The Dark Portal

Miria gripped the edges of her map firmly to keep it from flying out of her hand with every beat of the gryphon's wings. Below her, the shining waters of Baradin Bay gave way into the low marshland of the wetlands. Not exactly a direct route, but flight masters' gryphons had some kind of aversion to flying in a straight line. She assumed Naru was still tracking their shadow far below, and would catch up with her in Dun Morogh.

 This ride would take her into Ironforge, the massive underground capital of the dwarves. After spending so much time in the field, Miria had things to take care of before disembarking for the Dark Portal and Draenor. She'd scrubbed the worst of the plague slime and dirt off her mail the night before, but doing that had exposed a weak spot in her hauberk under the left armpit, and a section on the left leg of her greaves where the chainmail was separating oddly. Add that to the fact that the fingers in her gloves were wearing thin, and she needed to visit a leatherworker with significantly more skill than she possessed.

 The gryphon banked sharply. Miria squeezed with her knees to keep from being thrown off and rolled up her map. They were gaining height over the jagged mountain range that rose on the north side of Dun Morogh, and as they cleared the peaks, Miria started to see the highest towers of Ironforge sticking out of the sides of the mountain, and the path leading up to its gates.

 The gryphon banked again, and Miria leaned low over its back, hugging its mane of feathers as it dipped low through the front gate, swooped through an opening in the gate above the statue of King Anvilmar, and then flew through a tunnel that always felt much too small to fit a gryphon and a passenger.

 The dry heat of the Great Forge swept over her face as they burst from the tunnel and spiraled in for a landing at the gryphon roost. Miria climbed off the gryphon stiffly – long flights were by far one of her least favorite things about Azeroth.

 "Welcome ta Ironforge, lassy," the flight master said. Miria smiled. She enjoyed the company of dwarves – they were a practical and friendly people with an infectious zeal for life. "Anythin' I can do for ya?"

 "I am looking for a smith who specializes in repairs," Miria said. "I assume the Great Forge would be the place to find him?"

 "Aye," the dwarf said. "They'll be in th' center. Been out adventurin', have ya?"

 "Clearing out Scourge, recovering old property deeds for ungrateful noblemen," Miria said. "Thank you for your assistance."

 "Anytime, draenei. Enjoy yer stay!"

 She could see the center of the Great Forge from where she stood, but she took her time walking around the edge, listening to the rhythm of Ironforge. Always present were the sounds of hammer striking anvil, molten rock flowing across solid stone, and above it all the steady huffing of the bellows, like the city itself was breathing.

 For once, Miria wasn't the only draenei around. Ironforge was one of the major cities of the Alliance, and enormously populated. Dwarves and gnomes were the most populous of course, but there were plenty of humans, night elves and draenei milling around the underground streets. There were at least half a dozen dwarves in the center of the Great Forge, each with weapons and armor in various states of completion.

 "Excuse me..." Miria said, shifting from hoof to hoof awkwardly at the edge of the hustle and bustle.

 "Aye, what can I do for ye, lass?" One of the dwarves turned away from his work, putting down his hammer and stripping off his gloves.

 "I am looking for a smith who can repair mail," she said. "I seem to have acquired some worn spots." She crouched down to the dwarf's height and lifted up her arm, poking her fingers through the hole at the armpit. 

 "Aye, that ye have," the dwarf said. "The catch on yer belt's wearin' out too. And yer gloves look like they've seen better days. Well, Thurgrum Deepforge is th' best with patchin' an' repairin'. THURGRUM!" 

 Miria flinched involuntarily as the dwarf's conversational tone switched to an ear-shattering bellow in a split second. Thurgrum's hammer strikes stopped and he pulled a pair of goggles off his eyes. "Ye don't have to bellow at me, Sunderfury," he said, ambling over to them. "At yer service, miss...?"

 "Miria," she said. "I'll be going to Draenor soon, so I must make sure my gear is up to par, of course."

 "O' course," Deepforge said. "This won't take long, I'll just need yer gloves, an' – well, I didn't think t' ask, ye do have somethin' ye can change into, don't ye?"

 Miria was already stripping off her gloves, and she got started on the catches of her shoulder armor without a second thought. "It is no trouble, I will simply wear a tabard in the meantime. You will need my pants as well."

 "Now you wait just a minute, lass!" Deepforge said. "I don't know how thing are with yer people, but ye start takin' yer armor off around here and I can't-"

 Miria hadn't stopped because of his protests – she had a shirt on under her armor, after all – but her fingers stilled when something completely different caught her attention. Surprised shouts and cries of, "There's a bear!" made her crane her neck around the bellows.

 "Naru, come here!" she said, spotting the grizzly wandering through the crowds and snuffling at unsuspecting people. "You know where the gryphon roost is, stop causing a nuisance!" Naru broke into a shambling trot, grunting at anyone who hadn't moved quick enough. When she got over to Miria, she stood up, putting her front paws over Miria's shoulders and snuffling her hair. Miria pushed against Naru's chest fur, trying to heave the bear off her – she was heavy. Naru thumped back to all fours and then sat down with a wide yawn, clearly pleased with herself.

 "Ah," Deepforge said, a wide grin splitting his long gray beard. "Yer a hunter. Suppose I should've known that by th' bow. Alrigh' then, with that great beastie at yer side I doubt ye'll have to worry about walkin' around in a tabard."

 "I can handle myself," Miria insisted, perhaps a little petulantly. The conversation with Treize in the Andorhal inn made her uncomfortably conscious of her relative youth. If every hand had not been needed to establish her people's home on Azeroth and position in the Alliance, it was entirely possible she would still be in the Exodar, learning the long history of their people and training under the watchful eye of the Exarchs.

 "Never meant to imply ye couldn't," Deepforge said, averting his eyes while she pulled off her hauberk and unbuckled her greaves. She pulled her Exodar tabard on over her head, left her armor with the smith, and went to find a bowyer. As she walked, she couldn't help but glance down at the heraldry emblazoned on her chest. She never expected to be preparing for this journey – the trip back to her home. She wondered what it looked like. She didn't think she really wanted to know. Now that she was half a continent closer to the dark portal, her promise to Treize seemed very far away indeed.

 Naru huffed next to her, like the bear could sense her uneasiness. The smith was right – people cleared the way as Miria passed with Naru at her side. She supposed most people didn't want to tangle with a hunter and her bear.

 Ironforge's layout made it easy for Miria to complete her errands. She spent the longest time at the bowyer, chatting with the no-nonsense dwarf woman about draw strength and the practical applications of real arrows versus the kind of techniques advanced hunters used. She could have stood there forever having a long, lively debate with the woman, but when Naru got bored enough she started knocking over weapons racks, and that was Miria's cue to leave. She passed back through and picked up her mail from Deepforge on her way to the inn where she intended to stay the night. Inspecting the links, she couldn't even find where there had been a fault. She tipped him handsomely.

 "Well, Naru," Miria said as she relaxed on her bed in The Stonefire Tavern, "tomorrow we go to my homeland. I feel I need to apologize in advance." Naru grunted at her. "I do not know how it is now, but when we fled the world was ripping itself apart into the Twisting Nether. It's a wonder that it's held together this long." Naru curled up on a rug at the foot of the bed and laid her head down. Miria took the hint and pulled the blankets over her chin, falling into a restless sleep.

 Underground in Ironforge, the only way to mark the time was in the sounds of the city streets. Her internal rhythm pulled her out of deep sleep sometime around dawn, and enticing smells from the kitchen woke her the rest of the way. She laid in bed for a few moments with her eyes closed, wishing she could stay in the Ironforge inn forever.

 "Oi! Hunter! Come wrangle yer damn animal!"

 Miria sat bolt upright. The space where she last left Naru was empty, and she groaned, rolling out of bed and hopping into her armor. She clattered down the stairs with half the buckles undone to find that Naru had planted herself in the doorway of the kitchen and would not budge. "Naru, come here!" Miria said, exasperated, and the bear growled in displeasure as she lumbered over to her master. "I am dreadfully sorry, she is not usually so ill-behaved, I do not know what has come over her-"

 "Don't worry yerself," the cook said, smiling. "It's more than ye can ask for a mostly wild creature t' ignore breakfast. I already fed her a bit, but then she started scarin' my other tenants on account of her not movin'. Ye plannin' t' be off today?"

 "That is the plan," Miria said, and all the apprehension from the night before came rushing back. She set to buckling the rest of her armor "Thank you for the room, it was very relaxing."

 "Only the best here. Anyway, anytime yer back our way, feel free to drop in. Safe journey to ya, draenei." 

 Ironforge had a portal to the Blasted Lands, which prevented Miria from having to spend all day on a gryphon again. Stepping through portals always made her stomach swoop uncomfortably and her skin feel slimy.

 She stumbled as her hooves met solid ground again. Naru growled unpleasantly. The Dark Portal itself rose like a high, menacing monolith out of the center of a blasted red crater. The source of Naru's displeasure was immediately evident – felguards and felhounds alike swarmed around the edges of the crater.

 She trotted down the incline. Naru lumbered after her. They wove through barricades and small knots of soldiers, ascended the steps to the portal, and stood watching its dizzying shift of colors and stars.

Miria took a deep, steadying breath and gripped her bow. "All right, Naru," she said, "this is it."

She put her hand on Naru's head and they stepped through the portal to Draenor together.