A/N: Thanks to the two of you who reviewed! (Wait... two? Surely we can do better than that!) Then again, the first chapter of anything is usually the most boring, so I won't whine. (Much.) Here we go again–hope you enjoy it!
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Iralen did not wake that next day but Catti-brie was still reassured, for this was a deep, healing sleep and not the ominous unconsciousness that had held her for so many days. Every time the elf stirred in her sleep Drizzt tensed and the young woman knew he was wondering the same thing she'd been thinking all night.
That afternoon Bruenor arrived to check on Catti-brie and the elf he'd helped save. "D'ye be wantin' me to take her to one o' the towns, Drizzt?" the dwarf asked, seeing with satisfaction the color in her cheeks that spoke of his adopted daughter's skillful healing. He, too, wanted to spare his friend the elf's reaction when she woke again.
But Drizzt shook his head. "She is still very weak, Bruenor," he said. "I thank you for your concern, but I think the journey would be too much for her at this time."
Bruenor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yer see," he said awkwardly, "we're needin' Catti-brie in the mines. One o' the forges blew this mornin' and—"
Drizzt nodded in understanding. "And now that Iralen is healing, Catti-brie, you must go where others need you," he said. "Go. I'll care for Iralen."
Catti-brie looked from the sleeping elf to Drizzt and the concern in her eyes was plain to see. "We can send Regis to help—" she began, but Drizzt shook his head.
"It will be all right," he said with more conviction than he felt. "If she will hate me, she will do so whether you are here or not. It is nothing I have not dealt with before, and it will not scar me now."
Despite his words, it was with trepidation that Bruenor and Catti-brie left an hour later. Catti-brie had left all her healing supplies and instructed Drizzt in their use, and after one last check of Iralen's wounds, Catti-brie gathered her things. "You're sure you'll be all right?" she couldn't help but ask as Drizzt helped her stow her things in her pack.
Drizzt smiled at her. "Yes," he said. "Don't worry, dear friend. Go to those who need you, with my thanks. When she's fit to travel I'll take her to Regis. If anyone can find out where she belongs, he can." He did not mention his knowledge of her royal kin. "Now go, before you lose the light completely."
But it was with misgivings that Drizzt turned back to the cave, his home, once his escape from the very emotions he was now feeling. For a moment he bitterly resented Iralen for choosing his sanctuary to collapse in, but knew that was unfair. In the same situation he would have crawled into any hole available.
Bruenor had left him several choice cuts of reindeer meat and Drizzt busied himself with cooking for a time, frying a juicy piece for himself and boiling another chunk for broth for Iralen. The smell of succulent reindeer soon filled the cave and Drizzt relaxed slowly, anticipating a good meal after these last days of dried meat and hard bread. He and Catti-brie had been so intent on Iralen's care that they hadn't taken the time to hunt for fresh meat. He glanced over at her with the thought.
It was with a jolt that Drizzt saw her eyes open and regarding him over the fire. He hadn't expected her to wake again so soon! He froze, wondering if she could see him clearly through the flames, if the flickering light revealed his face under the hood of his cloak. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind it was gone, and he was lost in the wonder of her eyes.
They were green, the deepest green he'd ever beheld, and within them gleamed a spark of light like sunlight seen from beneath a deep pool of water. That spark danced hypnotically, drawing him in, inviting him to come drown in those treacherously seductive depths. Only now that those almond-shaped eyes were open did the drow realize the full measure of her beauty. Every feature, from her arching dark brows and high cheekbones to her thick sable hair and those captivating jade eyes, combined to form a face that could make men gladly fall on their swords at a word from those lush lips. Drizzt could not tear his eyes away and though he opened his mouth, he could not find his voice.
It was she who spoke, a mere whisper of flowing Elven breaking the extraordinary spell that held him speechless. "It was you who spoke to me?"
Drizzt nodded, not trusting himself to reply. He had never seen eyes like hers, not even among the elves. He was forcefully reminded of Regis's magical gem that entranced and finally mastered those who looked into it, but he could not tear his eyes away. Never had he even imagined a woman this beautiful and he distrusted it despite his fascination. Such loveliness was unnatural, and he remembered with a quickly-suppressed shudder that the most stunning drow females were also the most cruel. He struggled to look away and shatter the sorcery that held him still.
But then Iralen's eyes fell closed and Drizzt let out his breath slowly, thinking she slept again. The relief was undeniable and he shook his head, ashamed of his own cowardice. If this elf was really the powerful sorceress he imagined, why would she have allowed herself to be so badly mauled by the yeti? Drizzt shook his head again, forcing away the suspicions that had swamped him when he'd looked into her eyes. She was weak and injured, and no threat to a ranger at the height of his strength.
The sizzling of the meat reminded him of the task at hand and he took his portion off the fire, realizing he had almost let it burn in his distraction. As he leaned forward to stir the simmering broth, Iralen's voice again startled him.
"What will you do with me?" she asked, and Drizzt knew then that he had been concealed neither by the flames or the cowl. His dark heritage had been revealed and must now be explained.
Drizzt forced his hands to continue stirring the pot, ignoring their trembling. Her voice had held no revulsion, only curiosity, he realized belatedly. Suddenly his heart was pounding with the hope he could never quite bury that this time, he would be accepted. "I am not like others of my kind," he replied quietly, keeping his eyes on his task.
"You speak Elven," she said, and to Drizzt it sounded almost like an agreement. He looked up despite himself and was again caught by her eyes.
The silence stretched between them, both unsure. Drizzt finally broke away from her mesmeric gaze—pleased to discover that he could indeed do so—and lifted the pot from the fire. He poured some of the broth into a cup and, going to the opening of the cave, scooped a little snow into the steaming liquid before returning to the cave.
Iralen watched him approach, but Drizzt saw only curiosity in her eyes—not fear. He held the cup with both hands to disguise their trembling. When he knelt beside her, indicating the cup, those eyes never left his.
"Will you try to drink a little broth, lady?" he asked, both dreading and anticipating her answer.
It still came as a shock when she nodded. Seeing it in his face, Iralen smiled grimly. "I must trust you," she whispered. "If my death is what you desired, you would have only to have left me where I lay. Therefore you must have some reason to restore me to health. I would be a fool to resist your healing."
It wasn't trust, not trust as he longed to have it. Drizzt's hands stilled their shaking and he called himself a fool as he lifted her head to help her sip the warm broth. She was an Eledhwen, a princess among her people. She would be well versed in the politics of kidnap and ransom. Drizzt wanted to protest, to explain that he had no such intentions, but he swallowed the words before they passed his lips. Like all the rest, her mind had been made up from the start.
When would he learn to stop hoping?
