Hi all, this is my first attempt at ficing. It's a crossover between Drizzt and my character from Neverwinter Nights, although since they are both denzins of Faerun I'm not sure if it counts as a true crossover. Anyways, it was written primarily to assuage my own feelings at the end of the Ghost King and as such contains at least one major spoiler, so if you don't want the plot ruined I'd suggest giving this story a miss till you've read the book. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please if you can find the time to RnR I'd be most grateful.
Peace out.
EDIT: After some editing and rehashing I've decided to repost this fic in the non crossover section of the site, mainly because of my forementioned doubts about it being a true crossover given both the books and game in question are set in the same world and I feel the crossover classification was leading to some confusion about it's content. NB:This story not only contains Ghost King spoilers but is *very* AU
Thanks for reading guys =)
The grass along the side of the path shifted and swayed gently in the evening breeze, a breeze that brought with it the soft twilight perfume of the nearby forest and on the very edge of perception, the salty tang of the sea. If either of the two ragged wanderers making their way along the rocky, overgrown trail had stopped for a minute and listened they would have heard the sighing, rumbling song of the breakers crashing upon the torn coastline of the Sea Of Swords, barely a few hundred yards to their right. But they did not pause, did not even glance up from the road before them.
Neither of the travellers had any desire to look upon the waves, their foam flecked peaks calling to memories too bitter to endure.
Further along the trail the pair found their nostrils filled with the sweet scent of wisteria blossoms, and a moment later the bush itself seemed to materialise out of the half light. It's slender, creeping vines covering the trunks of two small ash trees set close together on the right hand side of the trail. The mass of vines and trailing blooms covered the two trees so completely, even in the higher branches where the two trees met and merged that it seemed a great living arch wrought simply of delicate flowers. A moment's reflection would have suggested that perhaps it was no coincidence that the wisteria arch seemed to mark a divergence in the trail, a tiny sidetrack that led off towards the ocean cliffs.
The taller of the two reined in his horse slowly as the arch approached, coming to a halt right beside it. He turned slightly in his saddle, staring into the darkness of the forest beyond the arch, seeming to be on the verge of setting off down the side trail, his expression unreadable beneath his hood. Suddenly with a barely heard sigh and a shake of his head to free himself from whatever thoughts were threatening to overwhelm him he nudged his horse and continued down the trail after his companion. He had no need to follow the trail beyond the arch.
He knew what it led to.
When the pair were once again riding abreast down the trail the shorter rider broke the silence:
"You still miss her?"
It was phrased as a question, although he already knew the answer.
"Of course." His companion replied in a soft cormyrean accent.
The smaller rider nodded slowly before stopping abruptly and pointing off the left of the trail, up a gentle, lightly wooded slope.
"There is a place we can camp up there if I recall. A small dell where we will be difficult to spot."
He didn't need to mention that any movement to the east would take them further from the ceaseless rhythm of the sea.
The pair turned their horses and the taller rider started up the slope in the direction his friend had indicated, although his companion paused looking back down the trail at the wisteria arch for a long moment before digging his heels gently into the sides of his mount to catch up.
"It's beautiful" He said when he was once more leading the way. "The arch I mean."
"Thank you" replied his cormyrean friend. "She always did love those flowers. It seemed fitting."
Once they had reached the hollow where they intended to camp the smaller rider vaulted from his saddle sweeping his hood from his face as he did so, revealing a wild mane of white hair and features that might have been chiselled from onyx. He bowed theatrically before his companion who was dismounting more slowly but with only a little less grace.
"Welcome my lord, to your chateau!" The dark elf said with a rakish grin
"Mockery does not become you Drizzt Do'Urden." His companion responded dryly, for his friend was indeed the famed drow hero.
The tall rider likewise pushed back his hood to reveal a young, almost boyish face, the stubble of the last few days doing little to age his features. He certainly did not look like someone fast approaching his fiftieth birthday, for although if asked he obstinately gave his race as human there was more than a little elven and (if rumour was true) celestial blood in his family. His hair was a dark blonde and would have hung down below his chin had it not been secured in a tight pony tail. His dress was unremarkable, consisting of simple breeches and a woollen shirt with a battered, knee length coat of chain mail over the top. The only thing to suggest that he might be more than he seemed was the fine hand-and-a-half sword belted at his waist, a long, slim weapon with it's cross guard fashioned from gleaming blued steel and a large ruby set in it's pommel. That sword, in addition to the tattoo on the inside of his right forearm showing a dragon in brilliant purple and gold ink coiling around the silver gauntlet symbol of the god Torm would be clear indicators to any resident of faerun's north coast that this was none other than Matthian Ammaeth, once called the Hero of Neverwinter.
Matt (as his friends called him) took a moment to survey the camp site and nodded his approval to Drizzt. The ocean was barely audible from up here. The cormyrean took care of the horses while Drizzt began to set up their camp, laying a small fire and taking some food from his pack for their evening meal. Once the mounts had been rubbed down, watered and tethered where they had plenty of long grass Matt took the bed rolls from the discarded saddles and laid them carefully on opposite sides of the fire. Straightening up he stretched his arms above his head and let out a low groan, trying to relieve some of the stiffness from the day's ride. He then unbuckled his sword belt and laid his weapon beside his blankets.
Drizzt sat quietly on the opposite side of the fire toasting some slices of day old bread. He raised an angular white eyebrow as his friend fished a slightly battered packet of cigarettes from a pouch on his belt and lit one with a twig from the fire.
"Those things cannot be good for you" The dark elf quipped with a smile.
It was a discussion the pair had had many times. Ignoring his friend's warning Matt took a long drag and inhaled deeply before exhaling through his nose, sending twin streams of bluish smoke towards the drow, a move which Drizzt thought made the paladin look more than a little like his beloved national symbol. Matt rolled a small log over to the fire with his foot and took a seat without speaking, seemingly engrossed in his smoking. Drizzt finished with the last slice of bread and passed Matt's share to him on a plate along with some cheese and strips of dried beef. A simple meal but filling at least.
The pair ate in silence, the melancholy which had been banished briefly by the distraction of setting camp began to creep in upon them once more. The years since the Spellplague had been hard on both of them, the loss of Drizzt's beloved wife Catti-brie had nearly broken the drow and been only a little less devastating to Matt, for although he had never treated Catti-brie as anything more than a dear sister and had encouraged Drizzt to act upon his feelings for her numerous times when they first began travelling together, Drizzt had come to believe that the paladin had been more than a little in love with the beautiful woman.
They finished their food and packed away the utensils without speaking, both lost in thought. Drizzt's mind pulled him back across the years to the blissful time he had spent beside Catti-brie sailing the very ocean that lay to the west, whilst his companion found his thoughts filled with memories of Neverwinter, scene of both his greatest triumph and most damning failure. Many minutes passed with both human and elf staring into the leaping flames of their small fire. Presently Matt roused himself to light another cigarette and pull a steel flask and two small, silver cups from his pack. He poured a generous measure into each cup, offering one to Drizzt who after a moment's hesitation took it and raised it in salute. Matt reciprocated but neither could find any words. It was Drizzt who finally found his voice and offered:
"To absent friends." With a wistful smile.
Matt returned the smile with one of his own and nodded.
"To absent friends." He agreed.
They drained the fiery liquid, coughing a little as it burned it's way down their throats.
With a flick of his wrist Drizzt sent the cup spinning back over the fire towards Matt who snatched it deftly out of the air and stowed it back in his pack along with his own cup and the flask. With another nod Drizzt moved to his bedroll and began to settle in for the night. Matt remained seated by the fire for long enough to finish his cigarette before following Drizzt's example and turning in.
The last thought of both as sleep washed over them was that the faint sound of the ocean seemed to be growing louder and louder.
Matt's eyes snapped open, staring straight up into the starry expanse of the night sky. He could feel... something... some presence on the very edge of his conciousness. Keeping his breathing as regular as possible he slowly inched his hand from his blankets to the hilt of his sword, the smooth leather and icy steel doing much to reassure him. His straining senses heard his companion shift slightly, telling him that Drizzt too was awake and alert. Steeling himself, he tensed for a moment before springing out of his bed, whipping his weapon from it's scabbard and bringing it out in front of him in one fluid movement. Drizzt exploded into action at the same instant, diving from his bed and with inhuman speed and grace buckling on his belt and drawing his scimitars so quickly that he and Matt assumed their defensive positions at the same moment. Despite his alarm Matt couldn't help but smile. Even after years together the drow's skills never ceased to amaze him.
The two stood on opposite sides of the fire guarding each other's backs, ears straining, eyes boring into the shadows.
Nothing. No sound. No movement.
Despite the absence of any foes the strange feeling of disquiet grew deeper, although now that the initial alarm and confusion had passed it seemed to both that they sensed no evil in this strange presence, rather it seemed sad and wistful. Matt relaxed his stance a little and was about to turn and query his friend on this strange phenomenon when seemingly from nowhere a breeze sprang up, rustling the leaves of the woods about them and making the dying flames of their small fire dance. The wind was strangely warm, having none of the bite that would be expected this far north and even stranger; it seemed to carry with it the salty tang of the sea and a hint of perfume, the unmistakeable scent of wisteria. Both warriors breathed deeply, feeling suddenly lighter of heart although they remained watchful. The breeze abated for a moment before gaining force once more, Matt's hair which now hung loose about his shoulders whipped around his face and streamed out behind him, the scent of wisteria was stronger now.
Matt turned slowly to look down the gentle slope they had climbed to their camp site, towards the road and the sylvan arch and beyond that to the shores of the sea. He turned to Drizzt and motioned with his head towards the road and Drizzt nodded slightly, also drawn towards the west. Drizzt replaced his blades in their sheaths and stooped to pick up his cloak while Matt stared at the blade of his sword for a long moment before replacing it in it's scabbard and laying it reverently on his bed, perceiving that whatever trials lay ahead his blade would be no defence against them. The two friends made their way slowly down to the trail and back up the way they had passed until they stood before the arch, the hanging blooms shifting gently in the breeze.
Matt was the first to move closer, reaching out to take a bunch of the flowers in his hands and letting his fingers caress the tiny blossoms, he then stepped through the arch and down the tiny path, Drizzt following close behind.
It grew darker as the pair moved deeper into the strip of denser forest that lay between the main path and the cliffs but they felt no fear, indeed they both felt a strange peace settle upon them, such as neither had known in a long time. Presently they came to the edge of the trees and onto a swathe of soft, green grass where they were faced with a sight of such beauty it halted them in their tracks instantly. The moon waxing full was rising over the distant sea, bathing all around them in silver light, etching everything in clear, sharp lines. The sound of the breakers washed over them as they stood transfixed, the vast expanse of the trackless sea seemed frozen, the distant peaks of the waves unmoving as if hewn from crystal or glass.
Trance-like the pair moved forward until they stood on the edge of the cliffs looking down. Spray from the crashing waves drifted gently up the cliff face, the moisture feeling cool and sweet upon their faces.
After some time Matt turned away, moving slowly along the cliff edge to the north. Towards that which had drawn him there. A few dozen paces brought him to it, a small mound that would have been almost invisible without the mass of wild flowers covering it. At one end a slab of grey stone was set.
A grave.
Kneeling gently before the headstone he reached out to brush a few creeping flowers from it, tracing his fingers over the letters he had graven himself many years ago. The elements had not been kind, the name was worn and beginning to blur but still legible:
Aribeth de Tylmarande.
With a soft smile he rose and turned away, moving towards his friend who had followed but remained at a distance still watching the sea, not wanting to intrude.
When Matt was once more beside Drizzt the drow spoke:
"It is seems your heart is lightened my friend. As is mine, though I know not why."
Matt smiles and nods before replying.
"Indeed. Ever shall I fear this place I think. And yet, when I do summon the courage to visit it is never the trial that I fear. I should come here more often."
"Yes. You should." Came a voice from behind them, soft and musical. The unmistakeable voice of an elf. The words are accompanied by a soft chortle of laughter, deeper and less lilting that the voice of the speaker but no less beautiful, seeming in equal parts girlish giggle and sensual purr.
Matt felt his limbs turn to lead and his blood to ice in his veins, his breath stuck in his throat choking him. At his side Drizzt gave a soft strangled cry and leaned forward, his hand clutching his chest as if fearing his heart was about to fail him. Matt knew the voice. They both knew the laugh.
It took every ounce to courage to two possessed to turn and face those who stood behind them.
Two female figures waited silently. One elven, the other human, both devastatingly, heartrendingly beautiful. The elf was dressed in a simple white gown reaching to just below her knees and belted at the waist with a silver girdle from which hung a long sword. Her face was pale, contrasting with the dark red gold of her hair and the brilliant green of her eyes. Her feet were bare, as were her arms from the elbow down, both soft and white and without blemish. Her face was one Matt knew well, having haunted both his days and his nights for most of his adult life. She was different now though, the lines of care and fear and grief so deeply graven upon her in life were gone. And she was smiling, a smile of peace and joy, and if there was a touch of sadness within her gaze it was without bitterness.
Her companion was a little shorter, a little more curvaceous, her brilliant sapphire eyes glittered with mirth, her rich auburn hair cascading over her delicate shoulders. She was dressed simply in tunic and breeches and soft boots, the plain nature of her attire only serving to enhance her natural beauty. She stood with her hands on her hips, almost challengingly and although she offered Matt a mischievous wink all her attention was reserved for Drizzt.
Matt was the first to recover, stepping forward haltingly, stumbling; he would have almost collapsed at the feet of Aribeth – for it was indeed her, had she not moved forward to steady him with a touch much stronger than her lithe form would have suggested. Her hands squeezed Matt's biceps as if to re-assure him she was indeed solid and not a mere spirit. She pulled him gently against her, silencing any words he might have spoken by pressing her lips to his, kissing him deeply, urgently. Everything around him seemed to fade until there was nothing in the world but the warmth of her lips and tongue and the sweet taste of her breath.
Drizzt still had not moved, he stood staring at the woman who had been his wife, desperately wanting to go to her but unable to relax his guard. His hands maintained a vice-like grip on the hilts of his scimitars. Was this a trick? Some phantom come to torment him?
Seeing his confusion Catti-brie moved forward, hips swinging provocatively.
"Still so guarded Drizzt Do'Urden?" She purred as she approached, moving towards him until her face was barely a few inches from his. Reaching up she ran a hand over Drizzt's chest, moving upwards to his neck and around to entwine her fingers in his hair at the base of his skull, pulling him towards her with just a little more force than was necessary, a soft growl escaping from her throat as she did so. It was one of her favourite moves and one she had used often during their nights together. Drizzt began to melt. It was her!
"I've missed ye." She whispered as her lips brushed his.
"Catt..." Was the only thing he managed to get out before she kissed him again, properly this time pulling herself in close and wrapping her arms around his neck.
The two couples remained thus for long minutes, each lost in the bliss of this last embrace.
Aribeth was the first to pull away, breaking the kiss and nuzzling gently against Matt's face before moving back to arms length, tears glistening in her eyes.
Matt drew a shuddering breath, his own vision beginning to blur.
"You cannot stay." He said.
"We cannot." Aribeth answered. "Only for a moment is this permitted. Just long enough to tell you that we love you and are so proud. Of both of you." She continued, glancing over at Drizzt and Catti-brie who are still entwined in each other's arms, Catti-brie's head resting on Drizzt's shoulder.
Matt bowed his head in grief, fighting against the flood of tears that welled up within him. Aribeth reached out and raised his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes.
"Take heart my love. Though the years may seem long and great trials still await you, know that I love you still and will be waiting for you. Always."
Drawing strength from her words Matt straightened his shoulders and a small smile played around his lips.
Aribeth returned it with one of her own before leaning forward and kissing him one last time and then beginning to walk backwards away from him.
Catti-brie had likewise released Drizzt from her arms.
"Don't ye be doing anything foolish." She told Drizzt sternly.
"Ye've work to do and others who need ye. Don't ye be thinking o' rushing off to find a short cut to come after me."
Drizzt nodded and bowed his head.
Catti-brie moved over to Matt and gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Ye take care of him for me now."
Matt smiled
"Always, dear heart." He replied, using the pet name he had coined for her.
And with that they were gone, leaving nothing but the memory of their touch and the lingering scent of wisteria.
Matt and Drizzt remembered nothing of the walk back to their camp site, both of them collapsing onto their beds and slipping instantly into the arms of oblivion.
When they awoke well into the morning they sat in silence, had it all been a dream? How would they even know? Matt rubbed his hands over his face, trying to banish the confusion that reigned within and suddenly froze, feeling the cool touch of metal against his skin. He looked down at his hands and nearly laughed aloud. The ring, her ring, the one she had given him in token of their friendship, the one he had hurled into her grave in a fit of grief as he buried her; once again sat firmly around the third finger of his left hand.