Hello! I'm glad you stumbled across this story! This is my first Forgotten Realms fanfic. Funny story (not this particular story I've written, just some background) I used to laugh at my friends for reading Forgotten Realms. I was a Dragonlance girl myself and madly in love with all the books. Well, once I finished all of the Dragonlance books (I honestly did) I had to move onto something. I found the collector's edition of a Forgotten Realms series: The Icewind Dale Trilogy. (With the Matt Stawicki cover! ) Anyway, I am at the end of the first book, The Crystal Shard, and I decided that Drizzt is one of my new favorite characters. I love the parts at the beginning, middle, and end when the drow talks for a page or two about beautiful things and how they relate to what is going on. So, I decided to work on a new story (although I have about 4 others that need work, too...)

I hope I get the characterization right, especially on Drizzt, and I know I should wait until I at least finish the first book (only 20 pages away from the end!) but I loved these ideas so much. Please be kind if I make a mistake or two (forbid I do, but just in case!) and I would love to hear back from you. The more reviews and posts and emails I get, the more ideas I get and I am either assured or disheartened, both which are good for my writing style!

Time to stop babbling and to start the first chapter! Here we go!

Frailty

Elves, for all their beauty, are strong. We are said to be beautiful, stunning, unique, mystical, and these things could be considered true. Our bone structure is delicate, our eyes piercing, our bodies tall and lean, with a mass of long hair falling over our shoulders. I do not consider myself beautiful, but I can see it in the eyes of others; even as fear shines in their eyes, they gaze on me in wonder. How could a creature such as that be so deadly? How could he be a fighter? How could he gain so much renown? Surely he did not do all the things that are claimed, not with a body such as that. So weak, so fragile... A spirit of air, nothing more, and air could not hold a weapon.

Ironically, most of those who think this are human. Humans. They can be vile, repulsive creatures, no sense of morality or pride; they can also be brave and faithful to their cause, whatever that might be. But, for as strong as they seem and how powerful they think they are, are far weaker than they appear. Their bodies cannot withstand the power mine can. Their minds can bend and break quite easily while I can remain calm in even the deadliest of situations. They lose all control while I can contain myself and stay calm, saving myself and those around me. There is no thought in fear: that is why humans are weak.

I might appear weak and, because I am unusual, my white hair and dark skin, my cape wrapped around my lithe body, I am to be feared. To them, I am not normal, and anything that is not normal is not to be trusted. I see the human race crack and mend, only to crack again under the pressure of crime and prejudice and fear that cannot be contained. But, who is truly weak in this comparison?

I have known many creatures, including humans, and I vividly recall one human in particular. She was as I was: powerful, beautiful (although I still abstain from calling myself beautiful) and could face danger with pride and warrior skills that kept her alive. Never would I have thought I could meet a person such as her. I am a hardened warrior, skilled with the use of blades, able to withstand extremes that could kill anyone or anything else. And, I had to bear witness to this sort of thing that killed her.

I realized that night, as evening was closing in around us, holding her in my arms, what had happened to me. For as strong as I was on the exterior, there was a flaw inside, a frail spot that had shattered when I told myself what was truth. I refused to listen to my own rationality, confused and distraught. My heart was as frail as her body was and, when her body failed her, my heart broke. With her last breath, my heart broke. I know people use the term love in many ways and love can mean many things, but no matter how that word was used, it couldn't describe what I felt for her.

I was frail enough to let myself fall in love. I knew it was a bad idea. I knew it would cause me pain in the end, for the life span of a human is pitifully short, but it was not age that killed her, it was her love for me.

I was frail enough to let myself mourn over her. I mourn still.

Drizzt DoUrden

Sad! Sorry to bring everyone down, but I had this idea just running through my head and the plot bunnies were not going to let me ignore it. Honestly, I thought and thought and thought about this and whether I should post it and start a story, and I finally did so the bunnies would leave me alone and I could see what others thought. So, what do you think? Don't worry, the story will continue (unless everyone hates it) and I will tell everything there is to tell in terms of poor Drizzt and this frailty of his. It won't be to sappily romantic, but fantasy to me is not complete until someone has overcome the obstacle of their emotions, and love is an emotion!

Please tell me what you think! When I do a "Drizzt Journal," I'll do that in italics, but the author parts in bold. Then, when I am doing a regular chapter, I'll put the author parts in italics and the chapter itself will stay in regular print. Okay? Thanks so much for reading and please send a review: it helps the author to figure out what to do next! Thanks!