The slender Kaldorei woman moved across the room, singing quietly to herself. Her long silver locks were bound into an intricate braid, a few loose strands falling on her face. Tindomiel pushed them aside as she mopped the floors. As she made her way toward the far corner, something caught her eye. Setting the mop handle against the wall, she reached down to lift it up.

Heavenly soft fabric met her fingers. As she brought it up towards her face, she realized what she had found. One of the baby rompers Lilybeth’s mother had made, somehow had gotten left behind. She sat down slowly in the chair beside her, studying the tiny garment. So much love had gone into it. Tiny blue sleeves were embroidered with shimmering gold scrollwork, a tribute to Kalithil’s preferred colors. Ælithil never had the chance to wear this, she thought sadly.

Folding it carefully, she stared into the fire, her eyes filling with tears. Her hand slowly moved to her middle, tracing the ragged scar. No matter what she might wish, it was something that for her, would never be. Old mistakes, injuries too severe, stole that dream from her. Pale fingers traced the collar, an old forgotten lullaby edged its way into her mind.

Quietly she sang to the child she dreamed of at night. The one she longed to hold in her arms.

Lay down my little one,
Rest now and dream.
May Elune shine on you,
And all you will be.
Morning comes soon enough,
And soon you will wake.
So lay down my little one,
Sweet dreams may you make.

Without a word, Forosuul moved behind her, wrapping her in his arms. He rocked her gently until her tears were done. “It may still happen, my love,” he whispered in her ear. “Don’t give up just yet.”