Tandreli Dawnglow slowed the pace of her steed as she gradually approached Silvermoon City. So many questions have haunted her since her meeting with her cousin, Allarae about the people that she left behind at home. Questions that needed an answer.
As she drew closer to Silvermoon and began to see various detachments and guard stations, she dismounted and walked her steed. Her appearance was frightening enough in her ceremonial Archerus uniform, but a soldier mounted on a fallen charger was even more terrifying. She needed to appear as benign as possible if a death knight could ever be so. Each step towards the city gates came a little more slowly than the last, and the urge to flee and return to the Shadowlands, a place where Tandreli felt more welcome, became a little bit stronger.
However, Tandreli’s desire to rediscover her forgotten Blood Elf heritage and to visit those who were at one time close to her in life was too fierce. The only question that remained was who to visit first? After being so harshly spurned by her parents the last time she paid visit, they could wait until last, hopefully after mustering enough courage to knock on her old home’s door again. There was also Tanald, her brother and Merellien, the priest that she had fancied in life. What did Allarae say about him? That he had many children? Indeed, she chuckled to herself, he has been very busy all these years past.
An old flame would surely be the safest choice. At worst, Merellien would simply shoo her away at the door and she could easily move on without too much loss. At best, she could receive a warm welcome and compassion from an old friend, sharing fond memories of good times. Yes, Merellien would be the first and most logical one to pay homage.
Finding Merellien wouldn’t be too difficult as no one in the city militia would dare question the request of a death knight, especially one who had been a lieutenant. Being the intimidating visage of death that she is, Tandreli confidently and glaringly approached a nearby guardsman, with her head held high and fearless staring him down knowingly and proudful.
“You there!” Tandreli sharply commanded, “I have come for a priest of the sunwell. He answers to the name of Merellien. Where would I find him and be quick about it!” The guard paused and stuttered wildly, fearing for his own life as most commoners do when called by one of Bolvar’s knights. Tandreli feigned impatience when he did not answer immediately, and he shook even more as if being blasted by the cold winds of Northrend.
“Oh, please forgive me kind knight,” the guardsman meekly replied, “but I do not know the priest you speak of, but I can direct you to someone who would know if you would spare me your blade!” The guardsman scurried to lead Tandreli to a station near the main gates where a detachment including a censor was standing. As they saw Tandreli approach, she could sense the nervousness of the group and noticed one of the guards grasp the pommel of his sword. Tandreli swiftly drew her two-hander executing a figure eight and ready which abruptly gave the guard cause to rethink any sort of assault.
Tandreli asserted herself once again, “I seek the priest, Merellien. Tell me where I may find him.” This was becoming fun, this little game of pretense with the city guards. It felt good to sense the respect and fear she could generate with the slightest tension and annoyance in her voice. If they only knew that she was as nervous and anxious as they.
The censor fervently rifled through page after page of names and locations and finally came across the one Tandreli was searching for. “Ah! Here he is, my lady. Just a few kilometers north of Farstrider Retreat on the road east to Duskwither Spire. M-m-may I inquire as to why you seek the priest?” the censor timidly queried.
Casting a look of faux disdain, Tandreli briskly spun and mounted her charger and rode east to meet the priest she once fancied when she was young. There would be no pretenses necessary with Merellien, she thought. Hopefully honesty and compassion would be the flavor of her conversations with him.
The travel was short but somewhat disheartening. The game of terrorizing the guards was rather amusing, but it saddened Tandreli to see commoners and small children shudder as she would approach. She was reminded of how she was greeted in Orgrimmar after first breaking Arthas’ control – the scorn, the hatred. So strange how, so many years later, that people still feared what they did not understand. Merellien would be different though. He was wise and learned, he would not be afraid as these people are. He would be kind and generous.
Tandreli approached a rather modest but well-kept cottage and spied two children, a young boy and young girl, frolicking and dancing about in the grass near the garden. A young female elf, whom Tandreli assumed to be the mother, was observing the youths and gayly laughing as they carried on, taunting each other then running away, then taunting a second time only to run away again. The death knight reflected on her on youth. Yes, these days were carefree and joyous and she could remember them now, and giggled at the thought of them. Still there was an inkling of nervousness Tandreli could not evade. Finally, she mustered the courage to address the mother.
“Errr ahem”, Tandreli cautiously spoke, “Excuse me but I was told that I would find Merellien Goldwhisper. Would you be his beloved, and these his children?”
The young lady replied in a frightened and fearful voice, “N-n-no good knight, we are all his children. I am the eldest, Velarise and my siblings are Aerianis and Tandrela. For whatever reason you seek him, please spare our father. He is a kind and good man and would have no reason to harm or threaten the Knights of the Ebon Blade.”
Tandreli eased the young elf’s apprehension, telling her she had not come to claim the priest but merely to converse with him, explaining that she was an old friend from days long ago. Still uncertain, Velarise guided her into the dwelling where an elven priest of middle-aged years was tending to a small lamb that has suffered a rather nasty wolf bite on its hind quarter, bandaging the wound while speaking soothing tones to keep it calm. Merellien froze initially in shock seeing a death knight in his very home, fearing that she had come to claim his soul or worse in his mind, bringing news that his wife’s soul had been claimed.
“I know not why you are here, harbinger of death, but if need be I will fight you unto my last breath. Speak then! Have you come for me or my beloved?” Merellien bravely answered.
“Neither Merellien. Look closely and I pray that you remember who I was,” Tandreli solemnly responded as she pulled down the hood of her robe.
Merellien studied her face closely, deeply scanning his memory for past acquaintances and then it donned on him who he was facing, the young woman solider from the Dawnglow family that had spent so many days off-duty at the temple, telling him of so many stories of valor and glory but still taking an interest in his simplest acts of kindness and mercy.
“Tandreli! But how can this be?” Merellien questioned. “Everyone was told you had died with your detachment, slaughtered by the filthy scourge. Even your mother and father had told me as much!”
“Do you have time for a story?” queried Tandreli. She spoke of how Arthas had raised her in undeath to serve him and his wicked plans, twisting her spirit into a heartless, uncaring herald slaying innocents for pleasure. Tandreli told him of how she broke the Lich King’s influence then of the many years of wandering after Arthas’ demise defending and protecting people from the Scourge.
The two spoke for many hours as two friends might catching up over the years, Tandreli speaking of her many conquests and Merellien glowingly reveling about his family. They talked of their youthful days, the Vernal Ball they had attended and all the dances she and Merellien had danced, mostly because he did not want her to leave his side. As the time passed Merellien’s children became at ease with Tandreli’s presence and began to ask questions as curious children would with Tandreli politely and warmly answering each one.
“My beloved should be returning from market soon,” Merellien said, “and I’m sure you would be welcome to join us for a meal. Please allow me to extend our simple hospitality. It’s been so wonderful reliving our youth these past few hours.” “Yes,” Tandreli replied, “I do think I would enjoy the company. I must say Merellien, that in all the years that have passed, I… regret that I… that I never… told you… that…” At that moment a royal messenger appeared at Merellien’s door, quite winded from a good run and bearing a document with the court’s official seal. “Message for Lieutenant Dawnglow,” the messenger said almost breathless, “from his Regent Lord Lor’themar Theron, who requests your presence on a matter of great import.”
“It would seem my words and your meal shall have to be reserved for another day old friend,” Tandreli’s voice took a saddened hollowed tone. Fate and messengers do have the worst timing. Perhaps it was best, after all.
“Yes, well do accept a standing invitation then Tandreli,” Merellien spritely replied, “and before you return to those Shadowlands, might I suggest you visit your mother and father as I have heard Avourel does not fare too well these days.”
“Y-y-y-yes. Of course,” she mumbled. She had kept her last encounter with her parents a secret from everyone save Allarae. Perhaps if she would ever want to discover more of her second brother, she had best visit her parents before anything of import dies with Father. Still it would be difficult. The memories of rejection remained vivid in her mind, even more than the most stinging defeats on the battlefield.
Tandreli looks to the messenger with a stern glance, “Let us be off then to see the Regent Lord and pray his business will be swifter than my Father’s remaining time in this realm!”
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