Beth’s Tale

By

Bernard William Eckhardt(aka: Mary Elizabeth Stormwalker – Bethwarrior)

Chapter 1The unnamed place I was born in still sits in Westfall. Or better yet, it still stinks in Westfall at the place where I was born. I know, I was there the other day to place flowers on grandmother's grave. I could see the shack that dad still lives in although I could not bring myself to face him. He is, and always has been, a pig and a lazy one at that. Dad is not worth bothering with. Drinking and complaining is all he is worth. Well and the occasional junk he sells from dark and mysterious figures that come to visit in the night. I never cared enough to ask nor I suspect would he have told me, but he would have beaten me for asking. Somehow he has a pension from the Royal Army, whatever that was. He never ventured any information about himself. Oh but he knew every one of my faults. Oh yes, I had plenty of those in his eyes.

When mother died I was one year of age and grandmother took it upon herself to look out for me. She told me stories of my mother and I grew up thinking how sad that I never got to know her in person. But grandmother’s stories helped a lot in that. So I do in a way feel that I knew my mother quite well. Raising a child for grandmother was just something that took up some of her waking hours. I never to this day know if she ever tired of talking to me or playing with me or teaching me about the world. How she knew so much for one who had never ventured further than Sentinel Hill is still a mystery to me. I have traveled all of Azeroth, to Outland, and even Northrend and still don't know half what she did. That is why I return to her grave to talk to her and tell her stories of the wonders I have seen.

By the age of three I was getting into fights, not alone mind you. My two best friends in the whole world Canter and Kryllgoman were constantly with me. I see Canter from time to time; she loves the city life of Stormwind and works as a trader out of the Auction House. Canter has the most beautiful silver hair. No one knows how or why she was born with silver hair as her family has lived in Westfall since the beginning of human settlement there. Grandmother said it was a sign from the gods that she was bound for greatness. Canter and I giggled about that a lot, as far from grandmother as possible, mind you. Grandmother was not afraid to spank anyone that needed it. She would however,

always have a kind word later and explain why she did what she did. I came to appreciate that much later in life, sadly after she was dead.

Kryllgoman is the cutest (at least don't tell him I said so) gnome with the greenest hair you can imagine. He is a warlock and a miner who gets around a bit. Quite the ladies man I fear. He went off to study in Stormwind to learn more of his dark craft about the time I left home. I hear that warlock training can be very difficult on the weak of mind and heart. I am not that intelligent so I tend to stay as far away from magic as possible.

I guess becoming a warrior is probably Canter's fault. I am burdened with something that I will let you in on. I killed a boy when I was 10. He had attacked Canter and Kryllgoman and broken Canter's arm. One day he was walking along the road near the old gnoll camp when I stopped him, or more like he stopped to pick on me, but it did not end well for him. He had a large stick in his hand and a smirk on his face. Almost twice my size he was ready to pummel me into the dirt, but something made him freeze, I guess it was the look of hatred in my eyes. That was his next to last mistake in life. I walked up to him and calmly removed the stick from his hand, he did not move. But then he broke out of the trance and laughed at me. That was his last mistake. I smashed the stick into the side of his head and he dropped to his knees. I kept his gaze and I noticed the blood begin to trickle down his temple. I calmly smashed his head again with the stick. He fell forward into the dirt. I hit him again and the blood flew in all directions. I knew he was dead and simply turned, and walked home. Grandmother never asked about the bloody stick I kept with me. Maybe she figured we had been out killing young gnolls or murlocs down at the beach. I remember that the stick was very sturdy and never broke no matter how hard I hit things with it. My dad told me that if I thought I looked like a warrior carrying around a stupid stick then I was dumber than he imagined. Never once my whole young life did that man say a kind word to me, never once. I loathe him.

Indeed, I kept that stick for several years and did go down the beach and with the help of Canter and Kryllgoman killed numerous murlocs and thousands of imaginary creatures. We spent hours hunting for rocks and minerals and that is why Kryllgoman went on to become an accomplished miner.

Anyway, we also ventured out on the Dust Plains and took turns getting close to the gnoll camps and then running in fear, laughing the whole way home. The gnolls could never catch us and I tend to wonder if they were just in it to scare us. Of all the ones I killed later in life I never thought to try to ask one about it.

I found this diary entry one day after going through a pile of stuff my grandmother sent me. My dad probably would have thrown it away of burned it but grandmother thought I may find the things of my childhood useful. The diary read:

“ “

Silly kids stuff but I cherish it more because grandmother thought to keep it.

Chapter 2 One day after dad had beaten me for no reason, he never had a reason just an excuse, I left home. I was 12, and I headed to Sentinel Hill. From there I saw that the road went off in two directions. I headed north with no idea of where I was going or what lay ahead. When I first entered Elwyn Forest the guards told me to run along and not get in any one’s way. As far as I could see there was no one on the road anyway so I guess they just did not want a snotty nose kid bothering them. I headed on down the road.

After running away from wolves and bears I followed a stream north and discovered a small lake. I also discovered that a band of thieves, called the Defias Brotherhood, had a hideout there. I stayed with them for a bit. I still dislike them to this day. Although they were cruel and vicious they did teach me a lot of useful things, stealth and thievery being the most important. Looting dead bodies has been a profitable business of mine since then so I guess I could say they taught me well enough. I did also, sneak around and watch the mages and warlocks in their arcane rituals, but never quite figured out what they were trying to accomplish. Magic has never held much for me but I know to avoid it as much as possible. Still I got food and a place to stay out of the rain and cold, though having to share my bed with men and women was a bit disgusting. They had strange appetites and I was young and naive. I will say no more about that as it is still shameful to me.

One day when I was 15, I escaped and made my way to Goldshire and for the first time in my life I felt that I had found something wonderful. All the people, the buildings, and that spooky fair (I learned later that it was in fact evil) impressed me as a young girl. But I also learned two valuable skills there. In a house near the lake, two ladies took me in, and trained me in leather working and skinning. They told me that Azeroth had many different types of animals and when walking off a road one could be assured of being attacked and eaten if not careful. Killing animals is not hard for me, so skinning was perfect. Skinning, as I was to find out soon enough, is very profitable.

I did begin to understand that it was important to act like a lady at times but often found that I could not keep it up for

long. Soon the boots would be on the table and most of my clothes strewn around the room. I like to be comfortable you know. They never tired of training me and I did visit them from time to time when I stopped in Goldshire.

After several months the ladies sent me up to Northshire Abbey and there began my warrior training. After learning how to fight bigger animals and other humanoids I took formal training in the Abbey. My progression was swift and the trainer soon sent me on to a friend of his in Goldshire. I was totally surprised to meet her, yes a woman warrior. The long scar on her face and the multiple cut marks on her arms attested to years of hard fighting. She taught me more about being a lady than anyone could have. I also took my first drink with her in the tavern. She and others there regaled me with stories of far off lands and huge battles. They also told me the old stories of how our world came to be.

 

Chapter 3I was 17 when I finally left Goldshire. I had heard so much of Stormwind City and when I was given a delivery to take there I jumped at the chance. My first view of the city was from the road leading up to the front gate. I remember standing in the middle of the road and gazing at the gleaming white city, at least until some passerby yelled at me to get out of the way. I stumbled forward across the moat and approached a guard, who being a kindly soul, told me how to find the person I was looking for.

After delivering the package I wandered the city for hours. Realizing I was hungry I sought a place to buy some bread and a something to drink. I was on the main square in the Trade District when I happened to enter Edna’s shop. To this day Edna and I are friends and every time I am in Stormwind I stop in to visit and we generally end up in the tavern after she closes her shop for the day. Edna sells general goods and for her special clients and friends she can be known to find the most interesting objects. I learned long ago to never ask where something came from when Edna gives you a gift. I still have an ancient locket she gave me years ago. Indeed, I have only ever seen one like it around the neck of the King of Stormwind. Edna simply smiled the day I took and placed it around my own neck. She said it would bring good fortune, and so far she has been right.

I found the warrior trainer in the city to be a tough, fair man. His assistant, a young woman was my usual sparring partner until it was apparent that I had surpassed her skills. Once I began training with the master my skills rapidly developed. He sent me to see several people that gave me some tasks, or quests as he called them. As I fulfilled the tasks my skills improved and I was trained in more deadly warrior ‘arts’. It is hard to think of brutish warriors as artists, but in fact we are artists of death and mayhem. Controlled chaos is the best way to describe what a warrior does. Controlling chaos versus being overwhelmed is the difference between life and death. I guess since I am writing this for you I have become a master of the art!

Anyway, my questing started in Elwyn Forest and soon had me traveling to Westfall. I can recall with intense disgust the first time I walked into my father’s shack in full gear and he

just laughed and told me to get him a drink. The urge to smash his face in was hard to suppress but and I simply turned and walked away. He shouted after me that I was a failure and a bum. I instead went to visit grandmother. She listened to my tails and made me tea and then she began teaching me about herbs and minor magic. I visited with her for several weeks while working out of the Sentinel Hill garrison, and by the time I left my first aid and healing was on par with most military doctors. She told me to seek her friend in Stormwind Cathedral to learn more of the medical skills that I would need in life. I marveled again, at how grandmother knew someone in Stormwind City, having never been there herself.

The garrison at Sentinel Hill was, to say the least, Spartan. Men and women shared everything, I mean everything. Being a soldier, even a paid one like myself, was to live in dirt and filth and learn to love it. My duties were many and I worked very hard. I killed a lot of gnolls and even enacted revenge on the Defias Brotherhood. I was soon marked for death on sight by their leadership and I relished the thought that they were out to get me. Me of all people, I was so proud. I got many of the scars that I wear today during my time in Westfall. I made a lot of mistakes and was lucky that most of my opponents were not all that skilled or bright. I began my leather working business and skin trading in Sentinel Hill. There were several traders there and I mostly traded for food and drink in the early stages. Profits were to come later but the skills I needed were honed in that dusty backwater.

By the time I was 20 years of age I made my first trip outside Elwyn or Westfall. My first foray into the wider world sent to Redridge Mountains and the village of Lakeshire. To call Lakeshire anything other than a boil on the backside of the world is a compliment. The people there are rude and for the most part boring and uninteresting. Part of that has to do with the fact that it is on the edge of the human world and is surrounded by all kinds of mean evil creatures that are constantly attacking anyone who ventures out of town into the mountains, in ANY direction. Also the King had ordered a bridge built on the road there and the local population was employed in the project. Of course, warriors like myself, were expected to stay busy protecting said bridge and said population. For which we got next to nothing in pay and no gratitude from the people of the town.

I spent several long years in Lakeshire employed as a mercenary, occasionally returning to Stormwind for training and new gear or weapons. I grew to hate orcs, as much murlocs and gnolls. I also grew to love killing them as much. The scar on my left temple is from a particularly huge orc that made the mistake of trying to attack me while I was eating, poor bastard.

The magistrate of Lakeshire eventually saw that I was superior to all his local troops and offered me two choices – stay as his assistant and head of the local Lakeshire guard, or travel to Duskwood and the village of Darkshire. He explained that Darkshire was in need of talented mercenary warriors, and that the local guard commander there, was a close friend of his. I smiled at him, saluted, and headed for Darkshire.

To say it was a mistake would not be entirely accurate. The mistake was that I had not done enough training, but the skills I learned and the experience was definitely worth the pain and suffering I endured there. The local guard commander was indeed a very forceful and talented woman. She accepted NO excuse for failure. Since death was a very likely result of failure, it was imperative to follow her orders exactly. I learned much of my discipline from this wonderful person. She could also drink like a fish and hardly ever lost a chugging contest.

Worgen, what a pile of hate and fury was compacted into those creatures. To this day I wake shaking and sweating from dreams with worgen in them. Mostly wolf but humanoid, they stand on two legs to fight but drop to all four legs to run, and can they ever run fast. I was knocked from my horse some several times thinking I had outrun one of those vile beasts. One job that all the soldiers detested was going out and clearing out a worgen camp. I did find a very handy bow in one of my forays. Seems one of the worgen leaders had gotten it from an experienced archer, who happened to run out of arrows at a very unfortunate time while traveling in Duskwood. Oh well, his bow was very good and true.

Chapter 4The magistrate had been correct in that skilled warriors were needed to defend Darkshire from the ‘things’ that lurked within the woods surrounding the town. I learned my lessons well however and soon moved up to the rank of corporal in the Darkshire militia. The worgs that inhabit the woods soon came to know that I was more than a match for them; it never has stopped them from attacking me, even to this day. The ghosts and undead creatures that inhabit much of the rest of Duskwood are unafraid of anything, a valuable lesson I have taken to heart. They basically taught me to be unafraid of anything I meet in life. Be prepared, but be unafraid. Fear will get you hurt or killed. Funny thing to learn from something that is dead, don’t get killed!

At the old age of 23 I was given an assignment to go to Booty Bay in Stranglethorn Vale. That place still gives me the creeps when I think about it to this day. Let’s just say by the time I turned 26, I had discovered every nook and cranny of Stranglethorn. It was in Booty Bay that I learned that you could get along with orcs if you were forced to by the guards. There is tavern in Booty Bay run by a blood elf named Marivaux. She tolerates all comers, as long as you behave. I have met many creatures and humanoids but none quite as interesting as her. She taught me a lot about what is known as the Horde. They are a faction of creatures and elves that share a common dislike for humans, gnomes, and dwarfs. I have not much use for the old hatreds and tend to greet Horde members as warmly as any Alliance (the human, gnome, dwarf, and other non-Horde) I meet in my travels. I do not always get a good response, but I try.

My skills in skinning and leather working grew quickly in the Vale as many quests there involved killing the many animals that inhabit the jungles. My dislike for trolls also grew as the trolls were always getting in the way of commerce. And their dispatch was a source of funds for an eager mercenary.

At the same time as I worked in the Vale I took a trip into Loch Moden. The Loch is home to dwarfs and I have a strong attachment to the short stout beings. They showed me how to fight in ways my warrior trainer never could. I spent a few months there making money for killing troggs and anything that got in the way of dwarfish commerce. One

quest sent to the town of Menethil Harbor. I fell in love with Menethil the moment in set foot inside. In fact I still own a house there that my husband and I bought when we first got married. As the name implies it is has a harbor and is a port.

Chapter 5After finishing my stint in Stranglethorn I returned to Menethil and one day took the ship from there, to Darkshore on the other continent. That ended up being one of the longest journeys of my early life. It is also how I ended up meeting and marrying my husband. He was a flower vendor in Auberdine and the main town of Darkshore. We met the day I first stepped off the boat from Menethil. For the next 5 years I would stop to talk to him each time I was in town, back from some quest or adventure or other. We became very close friends and the day he invited me to his parents home I was sure that we were in love. His parents lived on a modest estate in Ashenvale and the family business was gardening and cut flower production. Garon Stormwalker was his name and we were married on my 30th birthday in the glade behind the manor house on his parent’s estate.

I continued my mercenary life and Garon continued his flower business and we moved our home to Menethil. We were happy and even though I travelled a lot we still had lots of time together. When I got pregnant at first I had no clue what was wrong. One trip to visit grandmother and I soon was learning how to be a mother. Grandmother sent me many packages and gifts along with her friend Misha. Grandmother never left Westfall but Misha was a regular visitor bringing news and advice from grandmother. I of course took some time off from killing and when Herb was born Garon and I settled into a very domestic life. I then learned a lot about the flower business and we were very happy.

The great epidemic that swept the whole of Azeroth claimed my dear husband. For a time I was afraid it would also claim Herb but he and I survived. Herb was 4 when I sent him to live with his grandparents in Ashenvale. I was distraught and spent a few months drinking and feeling sorry for myself. An old friend Furyan found me one day and got me sober and back in charge of my life. She and a friend Bridgette were members of a guild and I soon joined. I had actually met Bridgette before while questing in the Alterac Mountains. Guild life saved me. I soon got back into the mercenary life and continued my leather working business. I also journeyed far and wide in the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor.

One day the guild was abuzz and the news had come to us that the Dark Portal was open to Outland. We had all heard the old stories about the Dark Portal and the orc home world that lay beyond. The original portal had been destroyed in a war between the Horde and Alliance many years before, and it’s reopening seemed to signal an end to the truce that existed between the two factions. Unfortunately only Alliance members that achieved a high enough rank could travel through the portal. I started working on my rank that very day. It took several years but I eventually made the rank and after saying goodbye to the Stormwalker clan and little Herb I headed to Outland. My adventures there are for another tale and I shall tell it one day.

Chapter 6As I look back now, Herb is a warrior in his own right traveling in the far off continent of Northrend and I have once again taken up the banner of the Alliance and gone to find him there. My home in Menethil has become the center of a growing flower business, run by my niece and her husband. Their daughter Charlotte, my first grandniece and a little angel, lives there with them. I spoil the poor dear rotten every chance I get. Just now I am packing to visit, I have the most bizarre, fascinating toy for Charlotte. I know she will love it. The small volvar child that I killed to get it from seemed to be having a great time with it. Oh the life of a warrior, though profitable it is far from pretty.

Chapter xMemories

The grey mist enveloped the ship and a cool wind blew from the east. I thought that The Veiled Sea was a good name for this expanse of wet desert. We were approaching Darkshore and the tide, running high could be heard faintly in the distance, crashing upon the rocks. Many a ship had gotten lost in these waters and I hoped the Orc captain was sober enough to get our small ship to port. I often worry about that when approaching Darkshore. The terrible shipwrecks of lore, the ghosts and murlocs that inhabit the wrecks still give me shivers. The old men used to relish making us girls shudder and cringe in terror as they related the stories of lost galleons and schooners. Having become an "old" person now myself I knew the danger but could usually just let it go. But not when the fog came, the fog was gloomy and brought to mind all the old stories. I moved away from he rail and wandered to the galley. Several passengers were seated there drinking grog and eating some foul smelling Orc gruel. I still have problems with the food on this trip. After several attempts at the gruel I have learned to not eat it at all, else it will end up in the sea. I took my grog and sat near the small brazier to try to chase the chill and thoughts of danger away. My mind wandered as the grog eased my mind and my body relaxed. Ashenvale was near at hand. It would be a bit more of a journey from the port to my ex-husbands family estate but the trip was generally pleasant. The road was now better patrolled than the old days and the disease that once claimed so many creatures was almost eradicated. I did need to make one stop in port

to pick up some of that smelly fish that the Stormwalker clan liked so much. It was always my 'chore', though to me it really was no bother, to bring the oily blackmouth to the family reunion. The Stormwalker clan of Night Elves still welcomed me as a member. Well I should hope so, I did produce an heir from my union with the eldest son. We were married for 20 years and our only child Herb was carrying on the family tradition of herbalism. Poppa Stormwalker still calls me his little girl even though I am passed, well we won't say which milestone it is but I am further from a girl than I am from an old maid. I refuse to use my family name since my father is such a pig. The reunion will be held in the grove behind the estate mansion, where the most wonderful flowers and herbs grow year round. The smells and sights are just breathtaking. Each year I get excited when I plan my journey. The family has gotten larger this past year and I long to see little Charlotte, the newest member of the family. She was born on my birthday so it will be extra special for me when I pick her up for the first time. Well I hear the crew getting ready for docking and the sound of the waves is a dull roar. The Orc captain indeed has gotten us through the rocks. Praise the Light and the grog! Now, to find that grumpy fish vendor... The party at the Stormwalker estate was as magnificent as ever. The journey is always fun and this time the whole Stormwalker clan had met me at the boat. We hugged and laughed and cried a bit as we got reacquainted. My boxes and packages were piled upon a cart and we set got ready to set off. I found the fish vendor and made my purchase. I smiled as I remembered the first time I had come to the Stormwalker estate for a party. My husband had told me that the clan loved oily blackmouth and that it was our duty to bring some with us. I had spent several

weeks fishing for the slimy creatures and cleaning them and getting them all ready for the journey and did not notice my husband’s whimsical grin at the time. Well as it turned out when we had reached the dock in Darkshire that day and had walked past the vendors, my husband had casually pointed out that they were selling oily blackmouth right there on the dock. I was mad but soon got over it and we had gone to the party. Well this years’ party was a special as ever. Each year there is a theme for the event and since they grow the most beautiful flowers in all Ashenvale the theme is based on certain flower groupings. This year was a pastel blend of the finest most delicate flowers. The small glade behind the manor house was filled with tables and chairs. The flowers were spread around each table and hung from the trees that ringed the site. Scented candles from Thunder Bluff had been special ordered for the occasion. In the kitchen all the female members of the clan gathered and set about making the food for the feast. My oily blackmouth was of course the staring course. Momma Stormwalker and her sisters are the brains behind the whole operation. Each of us was assigned a task and we all got busy. It seems they were waiting for my arrival. Everything came to a halt when Charlotte and her mom came into the kitchen. All the females fawned over her and we took turns holding her. When my turn came a tear came to my eye, because she resembled my dead husband who had was the child’s great uncle. Charlotte was so happy and we doted over her for a while, before Momma Stormwalker shooed her and her mom, out so we could finish dinner preparations. The meal was fantastic as ever and we all ate way too much and drank way too much. The oily blackmouth was a hit and the desserts that Momma and her sisters made were the crowning event. One of Mommas sisters

makes the best desserts in all Azeroth; in fact she sells them everywhere. Tauren and Orcs are even her customers. My favorite is the chocolate covered wolf treat. She won’t give me the recipe, but will send me as much as I want!! I spent several days with the clan and on the day of my departure they all accompanied me back to Auberdine. I shed many tears of joy and endured my crushing hugs from the family before finally boarding the ship to Menethil Harbor. Herb was there with Charlotte and her mother and they told me that they would be coming to visit me in the near future. I waved and blew a few kisses as the ship slipped away from the dock. I waved until I could no longer see the dock and turned toward the galley as the grey mist enveloped the ship.

Chapter XX

Dreams

The old warrior sat by the fire in her home, her grand niece asleep on her lap. She wondered whether she had also been asleep. Charlotte squirmed but did not awaken. Herb and his cousin had arrived that morning from the family estate in Ashenvale. Was it a dream she had just come out of, or just a lapse of memory. Age had caught up with Beth and she enjoyed more time at the fire than anywhere else these days.

The crackling of the blaze took her mind away and she wandered through the past. How long had it been since her husband had died? She had to think hard and she adjusted the child, to ease the pain in her hip. Charlotte just nestled closer. A tear came to Beth's eye, she so loved the young one that she held. Her own son had been that small once and she had sat in this same chair by the fire with him. Herb was a grown man - actually a night elf - now and had a thriving business in alchemy in Auberdine. The Stormwalker family had done very well for themselves and had always held a special place for their human member.

A loud pop in the fireplace caused Beth to stir a bit but she relaxed and shifted Charlotte to her other hip. How long had it been? Menethil Harbor was a small town when she had first come here with her husband. They had opened a small shop where he sold products made by the Stormwalker clan. Beth had always been a warrior, going off to battle and adventure, leaving her husband behind. Many times she had thought that she would never see his eyes nor feel his arms around her again. But she always returned. Then she had gotten pregnant and they had a child. Nothing in the world had ever pleased her more than sitting with Herb on her lap while her husband made packages for the next day’s business. Those brief years of domestication were too short and soon Beth had to return to being what she had been trained for - a warrior.

When news of her husband's death reached her, Beth felt frozen inside. Nothing had ever hurt her more. No solace could be found in life. The heavy drinking began then and she fought that demon for many a night. She finally allowed herself to return to Ashenvale to visit his grave. The Stormwalker clan, to a person, had met her at the dock in Auberdine when she came. Many tears were shed but the family vowed that Beth remain one of them.

All these thoughts clouded her thoughts as she sat by her fire. Had it really been that long? The aches and scars of war could attest to only part of her memory and anguish. Opening her eyes and seeing the sleeping child comforted her again. Nothing could have made her happier at that moment.

Movement in the room caused her to break out of her dream state and she noticed that Charlotte's mother had come in. The young night elf smiled at Beth and brought a blanket to her and placed it over her shoulders. Herb appeared then and set a cup of tea on the small table beside Beth's chair. They both gave Beth a soft kiss on the cheek and headed out into the warm night to the tavern down the street.

What was that sound she wondered, had the felbeast come into the house! No it was just the wind. Charlotte was snoring softly and Beth wrapped her tightly in the blanket. A shiver went up Beth's spine, felbeasts indeed. Old woman dreams, she laughed to herself. Her mount whinnied in the stable and Beth sat up. A smile spread across her lips, old woman getting jumpy, she smiled and then sat back, the fire crackling softly and the heat making her drowsy.

The Ring of Blood was alive with activity. Young adventurers were testing their metal against the beasts. Swords and axes

flashed in the sunlight. Voices raised in anger and fear. Shouts of victory and screams of agony and despair and the smell of blood

was everywhere. No it was just another dream caused by the fire. Charlotte had moved again and Beth shifted the child to her lap. The child was easy to hold and did not seem to be frightened by the old woman's dreams. No tonight was about the past. Old warriors need to rest by warm fires, with children on their laps, reliving all the past

glories. Sometimes though thoughts and memories of other things cloud their dreams. How long had it been?