Ripples of Shadow
Chapter 9 - Before Dawn

Hendrig caught sight of Rash walking into the inn over the rim of his mug. He was not a pretty sight. Blood covered most of Rash’s face, and left splattered trails all down his chest. The white shirt he wore, and the brown leather vest covering it however, appeared to not have a single tear. What on earth did he be gettin’ himself into? Hendrig wondered as he sat his mug down on the table and pushed himself up out of his chair.

“O’er here man! Hey!” Hendrig’s voice had no effect on Rash. The man ignored him and proceeded right up the stairs to their rooms on the second floor. “Burn my beard.” Hendrig muttered under his breath. He pulled a few coins out of his pocket and left them by his nearly untouched mug of ale on the table. Such a waste…and it was only his sixth one for the day! Hendrig rushed up the stairs after his companion as fast as his legs would allow.

He reached the end of the hallway in short order, and upon entering the room saw Rash already packing some things into a bundle on his bed. “And where do you think ye be headin’ all in a hurry lad?” Rash looked his way, then turned his attention back to his bundle without saying a word. Hendrig fought back the urge to shiver. Rash’s eyes were as cold and dark as pits of coal, and his face seemed etched of stone. Hendrig hadn’t known Rash long, but the man always seemed to be quick with a joke or retort. This wasn’t like him at all.

“Oy, I’d recognize that look anywhere. Listen man, I’m not sure what happened to ye, and I shant be tellin’ you what to do. But if you be thinkin’ ‘bout runnin’ off on yer own, please reconsider!” Rash merely sat there, a glazed look to his eyes.

“I’ve failed her Hendrig, just like I failed Darla all those years ago…”

“Failed? Failed who lad? Pray tell. We can go back downstairs and talk ‘bout it o’er a mug o’ ale.” Rash turned to look at Hendrig, unshed tears began to form in his eyes.

“Her name is Moria…and I cared about her. I…I-I loved her. And now…” Rash trailed off. His eyes burned, and his lips curled into a snarl. “And now the Lich King has her somewhere in Icecrown. And I mean to find her if it costs me my life. He will not take her from me…he will NOT!” The last came out as a yell, spittle flew from Rash’s mouth, and a strange look took hold of him.

Hendrig paused a moment, hoping the man would calm down a little. When he spoke again, he did so carefully. “Icecrown. We do be headin’ there this evening. Dro’gath, the elf sisters and I. You should join us. After all, we could use yer help. We’re meetin’ the leader of the Argent Crusade, Tirion Fording himself! After we aid him in some assault, maybe he can help you locate…Moria?”

Rash sat for a moment, considering his dwarven friend’s words. Finally he nodded. “Yes, I’ll join you in Icecrown. Maybe there I will find some answers.”

Hendrig clapped his hands together. “Good, it do be settled then. I’ll let the others know that yer joinin’ us. We leave in a couple hours.” Hendrig left Rash in solitude in the room, and as he made his way down the hall, he saw a man coming up the stairs with a bottle of wine in hand. What in blazes?