The Wildhammer all looked uncomfortable.

“I’ll rip your parts off and feed them to the bear!”

Guumbah and Widge, sitting in the Wildhammer Stronghold brewery tavern, just looked at one another.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Widge said, swallowing a mouthful of spicy crawdad. “That part that sounded like a death threat, that was definitely ‘Guuuumbaaaaah.'”

“I wish I spoke Dwarven,” the elf said, looking nervously at the stairs down to the guest rooms.

“Guumbah!” came a voice from below.

Widge laughed hard enough to shoot Aerie Peak Ale out his nose.

“Ancients preserve me,” Guumbah whimpered, getting up from his chair and heading downstairs.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now! I mean it! Give me a reason!”

Guumbah fidgeted outside the doorway of the Flinthammers’ rented room and cleared his throat quietly.

“I really need to learn Dwarven one of these days.”

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Ringo said, sticking his head out of the room, a not-entirely-convincing grin on his face. “She’s just been having these mood swings since getting pregnant. And when she’s a little … stressed she talks in Dwarven. No need to worry.

“Er, leave the weapons at the door.”

Guumbah whimpered again and followed him in. Beli lay propped up on the bed, eyes wild, her distended stomach bulging rhythmically.

“We think he’s heard the Wildhammers’ war drum practice and is, um, imitating them.”

“I will wear your family jewels for earrings, Ringo!”

“That’s very … colorful,” Guumbah sighed, looking skeptically at Beli. “Is it safe to touch her … beer gut?”

“Probably. And you can cast healing spells anyway, aye?”

“Anu’dora,” Guumbah said quietly, kneeling beside the bed. Under Beli’s crazed glare, he carefully moved his hands forward to touch her stomach, feeling the baby in her womb. “Ow! I think he just bit me!”

“That would be the Rockbottom side coming out. They’re born with teeth. There’s several midwives in Ironforge with only nine fingers. Sort of a sorority of the maimed.”

“That’s not the only thing some of us want to bite off!”

“Well, from what I can tell,” Guumbah said, shaking his damaged finger, “He seems like he’s about a week away from coming out. Will you be having the baby here?”

“No! Not …” Beli stopped, visibly fighting for control, beginning again in Common. “The Titans formed the Earthen out of the soil of Azeroth itself. I don’t trust a baby born on Outland soil. I want to go home, I want to go back to Khaz Modan!”

“Well, Widge is right upstairs,” Ringo said, placatingly, patting her hand. “One portal to Ironforge coming up.”

“Er, no,” Guumbah said slowly. “At this point, I don’t know what teleportation would do to a baby. Probably nothing good.”

“Gryphons, then,” Ringo said, a rigid smile on his face. “Lots of gryphons around here!”

“No, that would be rather rough on the child,” Guumbah replied, then yelped. Beli’s hand had snaked off the side of the bed and grabbed something important and delicate. “Beli, please … you can go back to Azeroth, but you’ll need to go by ram. And soon.”

She released him, and Guumbah fell backwards on the floor, curling up into a fetal position.

“Ooh, my poor blueberries …”

Ringo danced out of reach of his wife’s next swipe.

“I’ll just start packing, then. Back to Khaz Modan! Won’t that be nice?”

“I will choke you to death with your own beard, you …“