((Before reading this, note to the reader this was written in a server where certain events happened that altered Olson's life and may show little resemblence to ToTM history or retail lore/events. Including a town not in WoW. I just wanted to share, so enjoy anyway!))
Hello.
My name is Olson, the third, who was son of Olson the second, who was son of Olson the first. Confused yet? Hopefully not. I grew up in the hamlet of Eastvale which resides in the Eastern region of His Majesty's Elwynn Forest. My father, like his before him, tended to his vineyard, harvesting the grapes that'd be later used for festive occassions. Ah, what memories! I remember sneaking pastries from Mrs. Waltz, my youngest brother and I were quite the rascals. My brother, Gerald, was a trickster. Tiny in stature, big in ego, he'd play tricks to whomever he pleased. As for my dear mother, Anna, she had her hands tied raising us. Did I mention I had three brothers and four sisters? Gerald, Tommy, Lucus, Julia, Samantha, Mary, and Alana. All but a year a part in age. I was the eldest, distancing from the second eldest by 3 years. As I grew into a young man I took up many of the responsibilities of the vineyard. I'd like to say my siblings looked up to me, and I'm sure they did, but you know how siblings are... Stubborn, bashful, but in the end; Caring.
As I grew into the ripe young age of twenty, half of my sisters had been already wedded and moved into their husbands' households. My brothers still worked the vineyard, my aging father, still strong but fatigued by age, accompanied them. I was to move out, a fool was I if i were not to find a las with sturdy legs in my prime. Sturdy legs for children, for I too wished of a family. I moved out of Eastvale, in search of that special lady among other things, and headed west towards the village of Goldshire. I resided in the local tavern, the Lion's Pride, and caught glimpse of my beloved. So struck was I once our eyes met, my drink had spilled upon my tunic dripping down the rough linen. She giggled, her hand covering her grinning mouth, while she turned to return to the kitchen with a tray of mugs and bowls already used. I viewed her from the door, our eyes met yet again, but this time they hadn't part. I rose from my seat, walking pass the shouting dwarf who'd I apparently bumped into. She looked up, no longer rubbing vigorously the plates in the sink. She was shy, so was I, but I was the first to break the silence, my words splitted in twine as the dwarf I formerly made aquaintence with shoved me into her. A chuckled grunt vibrated the room as he bellowed with laughter. I pulled a part, rather attempting to, but she held me close. She smiled, I smiled, and if it were up to me I would've kissed her. But such is not proper, "interaction" out of wedlock is frowned upon. Instead we stood there, staring into eachothers' soul. Fate already spinning the fabric of our lives to be.
Monica, my beloved, was her name. May she rest in peace. After the "incident" at the tavern, we began to grow a relationship. Her father did not approve of me, so we met secretly. Sometimes even in the dead of night. Never once had I laid hands on her, for my love for her exceeded the temptations of flesh. After several months, we ran off, together, she abandoned her life, her home, her family, for me. Thinking about such brings a tear to my eye... -The parchment has a ripple in it, possibly from water-... We went north seeking a new life in the capital, Stormwind. For several years, two in fact, we lived in utter poverty. I worked in the docks, she stayed at home trying to make our one room "house" pretty. We couldn't afford jewlery, so I brought her back shells from the docks. She loved them, especially the ones with the vibrant colors. We were so poor we couldn't even keep food on the table. There was no way we could raise a family, so she never concieved.
Those two years were an utter waste of life for me. I got nowhere, accomplished nothing, and couldn't raise a family. But fate pitied me and I was granted a chance for redemption. Monica's father loaned me money, money I never had a chance to repay. I guess he could bear seeing me starve but not his dear daughter. We moved out of Stormwind and settled down back in Eastvale. I bought a plot of land and grew melons. Life was good, and we were finally able to raise a family. My dear Monica concieved and I was so happy. I was going to be a father! A daddy! A papa, a pops, a da'. For those twelve cycles she grew I waited in anticipation. It caught me off balance, the day my son was to be born. His name would be Charles, named after my uncle who had died protecting his family from worgs. As she was readied into the chambers of my home, it began. Her pangs grieved me, I couldn't bear to watch. I waited outside, like the coward I am, and waited for the moment it would be all over. Shouts turned into screams, each yelp gave me pain. It felt like a life time before it would end, and when it did, there was silence. I could not hear the soft whimpers of my dear wife, the cries of my newborn. I rushed inside, only to see the nurse holding my son wrapped in cloth. My wife, my dear dear Monica, laid across the bed, her arms spread out, her eyes bloodshot as they stared towards the ceiling. The sheets were red, everything was red. And as I turned to see my mother who knelt there, crying the whole entire time, I realized what had happened. My heart was pierced, I grabbed my chest, my hand shook, twitching uncontrollably. I stayed there, everyone cleared as I clutched the cold hands of my lost love. Weeping bitter tears I cried until there were none to be wept.
She was buried next to Charles, their graves marked with blood. I had lost my life without ever dieing, everything vanished that cruel day. I moved west, aimlessly. Depression came over me like a dark cloud which follows me to this day. Never do I look into a woman's eye do I not see her's. As I walked the lonesome roads of Elwynn, I came back to Goldshire. It was about the time revolts began springing up, peasants shouting and flooding the streets. I was lost amidst the chaos, and like many, I seeked shelter. A new town was being constructed, or had been, brand new. It was said that the revolts hadn't affected such place and so I journeyed there. Oakshire, the haven I've been looking for, gave me rest. It sheltered me from the cold and from the heat, and so I settled down. I used the remaining coin I had left and bought a tiny cottage, along with a flock of sheep. Years past and I grew old, never had I loved another. I brood in my bitterness, but I do not show it. Instead I keep busy tending to my flock and bartering with those in the market. And well, that was then, this is now. I reside in Oakshire, and to this day a moment doesn't go by I ponder. What do I ponder? Life. Fate. I frown whenever I think of what I've lost, but then I smile. And why you ask? I shall tell you why by saying these bitter yet wise words. "It is better to have love and lost than never to have loved at all."
~ Olson A.
