Where there is life...

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"Tað lovaði eg bæði faðir og móðir,
tá eg í vøggu lá,
eg skuldi ei ræðast tann heita eld,
ei heldur tað hvassa stál."
("I promised my father and my mother,
When I lay in the craddle,
I should not fear the hot fire,
Nor the sharp steel.")
- Torsteins kvæði, traditional Faroese.
Where there is life...
Elizabetha watched them sleep, side by side, calm, peaceful, ignorant of the turmoil that was everywhere on the world of Azeroth. Yes, even in Outland. She found it almost strange that she, the humble daughter of a former farmer-turned-soldier and a blacksmith's daughter - she, a former Missionary of the Scarlet Crusade - she, betrayed by a beloved, hated by the Light-haters, scorned by evil-doers, belittled by profiteers...should know such wonderful and thrilling happiness.
They were so peaceful, so serene, so beautiful. Perfect.
She kissed them again on their foreheads. Waited a minute, and then kissed their cheeks.
"My little gems," she whispered lovingly to them, and happy that her caress didn't wake them up. "My beautiful children."
The rays of the sun tore through the leafcovered roof of the trees of Ashenvale, and the birds sang anew their morning songs. It was a tad misty, but not enough to blot out the sun. Nouala was sleeping nearby, only awoken once during the night when the twins had started crying - yet the crying only reminded her...
"Just a little bit more, life-friend. The head is clear."
I panted a few times, ignoring the sweat that ran down my face. This was so demanding, so tiring. I'd lost count of the hours since the water broke, since my shock. I am scared now as I was then. Oh, Light, please, let everything be alright!
I scream in determination as I push once again. It hurts, but in such an odd way. Just a bit more, she said. Oh, Nouala, I'm so glad you're the one that's at my end, making sure the child gets out alright. I feel the tiny body come out of me. Just a bit more, and it'll be in this world, not bound to me anymore.
"There! You did it!" Nouala says excitedly.
My head drops back onto the chest of Richeron. I pant, I'm so tired. I feel like sleeping. I feel like just fainting. He gives me a loving smile, kisses me. He doesn't say a word, but his face tells it all. I love him for the smile he gives me, the kiss he plants. Oh, my beloved...
A wailing... A voice crying... I look up at Nouala, and in her hands she holds a crying infant. The sound of it is wonderful. My child lives!
"Life-friend...your son..." Her smile is wide, so happy.
I feel like bursting of joy as I see him. My son! Our son! Oh, Richeron! He's beautiful!
I want to weep in my happiness, I want to hold him, to caress him, to love him. My son... My son...
But I cannot do that yet. One more needs to be guided into this world. My son's sibling.
Nouala hands the infant over to Blueleaff after checking him, seeing if he can breathe perfectly on his own. Then she cuts the umbilical chord and Blueleaff can tidy him a bit. Richeron stays behind me, holds me, comforts me.
Soon the other can come...
Elizabetha sighed contentedly, and lied down on her back, gazing at the roof above. And for a moment she pondered the construction, remembering Illidor telling her of how the Kaldorei made their houses out of living wood. She'd yet to see just exactly how, but the fact that the wood itself wasn't dead was pratically awe-inspiring. It was living.
She smiled, turning her head to behold her sleeping twins again. Alive, just like you, my beloved children. Yet not as free as you both will be. You will shine brightly like the sun, and people will love you for your Light - and shadow wrecks will fear you.
Rolling over on her side again, she kissed each twin in turn, and again caressing them gently on their cheeks. Annika stirred a little, whimpering ever so slightly - and Elizabetha softly began to hum a peaceful tune, lulling her little daughter back to sleep.
The second is coming now. I can feel it so clearly. The head slowly being pushed through the opening. The sweat pours in a steady stream down my face, and occasionally Blueleaff wipes away the salty droplets with a wet cloth. It helps immensely.
Another push, another sensation of pain and fear, but I try to calm myself. The first born was delivered safely into this world. His twin will to. I must believe that. I grit my teeth. I groan in this pain. This is alright. This is normal. Everything is as it should be. No fear. No room for fear.
"The head is through, life-friend," Nouala says calmly, her face likewise calm, and it has its intended effect on me. This is going more smoothly since my first born opened the way for his twin.
I push again and again, pausing every time, feeling Richeron kiss me on the head, caressing my hair, Blueleaff wiping my face clean of sweat - and my son in her arms, clothed in a blanket, whimpering as only an infant can. I do this for him. I bring forth his sibling that he will share his childhood with, and they will both be happy. Happier than I've ever been, and I pray silently in my mind that they will not suffer as I have.
"There, the child is out now," Nouala says excitedly, quickly examining the child, and giving it a light spank on its bottom. It starts crying. It breathes! It is alive!
"Life-friend, it is a girl," Nouala says proudly. "And a caul bearer." Having said that she examines the baby girl carefully, cuts the umbilical chord and carefully peels off the caul on her head, placing it in a bowl nearby.
I weep in my joy, and though my eye can't shed so many tears, I relish at the sensation of the single tear running down my cheek. If I could keep it as a treasure, as a memento, I would've. And I look at them both. Cleaned and clothed, each crying, confused at this new experience. The first time they use their eyes. The first time they breathe the air of the world.
Indeed, their first day outside the womb to which they will never return.
Blueleaff carefully hands them to me, one at a time, and I nourish them with my milk. They calm down at my touch and take in their first milk. And I am speechless. I cannot find words to describe this joy - this love for my little infants. My flesh, my blood.
Oh, my children... You are so beautiful...
I lean my head back against Richeron's chest, and I look up at him, my heart almost bursting. He smiles at me, moved, proud, full of love - and we kiss.
"Richeron..." I say quietly, "Our children...they are safe, they are alive..."
His smile grows wider, and I love him even more for it.
And I decide in that moment that he shall name our son, and I shall name our daughter.
"Richeron...say the name of our son."
He nods slowly, and I sense how he too is overwhelmed. He looks at the baby boy, and says, "Iohannes Williaum Istro Withamhall."
I nod, accepting that name, and I turn my face towards our little daughter, saying, "And Annika Benedicta Istro Withamhall."
I sigh with contentment, looking up at Nouala and Blueleaff who stand side by side - their faces full of happiness.
"Welcome, Iohannes Williaum and Annika Benedicta," Nouala says quietly.
I giggle joyfully, my eye gazing at my children, who drink deeply. So small, so precious. So full of life. 
And I whisper quietly to myself, "Where there is life, there is hope..."
It is strange.
How my exhaustion vanished at the sight of hope.