Beli Flinthammer returned downstairs to the bar at the Legerdemain Lounge. As a treat — and a break from the war against the Lich King — the Flinthammers had rented a room there for the holidays.

Ringo and Widge Gearloose were busy discussing their theory that Hodir was the inspiration for Greatfather Winter. Beli surreptitiously moved their glasses of hot apple cider out of reach as she sat down.

“The wee sprout down at last?”

“Aye,” she said, picking up her now-cold cup of brew.  “If I have to read him that Yo Gobbo Gobbo story many more times, I may scream.”

“What’s that you put on the floor?” Widge asked, yelping a moment later when Beli kicked him in the shin.

“Well,” she sighed, glaring at the gnome, “I was going to wait a bit, but here.”

She placed a carefully wrapped present on the table.

“Open it.”

“What?” Ringo smiled, forgetting for the moment his cider was now out of reach. “In the midst of all this, a Winter’s Veil gift?”

“Oh, aye. Unless ye don’t want it …”

“I do, I do!” Ringo said, ripping away the wrapping paper. “It’s a … Ye said I couldn’t have one of these statues!”

Ringo held up the statue of himself, protected by a crystal dome.

“I never sat for Marblesten; how did he get my likeness?”

“Aye, well, I figured the wee one would need something to remember to ye by, in case something happened up here.” Beli held up a hand to keep Ringo from interrupting her. “And while we were waiting for a ship in Menethil Harbor to take us north, ye and yer disreputable friends …”

“Hey!” Widge objected, and yelped again after Beli kicked him a second time.

“Don’t interrupt. Ye and yer disreputable friends were passing out drunk every night. It was no great trick for Marblesten to come in and make some sketches of ye while ye were snoring in a chair by the fire at the Deepwater.”

“Well, thank ye,” Ringo said, holding up the statue proudly. “I didn’t think we can afford it, what with everything happening this year …”

“We can’t. We can’t afford the one he’s making of me, either,” Beli said, taking the statue away and examining it herself, before handing it to Widge. “But it’s the Feast of Winter’s Veil, and Lich King or no Lich King, we’ll celebrate a little.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ringo said, kissing his wife on the cheek.

“Titans bless us, every one,” Widge beamed.