Chapter 5: Patching Up

It had been an entire month since Ladoreith had started her training with Maverston. The old man said that she was progressing very nicely, and had a natural talent for tanking. It was nearing the time of Winter's Veil, not that one could tell in the tropical climate. Ladoreith was walking home after delivering leatherworking orders for Halkek. She turned her head to look at an incoming ship. She bumped into something large and warm in front of her.

She looked in front of her to see a familiar pair of broad, greenish-brown shoulders. Looking up into the face of Duruk, she stammered an apology. The orc put his hands on her lean shoulders and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine. Just a little winded," replied Ladoreith.

Duruk's wolf was sniffing in circles around their two pairs of feet. "Groma, down girl," the orc said firmly. She settled down by her master's heels, her grey fur shining in the sunlight. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, the orc said, "I never got to thank you for helping in that fight at the tavern."

"It's no problem. I honestly didn't expect you to stay in town this long."

"Lawrence left for business a while ago. I just needed a while to rest."

Ladoreith shook her head and chuckled. "I've been resting for far too long," she said.

"I used to feel the same way," said Duruk, "I guess too much of one or the other just isn't good for you."

"I suppose," replied Ladoreith. At this dry spot in the conversation, Ladoreith twiddled her thumbs, and Duruk shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. After a minute, Ladoreith indicated that she needed to go home. As she was walking away, Duruk called after her.

"Ladoreith, if you ever need anything, I live near the stables."

Ladoreith nodded. Realizing that Duruk couldn't see her she said, "Thank you. I'll let you know."

Maverston left his home early Tuesday mornings to shop for supplies in town. He was usually gone all day, stopping at the tavern after his shopping was done. Knowing this, Ladoreith arrived at the small house in the jungle just as the sun rose over the horizon. She tied Rowan, her horse, to a fence post and rolled up her sleeves. She pulled a ladder out of the cart he was pulling, along with bundles of dry thatch. Examining the three holes in the house's roof, one about two feet in diameter and the others half that, she determined that she would be done with her project before Maverston returned. Ladoreith set up her ladder against the side of the house, and climbed cautiously onto the roof. Most of the thatch was still in good condition, but the areas around the holes were rotten and needed to be removed. Climbing carefully on the roof, the elf cut away the ruined portions. To her dismay, she also found other portions of thatch that were about to fall through and needed to be removed. After she finished this first step, Ladoreith carried the thatch bundles and wire she had brought with her up to the roof.

She spent hours working in the hot sun. Her thin linen shirt was soaked in sweat. Finally, as the sun was getting ever closer to the western horizon, she was finished. She climbed down off the roof and left a note on the door reading Happy Winter's Veil – From Ladoreith. She mounted her horse and began riding back to Booty Bay.

After riding a while, mainly relying on Rowan's natural instinct to find home, it became dark in the jungle. She could tell that she was close to the entrance to booty bay when she smelled the smoke of a campfire. Warily slowing her horse, Ladoreith listened intently. Two male voices drifted on the air. They were eerily familiar, but Ladoreith couldn't place them at first.

The deeper voice said, "Gods I'll be glad when this mission is over."

"If only we could find that Orc-loving Night Elf that got us kicked out of the city," the other replied.

"Too bad we don't have jurisdiction. We could have her in for treason."

Ladoreith's hands trembled and gripped her horse's reins tightly. Without thinking, she spurred Rowan's sides and sent him running to the entrance to the city before the marines could discover her. She didn't slow until she reached the large shark's jawbone and entered the tunnel to the port. Finding her way home, she shut Rowan into the stable and entered through the kitchen door. She sat down heavily with a brooding expression. Halkek looked up briefly from his leatherwork and back down again.

"Ya get dat roof fixed alright?" he asked in a cautious voice.

"Mm-hmm"

"Good. I'm sure the old drunk will appreciate it."

A few long minutes passed without Ladoreith moving an inch. She sat with her fingers laced together and her chin resting on her thumbs. Staring into the grain of the wooden table, trying to grasp at some hidden truth within its pattern, she barely breathed.

"Well girl," said Halkek, "you better tell me what's wrong before your joints lock up from disuse."

"Why should we have to live in fear?"

"You know very well why."

Ladoreith chuckled mirthlessly. "Because of a meaningless race war? One that I inherited but was never consulted on?"

"And what is one Night Elf warrior going to do about it?" Halkek asked angrily. "You're going to get yourself killed with that attitude."

Ladoreith sighed wearily and covered her eyes with one hand. "I'm just so tired, papa."

Halkek's face softened, and he kissed Ladoreith's forehead softly. "Go get some rest, child."

A figure in a velvet hooded cloak passed the booty bay stables early the next morning. Scanning the nearby houses, it paused at one. It was smaller than the others, and a large grey wolf could be seen dozing on the front step. The figure approached the door, petting the wolf with a pale slender hand, and rapped sharply on the door. Shuffling could be heard from inside the house, and in a few moments, the door opened.

Duruk stood in the doorway. He had clearly just woken up. His hair was in a tangled mess, and his clothes were wrinkled and creased. "May I help you?" he asked.

"It's Ladoreith," replied the figure, "May I come in?"

Duruk nodded and said, "Come sit down, quickly."

Ladoreith entered the small house and looked around. There wasn't much, save for two seats, a stove, some cabinets and shelves, and a dining table. A curtain covered a doorway which she assumed led to the bedroom. She walked over to the table and sat down. Duruk slowly followed her, feeling his way as he went. The orc sat down, groaning as he did. "What brings you here this morning?" he asked.

Ladoreith recounted the overheard conversation between the two marines. Duruk shook his head and said, "The man was so drunk that he probably wouldn't recognize you if he did see you."

"True," replied the elf, "But it brings up a larger question."

"And what is that?"

"What's the point of all this animosity? Granted, the first and second wars weren't that long ago, but it happened before you and I were born."

"Racial hatred is taught to children at a very young age, it's a difficult cycle to break."

"But not impossible," said Ladoreith in a cryptic tone.

Duruk leaned forward. He was so close that Ladoreith could feel the warmth of his breath. "An even better question," he said, "is why a Night Elf of all people would be concerned with such things."

Ladoreith took a deep breath. She was hesitant to explain her situation to someone she hadn't known for long. However, Duruk's quiet, gentle manner gave her the feeling that he could be confided in. "Let's just say… I'm adopted," she replied.

"Meaning?"

"My mother lived in Ashenvale with me. She died as a result of the Horde invasion, but my adoptive father found me and took me in."

"Wouldn't that give you all the more reason to harbor animosity towards my people?"

"Not necessarily."

The chair creaked wearily as Duruk leaned back into it. Shaking his head, he said, "Ladoreith, you don't really make much sense. What is your father's name, anyway?"

Ladoreith paused for a moment. This would be the telling part. "Halkek," she said firmly, without shame. Duruk's eyebrows shot up in shock. He stood, pressing down on the table with his hand as he did so. He walked to the counter and pulled a cup out of the cabinet. With a trembling hand, he poured water from a pitcher and took a long drink.

His voice rough, he said, "That is not an elfin name."

"Indeed it isn't."

Turning sharply, the orc asked, "Why should I believe you?"

In flawless Zandali, Ladoreith replied, "What reason would I have to lie?"

Duruk waved his hand dismissively. "You live in a port town," he said, "It only makes sense that you'd know a few languages."

"But why would I live here, of all places? Most people who make permanent residence in Booty Bay have a thing or two to hide."

"Why would you tell me, then?"

Ladoreith inhaled sharply through her nose. "Because I'm tired of hiding," she said tearfully, "I love my father more than anything, and he's always been there. He deserves a life so much better than this one. He never says so, but I know he misses being with his people. If he ever went back, I couldn't ever see him again, or one of us would be killed."

Ladoreith looked down at her hands in dismay. The house was silent, save for the sound of the waves coming from outside. She didn't know why she had come here, of all places. An act of desperation if ever there was one, she thought. But then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder. "I believe you," Duruk said softly, "Your fiery spirit isn't going to be enough to cause serious change, though. "We'd need supporters, planning, and supplies. Among other things."

"Well then," said Ladoreith, "Let's get started."