Having conceded to a wooden rocking chair set before a grand hearth, the scruffy frame of Anduin held the parcel sent out by Revas. It was neatly folded in half, pinched between the man’s pointer and thumb. His countenance reflected pensive rumination as he pulled lamenting sips from a clay mug.
With mourn and regret in his sage voice, he considered what was left unsaid. To none, the man spoke.
“Did I ever tell her how proud I was?”
Only a bitter aroma would quell such thoughts as Anduin reminisced.