Disclaimer: Who cares? Not me! RAS would not write something like this, ever. But I would (Cheshire cat grin)
Bruenor walked through the arching passages of Mithral Hall towards Catti-Brie's room. Not for the first time since the messenger had come, he hoped his adopted daughter had had managed to run off with Drizzt for the Sea Sprite sometime since breakfast.
He knocked on the heavy oak door to her room. A few moments later, Catti-Brie answered the door, looking as bright and glowing as a summer dawn. "Oh, me Da!" She exclaimed happily, "I just got the best of news!"
Bruenor felt his jaw drop a little before good sense delivered a swift kick start to his thoughts again. She can't be talking about the same message I got this morning... Wait... I know! The elf! The elf finally asked or better yet, I'll be getting grandkids soon!
"The Wands clan in Waterdeep accepted me as an apprentice!" Catti-Brie crowed, clapping her hands together.
Bruenor resisted the urge to smack his forehead in exasperation by the smallest of margins. The auburn haired woman finally realized that her enthusiasm was ill timed and asked, "What's wrong?"
"Do ye remember those long talks I had with ye about alliance marriages?" Bruenor asked resignedly.
"Alustriel's son, Methremmar?" Catti-Brie guessed. In silent response, Bruenor handed her the note the courier had given him earlier. Confused, Catti-Brie took the roll of parchment and scanned the contents. Bruenor watched his adopted daughter's confusion melt away to shocked horror. "This be a joke, right? Da, please tell me this be a joke."
"'Tis genuine as far as I can tell." Bruenor shook his head bitterly. "On the outside, it would seem viable, particularly since Silverymoon seems disinclined to battle on her allies' behalf."
Catti-Brie stared down at her adopted father, aghast. She crumpled the parchment into a little ball and threw it at Bruenor. The crumpled note bounced off his chest to the floor. Then she turned back into her room and slammed the heavy door.
Bruenor picked up the crumpled parchment and prayed Moradin would stop testing him so. He smoothed the note out and looked over the message again, hoping that by some miracle he had misread it.
Alas, the note remained the same:
King Obould Many-Arrows sends greetings to King Bruenor of Mithral Hall,
I wish to propose a token of my wishes for a more diplomatic solution to our conflicts. Towards this end, I ask to negotiate with you for your adopted daughter's hand in marriage.
Send reply back with the messenger.
Author's Note: Well, I suppose I should have warned you all to keep the brain bleach handy for this one, but I could not think of a way to do so and keep my punch line intact. In mitigation, you have my solemn vow that I will never continue this fic in any way, shape or form and furthermore, I will hunt down and destroy anyone else who does.
This insanity spawned out of a discussion on whether or not there could have been a peaceful way for Obould to expand his lands, when my demented little mind remembered that the two common ways to do so during the Middle Ages were by purchase or marriage.
Besides, shouldn't Catti-Brie have to deal with the drawbacks of being a princess as well as the perks?
Leave a rant in reply if you so desire.