The Exchange

[Daedraug]

"For the love of...," Daedraug growled through his teeth, marching with his head low down the steps of the storefront. He stood in the center of a veritable metropolis, surrounded by vendors and auction houses where a man could buy nearly anything found in the world, but that didn't put him any closer to knowing what in the name of Elune a gnomish girl would want for the birthday that took her past the age of majority.

You're in Ironfgorge now, you silly little man. There's no reason why you couldn't have taken care of this yourself.

But unfortunately, there was a task occupying Miltonian's time and preventing him from finding a gift for his daughter. Seeing as it was a task Daedraug himself had put him to work on, in a roundabout way he supposed it was only fitting that the mission would fall on his shoulders. Weeks ago, when Milt had originally brought up the idea of the gift in a letter from the front, it seemed as if he was just searching for ideas. Now it was all too real of a problem.

The day passed at glacier-like speed as Dae found himself in shop after shop. This ring was too expensive, that one too powerful for a girl her age, and the wand he nearly bought turned out to be etched with runes in gutterspeech and demonic so tiny that he had taken the script for simple engraved lines along the silver surface. The crier called out eight in the evenening and he was left sitting on the steps to one shop or another as the various merchants closed their doors and extinguished their lamps for the night.

[Daedraug]

Stepping from the flightmaster's platform, Daedraug began roaming the cobbled streets of Stormwind in the crisp morning air. His attempts to solicit help from any of his fellows had ended with Haldren's suggestion of a visored helm.

She prolly frets about 'er looks, ay? Ye canna' have yer pretty face nicked and wha'not if'n it's behind a shield! And besides tha' it shows 'is fatherly-type...quit yer laughin' at me, elf!

Daedraug chuckled to himself and sighed, his spirit lightened in remembering the exchange but no closer to catching his quarry. As he passed through the market and Old Towne, he realized that this would not do eiher. Stormwind was a fine place for fighting men to outfit themselves, and it boasted some of the better shops in all Azeroth for the high society set to satiate their need for wine and cheese, but no vendor offered anything he could see lighting the eyes of Milt's young daughter. A dress-maker kicked him out of her shop when he held up a child's dress and asked if it came in a more grown-up cut. In retrospect he supposed a clarification should have come first, but his frustration was growing so rapidly that he wasn't at his sharpest.

He found himself at the fountain outside the old stone blocks of the bank. Pushing through the crowd to get near, he tossed a copper piece in an arc and watched it plop into the water in a mimic of the human custom of 'wishing.' No epiphany came. Setting himself back to the flight deck in defeat, a crackling came across his Gnomish talk-box and he adjusted the volume so he could hear.
"Thank ye again, good sirs," a voice - human from the sound of it - came across in clear appreciation, "I can't say what might have happened if you had not been within reach."

Daedraug took off in a hustled jog to make his way back to the mountain city.

[Daedraug]

It was late when he returned to the small apartment in the Mage Quarter, and the gnome's bearded face peered wearily across the lantern light at the box Daedraug had set on the table before him.

"That certainly took a good deal of time," he mused, "and I was expecting a much smaller box...a trinket of some sort." He lifted the box in his deft, tiny hands and surveyed its weight. "Why in the world did you have it wrapped...wait, don't tell me, the woman offered and you had no idea how to do it yourself. Of course."

"I just thought it should be a surprise for everyone," Daedraug returned with a smile, his hands raising out to his sides in innocence, "if it turns out I've failed then I'll take the blame personally...but I think she'll appreciate it."

"Oh very well, then. It's already nearly a month gone by and she's going to find out I'm home soon if I don't get to her first." Milt handed the Daedraug's merchandise over to him in a tightly wrapped waxed paper cover. "Everything's in working order. I'll trust you'll want to know how your endeavor goes over with Miltonia?"

Daedraug departed with a smile and a nod.

[Daedraug]

Miltonia's fingers worked like a skilled musician as she untied the knotted ribbon outside the box. The container was nearly a third of her size, and she awkwardly picked it up and set it in her lap. Opening the lid, she cocker her head slightly and a small smile creeped up one side of her mouth. Her eyes showed a shred of confusion remaining.

"Well?" Miltonian tried to hide his curiosity behind excitement, not wanting her to know he had not picked the gift out himself of it turned out to be a good one. His daughter produced a carefully folded tabard from the box, the same color as her fathers. Setting it on the table, she peeled the layers and folds back to find what object was inside.

In her hands, she brought up a slim, light, shining Gnomish talk-box of red and pink metals. Her father noticed a small card which had fallen to the floor during the unwrapping and picked it up for her.

"Who would have thought you could give such a thing as a gift!" she remarked, a smile beaming across her face as she read the card. In her hand, the intricate calligraphy of the note spelled out a single word:
"Friends," in the gnomish tongue.