Many men may speak that they have faced the worst nightmares, lived the darkest paths, and fought the bloodiest battle. They will tell you that they have survived horrors so wild that they are unimaginable, beyond dreams, beyond mortals. They will say that they have survived an eternity of utter darkness that can murder the soul, deaden the heart, and shatter the spirit into hundreds of thousands of pieces.
They have not been amongst the drow.
In the surface world, there are many things that can keep a man going. Compassion, love, hope, trust, small joys – all of which my people sorely lack. Not only that, the drow delight in taking that which they do not possess and destroy it. And so they teach their children that trust is for the foolish, that mercy is a weakness. Blotting out the light, snatching away the hope, breaking the love – and in the end, there is nothing but an empty shell of hatred, fear, ambition… and despair. Dare I say that I escaped from them unscathed? No, I think not. Hardly at all.
I fled from them, and have spent many mornings beholding the majesty of sunrises. I let it cleanse me, even though there is pain in the purification. Even so, there are still scars. Scars that never heal, scars that would stay with me for the rest of my days, however long that may be. I yearn for healing that will never come. I yearn for the ultimate light that would banish the dark forever, and yet know this not to be possible.
Thus, with such thoughts in my mind, I expected the worst when I first set foot on the surface world. I warily search the shadows, waiting for my demons to leap at me, waiting perhaps for glimpses of ebony skin and white hair under a piwafwi… and a crossbow, ready to fire at me. I kept my hands on the hilts of my scimitars, always, in sleep and in waking hours.
And so, it was the greatest surprise to me that the very first things I found on the surface were what I have longed for: love, and trust, and joy.
--Drizzt Do'Urden