If Arch Druid Fandral Staghelm had had a door instead of an open archway in the style of most of the homes and dwellings in Azeroth, it would have been kicked down. As it was a dark figure loomed in his entryway, lithe and menacing, oozing fury. He haughtily looked down his nose on the person who would dare disturb his meditations.
"YOU!" The figure declared. "YOU arrre going to TEACH ME how to HEAL!"
It took all Staghelm's effort to keep from laughing in the face of the Night Elf girl in front of him, scantily dressed, her eyes blazing. Probably no more than five hundred years old, experienced in battle but relatively still a mere stripling.
"Me? Teach? I have underlings for that," He said, waving dismissively. "I am the Arch Druid. Now leave this place."
The Night Elf contemplated this for a moment, thoughtfully, tapping one finger to her chin. Then she held the finger aloft, raising an eyebrow.
The sounds of a quick but decisive battle rang out from the Arch Druid's study, decorative pottery being knocked down, catlike yowls and surprised bellows. At one point the pair moved past the door arch - Staghelm staggering, trying to pull the feral black Saber off his head that was attempting to chew one horn off his ornamental helm.
After a time, Mathrengyl Bearwalker watched as a rather more bedraggled Night Elf girl came downstairs than he had seen go up just a short time ago, her hair askew and sporting a rather impressive bruise on one exposed thigh. "Archdruidsezyouregonnatrainme" she muttered, low and resentful.
About six hours later, Mathrengyl was about ready to tear his hair out. "No no NO! You twist your hands around like THIS, in the 'Supplication For Guidance from Elune' position, NOT the 'Grace of Elune Grant Healing' pose!"
"What does it even MATTERRR?" Pook shouted at him. "It's all just STUPID! If Elune wanted us to have her stupid GRRRACE, why do we have to do ourrr HANDS a...STUPID WAY??"
"It is not ours to question the ways of Nature and the Goddess!" Mathrengyl snarled. "Now do you want to learn this or not??"
Pook gritted her teeth. "I'm doing this forrr Tybilt, I'm doing this forrr Tybilt..." she reminded herself, again and again. He was plagued, diseased, would die if they didn't find a cure soon, and she knew she wasn't doing all that she possibly could to help him. All until now she'd only focused on being stronger, faster, able to fight better, and almost completely neglected her training in the healing arts. But you couldn't claw a plague in the face. You couldn't soothe someone's pain with an especially fearsome roar.
"All rrright," she snarled. "Show me AGAIN what the differrrence is between doing my hand like THIS and doing it like THAT when I cast a DUMB SPELL..."
In the privacy of his own mind, Mathrengyl cursed the Arch Druid up, down and sideways for delegating this task to HIM of all people, but as long as she was willing to learn, he had no choice but to teach.