A/N: Hello to those who know me and newcomers alike! This is a fic I wrote several years back and decided what the hell, I'll let it see the light of day. It's already fully complete on my hard drive. I mention that for those who are waiting for updates on Necessary Things so don't worry–putting up this new fic won't slow updates on NT! Because God knows NT needs nothing else slowing it down. *bangs head against wall* *leaves dent* Anyway…
When I wrote this, I attempted to do so in the "voice" of the original books. Not sure if I succeeded, but I am sure that I'm not going to rewrite it into my own voice! ;) So that'll explain why the style is so different from my other fics or my books. And that's enough blabbing from me.
Oh, and I don't own the Forgotten Realms or any of its characters, either. In case you were confused about that. Just don't forget to review, my lovelies!
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Drizzt Do'Urden stopped so suddenly Bruenor walked right into him. "What're ye doin', elf?" the dwarf demanded, irritated at the delay.
Drizzt stooped to examine the ground, ignoring Bruenor's ill temper. "Blood," he said grimly, touching the ground with a fingertip. His eyes followed the grisly trail along the path ahead. "And it follows our path."
Bruenor grunted and rested a hand on his mithril axe. "Whatever it be, it won't find me unprepared," he said. "Lead on."
Drizzt's lavender eyes picked out patch after patch of blood on the ground as they continued cautiously along the path. When the tundra yielded to the rocks of Kelvin's Cairn, Drizzt drew his scimitar.
"What is it?" Bruenor asked, his axe now in his hand as his eyes attempted to pick out what Drizzt had seen in the darkness.
The drow prodded something with his blade. "A Yeti," he replied. "It's dead." He bent and grasped the handle of a small dagger embedded in its throat, wiping the blade on the dead beast's fur.
Bruenor visibly relaxed. "Sure'n that explains the blood."
"No," Drizzt replied, spotting more dark splotches upon the rocks further up. "The bloodstains continue."
They walked on until they reached the mouth of the shallow cave Drizzt called home, the trail of blood leading their way. Outside the dark cave Drizzt motioned for Bruenor to wait and entered his home alone, his lavender eyes flashing with anger at the intrusion of his privacy.
Bruenor waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the handle of his axe. Drizzt could hear his tapping clearly in the black cave, but it was not the only sound he heard and he followed his ears silently, scimitars ready to forever silence that sound if necessary.
Drizzt glided toward the whisper of breath rasping softly at the back of his cave. When he was within striking distance he drew Twinkle, his magical blade, and instantly the darkness was lit with a gentle blue glow as he prepared to strike.
But the blow never fell. Hearing Drizzt's involuntary gasp, Bruenor ran into the cave, following the blue light of the sword to find his friend. "What is it?" he demanded even as his eyes found the answer to his question.
There on the stone floor lay a figure, torn and bloodstained, but undeniably female. Her hair was dark, but in the dim light the dwarf could not tell if that was its true color or if the strands were darkened with blood. Remembering the gruesome trail they had followed and seeing the pool of blood around her, Bruenor was astounded that she was breathing at all.
The dwarf's sudden arrival seemed to jolt Drizzt out of his shock. He sheathed his scimitars and conjured a small fire, bathing them in sudden warmth and flickering light. "Help me," Drizzt said, moving the limp form nearer to the fire. "We have to find her wounds and stop the bleeding."
Bruenor didn't argue. Together they discovered the full extent of the injuries inflicted by the yeti and their surprise at finding her still alive grew. Four deep claw gashes across her back oozed slowly, but the bites on her forearms, although deep, had already stopped bleeding. However, a long, jagged cut on her leg that ran from her thigh to below her knee that missed the big vein in her leg by less than an inch still bled freely.
Drizzt heated the blade of a dagger in the fire until it glowed red and held it to the torn flesh, searing the edges of the wounds. He repeated the procedure several times until most of the bleeding had stopped while Bruenor cleaned the bites with surprising gentleness. Throughout their ministrations their patient did not move or make a sound, not even when the red-hot metal came in contact with her flesh. Both warriors had seen enough casualties of battle to know that her chances were slim.
At dawn Bruenor rose. "I'll send Catti-brie to ye," he said, lifting his axe and slinging it over his shoulder. "She's the best healer o' us all." Drizzt nodded his thanks as the dwarf stomped out, knowing that the elf needed all the help she could get if she were to survive.
For elf she was, undoubtedly. Drizzt had not commented on this to Bruenor, both of them absorbed in their own tasks, but Drizzt had seen the slant of her closed eyes and the characteristic pointed ears beneath the dark hair. And as he'd wiped the blood from her face he'd seen the tiny mark beside her right ear, barely visible in the dim light—a miniscule eight-pointed star.
The symbol of Eledhwen, ruling family of the Elves.
Drizzt wrapped her in his furs and covered her with his own cloak before tossing another stick or two on the fire. Then he busied himself with cleaning the blood from the cave, the task automatic as his thoughts wandered. Why would one of the Eledhwen be anywhere near Icewind Dale, and unguarded? Surface elves were seldom seen this far north, preferring the forests and seas of the southern lands. King Varmil Eledhwen's influence did not extend this far north—no king was recognized in the Dale.
The only elves in Icewind Dale were outcasts, like Drizzt himself. And any one of them would have recognized the mark of Eledhwen even as he had.
Catti-brie arrived just after midnight, her pack loaded with bandages, pots of unguents and bundled herbs. Drizzt rose in greeting, but the young woman's eyes were already on her patient. "What happened to her?" Catti-brie asked, kneeling down and placing a hand to the wounded elf's brow. "She's freezing!"
"From what Bruenor and I can tell, she was attacked by a yeti," Drizzt said, bringing another log to place on the fire. "We found the body of the yeti not far from here and followed the trail of blood here."
The young woman's eyebrows rose. "Who killed it?"
Drizzt shrugged. "Apparently she did," he said, nodding at the little dagger on the stone floor beside the elf. "This was embedded in the thing's throat. We found no sign anyone else on the trail."
She turned back to the elf, impressed. "I like her already," she said. "Now let's be hopin' she fights these injuries as fiercely."
Catti-brie removed Drizzt's cloak from the elf-woman and handed it to the drow before peeling away the furs. "I'll be needin' some hot water," she said, unwrapping one of the elf's arms and reaching for a small clay pot full of some thick ointment that made Drizzt's nose ache. He gladly went to the other side of the cave to fill a pot with water to escape the smell of the healing mixtures Catti-brie applied to the wounds.
"Nothin' like a yeti-bite for poisonin' the blood," Catti-brie said darkly. "Look, it's already started." Drizzt glanced over and saw that the bites were already an angry red despite Bruenor's careful cleaning. Catti-brie dipped her fingers in the pungent ointment. Noticing the drow's disgusted glance, she smiled. "May not smell pretty, Drizzt," she said, "but it gets the job done."
When the water boiled, the young woman threw some herbs into the pot and set it away from the fire. "When it's cool, we'll strain it," she told Drizzt. "Sure'n she's lost too much blood. If we don't get some o' this into her, she'll die."
Together drow and woman nursed the mysterious elf, sleeping in turns and waiting for any change as the night ebbed into day, and day bled away to night again. They trickled drops of the herbal broth into her mouth frequently and changed her bandages twice a day. Thanks to Catti-brie's meticulous care the wounds on the elf's arms soon lost their threatening redness and began to close, but she showed no sign of returning to consciousness and despite the fire and the furs her skin remained icy-cold.
Three days passed in this fashion before Drizzt shook Catti-brie awake one night. "She's stirring," he whispered, then faded into the deep shadows at the back of the cave. Catti-brie understood his concern. If the elf were indeed waking, it would do her no good to see a drow bending over her. In time she might realize that Drizzt was different from his bloodthirsty kin, but in this delicate state of health it was wiser to delay the shock of seeing him until she was stronger.
Catti-brie knelt beside the elf and gently touched her brow. "Wake up, lady elf," she said softly. "You're safe here."
The elf's eyelids fluttered and she moaned. Catti-brie took her hand and repeated, "Wake up, lady elf. C'mon, open yer eyes." At last her eyelids opened, revealing eyes of the same vivid green as a perfectly cut emerald or a lush meadow at the height of spring. Even dazed and unfocused, those eyes had the power to render Catti-brie momentarily speechless.
"Manke naa amin?"
The cracked whisper brought Catti-brie back to her senses but she didn't understand the elf's words. She'd only heard Elven once or twice in her lifetime and knew not one word of the language. She looked around helplessly, not really expecting to see Drizzt but not knowing what else to do.
She was surprised to see him step out of the shadows on the other side of the wounded elf. "Vys naa varna," he said quietly in the Elven tongue, telling Catti-brie with a glance not to let the elf turn to look at him, but she seemed too weak to turn her head.
"Mani marte?" the elf whispered.
"Vys nae harwe e' dagora yassen yeti," Drizzt replied. "Vys naa varna sii'. Esta sinome, arwen."
"Hantale," she said, her eyelids falling as if the strength to keep her eyes open was fading fast.
"Mani naa essa en vys?" Drizzt asked quickly, seeing that her strength was waning.
"Iralen," she sighed, and then her eyes closed and her fingers loosened around Catti-brie's.
Several moments passed but her eyes remained closed. Drizzt made sure she was truly sleeping before he moved to Catti-brie's side. "What did you say to her?" Catti-brie whispered, still holding the elf's hand. "Sure'n I didn't understand a word."
"She wanted to know where she was, what happened. I told her only that she was safe and that she'd been injured fighting the yeti," Drizzt said, looking down at the elf's bruised but beautiful face. "Her name is Iralen."
Catti-brie looked at him in surprise. "I didn't know you spoke the Elven tongue."
He shrugged. "I learned it long ago," he said simply, "but I've had little chance to use the knowledge."
Knowing Drizzt as she did, Catti-brie suspected he'd learned the language before coming to the surface and discovering how deeply his surface cousins hated his kind. More than anyone else, she knew how he had longed to be accepted by the light elves, how he had hoped they would see beyond the color of his skin and see the color of his heart. She looked down at Iralen and wondered if this one would reward his gentle care with hatred too.
"Well, tis' glad I am that ye knew some words to soothe her," Catti-brie said, releasing Iralen's hand and rising. She was imagining how she would feel to awaken in a strange place, weak as a newborn babe and utterly dependent on strangers.
Drizzt only nodded. "Go to your rest, my friend," he said, smiling at her. "I've interrupted your sleep. I'll wake you at dawn."
Catti-brie went back to her bedroll and lay down, but even as she fell asleep she saw Drizzt watching Iralen from the shadows and wondered how the elf would react to Drizzt when she finally did see his face.