The Uneasy Fondness of Retirement

The following is an adaptation of Tea Kettle and the Cornfield with further development and based upon the MMORPG game World of Warcraft.

Each morning, Magni would get up and slowly make his way down the old, creaky stairs and today was no different ... except for a feeling. At the landing, he stops to catch his breath taking in two lungs full of fresh, cool, mountain air. Magni is an elderly gent and former King of Ironforge. Retired now and alone, he resides in the cliff-side cottage his great-grandfather built well before the War of the Three Hammers. Though times have certainly changed, the encroaching effects of Dwarven life have not reached his part of the mountains yet.

The cottage is a modest structure, two stories in height, with enough room for three comfortably. Handcrafted using the smoothest stones from the Gol'Bolar quarry and supported by large, Douglas Fir beams, the home may not boast a lot of cubic feet but it is sturdy and stout just like its creator. Entry to the home is through a finely detailed and Dwarven patterned door with inlaid iron brackets; a gift to Magni after he announced he would be leaving the thrown. Once inside, one can see the kitchen and small dining nook to the left and the large, front sitting room to the right. The fireplace is how one would imagine it, overtly huge in scale and made from smooth granite rocks topped with a chestnut mantle. Of course, the crowning piece to the room is the bulging front window framed with some of the same rocks used for the fireplace. The window was specially made with triangular pieces lined together using the finest copper stripping which has turned a deep, emerald green with time.

Further back in from the sitting room is a where the stairs carry up to the second floor going up half way as you come in and then turning right to continue up to the top story. At the foot of the stairs and tucked into the corner is a bookshelf littered with ancient texts and tomes that have been collected for nearly two centuries. Down to the left of the stair case and behind a wall separating the front area is a small hallway that leads to Magni's private study. Many a strategic plan was laid out to his generals in there before feasting on wild boar and enjoying some home brewed honey mead. And finally, upstairs is nothing too spectacular, just a set of three bedrooms all very cozy in size and most importantly, perfect.

Upon stepping inside, a visitor's nose is met with a mixture of wood and spice scents indicative of the hundreds of years this solitary home has stood on these peaks. Dimly lit by candles and oil lamps, it is certainly easy to feel at home immediately upon entering. Seasons and generations of life, laughter, tears, and memories rush the senses and it is almost a must that one stop for a moment and take it all in. If not for the nostalgia and history, then surely out of respect for the many great men who have come from inside. Of course, the view is breath taking as well and most visitors find themselves spending a few more moments enjoying it.

With one arm propped up on the carved hand rail, Magni takes a moment to scan the home looking at the various knickknacks his family has collected over the years. Along the hallway to his right are some paintings his grandmother purchased depicting various members of the family. At the end of the hall in the study Magni sees the hunting trophies mounted on the wall he and his father caught when he was a boy. He sighs for a moment and then spots an intricate clock Gelbin Mekkatorque ordered made for him in honor of his 25th anniversary as King. The Gnomes are friends and have been for many seasons now. Magni grins and softly chuckles at the memory of the many antics and adventures he shared with Gelbin and others who have long passed.

It has been said that to see through the eyes of a king is to see both sovereignty and strife. One could surmise that had Magni been borne into any other family, he may very well have served in some other fashion for his people. Just gazing at this face, it is easy to see the wear, and looking deeper one can begin to tell time has not always been good to him. And then he smiles and the wrinkles in his face fold together much like Father Winter's. Rosy cheeks and nose, silver and white hair, thick and wooly beard, Magni is majesty and majestic to behold. To be in his presence is like walking through a hundred years worth of time and history. It truly is an honor.

Oddly enough, though, few have been granted the knowledge that under Magni's leadership, the crafty Dwarves carved secret lairs and tunnels throughout Ironforge Mountain. What many see as a cavernous and bustling city upon passing through the monstrous gates never do see the full glory of what is behind the massive granite walls. Originally, Ironforge was much more modest and before even Madoran Bronzebeard was king, the Dwarves enjoyed a much deeper and cozier lair. But, as most species experience, growth and prosperity led to an explosion in population and it was deemed necessary to expand. Over a century of work was put in and what is seen now is roughly only half of what truly lies deeper into the mountain.

If one were to be granted access to these secret areas, one's eyes would be filled with the true riches of the Clan. Mithril, gold, silver, and copper coins, figurines, ornaments, and precious wares and heirlooms fill the passages and storage rooms found deep inside. And if one should progress further, he or she would eventually be led outside to the top of the mountain, to a plateau where Gnome engineers built a landing strip for military purposes. Of course, finding your way to Magni's home is well known in the region, but he enjoys a much quicker, albeit secret route directly from the throne room where the new King resides today. Just East of the Misty Pine Refuge and Tundrid Hills is where you will find the once great thane-king living out the remainder of his days and friendly visitors are always welcome.

Peering down over his thick, braided beard, Magni sees Modi skitter by then quickly turn around to graze up against his leg. Given to him as a kitten by his old friend Hilary Ashlock of Lakeshire, the colorful feline has been by his side for a long time. Often his only companion, Magni has spent many a quiet, chilly day fishing along the shores of Helm's Bed Lake watching his furry pal chase butterflies and paw at his infrequent catches.

With a purr and two sweeps, Modi heads back into the front room to take his spot on the rocky sill under the large window. Crudely named for one of the greatest king to come out of the Bronzebeard clan, Magni grins at his calico and takes in one last deep inhale of the chilly morning air. He strolls into the kitchen to begin his morning ritual: Hot tea, toasted honey bread with goat butter, and a quick glimpse through the parchment scrolled stories of his long deceased hero, Modimus Anvilmar. It was something his father did when he was just a boy and the tradition lives on.

Using Anvilmar's writings and going by his descriptions of war and combat, Magni grew up here learning to be an expert blacksmith and how to become one of the bravest kings in Bronzebeard and Ironforge history. In those days and before a lava vent was breached inside the cave, Gol'Bolar was a quarry riddled with Troggs and other foul beasts that lurk below the surfaces of seemingly peaceful places. It was the perfect location to hone his skills in weaponry, survival, and endurance. With the ever-watchful eye of his father nearby, Magni as a young boy would learn the fine arts of overpowering a foe and building the strength he would need to lead a successful Clan and nation. These days, however, Gol'Bolar is a lake and a year round favorite spot for him and Modi to go swimming and enjoy the relatively new hot spring it has become.

Folding over a section of the scroll, Magni spots a chapter Anvilmar wrote early on during his reign. In his writings, Modimus expressed some anxiety over the tensions that subtly lie within Ironforge between the Dark Iron and Wildhammer Clans. Though the Bronzebeard Clan was responsible for most of the daily ins and outs of maintaining the kingdom, Modimus felt more needed to be done to bring these otherwise rival Clans together. Years of toil and hardship to fortify an already mighty kingdom had begun to take its toll on the people and it was his idea to set up an area where young Dwarves could gather and begin training in the finer arts of war and industrialism. His hope was to see this area not only help the Dwarven race become stronger but forge a greater bond between the Clans as well.

Magni senses the significance of such an ideal and although time and warring efforts would sidetrack Anvilmar's plans, he can certainly see how it has positively affected his people even up to today. It took more time than ever intended but the training grounds still stand and many a young Dwarf and Gnome have honed their skills and gone on to greater things. With a sigh, Magni's reading turns to a stale gaze as he reminisces the last time he heard this story from the lips of his father many seasons ago.

He drifts into memory …

It was just before the sun came up during the height of the war with the Dark Iron Clan. Magni felt the pressure of the door to his room opening well before he heard it swing. He sensed he needed to open his eyes prior to him even knowing what was going on. Stumbling in was Magni's mother, eyes and cheeks saturated with tears but she never made a sound. She was always a quiet woman even during the toughest of times; that was and is the Dwarven way. She stood in the doorway with the creeping light of dawn coming in from the hall window behind her, making her seem more like a shadowy presence than a broken woman. As she stumbled into the room quietly, Magni could see the candle light glinting on her cheeks. Then he saw her eyes—saw into them and saw what she was quietly not able to say through her sobs.

He gazed up and stared at the ceiling feeling a tear well up in the corner of his left eye. It took a moment before the warm droplet made a cool streak down his cheek for he already felt in his heart what had happened. His mother stayed near the doorway for some time as Magni eventually sat up and turned his stubby feet to the floor. Normally, the winter-chilled surface would have him quickly stammering towards the snowy colored bear-skin rug at the foot of his bed, but he did not flinch that time. He stood up slowly and made his way to his mother to hold her—really, so she could hold him—as the distant clip-clop sounds of the Ironforge Magistrate's swift moving ram made its way up the mountain road.

The support of the Bronzebeard Clan was overwhelming in the days to come. Food, wine, blankets, and many other gifts would be laid at the front door of their cottage. Mourning is never an easy emotional ceremony to handle especially when one has laid a parent to rest. But the dignitaries representing the many races of the Alliance who came to pay their respects certainly helped and made the event much more special. Looking back, Magni remembers first meeting Uther Lightbringer who he would later stand beside in battle against the Horde during The Second War. The irony of the entire affair, though, was the presence of a very young Orc named Thrall for whom Magni can still recall seeing silently stand near some trees on an adjacent hill. The grief for him back then was too overwhelming to comprehend the significance of an Orc visiting the lands of Dun Morogh, but Magni senses it now and it has always laid heavy on his heart.

A sudden burst of Wintery wind kicks open a small kitchen window near Magni jolting him from his memories. Without looking up, he slowly stands and shuffles around the table to close it. Peering outside through the snow laden landscape, he hears the howling cry of a distant wolf. Shutting the hinged window and latching it securely, Magni lets out a low groan from deep in his throat. He's been alone for quite a while now but there is something about today that seems to exacerbate the feeling. Of all the honor he's felt, people he's fought beside, liberties he's preserved, none of it means much to him now. Humbly and realistically, he accepts life it is and that his time has come and gone and is carefully drawing to a final close. But his instincts to be a leader haven't died and he can't help but feel like there is more he could have done or could be doing.

If one were to ask any one of the Dwarves now residing in Ironforge, he or she would quickly hear the tails of the legacy he has left behind with nary a mention of what was not. From the fortifications to the city and region to the stern but fair influence he had over the rival Clans, Magni was certainly a well loved King. In the present, of course, he is still revered and somewhere out in the kingdom is a young, little-known Dwarf who idolizes him as much as he respects Modimus. But isn't that the case with all of mankind that ambitiously seeks success? To humbly push aside his successes and continue to desire to do more even unto his dying breath.

The tea kettle begins to bring up its subtle and then sudden whistle. Today, the weather looks to be calm with the wind moving gently Eastward though it doesn't shroud the looming, dark clouds near the Blackrock Mountains. Sinister as they may appear, Magni knows rain is coming. It rained that day he remembers and he knows the smell, the feel he gets in his very bones. The years have been fairly good to him and he has grown to admire that sense of rain, looking forward to the continued nurturing Mother Earth is going to bring to his kingdom—his former kingdom. It is hope for him.

Modi purrs loudly from his stony perch by the window as Magni sips his tea. The parchment scrolls are on the table facing up and next to a wool doily his mother made years ago. With the wind gently howling outside, today feels much like it did many years ago. He can see up the stairs to the hallway as the shadow of the hall window makes a line along the wall just before his old bedroom door. With a sense of déjà vu, Magni lets out a sigh and takes in the moment. Again.

CMW