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With the defeat of the army of Menzoberranzan against Mithril Hall and flight back to his chosen city, Jarlaxle deemed it best to sit back and take stock of what they had gained over the years. He had his men doing an inventory list that kept them busy and reminded them of all they had gained even though the city's elite had been defeated. He lazily looked over some of the trinkets gathered remembering this matron or that one and all the intrigues in which he and his band had played a part. He smiled in those memories and knew there would be still more.
Gelroos Everhate, a scribe and warrior within Bregan D'aerthe, carrying a small bundle of papers, interrupted his reveries.
"Yes, Gelroos?"
"We found these letters Jarlaxle. They were nearly destroyed but we determined that you kept them for a reason and brought them to you so you could decide what to do with them." The soldier held the bundle out for Jarlaxle to take.
Jarlaxle took the bundle. It felt familiar in his hands. He nodded a dismissal to Gelroos and turned his attention to the contents. He unwrapped the leather-protected bundle, and was immediately transported to another time in his memory when he first received this. Inside the bundle were letters. He was not quite sure how many. He picked up the first one and opened it to read, relaxing back against some cushions as he did so.
Dear Drizzt,
I met your father, Zaknafein Do'Urden, shortly after I had arrived here in Menzoberranzan. I was to be a slave in a tavern that catered to the males of this city. The males had to be able to go somewhere. Yes? Had it not been for your father I more than likely would have died in those first few days. Though stern and cruel to me initially, his manner saved my life. Yet, I jump too far ahead. I am called Lissa and am a human from the surface slavers captured and sold within your city at a young age. Willful and rebellious, I vowed the Drow would not tame me! I had been granted the sight of drow so that I might better serve them. Who needs a blind slave? I had no objections to working in a tavern for I had done so before. I objected when a human male, admittedly rare enough in the depths, slapped me on my bottom and wanted to know my price for bedding! I immediately slapped him upon first reaction! How dare he? He retaliated by hitting me so hard that I saw stars. The tavern owner came over and half dragged me by the hair to a corner to be whipped bloody. About that time your father and another drow came in. Zaknafein was in a fairly good mood and did not wish it spoiled by such a ruckus, so he told me later. The tavern keeper had struck me twice and tears were running down my cheeks and my throat already hurting with my screams.
At this Jarlaxle laid back for greater comfort and covered his eyes with his right arm. His mind swirled with memories of a both joyous and tragic figure whose eyes lit up every time they saw Zak. He could still see her in his mind's eye, a brief tunic of red, pale skin that glowed beautifully in the infrared spectrum or candle light, long dark brown hair and hazel eyes that changed color with her mood. Lissa had certainly not been elven in appearance. No, she had been very human but fair of face nonetheless. So very…..not drow. Jarlaxle settled down to remember a lone figure often seen writing letters to someone that she would never know.