Swill Remembers

He was young, about 10 years of age, when he first met the four elves.

Swill sat crossed legged upon the small, soft bed at the orphanage in Stormwind,

looking at the still wrapped packages he had received from Great Father Winter.

It was cold outside and New Year’s Eve preparations had the city in a flurry of

excitement.

“They are yours to keep or to give away as you see fit.”--Said the plump matron softly as she sat next to the lad on the bed. She reached a hand forward and gently brushed a lock of straight brown hair from his forehead. She smelled ever so slightly of roses.

The boy had never known another home. Abandoned in a basket and left at the top of the stairs of this orphanage 10 years before as a newborn, with no suspect parents, this was all Swill knew. He was a healthy, well-fed infant, and a decade later was already larger and more intelligent than most his age. He was also stubborn, insolent and a bit of a schoolyard bully.

Swill had heard from the town crier about the great massacre by the Horde, at Teldrassil, The Great Tree, which was home to the unusual race of Night Elves. The matrons here at the orphanage had told the children that there would soon be newcomers as a result of the assault.

“There is nothing I want… in those packages.” He replied to the woman without looking at her face. The matron nodded his direction and knew he spoke the truth, knowing with satisfaction that the child would not regret his decision. She was so proud of this boy.

Swill stood, began quickly gathering each package up, stacking them neatly at the foot of the bed. As he turned to walk though the doorway and down to the Centeroom to be near the warm fire the boy stopped and took a glance back at her smiling face, which was filled with nothing but softness for him.

“They’re here?” he asked her quietly.

“Indeed they are.” Mrs. Beachnor replied with a light smile.

The boy then turned the corner at the doorway and began to walk rapidly down the large, graystone flat steps that curved to the Centeroom. He paused at the final step and slowly but curiously, peered around the edge of the wall to silently glimpse his new housemates.

There were four of them, sitting next to each other as close as could be on the sette before the fire. Three were covered in bandages, and the fourth, the only female, was speaking softly in a strange language to the others. She stood straight up off the seat when the elfling spotted Swill peeking at them, her arms spread to the sides as to shield her companions from the onlooker.

“Who are you?” she asked Swill is a strange, attractive, lilting accent which rolled the r and made “you” sound more like”yea”.

“I am called Swill.” The boy stretched out his hand to offer her a hello, “What are your names?” he shyly asked.

She looked down upon his hand, and thought it to be such a strange gesture for a greeting, but slowly raised hers to his, hoping it was the correct response. Swill grasped her palm and shook it in a very human manner.

“I am Tazeria,” she answered,  “these are my friends, Drun, Ito and Leftfordead.”  She pointed at each of her companions respectively.

“Nice to meet you,” Swill reached to shake Ito’s hand but Tazeria stopped the gesture lightly but firmly, and in a low voice she said to Swill, “Ito cannot see your hand to respond, He was blinded by a light. They say he will regain his sight but no one really knows.”

“What’s with the others, their…injuries?” Swill curiously asked the elf, also in a low voice, while looking at the three on the settee.

“Drun cannot hear you, his ears were affected by blasting powder close to his head. And Lefty doesn’t speak…. he never really has.” She answered.

At that moment, a gray-white ball of smoke began to form behind Swill, curling and rolling and with a POP! Appeared another boy, about the same age as Swill, behind the pair before the fire. He was smaller than Swill and wore robes of blue and silver. He had no hair.

“Balyon!” cried a startled Swill, as he promptly pushed the new arrival into a large, overstuffed chair. Tazeria jumped toward her friends.

Chuckling, the budding warlock said, “I got you guys good.”…. grinning from ear to ear he popped up from the chair and pulled his wand from his sleeve. “ I think some nice hot cider for our new family is in order.”