Many thanks to Zolarix Aster and PhantomBoo for the reviews :D Reviews make me very happy, lol
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Elhand was in a foul mood all that night, most likely from the fright Guen had given him. Drizzt tried hard to make amends for his friend's misbehaviour, even preparing a lavish supper (for something prepared in a cave over a campfire) all on his own. After they'd eaten the pair of elves sat close against one another, wrapped in the same soft fur (for it had become very cold that night), sharing a cup of warmed, spiced wine.
The goodly drow was sleepy and content, cuddled warmly against the surface elf's chest, his head resting on the blond's shoulder. Elhand was stroking his hair, evidently greatly cheered up. Drizzt was very nearly asleep when he felt the other's lips brush softly against his own.
There was no denying, as Elhand kissed him again, more passionately, that it felt very, very good. The cave, lit with orange and buttery golden firelight, provided an intimate setting; the warmth and heavy softness of the fur about his shoulders, coupled with the heat radiating from the other elf's firm body behind him, was exquisitely comfortable; and for many long moments the young drow lay meek and pliant in the other's arms, savouring the deepening kiss and tender caresses being bestowed upon him.
When Elhand slid a hand down to stroke firmly over the ranger's loins, though, Drizzt tensed. Kissing and petting was one thing, but this… a hot feeling of shame washed over him. He had claimed, at least to himself, to love Cattie-brie, and yet here he was in such a compromising position with someone else…
Not that the other elf's attentions didn't feel magnificent- and there was a part of Drizzt that very much wanted to just lie back and let go of all his worries, losing himself in pleasure. But if the drow ranger was anything it was loyal and steadfast, and besides, he really saw Elhand in a more familial light than as a potential lover anyway.
The drow carefully disentangled himself from the blond's arms and slipped free of his embrace. "I'm sorry, Elhand," he told the other elf, who was staring at him incredulously. "I would be honoured to be considered your friend, but I can't do this…my heart belongs to another."
The surface elf's expression softened. "I understand," he told Drizzt with a smile. "But at the same time…" his expression was sly as he looked the ruffled drow up and down in a predatory fashion. "We need not tell him, you know."
"Her," the drow responded automatically, carefully edging 'round so that the fire was now between them. He supposed, in retrospect, he should have seen this coming- he had been quite intimate with Elhand right from the beginning, though it had never occurred to him that what he perceived as being more a protective, caring relationship- not unlike the one he had with Bruenor, when he thought about it- could be being read as something else by the other party.
It was just that he had so enjoyed the feeling of being protected and cared for. A sinking feeling of disappointment settled in his belly at the thought that, even should he and the older elf put this awkward moment behind them and continue with their friendship, the cuddling and the like would surely have to end. He remembered sleeping in the blond's arms after he had first been injured, and how wonderfully safe he had felt.
The surface elf was regarding him with a thoughtful, slightly amused look, which made Drizzt feel somewhat wary. It was quite clear from his expression that the blond hadn't abandoned his amorous intentions, and the drow instinctively pulled his arms and legs in tight to his body, feeling a little exposed despite the fact that he was actually fully clothed.
oOo
Guenhwyvar loped uneasily along the mountain path, glancing back over her shoulder every few strides. Her master had given her express orders which compelled her to obey, yet the panther from the astral plane knew instinctively that her beloved Drizzt was in dreadful danger, and every step took her further from his side.
The great panther's steps gradually slowed, then stopped all together. She sat on the path, growling deep in her throat, and scuffing the muddy ground with her paws. She felt as if she were being torn down the middle- the compulsion to obey her master's order was strong, but so was the increasing feeling of impending danger. Drizzt needed her!
Finally, her mind made up, she stood and started back down the path, running back to Drizzt's side as fast as her well-honed muscles could carry her.
oOo
Elhand patted the ground beside him. "Come back here, sweet one," he positively purred at Drizzt. "I shan't bite you. Well, not very hard anyway."
The goodly drow found his temper beginning to rise. He liked Elhand- owed him his life, in fact- but he had said no!
The blond sighed theatrically when he saw the younger elf's expression harden. Springing nimbly to his feet, the elf sauntered almost casually to the jumble of bags near their bed of furs, and began rummaging about inside. "One last time, Drizzt, I'm going to ask you to come to me. I'll have you tonight one way or another."
The drow shook his head incredulously. "Look, Elhand, don't get me wrong. I am forever indebted to you for how you saved and took care of me- but I shan't be repaying that debt with my body. And I'm very flattered that you find me attractive, but-"
Drizzt didn't have a chance to finish his sentence. The surface elf turned, something cradled in his hand. The young drow had just enough time to recognise it as a small hand crossbow- the sort regularly used by his own people- before Elhand fired. Drizzt's eyes widened, and then the little dart hit him.
Drow darts were typically coated with a strong dose of sleeping potion- and Drizzt definitely didn't want to be lying helplessly asleep with this lustful maniac loose in the cave with him! But it soon became obvious that this particular dart was different- the goodly drow threw up his hand to try and deflect the incoming dart, and caught it full in his palm. Instantly he felt the dreadful burn in his flesh, and a…a sort of lethargy…began to spread throughout his limbs.
Drizzt fought to rise on shaking legs, those deeply-ingrained survival instincts that had allowed the drow to survive for so many years alone in the Underdark, which Drizzt often referred to as 'the Hunter', refusing to let him just lie there and let Elhand do- whatever it was he was going to do.
As the young drow wobbled to his feet and made an unsteady break for the cave's entrance, he felt a second dart bite deep into the small of his back. He managed a further three steps before his muscles simply seemed to lose the will to work, and he fell all in a tumble at the very entrance to the cave.
The goodly drow felt the first slimy tendrils of panic reaching out to seize him. He couldn't seem to do much more than blink and twitch spasmodically. It was like his body had been de-boned. He had seen similar poisons used on others before- an image of an orcan slave, drowning in an Underdark lake because it couldn't move its limbs to keep itself afloat hovered resolutely in his mind. And, he recalled, with an icy thrill of terror coursing down his spine, that such poisons were often used when torturing prisoners, as, though they couldn't move at all, they could still feel every single thing being done to them.
Cold sweat and goose-bumps broke out all over the poor young dark elf's body. He even managed to shiver a little (such was the dread that gripped him) as he heard the older elf approach. "Two darts," Elhand muttered to himself in disbelief, plucking the tiny missile protruding from Drizzt's back free. He unceremoniously rolled the drow over, retrieving the dart from his hand as well.
"That is downright amazing," he told Drizzt, wagging the wicked-looking darts in the immobilised ranger's face. "Just one should have been more than enough. I'd heard you were a bit of a berserker, but that's truly impressive."
Drizzt tried desperately to speak, and even managed, with all the considerable will power he could muster, to make a few badly slurred, totally incomprehensible noises. Elhand smirked. "Let me see," he murmured huskily, straddling the downed drow's hips and bending down for a tender, almost loving, kiss. "I imagine you were trying to say something like 'why are you doing this to me?' Well, my gorgeous one, the answer is: because I want to."
The blond elf took Drizzt's head in his hands, turning the drow's face to the side to nip and suckle on the delicate point of one ebony ear. He then proceeded to lick, suck and bite on the drow's elegant neck for several minutes, during which Drizzt felt tears, of both fear and frustration, welling up. One even escaped to trickle down his turned cheek.
Elhand promptly turned his hapless victim's face the other way, and ran his tongue lewdly along that trail of moisture. "Delicious," the elf purred, nuzzling the pinned ranger. "Oh, but I've waited so many years for this!"
Drizzt had no idea what the blond was talking about- they had only met just a few days beforehand. Something of his incredulity must have showed in his gaze, for Elhand, looking deep into his eyes, and smiling that same smile which just an hour or so before had seemed so warm, comforting and friendly, began to speak once more.
"You don't remember me, do you, my sweet little drowling?" he asked, stroking Drizzt's cheek quite affectionately. "I suppose I shouldn't be disappointed- Zaknafein ran me out of House Do'Urden when you were quite young." Those lovely lips quirked, revealing a near-perfect set of gleaming white teeth. He was, Drizzt could see from this close angle, missing at least two. "Ah! But I know how to refresh your memory…"
The elf, who had been lying stretched out on top of Drizzt, sat up, though he still had the goodly ranger (who wouldn't have been able to move anyway) held tight between his well-muscled thighs. He held up one of those lovely hands, wiggling his fingers so that the ring on his middle finger flashed and glittered. Drizzt had observed the ring previously; it was of a dark, heavy gold, twisted strongly 'round some sort of polished dark reddish-purple stone. Then the ring began to change colour.
Darkness, like a swirling, inky cloud, began to grow in the gem's heart. Slowly the stone changed from a reddish tint to a dark, dark blue-purple, and as the stone changed, so too did the hand on which the ring sat.
Drizzt watched in mounting horror (and he had been pretty horrified to start with) as milk-white skin turned as sable-dark as his own; honey golden hair paled 'til it was stark white; and those lovely sapphire-blue eyes became a burning, demonic red. It was no surface elf sitting atop the helpless Drizzt. It was a drow.
The goodly drow whined- the most articulate sound he could manage- and felt a few more tears slip free. He still didn't recognise this particular drow, but he knew enough about his own kind to know he would have been much safer in the hands of a rabidly insane surface elf.
"There now," the older drow crooned. His voice was still the same, a fact which was inexplicably chilling. "Still don't remember me? Ah well. Let me introduce myself then. I am M'tarl De'ervs, former soldier of House Do'urden." He gave a mocking little bow, before spreading himself out atop Drizzt once more. Teasingly, he began slowly undoing the laces on the younger drow's shirt.
"I had wanted to seduce you- to have you come to me. That would have been the sweetest victory. The thought that you had willingly sought my bed would have irked Zaknafein the most- if he were alive, of course. But you're a prudish one, for a Do'Urden, you know that don't you? A family with the reputation of being the biggest sluts in Menzoberranzan, and you? Bah!" The older drow became distracted from his story when he undid the last of the laces on Drizzt's shirt, pushing aside the soft material to reveal a well-muscled yet lithe torso.
He spent a few minutes gently tormenting his victim with lips, teeth and tongue. More tears escaped the younger drow, though he tried fiercely to hold them back. He didn't want to give his captor the satisfaction of seeing him weep.
"Oh, my darling, don't cry," Elhand- no, M'tarl- soothed. Though his voice was gentle, when Drizzt opened his eyes, it was to see that feral smile and eyes as cold as ice. "Why, I've hardly even begun."
It so happened that the younger elf had been wearing his shirt untucked. His tormentor started working on his belt buckle- fortunately for Drizzt this earned him a short reprieve, as the leather was stiff and unyielding.
The older elf- M'tarl- idly continued with his story as he fought with the belt buckle.
"I watched you since you first started darting about the place as a page prince. I'd have had you too, if it weren't for Zaknafein. One comment about how cute your backside was, and he beat me within an inch of my life. I figured it must have been because he wanted to keep you for himself, and I wasn't going to challenge the likes of Zaknafein…so, I slipped away quietly, with half a dozen broken bones, mind you, and found employment elsewhere.
I scoped out House Do'Urden after Zaknafein died, but you weren't there, were you?
It wasn't until years later, with all that ruckus about invading that dwarven dump you now call home, that I found out where you were…hah!"
Drizzt groaned despairingly (and even that came out dreadfully slurred) as his belt came undone, and was callously tossed aside. M'tarl chuckled wickedly, leaning forward to kiss his captive soundly.
"And that rump of yours is looking finer than ever, I might add."
A rough slap and a squeeze were delivered to the anatomy in question.
"I was very interested to learn that Zaknafein was your sire," the evil drow continued conversationally as he began unlacing Drizzt's leggings. The younger elf was trembling now, tears running freely down his cheeks. No matter how hard he tried he simply couldn't fight off the effects of the poison- a double dose was simply far too strong, even for 'the Hunter'. Scrunching his eyes shut tight, he tried to mentally prepare himself for what was to come.
He vowed silently to himself that he would have vengeance on El- M'tarl, if the other didn't kill him before the effects of the poison wore off. It didn't really bring him any comfort though.
"I suppose I should have guessed that for myself. If I'd known you were his offspring I'd have kept my thoughts to myself until after I'd savoured your lovely body."
Drizzt sobbed despairingly as he felt the other drow begin peeling down his leggings. He found himself abruptly rolled over onto his belly. His hair was across his face, and in his mouth. Time seemed to freeze, and his thoughts were coming in scattered fragments. He had utterly succumbed to panic, but there really wasn't much else for him to do, given that he couldn't move at all.
A hand stroked sensually down his back, settling on his hip. If his muscles had been responding Drizzt would have tensed, waiting for the blow to fall, as it were, but instead had to settle for sucking in a great gulp of air-
-and an ear-drum shattering roar reverberated through the cave as Guenhwyvar came charging in, a flying shadow with gleaming fangs bared and wicked claws extended. Her green eyes flashed as she threw herself onto her master's attacker.
Drizzt felt the breeze of Guen's passing, and the brush of her fur on his back, as she bowled his would-be violator away. A muffled cry of pain was nearly smothered under Guen's fierce growls, and Drizzt could hear thrashing. He couldn't lift his head to see the fight that raged behind him, but the outcome was never really in question. Soon, all sounds of struggle ceased, and then he heard the heavy thump of his beloved panther friend's paws on the soft earth floor. Her warm breath tickled the goodly drow's ear as she nuzzled him, pawing softly at him, as if imploring him to roll over.
The dark elven ranger found he was crying harder than ever. Face pressed into the dirt, inhaling dust with every breath, Drizzt wasn't sure if he'd ever been more frightened then he had been that night. Guen purred softly, curling herself around him and lovingly starting to wash his hair, and what she could reach of his face with her warm, rough tongue.
Slowly, warmly and safely nestled against Guen's fur, Drizzt soothed. Not only that, but after several hours he found some ability to move returning. He was able to lift his tear-streaked face out of the dirt, at least, and to roll over somewhat, so he could curl up on his side against Guenhwyvar. Completely and utterly emotionally exhausted he fell into an uneasy sleep.
I think I may have spelt Guenhwyvar wrong in the previous chapter- and possibly in a couple of other stories too (oops) but I checked how it's spelt in both 'The Lone Drow' and 'Streams of Silver', so at least I won't make that mistake again.
And talk about waiting 'til the last minute Guen! Whew! She had me worried there- I was starting to think she wouldn't get there in time…That Elhand/M'tarl guy was beginning to get very frisky…I'm going to have to have a talk with him about that…
As well as that poor orc in the lake, you might recall Ad'non and Donnia took Innovindil and Tarathiel down with incapacitating-poison coated darts- after which, Ad'non was making it very clear he had some very nasty things in store for Innovindil, until Drizzt showed up and saved the day.
It seems to me that the most plausible explanation for Drizzt making it out of Menzoberranzan with even the smallest scrap of a chance of being an innocent is that Zaknafein kept an eye on him at home (and presumably Dinin and Vierna did while he was at the Academy) and would have defended his honour, as it were. I've been reading 'War of the Spider Queen', and I'm telling you, those drow are horny lil devils. I just don't see any other way it would've worked.
Now, stay tuned, 'cos the story isn't quite over yet (but don't worry, Drizzt is quite safe now)