Author's Notes: This is not, by any stretch of the imagination, my best
work, but it was fun to write. I've always wanted to see Salvatore and
Cunningham collaborate, but the latter has pretty much said that it won't
ever happen, so the next best thing is to write fan fiction. Drizzt and
Liriel have to be two of my favorite characters, and I've always wanted to
see a story of them together. They are such vastly different personalities,
considering they've discovered the same world (the surface) and all the
heartaches and wonders that come with it.
Please note that this story was actually written a long time ago. It's been posted over at Lavender Eyes for a while now (thanks Rivka!). I've basically left it the same, despite any developments in the Drizzt story from "The Silent Blade" and on, and developments in the Liriel story in "Windwalker." I only fixed a few errors and such that I noticed. Reviews and suggestions are appreciated. Some reviewers over at Lavender Eyes wanted to see another story with these two, so I might do that.
Disclaimer: Forgotten Realms, Drizzt Do'Urden, Liriel Baenre, Catti-brie, and Fyodor don't belong to me. Nothing in this story does. It's just for fun, not for profit.
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Surely there was no more wretched a place than the underground city below Waterdeep, the great City of Splendors. Smelly, filthy, wet, moldy, and full of the shadiest of all characters in the Realms, Skullport held little appeal for someone who did not deal in the illegal trade business, or the black market, or who sought the services of an assassin. Drizzt Do'Urden, a noble ranger, most certainly did not advocate any of that nonsense, and he felt like a fish out of water. At least Menzoberranzan, his homeland, while possessing much of the same darkness of character, held an illusion of beauty and justice, and shadier business was conducted in the shadows.
Not here. Skullport held little pretensions, and Drizzt doubted there was any system of justice and order here. The entire place reeked of decay... and not just the physical kind.
The sooner he was out of here, the better. But first... he had to find the drow wizard that had attacked him in Waterdeep... the drow wizard that had knocked him out with a feeblemind spell... the drow wizard that had taken the fair and dear Catti-brie from him.
Khelben Arunsen, Archmage of Waterdeep, had tracked the wizard down to this wretched city, and had said to start at the Flagon and the Dragon tavern, and after asking directions from a wary human who quickly provided the information and scurried away from the drow, the ranger found the place. The place was crowded and incredibly noisy (and made up mostly of humans, though there were a few drow, an illithid or two, and other races), but few people even glanced at the ranger as he walked in. He managed to make his way to the bar, where a human stood wiping it to a shine. A tiny dragon rested on the man's shoulder, and it eyed Drizzt warily for a moment before turning its attention back to the tavern in general. The human studied the drow for a moment, expressionless.
"What can I get you, mate?" the bartender finally shouted-for one had to shout to be heard. Before the drow could answer, a scuffle broke out at the center of the room, and the barkeep turned away and motioned to a trio of large, muscular bouncers who immediately moved to break up the brawl before it turned into a tavern-destroying free-for-all. The fight was broken up and the brawlers were tossed out the door in a rather rude manner. Yet for all that, the level of noise in the room never changed, and few people took interest in the near-fight.
Just as Drizzt was about to turn back to the barkeep, a small, slender figure appeared in the doorway. An unusually small drow female entered, golden eyes studying the room speculatively. Her eyes locked momentarily with Drizzt's-and she raised a pale eyebrow in appreciation after a moment of studying him-then continued on.
"Ale," Drizzt told the bartender, who was still waiting for his reply. Not that the ranger was in any mood for a drink-he just knew that showing a little coin usually loosened a tavern owner's tongue.
"Wretched quality, here," said a melodic, pretty voice from next to him. He turned to find the drow female with the golden eyes standing there. "The ale, I mean." And she flashed a mischievous grin at the barkeep, who chuckled.
"I am sorry that my wares are not up to your standards. I will be sure to equip Elverquisst when next I know you will be in Skullport, Princess," the man replied. The drow female made a face.
"What, that watery stuff? Fah! You need to import stuff from the Underdark, Silas Broon," she replied.
"Aye... and lighten my purse even more. You know as well as I that drow aren't known for fair dealings, Liriel Baenre," the barkeep replied. He plunked down a mug of ale before the dark elf male, still grinning widely at the female.
Drizzt was a ranger, and had learned, in his many years on the surface, to remain stoic in virtually any situation. It took all his control to remain as such now. Baenre! he thought wildly. That particular house of Menzoberranzan wanted his head on a platter, served to their wretched demon goddess... and here was a female from that powerful family, probably a priestess of no small skill. Was Baenre behind the abduction of Catti-brie... it was certainly plausible. They were not above using the young woman as bait to draw Drizzt into a trap.
"It's been a while since your fair face has been seen about here, Princess," Silas Broon was saying to Liriel as he poured her a mug of ale. She nodded.
"I was pretty far from here for a while, Silas... all the way to Ruathym and Rashemen."
"Well, you're a well-traveled lass, for a drow. What in the Nine Hells were you doing with those barbarians?" the man replied. Liriel laughed, but her mirth, while genuine, seemed a bit strained.
"Helping a friend of mine," she answered. Drizzt seriously doubted that... drow, especially females, did not make friends very easily... and certainly weren't in the business of helping anyone in need. He sipped at the ale-which wasn't too bad, actually-and pretended to be studying the tavern and its patrons, though in truth he had an ear cocked on Liriel's conversation.
"But now I need your help," she continued.
"And what can old Silas do for a lass like you, who can take care of herself quite well?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Give me information," she replied grimly. "I'm looking for someone... a wizard by the name of Mat'irel Shobolar." A drow wizard, Drizzt thought. He recognized the house name... House Shobolar, one of the ruling houses of Menzoberranzan... and a house renowned for the powerful wizards it produced.
"May I ask why you're looking for this particular wizard?" Silas asked politely, though carefully.
"He... has something of mine," Liriel replied grimly. "And I want it back... now."
"Shobolar is involved with the Iron Ring."
"I know. That's why I need to find him now... before what he has that's mine becomes the property of someone else."
"Ah..." Silas said, nodding in understanding. Drizzt wished he knew what in the Nine Hells they were talking about. What was the Iron Ring? By the gods, though he had been here for all of an hour, he despised the city. His frustration at his own ignorance of this wretched place and his worry about his beloved companion was getting to him. Besides... he had a terrible headache... a product of landing on the street in Waterdeep when he had been knocked out.
"Shobolar pops in here every now and again... to drown his ills. I don't know where he is now, but you might keep an eye on his townhouse. It's in the Central Heart... near Dalagor's Fortress. You know where that is?"
"Yes. Thank you, Silas. You've been a great help," Liriel said. She left a few coins for the half-touched ale, then was gone out the door, obviously in a great hurry.
"Aye, lass. At your service," the man said in amusement, though she was long gone. He turned away to attend to another customer.
Drizzt left a few coins on the bar for his own drink, then slipped away after the Baenre female. His instincts told him to follow her, and besides that, he wanted to keep an eye on anyone from House Baenre.
Please note that this story was actually written a long time ago. It's been posted over at Lavender Eyes for a while now (thanks Rivka!). I've basically left it the same, despite any developments in the Drizzt story from "The Silent Blade" and on, and developments in the Liriel story in "Windwalker." I only fixed a few errors and such that I noticed. Reviews and suggestions are appreciated. Some reviewers over at Lavender Eyes wanted to see another story with these two, so I might do that.
Disclaimer: Forgotten Realms, Drizzt Do'Urden, Liriel Baenre, Catti-brie, and Fyodor don't belong to me. Nothing in this story does. It's just for fun, not for profit.
____________________________________________________________________________ __
Surely there was no more wretched a place than the underground city below Waterdeep, the great City of Splendors. Smelly, filthy, wet, moldy, and full of the shadiest of all characters in the Realms, Skullport held little appeal for someone who did not deal in the illegal trade business, or the black market, or who sought the services of an assassin. Drizzt Do'Urden, a noble ranger, most certainly did not advocate any of that nonsense, and he felt like a fish out of water. At least Menzoberranzan, his homeland, while possessing much of the same darkness of character, held an illusion of beauty and justice, and shadier business was conducted in the shadows.
Not here. Skullport held little pretensions, and Drizzt doubted there was any system of justice and order here. The entire place reeked of decay... and not just the physical kind.
The sooner he was out of here, the better. But first... he had to find the drow wizard that had attacked him in Waterdeep... the drow wizard that had knocked him out with a feeblemind spell... the drow wizard that had taken the fair and dear Catti-brie from him.
Khelben Arunsen, Archmage of Waterdeep, had tracked the wizard down to this wretched city, and had said to start at the Flagon and the Dragon tavern, and after asking directions from a wary human who quickly provided the information and scurried away from the drow, the ranger found the place. The place was crowded and incredibly noisy (and made up mostly of humans, though there were a few drow, an illithid or two, and other races), but few people even glanced at the ranger as he walked in. He managed to make his way to the bar, where a human stood wiping it to a shine. A tiny dragon rested on the man's shoulder, and it eyed Drizzt warily for a moment before turning its attention back to the tavern in general. The human studied the drow for a moment, expressionless.
"What can I get you, mate?" the bartender finally shouted-for one had to shout to be heard. Before the drow could answer, a scuffle broke out at the center of the room, and the barkeep turned away and motioned to a trio of large, muscular bouncers who immediately moved to break up the brawl before it turned into a tavern-destroying free-for-all. The fight was broken up and the brawlers were tossed out the door in a rather rude manner. Yet for all that, the level of noise in the room never changed, and few people took interest in the near-fight.
Just as Drizzt was about to turn back to the barkeep, a small, slender figure appeared in the doorway. An unusually small drow female entered, golden eyes studying the room speculatively. Her eyes locked momentarily with Drizzt's-and she raised a pale eyebrow in appreciation after a moment of studying him-then continued on.
"Ale," Drizzt told the bartender, who was still waiting for his reply. Not that the ranger was in any mood for a drink-he just knew that showing a little coin usually loosened a tavern owner's tongue.
"Wretched quality, here," said a melodic, pretty voice from next to him. He turned to find the drow female with the golden eyes standing there. "The ale, I mean." And she flashed a mischievous grin at the barkeep, who chuckled.
"I am sorry that my wares are not up to your standards. I will be sure to equip Elverquisst when next I know you will be in Skullport, Princess," the man replied. The drow female made a face.
"What, that watery stuff? Fah! You need to import stuff from the Underdark, Silas Broon," she replied.
"Aye... and lighten my purse even more. You know as well as I that drow aren't known for fair dealings, Liriel Baenre," the barkeep replied. He plunked down a mug of ale before the dark elf male, still grinning widely at the female.
Drizzt was a ranger, and had learned, in his many years on the surface, to remain stoic in virtually any situation. It took all his control to remain as such now. Baenre! he thought wildly. That particular house of Menzoberranzan wanted his head on a platter, served to their wretched demon goddess... and here was a female from that powerful family, probably a priestess of no small skill. Was Baenre behind the abduction of Catti-brie... it was certainly plausible. They were not above using the young woman as bait to draw Drizzt into a trap.
"It's been a while since your fair face has been seen about here, Princess," Silas Broon was saying to Liriel as he poured her a mug of ale. She nodded.
"I was pretty far from here for a while, Silas... all the way to Ruathym and Rashemen."
"Well, you're a well-traveled lass, for a drow. What in the Nine Hells were you doing with those barbarians?" the man replied. Liriel laughed, but her mirth, while genuine, seemed a bit strained.
"Helping a friend of mine," she answered. Drizzt seriously doubted that... drow, especially females, did not make friends very easily... and certainly weren't in the business of helping anyone in need. He sipped at the ale-which wasn't too bad, actually-and pretended to be studying the tavern and its patrons, though in truth he had an ear cocked on Liriel's conversation.
"But now I need your help," she continued.
"And what can old Silas do for a lass like you, who can take care of herself quite well?" the man asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Give me information," she replied grimly. "I'm looking for someone... a wizard by the name of Mat'irel Shobolar." A drow wizard, Drizzt thought. He recognized the house name... House Shobolar, one of the ruling houses of Menzoberranzan... and a house renowned for the powerful wizards it produced.
"May I ask why you're looking for this particular wizard?" Silas asked politely, though carefully.
"He... has something of mine," Liriel replied grimly. "And I want it back... now."
"Shobolar is involved with the Iron Ring."
"I know. That's why I need to find him now... before what he has that's mine becomes the property of someone else."
"Ah..." Silas said, nodding in understanding. Drizzt wished he knew what in the Nine Hells they were talking about. What was the Iron Ring? By the gods, though he had been here for all of an hour, he despised the city. His frustration at his own ignorance of this wretched place and his worry about his beloved companion was getting to him. Besides... he had a terrible headache... a product of landing on the street in Waterdeep when he had been knocked out.
"Shobolar pops in here every now and again... to drown his ills. I don't know where he is now, but you might keep an eye on his townhouse. It's in the Central Heart... near Dalagor's Fortress. You know where that is?"
"Yes. Thank you, Silas. You've been a great help," Liriel said. She left a few coins for the half-touched ale, then was gone out the door, obviously in a great hurry.
"Aye, lass. At your service," the man said in amusement, though she was long gone. He turned away to attend to another customer.
Drizzt left a few coins on the bar for his own drink, then slipped away after the Baenre female. His instincts told him to follow her, and besides that, he wanted to keep an eye on anyone from House Baenre.