We're Going Home

Moira listened, shaking her head at his apology. Ah, you wouldn't have been able to find me, back then. My husband and I were underground, in Orzammar. She smiled warmly as she thought of Bhelen, leaning back in her chair. She shook her head at herself, Sorry, sorry, jumped ahead a few decades.

She paused to swipe marbles from the eldest grandkid, shaking them at one of the youngers who were snooping on the conversation. Well, after Thomas died, and you were gone, I met a sweet man. Dwarf. We had Natayie, adopted Ellis. Those are the two who run the farm. She hummed as she offered the marbles to the child, sending it off to play.

Eventually my second husband died. I was given two dwarven children to watch over, for a few years. Then when the boys went home to Orzammar, I joined them. Married their father when the eldest was about seven or eight, I believe. She hummed, studying the sky.

Bhelen died getting everyone out of Orzammar, though. She sighed, as if that information was more disheartening than heartbreaking. As for me, I live over in Belond Knurla with my boys, helping them piece the nation back together. Elene and I just come out to visit the farm every-so-often.

Elene offered a wave as her name was mentioned. She was pestering their guardsman, who was standing silently a few feet behind of Moira's chair.