Dedicated to Sara@Finfychan for allowing me to incorporate her wonderful characters Fyn Godwin and later on Louvel Nottley in this story.  She is a great writer and does the most exceptional Oneshots, which if you have not read, I strongly recommend you do.  Thank you Sara

Nerisen introduced Tiene to Lord Jorach Ravenholdt. Jorach, Lord of Assassins, was a human rogue who put skill and dedication high above faction. He cared not whether your kin was a high elf, night elf, dwarf, gnome or human as long as your commitment was to your craft.

Proud though he was of his guild of killers and thieves, he had no qualms about inviting those from other guilds into the manor. He firmly believed all like-minded individuals and groups should work together in honing skills and learning from each other.

That was not to say that all who arrived at the manor were of the same frame of mind. There had been on occasion, some unappreciative visitors who allowed politics to cloud their judgement. They were despatched.

Immediately.

By all accounts, Nerisen was a fairly regular visitor to the manor and was welcomed by all he encountered as he showed Tiene through the academy. Another elf, Myrokos Silentform warmly greeted him, and they spoke as if they were old friends. He did, however, express that he thought it might be unlikely they could stay longer, as many soldiers were using the manor as a rest stop en route to their homes.

There were in fact, quite a large number of people visiting the manor this day. A lot of battle-weary rogues were coming and going as Tiene was being shown around the premises. A few hunters, paladins and warriors were also amongst the visitors as were priests and a few druids. It was not the norm for those not of the rogue's persuasion to be in the grounds, but these were friends and fellow soldiers who had accompanied the rogues to the manor on their way home, wherever home was.

As Nerisen was distracted in his catch-up with Myrokos, Tiene wandered around the complex. Without trying to be self-evident, she listened in to some conversations of those returning from battle — a few who she neared nodded a greeting or said a quiet hello.

The haunted expressions of the battle-weary men and women affected Tiene deeply. From the snippets of conversation, their despair was fully understandable. The horrors they had seen were indeed the stuff of nightmares.

Her breath caught in her throat as she heard tales of their comrades and family members being hacked down by the trolls and other races aligned with the Horde. Friends, brothers, sisters and fathers and mothers had all fallen. Villages razed to the ground where nought survived.

Her mind suddenly filled with pictures of Duthan and Lor'themar heading out to fight the Amani trolls on the border of their homeland. A gasp escaped her as the terrible possibility of losing them hit home. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"My child," a kindly voice spoke. She turned to find a little human priest talking to her. A solitary tear trickled down Tiene's cheek. "Oh my dear, have you lost someone close to you?"

Tiene stared at the priest. He was a slightly odd little man. He had a kindly face, but there was an air of melancholy about him.

He was well dressed, in robes of purple edged with eternium embroidered runes around the hem, neckline and long open cuffs. Yet, he did not appear to be of particular affluence. He inched a little further forward, lifting his face to view her better. His eyebrows hitched up high on his forehead in a wordless enquiry.

She shook her head a little and focused squarely on the priest. "No, I haven't, thank you. I was just...well I overheard some of their stories and..."

"Ah, yes." He nodded understanding. "Many have experienced terrible sorrow and loss. Now they must heal in more ways than a simple potion or spell can manage." He smiled wanly and turned to leave.

For some unfathomable reason, Tiene felt she needed to express her concerns about her brothers. Who better could she speak to than a holy man? "I am worried now about my brothers though," she said quickly as his short frame moved away.

The priest came back to her and placed a consoling hand on her arm. "I see. Would you like to talk about it?" he asked kindly.

"Yes," she heard herself saying.

"Shall we stroll outside then, child? It is a little overcrowded in here for now," he said, glancing around, making sure he had assessed the situation correctly. Seemingly satisfied with his assumption he looked back at Tiene with a crooked little smile. "'Tis a lovely day outside, and fresh air does help to clear the mind of troubles too." He bowed and gestured for her to move ahead.

She felt comforted by his quaint manners and slightly frail little frame, although he looked in need of some care himself if truth be told. Nothing a good meal and a hot steaming cup of honeymint tea wouldn't put right, she thought.

They ventured out into the small garden area and sauntered between some of the growing vegetables and herbs. The abundance of lavender and peacebloom soon masked the more pungent scents of Goldthorn and Silverleaf which seemed to be relatively rife in the area. There was a bench halfway along the allotment, where the priest gestured for Tiene to take a seat. She smiled her thanks, and he sat beside her.

"What do I call you?" she asked.

"Oh, forgive me. I am Fyn Godwin. And your name, child?"

"Tiene Firefury," she answered. "How do I address you, though? I cannot call you just 'Priest'."

He smiled, and a small chuckle tumbled from his thin lips. "I do not have, nor do I believe in titles, Tiene. Fyn will do nicely."

"Fyn," she repeated as if testing how it sounded.

"Now then, your brothers. Tell me about them."

She proceeded to talk about Duthan and his current mission to fight the Amani trolls with the Farstriders. As she spoke of him, her heart swelled with pride. He had worked hard as a ranger and had deserved his position as lieutenant. The Rangers under his command were loyal and respectful men and women, who Duthan always saw were well rewarded for serving their Ranger General and protecting their home of Quel'thalas.

Now, with the second war recently over it remained the job of the Rangers to root out the Amani trolls who had joined the Horde during the war. The trolls were a fierce race, well-versed in war strategies and tactics. She feared that they would be even more formidable having adopted the aid and influence of the Horde.

Ultimately, she feared for the safe return of her brother and also Lor'themar, who was basically like a third brother to her. She spoke very fondly of him too.

Fyn listened without interruption as the young elf told her story. He felt a little sting of envy as she described the powerful bond with her brothers.

Sadly, he lacked a good relationship with his sibling - and his father for that matter. His brother was favoured, as a warrior, he was off fighting whenever, wherever he was required. He was brave and fearless. Fyn, on the other hand, was a disappointment, according to his father - and that was putting it mildly.

He was as good as disowned when he'd announced his wish to join the priesthood. His father considered it a coward's way out from serving his king and Azeroth. He would not listen to Fyn when he'd tried to explain that he would be a devout priest who would go out to the battlefields and aid brave men and women in the war so they could return to their homes and families and fight another day if need be. But his father would hear none of it, and that was the day Fyn "lost" his family.

He looked at the young girl in front of him and saw so much love in her heart. It touched him deeply. Even when she continued past her concerns for Duthan's safety and told Fyn about the jests and tricks he and her other brother, Inaris, liked to put her through, she smiled fondly as her memories of their teasing spilt forth.

Tiene also spoke of how they encouraged her for a future as a rogue - an assassin, a thief. She apologised profusely at that point for wanting to kill people (at which Fyn forcibly suppressed amusement) but said she felt she had a path to follow, and that path was in her parent's footsteps. She swore she would only kill for the better of elf-kind and all the allied races in Azeroth.

"Well," Fyn said when it was clear Tiene had finished her story. "I am sure your brothers, even your adopted one, Lor'themar, was it?" He paused for confirmation. She nodded.

Fyn continued. "They will look out for each other, and all their fellow rangers will do likewise. There are no guarantees in this life child, but friends and kinship are strong forces in themselves. What's more, they have you to come home to. Now, what better safeguard could there be? Other than the Light of course." His little eyes sparkled.

Tiene smiled, taking comfort from his words, and she voiced her gratitude. "What of you, Fyn? Where is home for you, and what about your family?"

The priest sighed slowly, the light in his eyes dimming momentarily. After some thought, he answered. "I come from Stormwind..." He turned his eyes to the manor. "But my home now is wherever these brave souls are, on or off the battlefield. It is my calling to tend the wounded and the sick and offer comfort where I can." He looked into her azure eyes. "I pray you never suffer injuries as those I have tended to over the years, Tiene, but I also hope I may be at hand if such a time comes."

Tiene took hold of the priest's frail hand and thanked him.

"There you are!" Nerisen's voice called as he neared her and Fyn. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You have some serious studying to do, Tiene. However, as it is so busy here today," he nodded respect to the little priest," I think we shall borrow the books needed and head home. It will be your night-time reading."

Tiene stood. There was a touch of regret that she was leaving so soon, and strangely, it was not because it was the rogue's academy. She had enjoyed the company of the little priest. She smiled fondly at his thin face and sparkling eyes. "Thank you, Fyn," she said. "You have eased my mind. I hope we meet again someday, preferably not on a battlefield."

"I hope so too young Tiene. May the Light bless and keep you and your family safe."

Before she left the manor grounds, she turned back and looked up the hill. Fyn was making his way back inside, and being greeted and thanked by many of the war-weary fighters. She noted the sadness he bore, and she thought it might be more profound than he had let on.

"Elu'meniel mal alann*, Fyn Godwin," she whispered.

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* Elu'meniel mal alann - May peace calm your heart

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