The dark elf lay back against the smooth, sweet-smelling grass, ruby eyes gazing up calmly at the clear stars. She could only venture out of her small cave during the night, so that the bright light of day wouldn't hurt her sensitive drow eyes. This was the time when she hunted for food, scared off intruders, or simply admired the scenery. The elf hated that after three years, her eyes still weren't used to the bright white sun that was the source of light on the surface.
Naesala often dwelt upon ideas of trying to return to Menzoberranzan, but almost always shot those down. After all, there was no way in hell that her kin would accept her. They may pretend to have forgotten you, as dark elves do, but they really remembered, and if the young girl was to return, that would mean certain death. She currently had no friends, no enemies, no one to love, no one to hate. She was alone, sadly alone. Sure, she could try to pretend that she liked the calm, boringness of it, as most in the Underdark did, but she, in fact, abhorred it. She often reminisced about her old status, stature, meaning, friends, and enemies. Life was boring without others in it. The only living creatures she saw for the last three years were the animals she ate and occasional groups of dwarfs heading to Mithral Hall. She wasn't stupid enough to attempt anything on these short, hairy people because of how prejudiced they were against her kind. Although, one time, she had been almost completely certain that she had spotted a singular dark elf among one of the groups. He had had beautiful lavender eyes, unusual for a drow, and the smooth, athletic gait of a trained fighter. She had shaken herself of that silly idea too, knowing that there could never be a drow coexisting with such an easily aroused people.
After the girl's mind had wandered off at the thought of dark elves getting along with dwarfs, she smiled slightly and closed her eyes. Almost immediately, however, she was alerted by a sharp crack in the woods that were surrounding her small clearing. She sat up and the eyes snapped back open. Her hands instantly jumped to the short dirks that hung from either side of her belt, her many years of violent, difficult, and even sultry training at Melee-Magthere coming into play. Silently standing up, she switched her vision into the infrared spectrum, searching for bright sources of heat in the cool forest. Instantly, she spotted a figure, significantly shorter than herself and much rounder, bumbling off to the left. She snaked forward silently, knives in hands, because the creature was obviously facing away from her. She quietly crept up on them, her mouth in the shape of a grimace due to her concentration.
"Now, where is that stupid hall?Bruenor never gives me good enough directions..." the creature mumbled to itself. Bruenor? She had heard the other dwarfs talk about him, and she was positive that he was their leader.
She made a split-second decision, one that would perhaps change her current, bland life for forever. She launched herself at the tubby shape, throwing her whole body into the tackle in case it was too heavy to be brought down by ordinary means. She rebounded off the creature almost comically, which she now discovered to be a flabby halfling, and landed softly on the ground in a ready position. The halfling hit the ground with a thud, and squealed with indignance. He waved his arms wildly in a hopeless attempt to right himself. The elf carefully walked over to him and set her booted foot on his chest.
"And who are you?" she asked, her first words to another rational person in over three years. She had forgotten that the poor, trembling thing didn't speak her language. The halfling stared up at her with terror blazing in his eyes, his double chins growing to triple chins as he tried to escape her simple grasp.
"I-I-I-I-," he stammered, unable to break his gaze away from hers and answer her question. The elf was about to ask him again, with much more force, when she felt the pointed tip of a weapon pressed under her sharp jawline. She froze and turned her eyes to look at the source of the item that could lead to her downfall.
A drow, slightly taller than her, was staring her directly in the face. His bright violet eyes were burning with fury. Naesala knew that this short, fat being must have been important to him. She stared straight back at him, completely unnerved (at least, on the outside). She was, indeed, quite surprised and shocked to see another dark elf, but judging from the look on his face, so was he.
"What the fuckare you doing here?" he demanded, one of his arms holding a scimitar to her throat. She took a minute to process that he was asking her a question, and before she could answer, he started pressing the tip of the sword harder against her. This had quite an intimidating effect on her, and she attempted to take her foot off of the halfling and back away. However, he commanded her to stop moving and answer the question. She tried to fabricate a reply but her breath had caught in her throat, dry mouth setting in. She shook her head gently and subtly several times, trying to indicate that she didn't want to fight. Mistakenly, the angry drow took that as a sign that she wasn't going to tell him her reason for being here, so he stepped forward carefully, keeping the scimitar barely at bay, and grabbed her by an ebony arm. Disregarding her training, she dropped her dirks and crossed her hands over her chest. He stopped suddenly, confused by her actions. This had been what she was hoping for. She peeked at him through her arms to see if he was still in "attack mode."
He cautiously kicked her dirks out of her reach, and glared at her. He walked behind her, keeping a close eye on her so that she wouldn't make a move on him.
"Give me your arms and sit down," was the command he gave her, and she, somewhat unwillingly, obliged. He ripped of a cord from one of his layers of clothing, and tied her hands behind her back skillfully. She wondered where he got those skills from and why he chose to employ them at this point in time. He roughly picked her up by the arms so that she was back on her feet, and then said, "Stay." She glared at him, somewhat enraged but also intrigued about where she'd be heading. The male drow stepped away from her and towards the halfling.
"You okay, Regis?" he asked to the still-mumbling thing. He assured the dark elf that he was unharmed, but that he may have lost a few precious jewels and he must set about to finding them at once.
"Leave them-we have to get you to safety first. There may be more of them lurking out here," the elf answered him, turning to glace at Naesala with slight hatred. "And we're taking her with us." The halfling looked appalled at this idea, and started to speak his mind until the elf cut him off.
"Bruenor will want to see her," he stated, and the subject was dropped. He walked behind the girl-again, cautiously-and told her to start walking. She took a single step forward and immediately tripped over a root unceremoniously. Her short skirt she wore flipped up, exposing her simple black undies. She struggled to stand, feeling her face grow white-hot with embarrassment. She couldn't see the other drow's expression, but from the way Regis looked, she knew that neither of them seemed too interested in her. The elf helped her up and her skirt fell back into place.
"We're going to get you pants once we get to Mithral Hall," the drow grumbled, and she knew that he was as embarrassed as the halfling and her.
She stumbled over practically everything on the trip to the dwarfs' dwelling-place, but you made sure not to fall over again. She had not traveled so far in so long that she couldn't quite get the hang of watching where her feet were. Neither she nor the other drow said another word the entire way, but the pesky tubby wouldn't stop talking.
As soon as she arrived at the huge mountain, she marveled at the gorgeous infrastructure of the place. Not that it distracted her from the now-painful rope tied about her wrists. She started complaining something terrible to the drow about the burns and scars she would have on them and about how the light was hurting her eyes. This attracted the attention of all of the dwarfs that the three walked by, and all of them chuckled at the sight of the girl complaining, the other elf disdainfully ignoring her, and the short halfling who was chatting away at the same time.
A red-bearded dwarf met the trio shortly, his appearance being all Naesala needed to see to understand who this character was. He was quite obviously the Bruenor that had been mentioned previously.
"Ah, Drizzt, me ol' pal! And who is this round thing? Regis! I haven't seen ye in ages!" the dwarf exclaimed excitedly, but quickly furrowed his brow. "And...who is this?" he asked suspiciously.
"Um, yes...this is...one of my own," Drizzt answered, his voice controlled. "I found her on the outskirts of the hall."
Bruenor contemplated her for a moment. She sneered at him, squinting slightly because of the light being thrown off by the torches. She had gained more confidence that the drow wasn't going to kill her, so she had become quite a bit more outgoing and obnoxious. Finally, he rubbed his enormous beard and grinned.
"Well, why don't ye take care o' 'er? Ye can be 'er caretaker til we find out 'er purposes," he said, continuing to grin at you and his own idea. Drizzt sighed because now he was to be responsible for her now, since he was the one who brought her in anyways.
"Yes...well, I guess I'll show her to my chambers now. I suppose she can stay there for the remainder of her time here," he replied. He took her by the wrists again, and pulled her towards a tall staircase.
"You're gonna make me walk up all of that?" she grimaced, adjusting herr hands so that the cord wasn't rubbing up against the burns it had created previously. Drizzt sighed again, rubbing the bridge of his nose and his pale hair falling over his face. He should have just killed her. He took out one of his scimitars, and as she heard him do so, she tensed up in preparation of fighting back. But then she felt the blade swiftly and neatly snap the cord tying her hands together. She slowly dropped her hands, wary that he was going to do something to her, especially with her back facing away from him.
"Walk," he said brusquely, giving her a slight push for motivation. He re-sheathed his scimitar, and followed behind her as you climbed the stairs.
After she had reached the top, he directed her to his room. She entered slowly, half-wondering if something or someone was going to spring out at her and attack. Instead, she just saw a plain and simple room. A bed, two small tables, a few torches, and a wardrobe were all that were in sight. She turned to him accusingly.
"Where am I supposed to sleep, smarty-pants? In case you haven't noticed, there's only one bed."
The drow moved so quickly that she could hardly see him. He lifted her up with ease and slammed her onto the bed, pressing a hand against her mouth.
"Shut. Up."
She stared up at him, slightly in fear, slightly in arousal. She could have been in danger, but she was thinking of those muscles that must be laying under his clothes for him to be able to carry her so effortlessly. He glared at her for another moment, his eyes locked with hers, and then released her, turning away. She laid there for another moment, somewhat in shock, and then sat up. She knew that he hadn't done that just to get her to be quiet.
"You living with these dwarfs...that must mean that you haven't seen other drow in a long time, right?" she asked, and then continued when he ignored her. "And that means that you probably haven't had intercourse in a long time." She was used to talking about the subject because of her status in the Underdark, where she had had quite a few partners, especially since she was female. He turned to look at her, a strange expression on his face almost like shock or discomfort.
"Wha…-" he said, trailing off. She could tell that he knew what she said was true, but that he wouldn't admit it. He was probably the type who tried to look as if he didn't care much for sex. She grinned at him seductively and in a joking manner.
"I-go to sleep," he said, and then left.