"Arwen, be calm."

She was anything but calm, and that name was far from helpful in suppressing her frustration. "Let me help you Aragorn. If this quest is as important as you say then take me with you. I won't be a burden."

"Arwen… you are still unwell. The journey will be a harsh one."

But she wasn't ill. She was simply dead certain she wasn't who everyone said she was. Their answer was always the same. But she knew differently. "My name is Drizzt."

"You should rest," murmured Aragorn. He reached out to tenderly brush her cheek but Drizzt leapt upwards, landing nimbly with slippered feet atop the railing. Beneath her lay a sparkling waterfall, so different in its beauty from the stark environs of the Underdark. Aragorn attempted to capture her and pull her to safety but she deftly sidestepped him without ever losing her balance on the slender stone railing.

"I can't stay in this dying city. If I rest any longer I fear I'll suffocate."

Drizzt hopped off the railing, landing near the man Arwen was said to have loved. Aragorn was a pleasant sort, for a human. But then again, everyone had been nice to her here, in this body. If she was still violet-eyed drow she doubted her welcome would have been quite so friendly. Assuming, that is, they even knew what a drow was. The more she learned of this land the more alien it seemed. The surface world was larger than she'd ever imagined.

She dearly wished still had Guenhwyvar, but the panther was as lost to her as her male body was. Sometimes all that kept the Hunter personality from surfacing was the warmth of the sun on her face. Drizzt had left the Underdark after many years of wandering and glimpsed the sun for but a moment before awaking in Arwen's body several months ago. This new land, new life, was a realization of her dreams in many ways. Still, sometimes it was hard not to grab a knife and cut her way to freedom. The stifling care of the elves of Rivendell was different from everything she'd experienced. It was lucky she was always quick to pick up languages or they might never have let her out of Arwen's chambers.

Drizzt matched eyes with Aragorn, looking for cracks in his resolve but finding none. "So be it," said Drizzt. She turned to walk away.

"Arwen, don't let us part like this. You know that I love you. I would make your every wish come true, but not if it carries you to ruin."

Drizzt baked away from him like a skittish horse, turning her face away from his devotion. There was little love to be found amongst drow, but in her most peculiar life she had learned enough of the subject to know that what she was about to say would hurt him deeply. She steeled herself and met his eyes again. "I fail to see why you have any right to dictate how I live my life. If you will not take me at my word then I'll prove it with steel. Duel me to first blood, Ranger."

But then Elrond came upon them and the game was lost. "Aragorn," he said, "the fellowship awaits you at the gates. You should tarry no longer." Usually Drizzt was glad that Arwen's father disapproved of her suitor and did his best to keep them apart, but in this case she was frustrated with him and his unusual ability to know whenever she spoke to Aragorn.

Drizzt slipped away unnoticed by the pair of posturing men. If she couldn't leave with their blessing she'd leave without it. They permitted her no weapons during her supposed recovery, but she refused to let that stop her. There was no telling what Naomi, her caretaker, would or wouldn't notice missing, but she was confident she could grab a few useful things. Grabbing appropriate clothes and supplies for a longer journey through unknown terrain was probably out of the question though. If her gambit was discovered too early they could drag her back. Drizzt wasn't particularly worried about leaving under-equipped though. Whatever dangers lurked in the surface world, she fiercely doubted they could compare to the terrors of the Underdark.

Proper travel rations and gear were denied to her, but there was always other options. Drizzt had observed that these high elves were remarkably trusting. That her new body was that of the lord of Rivendell's daughter only made that trust more obvious. The knowledge that with every moment the fellowship drew further away made her anxious to depart as well, but Drizzt was careful to show none of it to the elves she passed. As long as she kept her face from giving her away, the only ones who might fathom her plan in time was Elrond or Arwen's brothers.

Food from the banquet for the fellowship remained for the taking on the eastern plaza. Drizzt was cautious in her thefts, a plate of fruits and bread all she took at first. Meat came next. The high elves were not fond of red meat but had graciously provided it for the men, hobbits and dwarves that had attended the council. Drizzt wished they'd been so gracious with her. Despite the change of body she'd been craving a nice rare steak for weeks now.

After squirrelling the food away in a stone alcove by the waterfall she moved to her next target. It was child's play to sneak into the kitchens, hidden by the sounds of bubbling pots and the cutting of vegetables. It wasn't food she searched for now - she already had as many perishables as could be easily carried and eaten - but tools. Silent as an assassin she liberated a bag of crushed salt and a small iron pot. Most of the knives were kept too deeply in the kitchen to try for safely, but Drizzt did manage to snag a small paring knife that had been left out. It would be enough, thought Drizzt. At least so long as she didn't run into any dragons.

Mission accomplished, she slinked out of the kitchen. "Xsa'ol," she cursed under her breath in Drowic. Drizzt spun around a corner and headed into the gardens to avoid the oncoming threat. She was nearly certain she'd sensed Elrond approaching. Most of the time Arwen's father appeared quite unthreatening, but Drizzt had learned that the ellon (elf-man) had hidden depths. When his mood was dark the air grew heavy in his presence as if storm clouds gathered on his shoulders. She'd planned to go to her room next and gather a few items from the elf princess's titanic wardrobe but Elrond's bad humour left Drizzt uneasy.

Inspiration struck as she once more passed by the picnic tables. A furtive glance revealed no one in the area as she darted out into the clearing to snatch a tablecloth. It wouldn't replace an oiled cloak or a good pair of boots but at least it would give her a way to carry her supplies. Last essential item acquired, she retreated to her hidden alcove to wait for the appropriate moment.


Once again, Drizzt marveled as colors painted the sky with the sun's fading glory. Even as a drow Drizzt had been breathtaken by the beauty of the surface world. Now that she could experience it without the sun burning her skin and eyes, the beauty of the green expanse was even more profound. The night, however, held its own allure. Drizzt was no stranger to the dark, but there was something about staring up into a boundless sky full of tiny points of light that freed the soul. More practically, it meant that the time to escape had arrived at last.

Drizzt bundled up her supplies in the tablecloth as quietly as possible, listening for sounds of approaching elves all the while. Few except for Arwen's mischievous brothers made any conscious attempt to be stealthy but the high-elves were naturally light-footed. It would only take one incautious moment to have one stumble upon her unawares. Thankfully the coast was clear as she made her way to the railing overlooking the waterfall. For the second time that day Drizzt took up the precarious perch, this time more cautiously. The food and cooking supplies she carried in the tablecloth were an even more cumbersome and awkward burden than she'd imagined.

Drizzt closed her eyes, ignoring the braided hair rustling at her neck and the billowing of the skirt Naomi had forced her into. Using the wind as a meditative focus she called to her magic. In many ways it was a less fickle energy than what she had channeled as a drow, but it was also less eager. It took patient coaxing to form the energy into anything useable. What had once been the simplest of cantrips were now nearly beyond her grasp. Innate drow skills like conjuring a globe of darkness were often even trickier. For whatever reason they were difficult to cast at night, and virtually impossible during the day.

Drizzt gasped as at last the magic rose to her bidding. The levitation spell lay ready, but beyond it lay an ocean of energy. It filled her body with strength, sharpening her senses until they rivalled the Hunter's, that half-feral mentality that had nearly consumed Drizzt during her years in the Underdark. That was when she felt it - an out of place murmur of wind. Drizzt spun on the railing, nearly falling as she saw who approached.

"Glorfindel, what are you doing here?" Inwardly Drizzt was cursing up a storm. In all of Rivendell there was only one elf perhaps more powerful than Elrond, and thanks her to Lloth-cursed luck he was standing nearly in arms' reach. Could he grab her before she could jump away? Drizzt wasn't sure.

"Searching for you," replied Glorfindel, voice calm and subtly confident as always. "Your father is worried for you."

"He need not," she replied sharply. "I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." Drizzt hesitated, unsure of whether or not to twist the knife. "Besides," she continued, "I'm not really his daughter. Perhaps this will prove that."

She leapt, wind in her hair as she slid through the air. "Arwen!" shouted Glorfindel as he tried to grab her - too late. The levitation spell kept her feather-light as she glided away from the cliffs. Then, quite suddenly, the wind changed. Her lack of weight worked against her now. AS a drow the spell had simply created an upward push, but her best recreation of the innate spell was to lower her weight to nearly nothing. As a result, the wind shifted her course as quickly as it would the feather her weight resembled.

For a brief moment she despaired, but then her frustration burned hot. "I won't let you imprison me here Glorfindel!" she shouted over the wind. Spinning in midair she threw the sack of items at him as hard as her arms would allow. It didn't hit him, sadly, but the cloud of salt that exploded from it ruined Glorfindel's concentration. The recoil from the sack and the shift of the wind sent her hurtling away from the cliff.

The distance between her and Glorfindel was over a hundred paces now, likely too far for his magics to grasp her again. Still, Drizzt had already underestimated the elf lord once. Easing her hold on the levitation spell her weight increased to that of a small rabbit (amazingly fluffy, these surface creatures were). The force of gravity accelerated her travel to just barely safe speeds. Luckily while Arwen's arms weren't up to Drizzt's standards, her legs were passably strong allowing her to come to a trotting landing along the icy riverbank.

She glanced back, Glorfindel literally glowing in the twilight. She worried for a moment that the elf-lord would leap down the cliff after her but instead he turned and disappeared, no doubt off to inform Elrond of his daughter's escape.

She'd have to hurry. She'd intended to glide for miles and land near the fellowship but instead Drizzt was a bare 300 paces from Rivendell and on the wrong side of the river. The terrain might stop her pursuers from using horses but her - Arwen's - brothers wouldn't let that stop them for long. In less than an hour's time they'd be on her trail, and whether it took one day or seven they would run her down. Unless… unless she didn't leave a trail.

The forest was lovely, dark and deep; the trees wondrous yet calming. If the night nurtured her magic, the woods breathed life into it. Drawing on the energy of the forest it was easier than ever to maintain the levitation spell. Well-timed leaps carried her from tree to tree, each jump carrying her thirty feet or more. If not for the wind it could have been even farther, but even so the river proved little obstacle. Sadly the trees soon faded out into grassland, and their strength with them.

Despite showing talent during her brief time at the Sorcere tower, Drizzt acknowledged she was no mage. The knowledge that all drow had a chaotic resistance to magic that caused many spells cast on them to fizzle had left her dubious of the value of spellcraft. The knowledge that most sorcerers were reduced to casting glitter charms on noble drow houses to earn their keep had further dulled her appetite to learn magic. She'd let her skills in the field languish ever since the apprenticeship ended and she was paying for it now. Despite the spell being weak, the twenty minutes spent in concentration were already giving her a headache.

She let her weight rise to sixty pounds or so to better combat the wind, long ten-foot strides carrying her across the plains faster than any horse. The bounce of her chest was both annoying and disturbing, but not too disruptive to her running rhythm. Thankfully high elves seemed to be less bosomy than drow, proportionally at least. She doubted her sister Vierna could have run like this without some sort of restraint.

She took a long drink from the river before turning east. Thanks to Glorfindel it might be the last water she had until she found the fellowship. The dull ache in her head was only increasing, despite lowering the strength of the levitation spell. She kept at it though. There was still ground to cover and with the way her legs were starting to burn there was no way she could make it without the aid of the spell.

In the end she nearly passed them by. A particularly high leap brought her sight of a small campfire, dug into the dirt. It was hard to believe that they'd made so little progress from Rivendell, but as she drew closer she spied Aragorn's too-familiar silhouette. Dropping her weight to just a few pounds she landed lightly on his head, drawing the astonishment of the fellowship. "Miss me?" she said, right before she canceled the spell entirely and sent his face crashing into his bowl of porridge.