tomorrow!" the dwarvish Valinar was yelling. "This time tomorrow, and we'll try to keep the rift open longer–"

"Yes," Ovistine yelled back. "Yes, this time tomorrow–"

The rift twisted in on itself, spun around, and finally disappeared. Ovistine sagged, her short blue braids bouncing listlessly against her shoulders.

"Well," she said softly, finally looking up at the Valinar of her own dimension, "at least we've found them."

~*~

Another few nights' worth of experiments and they'd actually rigged something up; like the original experiments, it was working fine on frogs and ale and hammers, but unlike the original experiments, they knew now how wrong it could go.

"Worth the risk?" the other Ovistine asked. "I–I don't mean to be rude, but–"

"I don't like this body, either," Ovistine agreed quickly. "I'm ready whenever you are."

The other Ovistine nodded–and then looked back behind her. Ovistine did the same, looking up at Valinar, who'd stepped away to give them some privacy.

"I wish–" The other Ovistine bit her lower lip; Ovistine nodded, knowing exactly how she felt.

"Maybe… tomorrow," Ovistine said quietly. "This time tomorrow. To give us time to–"

"–say goodbye," the other Ovistine said, nodding, still looking at her own Valinar. Ovistine sighed; she'd seen the other Valinar time and time again, and it was strange–he was Valinar, he was a dwarf, he was all she'd ever imagined during those few times she'd pictured what might be if Valinar had been born a dwarf, and yet–no. He wasn't her elf, and it was wrong somehow.

Still. Tonight, and hopefully for the last time, she was an elf. And Valinar was an elf. And on the other side of the rift, she knew the other Ovistine was thinking the same thing.

"Tomorrow," she said, and the other Ovistine nodded again at her. "This time tomorrow."

"Yes," the other Ovistine said. "We'll see you then."

~*~

It wasn't easy, being here at Valinar's home in Thelsamar. She'd visited, of course; she'd been here more times than she could count on both hands, both feet, and both braids together. But to live here–it'd been very, very different, and even if it had been far more comfortable than staying in Dalaran and trying to explain, over and over, what had happened to her, it was still–difficult.

Tonight was likely to be the most difficult of all, mostly because–she had to do this. She had to. And all the same, she had no idea what he'd do, what he'd say, if he'd think it was wrong somehow.

We agreed on it, she thought, and she could tell him so–it was clear what both Ovistines had been thinking, as they'd looked back at their elf, their dwarf, and they'd given permission and blessing in that one small look. One chance, really, perhaps never to come again.

She knocked on Valinar's bedroom door, and after a moment, he answered.

"Yes?" His glowing eyes looked down at her, but not very far. She was nearly eye-to-eye with him, rather than being several feet shorter. "Do you need anything?"

"I–aye," she murmured, reaching up and stroking her hands down one of her braids. "Valinar–you know we'll be back in our own bodies, me an' the other Ovi, if all goes well tomorrow."

"Yes," he answered, nodding. His ears bounced a little at the tips. Her grip on her braid tightened; she wanted to reach out and touch that bouncing ear-tip. Wanted badly.

She wondered if the other Ovistine was having similar thoughts about her Valinar's–beard, probably, if not the ears.

"So it means there's–this one night. An' then we're back to how it was."

"Yes?"

Ovistine sighed; like always, it'd be up to her to say it. Fine, then. Fine. Her mother hadn't raised a coward.

"Valinar–I'm an elf, tonight." His gaze was still steady, but still only curious, too. "An' you're an elf."

"Well–yes…"

"An' there's–things. That can happen. Between an elf an' an elf. That maybe we don't want to shy away from, if it's not to happen again."

He blinked at her, blinked down at her–only a little, but still–and she stepped forward and reached slowly, slowly up to his ear, her fingers tracing a gentle curve up and over his ear-tip.

"I'd like to spend this night there," she murmured, "with you, an' not in my room. If you're amenable, I mean."

He held her gaze for a long, long moment, and when she was just beginning to wonder if the answer was no, he took her hand in his and threaded their fingers together.

"Well, yes."

"An' you've got to figure they have — well, dimensions, aye? That they rip people through?"

Valinar's left ear twitched. "Yes…"

"An' — now, follow me on this one — presumably those other dimensions have folks like us in 'em, aye? Or else when we ripped through 'em, we'd just go POOF."

"I'm not so certain about that," Valinar said, but Ovistine was already waving a hand, braids flapping out to her sides.

"So what I'm thinking is: I hook up a dimensional ripper. I use Gnomish technology to pick which dimension. An' I find a dimension where I'm still connected to the Light, an' I use a Dimensional Self-Re-Compactor to squish us together."

Both of Valinar's ears twitched at that. "What exactly is a 'dimensional self-re-compactor'?"

"Oh, that. It's a thing I whipped up to join different whatsits from different dimensions, giving 'em the best of all possible worlds."

"You've tested this?"

"You should see the beer it made," Ovistine said dreamily. "Anywho, so I zap myself through the Dimensional Ripper, an' then you come an' meet me in Everlook, an' we'll see if it took. Sound reasonable?"

Valinar was silent for long enough that Ovistine actually stopped drinking and looked up at him, eyes wide. "Val…?"

"Are you really certain that goblin technology is the answer to your… problem?" Valinar reached out and put his hand on Ovistine's, and she slipped her fingers between his. "You made a worthy sacrifice for all the best of reasons. I know it's difficult, but surely there are answers apart from bringing other dimensions into the equation. What about Uldaman? Ulduar? There are so many things we don't know about dwarves, especially now that we do know about your origins as a race–what about your stoneform? It's always enabled you to heal from diseases, or poisons, or–"

Ovistine pulled her hand away from Valinar's, frowning. "Are you saying… you're not going to be there? When I go?"

"I wish you'd reconsider."

"Oh, aye, the way you 'reconsidered' when you got an axe that sucks people's souls out at the root–"

Valinar shook his head. "We've talked about this. It wasn't like that–"

"It was just like that," Ovistine growled under her breath. "It was–" Her angry mutters slipped into Dwarvish, as they tended to do; Valinar knew plenty to keep up, even with that tone in her voice. "It was just like that, and there you were, week after week, coming out wounded and me not even going through the gates because we didn't think I could help…"

Valinar reached out and took Ovistine's hand again, squeezing her fingers tightly. "It's over now," he said; his Dwarvish still had an accent, but it got her attention. "It's over, and your memories are back for good. We're safe."

"Safe!" Ovistine snorted, but at least she was back to speaking Common again. "Safe with red dragons and Mum still at the tournament grounds snapping at the Horde and–Val, when have we ever been safe enough we could afford to lose a healer? When?"

Valinar shook his head. The fact that she brought Nancie up now seemed very telling; following in her mother's footsteps–and the fact that now she couldn't–was undoubtedly part of all this. Not to mention the fact that Ovistine came by her stubbornness very naturally, not that he'd say so to either one of the Lighthammer women.

"I'll meet you in Everlook," Valinar sighed. "With a few buckets of water."

Ovistine sighed, too. "Thank you."

* * *

It was cold in Everlook despite the season; Valinar was grateful for his Ultrasafe Pocket Warmers and the earwarmers Ovistine had so earnestly knit for him a few winters back. The earwarmers reached halfway to the ground, but better too long than too short, after all.

"I'm ready," he said into the buzzbox. "Are you set up?"

"Aye, I'm here with Donova," Ovistine answered, voice a bit tinny, as usual.

"Nae fears, lad," Donova Snowden said; she sounded downright cheerful. "If she catches fire, I'll dip 'er intae th' hot springs!"

"Very funny," Ovistine said.

"Well, it's why we're out here, eh? Fire safety an' all. Why ye've got t' use goblin crap, I–"

"Ma'am! Please! I'm ready now!"

"Oh, aye, big hurry t' set yerself aflame–"

"I'm not going to catch fire!" Ovistine yelled, and Valinar held the buzzbox at arm's length, wishing he had such confidence. "I'm bloody well invincible! Just be ready when I pop out on the other end, aye? An' three… two… one…"

There was a loud poof, a pair of female screams, and then alarms were going off at the transporter in Everlook; several goblins rushed over to see what was happening. Valinar was shoved away, and as the puffs of smoke billowed out over Everlook, he couldn't help but think to himself: I saw it coming.

Except that as the smoke cleared, he realized that no: no, he really hadn't.

So it was back to Dalaran, first for a soak in the tub to scrub the last bits of soot off herself and out of her braids, and then, hair tucked up in a towel, bundled up in a robe, off to the balcony with a pint in hand, looking over the beer gardens.

She'd expected the memories to stay — or to come back, at least. She'd had them, she knew it, but they were gone now, something covering them over.

The idea of going back into shadow was a terrifying one–the last thing she needed was to turn into a trogg–but if that was where her memories were, so be it.

She closed her eyes, focused on the clear path she held to the Light, and then dug under it, seeking out its counter. Shadow had always been the wrong word, she'd thought–it wasn't darkness, it was Chaos, all tumbling around and twisting and always, always, drawing her in…

There. Fully engulfed in Chaos, Ovistine kept her eyes closed for a few moments, searching for the way back up. There was nothing above the shadows, nothing past chaos, and while she knew the Light was still there–she'd touched it just moments ago, damn it–she couldn't see it, couldn't feel it.

She swallowed and frowned, resisting an urge to put her arms over her chest and hug herself. It wasn't cold here; it was just hard, so hard being cut off from the Light this way. Coming up from shadows was going to be a leap of faith, when she took it–all about the hope that the Light would still be there when she let the shadows go. And if it isn't? If you change back, and the Light's still gone? What then?

She wasn't going to think about that. Couldn't think about it. Not now. She opened her eyes again, focusing on her memories now–and yes, she remembered. She remembered her mother coming back from the war, the years they'd all spent in Elwynn while Nancie recovered, the way people at the Cathedral would look at her when she came back to see Ovistine–

The paladin who'd taken a rock to the head, the one who'd yelled at Nancie for wearing scarlet. Ovistine shuddered to herself. There were things she'd never asked her mother, questions she'd always left alone, but–no. No, there are other things to think about now. Leave it be. The Third War's over, and she'll tell you when she's ready.

She wouldn't, though. If she hadn't by now, she wouldn't. That was how it was between them–there were things Nancie kept hidden from Ovistine, and things Ovistine wouldn't share with her mum. Plausible deniability, she thought. A goblin's phrase, but probably the right one for this particular topic.

All right. If not her mother, there were certainly other things she needed to sift through. For one…

She sighed and touched her buzzbox, dialing in Valinar's frequency.

"Hello?"

"Val, it's Ovi."

"I'm relieved to hear it–are you well?"

"Aye, an' I'm out of Stormwind for the time being. Val…" She paused to take another sip of her stout. "Are you near Dalaran? I'd like to have a talk with you, if you wouldn't mind."

There was a slight pause from the elf's end of the line, but in the end, he said, "Of course, Ovistine–I'll be there shortly. Where shall I meet you?"

"The beer gardens. I'll order us a wee keg if I get there before you."

"Very well. I'll see you soon."

* * *

Valinar looked much the same as ever, except for one thing–the enormous blue axe he was carrying. It wasn't like Valinar to have an axe on his person in town, either; normally he had a selection of gnomish tools on his belt, and occasionally Ironfoe. The axe was slung across his shoulders, and he propped it carefully against the wall when he took a seat at the table. Ovistine frowned at it.

"That's new," she said. "Looks runeforged, too. Ebon Blade have a hand in it?"

"Yes," Valinar said, eyeing the axe for a moment before turning back to Ovistine. "I'm surprised you recognize the runes."

If he found it surprising that she was in shadowform, too, he didn't say anything about it. Ovistine nodded. "That's my news. While I was in Stormwind, I took to shadows without thinking about it–and when I did, the memories came back."

"That's wonderful–"

"No," Ovistine said quietly. "No, it's not, 'cause that's not all of it. I have them back when I'm in Chaos, but if I step out again, they leave with the shadows. An' while I'm in Chaos, I can't touch the Light–hell, I can't even tell it's there. It looks like all I've done is make things worse."

"It's a start."

"Aye. Well." Ovistine tipped her head to the side, slightly, and looked Valinar over. "I remember our conversation," she said softly. "The me of eight years back had an even harder time talking about these things than I do now, an' that's sayin' sommat." She paused, waiting to see if Valinar had anything to say to that; he was still listening intently, but didn't speak. She nodded and went on. "But the way we left it–I only realized after that we hadn't quite said. So maybe I ought to ask again." She took a drink of her stout, for luck and courage, and met his eyes again. "Valinar–are we dating?"

He paused, too, blinking a few times; finally, the slightest lift to his eyebrows appeared, barely even noticeable unless you were staring right hard in the elf's face, the way Ovistine was doing. He took a small breath, and then said, a little hesitantly, "…yes?"

A broad grin broke across Ovistine's face; she could only hope Valinar could make it out behind the smoke. She'd remember this when she came out of Chaos; she'd kept the memories of fighting, after all. It was only the past she'd lacked, not the present. "Aye," she said, much more firmly. "Muradin's beard! I've been hoping we'd settle that for… a while now."

Not that I know what to do about it, she thought, but we'll work that out later.

"So the axe, there–" Ovistine said, and Valinar glanced at it, too. "Tell me about it, aye? Sommat worrisome enough you didn't want to leave it at home?"

"Yes, exactly," Valinar said, and the story of the axe did not ease her worries in the least.

Eight years of journals was a great deal to sift through. Ovistine had, at first, started at the beginning and worked her way forward, looking at entries about her mum's return from the war and all the speculation her older self had done about where Nancie had been, who she'd been with, why she'd come home the way she had–but it was a hell of a lot of reading in order to find out that yes, Mum had eventually gone back to fighting, because Mum was a fighter at heart. Well, fine; Ovistine knew that already.

Of more interest were entries that started five or so years back, entries about an elf–an elf named Valinar, who started off as "Mum's friend from the Stormpike Guard" and eventually progressed to just "the elf".

Ovistine wrapped a braid around her wrist a few times, tugging on it nervously as the entries kept coming. Found an anonymous bag of candy hearts in the mail today, which have been meticulously picked through to leave just the ones that say "Be Mine", "You're The Best", and "I'll Follow You All Around Azeroth". I put them under my Ultrasafe Magnifier and found traces of thorium dust, which wasn't so telling as the purple hair that clung to the outside of the bag. I only know so many elves with purple hair, and I'm quite sure the bag did not come from Harken.

She nearly choked on her own tongue as she got to the entries about being trapped in shadow, patting herself down all over to be sure there was no sign of leftover troggishness. She hadn't noticed anything, but then she hadn't exactly been looking. The entries throughout the shadow days were all transcribed, occasionally marked with strange numbers–perhaps Gnomish binary?

Mention of a few dinners out in Ironforge, a restaurant Ovistine had never heard of called the Barking Murloc; detailed entries on the elf's search for Ironfoe and how she'd helped him find it; the way she'd brought him home for Pilgrim's Bounty and then Winter Veil, and all the while, little mentions of him even if he wasn't part of the day's events…

She put the latest journal down and swallowed hard. There was nothing for it; she was going to have to have a talk with Valinar herself.

* * *

The Barking Murloc had sounded intriguing, and it seemed like as good a place to have this conversation as any. Valinar was eager enough to have dinner with her, and over a nice plate of appetizer-sized sausage links–all different sorts of sausage, with a flight of beers to match them–she fidgeted a little, trying to work out how to ask what she wanted to ask.

"This is quite nice," Valinar said, lifting a bite of spicy goat sausage and nodding at the hearty stout suggested for it. "The richness of the stout stands up well to the spices."

"Aye, it's a tasty bit there," Ovistine said. "I liked the pork sausage with truffles meself."

Valinar nodded. "That was good, too."

She sighed and twisted her napkin in her lap. "I wish I remembered this place."

Valinar's expression turned immediately sympathetic. "No progress on recovering your memory, then?"

"None so far. But I have been reading up on her–my–our journals, the last eight years, an'–" She sighed and dropped the napkin; better now than later, she supposed. "Valinar, forgive my needing to ask, but–are we dating?"

Valinar blinked a few times and sat back; he polished off the last of the stout before answering. "I… wasn't sure if we'd quite… gotten there, yet," he said.

"That explains the vague bits," Ovistine muttered. Valinar seemed puzzled, and Ovistine sighed. "She was–I was–she didn't really ever say it. Which is why I had to ask. But she obviously–" She blushed and pulled one of her braids into her lap. "I mean, you're clearly someone she–"

And how fair was it, talking about herself as if she was someone else entirely? To the elf sitting across from her, she was still Ovistine Lighthammer; a Lighthammer lass with eight years fewer memories, but a Lighthammer all the same.

"–that is," she said softly, "from all I've read, I care about you a great deal. An' I can understand that. You're tough an' kind an' you drink like a dwarf."

"Thank you," Valinar said. His ears seemed to bounce a little at the compliments; Ovistine could see why her future-self had found them so adorable. "I care for you, too, Ovistine."

"Aye, but–" Ovistine sighed. "It was different when it was just me. Me an' maybe Mum an' Da, I guess, an' some old friends. Mum's not changed much, Da's just the same as ever, Agness an' Vaelen have gone an' got married, but that's hardly unexpected, an' certainly I've new people to get to know all over again, but–" She blinked across the table at him. "But if you were–if we were–I mean, even if we're not yet but maybe we were going to–I mean, I brought you home to Pilgrim's Bounty an' you met my grand-da Arktur an' you still came back for Winter Veil!"

At that, Valinar smiled just a little. "Your family was very… welcoming."

"Aye, an' that's the root of it, eh?" She bounced the end of her braid off the edge of the table and sighed again. "I can't just ask you to do these last few years over again. Not when you're–when we're–I mean, when you an' she, no, me, I mean–oh, feck." She covered her face in her hands for a moment, trying to settle down. When she looked up, Valinar was still watching her, patiently, those glowing eyes of his seeming to radiate concern and not exasperation.

How patient would I be if I were in his place?

"What I'm saying is, I think I need to step up the process of getting my memories back. It was one thing for it just to be me, but–it really isn't, is it?"

And for all she'd known him just a few weeks, she knew full well what Ovistine Lighthammer had thought of "the elf". She could see it, now, all the little things that she'd thought were so charming; maybe they'd still take some getting used to, maybe he'd take some getting used to, but… how crazy was it to be this hopeful that she wasn't–that neither Ovistine was–imagining things?

"Well…" Valinar's brow furrowed, and Ovistine found herself holding her breath. "In the sense you mean–your memory loss certainly does affect… your friends." Perhaps this time it was Ovistine whose brow was furrowed, or, in her case, who was outright frowning, because Valinar cleared his throat and said, "And me. But…" He sat up straighter, which left her doing the same and struggling to keep on an eye-to-eye level with him; he was so tall, so much taller than even the humans. How were they ever going to manage to… no, no, she'd think about that later. "After all, my parents' courtship took three hundred years. Repeating the last five hardly seems like an insurmountable burden." And he smiled.

Ovistine blushed from her fingertips to the roots of her hair and quickly grabbed the nearest pint off the table, drinking down a good bit of it. She hoped it was hers and not the elf's, but then she hadn't been looking very carefully. She set the pint down again and wiped her lips carefully.

"So what you're saying is–if I don't get them back–you'd still want to…" She blinked up at him. "I mean, we were… before, even if we weren't… but we were sort of… and you'd still want to… be sommat special to each other, then?"

"You're still Ovistine," he said, still smiling. "There will be more adventures."

Geoffar was up to his elbows in pumpkin; he was still scooping seeds out when Ovistine slipped into the kitchen. "Oo! Pie?" she asked hopefully, batting her eyelashes at him.

"O'course," Geoffar said, grinning over at her. "Wouldnae be a Pilgrim's Bounty without me girl's favorite pie, now, would it?"

"That's what I say." Ovistine took a seat and bit her lower lip. "So, um. D'you think anyone would mind if I invited the elf for dinner?"

"Th' elf? Yeh mean Valinar?" Geoffar looked up. "Cannae imagine anybody'd mind havin' 'im about. He's a good lad."

"Oh, good, because I already invited him."

Geoffar laughed. "Oh, I see where this be goin'. Yeh wan' me t' run interference wi' Ellia an' Arktur, make sure it's a'right?"

"If you wouldn't mind…"

"O'course not. Th' lad got any family t' bring along with 'im?"

"Not that I know of. It turns out his parents are druids, so they're hibernating right now. And have been for a while, I guess." She frowned. "I wish I'd known sooner. I could have invited him last year. Or the year before…"

"Nae sense cryin' o'er spilt brew," Geoffar said. He was finished with the seeds now, and went over to the sink to rinse his hands off. "He'll be there this year, an' that's that."

Ovistine hopped off her stool and gave her father a hug, squeezing him tightly around the waist. "Thanks, Da. It'll be nice to have him here."

"Tha' it will." Geoffar tugged at one of her braids and got a giggle out of her. "Now then — does th' elf need any special food or whatnot? What's 'e like t' eat?"

"Oh, he's a fan of good dwarven cuisine." Ovistine's eyes glazed over a little. "He took me to the Barking Murloc not so long ago. He ordered goat sausage with smashed potatoes and a mustard-ale reduction…"

"So I dun need t' worry about servin' a great huge bird? Wha' with th' family bein' druidfolk an' all."

"Aughn! I didn't even think of that." Ovistine winced. "But he's cooked buzzard an' suchlike; I've never known him to avoid poultry…"

"Well, ask 'im if yeh get a chance. Otherwise me an' Arktur'll figure on jes' th' usuals."

"I'll ask. But I tell you what, I've never seen an elf quite as fond of dwarven food and drink than Valinar…" Ovistine smiled. "I think he'll be just fine."

* * *

"Ellie?" Arktur flapped his arms to get her attention over the noise of the forge; after a moment, Ellia glanced up from her work and put her hammer aside. "Jes' got a call frae Geoffar."

"Ooh, how's it with th' Lighthammers, then?" Ellia grabbed a cloth and wiped her face and hands off, trying to get at least a little cleaner. "Did Nancie finally get in touch with our favorite wee lass?"

"Aye, an' I got news." Arktur grinned broadly. "Ovi wants t' bring a lad t' Pilgrim's Bounty."

Ellia chuckled. "'Bout time. Who's th' lucky dwarf?"

"Well, it's no' exactly like that…"

"Oh." Ellia's face fell. "Jes' a friend, then?"

"Yeh want t' know th' truth, I couldnae quite get an answer out o' Geoffar… but apparently she goes pink in th' cheeks when they get t' talkin' about this 'un, so…"

"Well, then, what's 'no' exactly like that' about it?"

There was a moment of awkward quiet while Arktur worked up the nerve to actually say it out loud. "Th' lad's no' exactly a dwarf, yeh see…"

"Huh. Human?" Ovistine had, after all, grown up in Stormwind…

"Elf."

"Elf?" Ellia blinked a few times. "Elf? Th' bit's got herself an elf?"

"Herself an elf!" Arktur repeated, cutting loose with a loud guffaw. Ellia chuckled, too, but quickly got it under control.

"Well, I dun see any reason th' bit cannae 'ave an elf, should she want one. Yeh figured out what elves eat fer Pilgrim's Bounty?"

"Apparently he likes dwarf food an' drink. Served in Alterac Valley with th' Stormpike Guard, even lives in Thelsamar."

"Thelsamar!" Ellia's eyes lit up. "Damn sight closer than Stormwind, hey?"

"Mebbe I c'n take th' lad fishin'." Arktur grinned.

"Jes' dun scare th' lad too badly, aye?" Ellia tugged on one of Arktur's beard-braids. "But we'll see how it goes."

* * *

Ovistine was tempted to take the bowl of candied sweet potatoes Valinar had brought and bury her head in them. Between her grandpa Arktur's cheerful and pointed questions about Ovistine and Valinar's plans for the future, her grandma Ellia's mistaken belief that Valinar spoke no Dwarvish and she could therefore get away with anything she wanted, Geoffar's somewhat star-struck questions about just how Valinar had wrested Ironfoe from Emperor Thaurissan, and Uncle Brandur's amusement at the whole thing, she was rapidly rethinking this whole business of bringing Valinar home for Pilgrim's Bounty.

That didn't stop Arktur, or even slow him down. "Yeh'll bring 'im fer Winter Veil, aye?" he asked at the end of the evening. Ellia was busy packing up some dishes for Ovistine to take home; at least that meant one of Ovistine's relatives wasn't here to gaze up at Valinar and look expectant. Arktur, Nancie, Geoffar and Brandur were all waiting.

Valinar's left ear twitched, but his expression was impassive; Ovistine couldn't tell what he was thinking. Darn stoic elf. "It's a ways off," she said, stepping in. "He may be off fighting–"

"Back t' Alterac?" Nancie asked, eyebrows up. "Havenae been there fer months, meself; tell ol' Gaelden I said hey, if yeh would…"

"I'm afraid I've no plans to return to Alterac at present," Valinar said. His ear twitched again. "But if I do, I'll pass your greetings along."

Ovistine slipped her hand into the crook of Valinar's arm. "An' we'd best be going. Thank you all for the food and the company."

"Yes, thank you–" Valinar's polite thanks was interrupted by a sharp tug on his arm. While he didn't actually move much–mass being what it was, and Ovistine not being terribly strong–one look down at her expression left him backing toward the door along with her.

"Winter Veil! We'll 'ave elf-pies an' elf-wiches!" Arktur called after them. Ovistine waved, and she and Valinar headed into the streets of Ironforge, toward the stable where they'd left their rams.

"I'm so sorry," Ovistine said. She had a braid wrapped around her arm four or five times; Valinar hoped she'd be able to untangle herself without too much difficulty. "I didn't realize they were going to be so… so…"

"Your family is very nice," Valinar said. "Very… enthusiastic."

Ovistine groaned and unwrapped her braid from her arm, but it was only so she could put both hands over her face. Valinar steered her around a brazier and helped keep her on the path; she eventually looked up again. "Aye, an' I always forget that there's me, an' then there's Mum, who's like me but moreso, an' then there's Grandpa Ironhammer, an' he's…"

"…yes," Valinar filled in. "Well. I certainly felt welcome."

"Aye, but–I mean, some of the things they said–"

"I admit, I'm not sure that there are 'dwelfs'." Valinar's ear twitched again; he shook his head and tried to let his ears relax. "At least, I've never seen one…"

"Dwelfs," Ovistine moaned. "I can't believe he said that."

"'Bouncing baby dwelfs', I think, was his phrase."

Ovistine came to a stop again and looked up at Valinar. When that wasn't quite enough, she levitated, getting more or less up to face-to-face with him. "I just want you to know–I wasn't meaning to… to hint, or anything of that sort. I've never brought a lad to Pilgrim's Bounty. I didn't realize how they'd all take it." She bit her lower lip and glanced away. "I'm sorry it was so awkward."

"You make it sound as if I've never had a meal with dwarves before," Valinar said softly. "I'm glad your family liked me. I've had far more awkward experiences."

"Oh, it's not so much the dwarfiness–I mean, obviously, there was bound to be some of that, but–just–" She sighed, braids flapping out behind her. "You've been such a good friend. Family aside, that's what's important, hey?"

If there was a bit of droop to Valinar's ears, hearing that, it was nothing another pint of stout wouldn't cure. He nodded and smiled at her. "You're a very good friend, too, Ovistine."

She dropped back down from her levitate and smiled, but she wasn't quite meeting his eyes–admittedly, with her feet on the ground, it was a bit harder to manage. "Aye. Well. I suppose it's back to Stormwind for me. And yourself?"

"Back to Thelsamar, I guess. I can take the tram back with you, if you'd like. You never know when there's going to be another Horde invasion, and they often like to use the tram."

"Aye–how they get in there, I've never figured. Kobold tunnel, maybe?"

"Kobold tunnel, warlock summonings…"

The ride to Stormwind was never very long, but it felt shorter this time than usual. Valinar waved goodbye to Ovistine at the tunnel to the Dwarven District, and as she disappeared, he pondered whether a pint at the bar here might be better than waiting until he got home.

The little house in Thelsamar was dug in a bit deeper than the ones surrounding it. Ovistine smiled at the thought of why, exactly, the occupant would need a little more vertical room; she knocked hard on the door and waited for an answer.

Sure enough, Valinar answered the door after a few seconds. He was a little soot-stained, with a pair of safety goggles pushed up on his forehead. No surprise there. "Ovistine! What brings you to Thelsamar?"

"Well, I had a question for you." She grinned at him. "An' it's not 'what are you building?', though I'm a titch curious now…"

"Oh, of course. Come in." Valinar ushered her inside and showed her in to the workshop, where his mechanobutler was tidying up the scraps of his last project. "I was just trying to see if a little more blasting powder would increase the yield on my saronite bombs."

"What sort of powder?" Ovistine pushed the mechanobutler away, gently, and peered down at the remnants of the experiment. She gave the powder a sniff and made a face as she stood up again. "I think it needs more crystallized earth."

"I'll try that next time." Valinar took his goggles off and held them out; the mechanobutler took them and headed for the storage shelves. "So… you said you had a question for me?"

"Aye!" Ovistine beamed up at him. "I wondered what you were getting up to for Pilgrim's Bounty. Seems we've had one thing or another come up every year, an' I never manage to ask in time… are you going home to visit family?"

Valinar scratched at one of his ears and, after a moment, shook his head. "My family… well. Mother and Father are both hibernating, I'm afraid."

"Hibernating?" Ovistine's eyes went a little wide. "Your parents are druids?"

"Yes. They'll be up and around again in, oh, another few hundred years, I expect. But it does mean there's not much need to go back to Moonglade…"

"Come home with me, then." Ovistine twisted one of her braids around her wrist and rocked back on her heels. "Grandma an' Grandpa Ironhammer always have me an' Mum an' Da an' uncle Brandur over. There's plenty of food an' lots of ale. Nobody ought to be alone this time of year."

Valinar blinked a few times. "If you're sure it wouldn't be an imposition…"

"Pfft." Ovistine shook her hand free of her braid and wrinkled her nose. "Not the least bit. Grandpa Ironhammer's always saying I ought to bring friends over if I want."

"Well…" Valinar hesitated, but eventually nodded. "Should I bring something? A dish? A keg?"

"Whatever you'd like. I'm sure you'll come up with sommat wonderful." Ovistine went a little pink around the cheeks and grabbed for one of her braids again, tugging on it a bit. "I'll just buzz Mum to let her know, then, an' there'll be a place set for you. Thursday afternoon, round about two in the afternoon."

"I'll be looking forward to it," Valinar promised. "Can I do anything else for you?"

"I, ah… no, I don't… no," Ovistine stammered. She yanked on her braid and shook her head. "I ought to leave you to your tinkering, aye? Buzz me if you have any other questions, though."

"Of course."