The Forgotten Ones
This is a story that takes place after Drizzt leaves Montolio's Grove after the hermit dies. Rated PG in the case that I am in an extremely bad mood and put in some really gory fight scenes. Any name that is recognizable from Salvatore's work is a name that I do not own.
Drizzt looked back one last time with a large sigh. The place that he called home was not as welcoming as it used to be. After Montolio died the animals took an almost indifference to him. As he looked away, he noticed that the road ahead of him seemed to be longer than before. With a downcast heart and confused feelings about the mysteries of life and death he began his next long march into the unknown. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
That night it rained. As Drizzt huddled into his cloak for warmth he wondered again how Montolio could have died when he was still showing Drizzt the ropes of living on the surface. He resigned himself to being a lonely wanderer for the rest of his long life. Either that or go back to the dark and cheerless world of the surface elves. No, he thought violently, I will never go back to my murdering kin. "NEVER," he yelled at the stars. Then he sat back and wept. . .
To be continued
This is a story that takes place after Drizzt leaves Montolio's Grove after the hermit dies. Rated PG in the case that I am in an extremely bad mood and put in some really gory fight scenes. Any name that is recognizable from Salvatore's work is a name that I do not own.
Drizzt looked back one last time with a large sigh. The place that he called home was not as welcoming as it used to be. After Montolio died the animals took an almost indifference to him. As he looked away, he noticed that the road ahead of him seemed to be longer than before. With a downcast heart and confused feelings about the mysteries of life and death he began his next long march into the unknown. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------
That night it rained. As Drizzt huddled into his cloak for warmth he wondered again how Montolio could have died when he was still showing Drizzt the ropes of living on the surface. He resigned himself to being a lonely wanderer for the rest of his long life. Either that or go back to the dark and cheerless world of the surface elves. No, he thought violently, I will never go back to my murdering kin. "NEVER," he yelled at the stars. Then he sat back and wept. . .
To be continued