The Mark
The Mark
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of R.A. Salvatore/Wizards of the Coast ©. I don't own them; I'm just examining all their possibilities.
6 of Mirtul, 1473 The Year of Risen Ghosts
The Glimmerwood
The image of a single arrow remains on the clay disc I was given nearly six months ago.
I have counted the days by the fading of that image, watching each complex line fade into nothingness where a full design was before. In the tendays prior to this one my heart ached a little bit with each fading line. This tenday, however, I watched more of the image disappear with a calm heart.
Nearly two months ago I did not look upon the disc at all, even resisting the temptation to throw it off a cliff or in a fast moving river.
Nearly two months ago I counted time by the fading of my horrific memories of seeing a "mark" given to young Rinnz Ryth. I watched a young, second generation Surfacer have his flesh marred as part of the Brotherhood's initiation rite. The sight disgusted me, though I more understood the reasons and philosophy behind it after a thoughtful conversation with Gab'vrith.
Rinnz Ryth made the decision to have his flesh marred; he was not coerced into it and did so out of his own decision. I would see him drinking and making merry with his fellows in celebration later that night and not cowering in pain, fear, or anger.
That would be the last moment I would spend with the Brotherhood for nearly a month. I did not return to their camp, the memory of watching the "mark" performed shook me deep. It was not only in sympathy for Rinnz did I leave; it was more in discomfort for my own flesh.
My own time with the Brotherhood would be fleeting unless I agreed to undergo the same rite; a thought that truly sickened me. E very member of the Brotherhood, every male drow with whom I shared company and stories, with whom I shared hopes, fears, and experiences, had all had their moment of agony in front of their peers.
I stayed away from the village of drow I had come to care for, thinking I was making the right decision for either the sake of my principles or my own comfort. A tenday passed and the memory of that painful moment faded. Another tenday and the image left my mind, though I could only push away the underlying yearning in my heart so much. Another tenday passed and the emptiness grew no matter how much I tried to fill it with the memory of what I had witnessed and the possibility of having to go through the same.
After nearly a month, I finally brought myself to the camp again; a bittersweet day. Gab'vrith greeted me with a warm embrace and did not ask me about my own initiation. He could read my emotions as I felt as an unsteady fawn returning to this group.
I have returned frequently since, though always leaving with a glance to the disc in my neckpurse. I watched each line and image fade in sadness and dread for the next two tendays.
I no longer count the days by a fading image or a fading memory. Instead I count in the peace that I gradually found since I made my final decision.
My moment of reckoning wasn't a conversation with Gabe, it wasn't witnessing another painful initiation, and it wasn't in spending any time with the Brotherhood. My moment of truth came in looking at myself.
I have looked down at my own body and seen the marks in my own ebony flesh that have not come by my choosing but by the course of my life. I see the faded line where Ellifain's fire shield charm hit me as I cut through her. I see a small raised patch on my hip from an orc's club. The width of Artemis Entreri's dagger is still a faint line on my chest and I have seen the line from his sword across my back in mirrors. If I look carefully enough, I can make out a few raised lines from my sisters' whips and Vendes Baenre's club. This is not counting the host of other little lines and patches all over my body I can attribute to a thousand forgotten battles.
These marks tell a story of battles, triumphs, tragedies, pain, and my life in general. Every being in this world carries these marks, especially my fellow drow in the Brotherhood. I see fifty different men with my story, though with various differing details. These drow have escaped tyranny for freedom, escaped lives of violence for lives of peace, or some have lived with peace their entire lives and bear marks that such peace does not come without struggle.
From sword and claw gashes to spell burns, the history of our lives and our deeds is told by the markings in our flesh and not by our own choosing, though the Brotherhood and so many other cultures have in their tradition to write one part of that history through a purposeful marking of the flesh. It is like writing their own tale of camaraderie, loyalty, and struggles all shared.
I have been invited to receive such a mark by the Brotherhood; what I have looked on with repulsion I should look in honor and far be it for me to judge the marking to be given. This marking was one given to Gab'vrith and his fellows as punishment and remains a shared marking of freedom. The only thing that would prevent me from receiving such an honor is my own arrogance, stubbornness, and cowardice; all illegitimate reasons.
I no longer will count the days by a fading image or memory. I will count the next few days until I receive my own marking and become one of this Brotherhood.
-Drizzt Do'Urden
Gab'vrith sat across from him, avoiding the fallen branch a few inches from him without even looking down as if he knew it was the all along. His expression was thoughtful and he looked on Drizzt with a bemused smile.
Drizzt shifted his weight in the grass, moving aside from a wet spot where a stubborn patch of snow sat a few tendays earlier. He matched Gabe's gaze, though knew to expect some kind of expression or reaction of this kind.
He had practically avoided the village for three tendays and returned for short periods of time, neither mentioning the still uncomfortable subject of the Mark.
Given this reality, Drizzt knew to expect this reaction when he arrived in the village just an hour back gave Gabe a warm embrace while whispering in his ear "I am ready for a more permanent involvement with this group."
The usual conversation continued amongst Drizzt and the other drow before Gab'vrith pulled him aside in the woods.
Drizzt only smiled in response, half expecting a warm welcome and half expecting ample of curiosity.
"Why are you doing this?" Gabe asked, bemused smile firmly in place.
Drizzt's own smile stiffened as the question startled him. Gabe just stared at him smiling. Drizzt nodded, at a loss for words for a moment, though having a feeling this was another one of the old druid's enigmas.
"What do you think" Drizzt said, a smirk returning to his face.
"That I hope you are doing this for the right reasons," Gabe replied, his smile relaxing as Drizzt's faded. "Last I knew the idea of the Mark shook you to the core. Now you come to me all smiles and saying how willing you are to receive it."
"I've thought long and hard on this," Drizzt said with a nod, "and have had a series of personal revelations. These past two months have been a journey for me. I faced my fears and discomfort and realized I should be looking at this as an honor than as a curse. You and the Brotherhood have been so generous to me since I entered this camp."
"And you are afraid to lose that camaraderie," Gabe said. "You have said as much to me before, you are greatly disturbed by the idea of being cast out for refusing a thing such as this."
Drizzt nodded, knowing exactly where he was going with this.
"And you are concerned I would undergo the Mark for the sole reason of fitting in with the crowd," Drizzt said.
Gab'vrith nodded, giving Drizzt another thoughtful look with a moment of silence.
"You understand my concern before I asked it and did not hide from my query," Gabe said. I take that as a good sign. Or it was a right answer given at a right time; so which is it?"
"It is a number of things," Drizzt said. "I would not receive such a marking for reasons of pure assimilation, though I won't lie to you and say losing my company with this group was not a concern. Finding the Brotherhood has been a miracle, though I believe we are all bonded by our own experiences and I feel truly blessed to find these drow…"
"Who are so like you and you never thought they existed," Gabe finished, his smile widening as he nodded. "I believe your intentions for wishing to receive the Mark are pure. Your face is relaxed and your voice is exuberant; I do not hear any strains of reluctance in you. You have also blessed us with your presence, Drizzt. I was a bit worried to see your reaction when you first learned of our initiation, though you have taken your time to be at peace with it, and I haven't minded your periods of absence that I knew were for that reason."
Drizzt felt his jaw hang open; it was as if Gab'vrith had looked inside him and seen all these thoughts and fears. It should have been no surprise; the old drow had a phenomenal intuition that age and years of wandering and finding his own path brought to him. Drizzt could only hope to have such wisdom at that age.
Gabe came to his knees and twisted around to face the brush. He rooted through the thick branches and snapped off one thick pine twig, snapping off the rest of the smaller branches until a series of pointed knobs remained. He returned to his position and looked at Drizzt.
"Close you eyes," Gabe said. "And concentrate on your breath."
Drizzt looked at the branch, though nodded and closed his eyes. It was the beginning of a meditation exercise that could go anywhere under the circumstances.
He took a deep breath, concentrating on the breeze rustling through the trees and the babble of a nearby brook.
"I want you to think on what pains you," Gabe said in his usual soothing voice. "I want you to imagine one tragedy after another, everything you can think of that has struck your heart, torn you to pieces."
Drizzt took a reluctant breath. It was not as if he hadn't thought like that in the past hundred years, his whole life even, though he knew there was a deeper purpose to this.
The images flew through his brain one by one; Zaknafein falling into the acid pit, Catti-brie's last few fits, Ellifain falling on his scimitar. He shuddered at every one, feeling his fist balling up and the rage and sadness building within him.
"Focus on that hurt, feel it, know it as a tangible thing sitting inside your chest," Gabe said.
Drizzt felt his chest ache and his stomach lurch. It was a ball of sick in the middle of his body like a dormant fireball ready to explode.
"Now relax one of your hands, let it fall open," Gabe continued.
Drizzt managed to pry open his hand from a fist. A knobby pine stick slid into his palm.
"I want you to focus on that pain, that anguish, and I want you to close your hand as hard as you can," Gabe said.
The fire in Drizzt's body rose and his hand was all-too willing to close into a fist over the stick. The sharp knobs poked into the sensitive flesh of his palm with a sharp ache.
"I want you to imaging that ache flowing into your hand," Gabe said. "Those little stubs are all the tragedies you have endured. Doesn't it feel good that ache is no longer inside your body?"
Drizzt visualized the sharp press into his palm and fingers and nodded with Gabe's words. It did feel as if something inside him was given a physical form…so it didn't have to stay inside him any more where it could do more damage than a few pokes from a stick.
"This is what is happening now," Gabe said. "Not a hundred years ago, right here and now. The moment you open your fist, all the agony will disappear; free your pain and you will be free. Now open your hand."
Drizzt opened his palm, letting the stick fall to the ground. The sharp jabs were gone and replaced with a sense of relief.
"Open your eyes," Gabe said.
Drizzt took another breath and slowly opened his eyes, squinting at first with the sudden introduction of sunlight though gradually opening them wider. He looked down and saw a series of small indentations in his flesh. He then looked up at Gab'vrith, seeing his smile wide as he nodded.
"I have guided every member of the Brotherhood through this meditation on the afternoon before their initiation," he said. "Remember this moment tonight, though I believe you are prepared enough."
Drizzt smiled, a small triumphant laugh sneaking out. It would all happen tonight and he knew deep in his soul he was indeed ready.
His infrared vision shifted with the first glow of torches through the dark wood. Drizzt paused for a moment, adjusting the light cotton wrap around his waist while seeing the silhouetted forms of drow through the trees. Hardly a conversation was had above the occasional whisper and all faces were in his direction.
This was his night; he was eagerly awaited as the guest of honor for this sacred occasion.
His stomach sank with some lingering nervousness about this whole affair. He could easily run back to Gab'vrith's tent, collect his gear, and be out of there forever.
The thought was waved off like a mosquito by his ear; eagerness was the predominant emotion in his heart and not fear. He wanted to enter the circle like Rinnz did; a triumphant champion entering one of the defining moments of his life.
Drizzt's bare feet set back into motion, treading across leftover pine needles and tufts of grass. The occasional acorn or twig found its stinging way underneath his calloused feet, but he shrugged off the discomfort; it was a part of his journey.
The glow of torches grew brighter and he could make out facial features in the drow surrounding the circle. He could name every one of them, tell their history, and remember at least one occasion of speaking with them on the path or in the course of any other activity. He did not personally choose the ones in the circle; he allowed Gabe to call an open invitation to whoever wanted to be there.
By the outlines through the wood he could see around twenty were in attendance; the rest were likely seeing to their usual nightly businesses. Drizzt couldn't have cared if a hundred or only three showed up to witness this passage.
His path cleared the trees as his bare feet met soft grass. A mass of cheers went up around him. He raised his arms in his own triumph; not entering as a conquering hero, just showing his gratitude to his fellows and himself for being willing to enter this new phase of his life.
Hands patted his shoulders, some drow embraced him. He heard whispers of well wishes and welcome, some fellow Menzoberranzyr calling him "my hero." The pure love he felt from this group put a tightness in the back of his throat. He had been in their midst for six months, though now he truly felt blessed by their company.
Drizzt walked closer to the center of the circle, the hairs in the back of his neck standing up at the sight of the cot and the table where Tsabrak Belthizz had set up the instruments. He merely looked at them with a proud smile; his fear slowly seeping away.
He saw Gabe through the crowd; the old druid simple looking at him with a proud smile he returned before meeting Tsabrak's gaze.
Tsabrak, clad in his usual simple robe that looked as if it had been a bed sheet at some point, warmly embraced him. He then pulled back and nodded at the wrapping around Drizzt's waist. Drizzt nodded back, pulling the folds and letting the wrap fall to the ground.
Tsabrak guided him to lie on the cot. The ache in his stomach returned, though he pushed it off and lay down on the soft canvas. His neck stiffened for a moment in protest, his nerves knowing that the second he laid his head down on the sweet smelling barley pillow he had sealed his fate.
Drizzt gave a nervous smile in spite of himself, taking a deep breath and relaxing. The soft crunching of barley against cotton pressed down by the back of his head soon followed.
He made his choice a tenday ago, it was best to have the experience lest the fear make him spring from the bench he laid upon now.
Sage burned around him, its sweet smell putting him at ease for a moment knowing what he was about to do was purely symbolic of this commitment.
A part of Drizzt didn't want to pry his gaze away from the garlands of flowers strung above him, though his purple eyes moved from its frozen spot to those who had become some of his closest comrades in too long.
They formed a ring around him, red eyes looking at him in curiosity though there were some looks of sympathy among this mass of unusual drow. Their usual woodland leathers and weather beaten tunics in another location as all were bare to the waist, all equal in this one space. Twenty sets of hardened muscles and lithe forms stood around him, heads of white hair in their usual state of dishevelment or bearing mussed ponytails or chopped spikes.
All of them were male, all of them were like him; drow who lived their lives by the rules of the wilderness. All were of different creeds and philosophies, but they had become his friends.
At last he had found drow like him, a miracle in itself. He had actually found a group of drow with principles that closely matched his own; they were not perfect, though they were not wicked like how he has associated his kin. Maybe the past hundred years of personal change, maybe having Tos'un Armgo as a friend changed him. Maybe spending the 90 years after the Spellplague as a lonely wanderer finally made him give in no matter what race his friends would be.
It was a fact that made this decision a bit easier, though no less terrifying.
A smoldering stick of sage danced in the air around him, covering his naked form in the purifying smoke. Drizzt's eyes trailed over to Tsabrak as he chanted blessings over him in Sylvan.
Tsabrak put the dropped a few of the burning ashes from the sage stick in another container that lit up with a small, blue flame before putting the sage down on the table in another shell. He then picked up the thin, stone instrument that Drizzt knew was razor sharp
He took a few more deep breaths, steeling his nerves. A part of him panicked, wondering why he was doing this, though the rest of strength pushed through all reluctance. He had made his decision a tenday ago; backing out now would be an insult to himself and the closest comrades he had in too long.
Drizzt looked up, meeting the gaze of Gab'vrith Frzelln, the first mentor and one of the closest friends he had in too long. It was a title he did not give easily, the loudest sign he was doing the right thing.
"Drizzt Do'Urden," Tsabrak said. "Is it your wish to continue the initiation into the Brotherhood? Now is your last chance to back away."
"I have made my choice," Drizzt said in a proud tone that betrayed some nervousness. "I come with an open mind and an open heart."
He had made this decision a tenday ago. This is crazy, his mind still screamed at him, though he knew what to expect.
Tsabrak leaned down with the instrument in hand, the other hand with a cloth bathed in witch-hazel.
Drizzt smiled, looking up at the trees. He was surprised he didn't flinch when feeling the unguent spread on his most sensitive flesh; now feeling ready for what would come next.
A white-hot pain burst through his skin. He took a breath, neck muscles straining and teeth clenched as he felt the small knife score through his skin.
He wanted to scream, though only breathed deeper. The pain was cleansing as mind went back to the meditation with Gabe. All the painful memories from his life flashed through his thoughts once more and the pain represented that.
It is pain nothing more, he thought to himself. It is something I can control at last and I will not let it control me.
Drizzt wringed his hands though his eyes going from the trees to meeting the gazes of all his friends before looking at Gabe, who gave him an encouraging smile.
The fire disappeared, replaced by one sudden sting. Drizzt's muscles relaxed as he gave off a series of panting breaths.
He looked up to see Tsabrak gently pulling off the foreskin that had covered his phallus his entire life. A small bit of blood was left from the cuts, though his flesh overall looked unmarred. The searing pain was replaced by a dull ache and a throbbing, though Drizzt knew it would disappear with time.
The shape of his phallus was fully exposed, no longer underneath the sleeve of skin. It was indeed the Mark of his adopted people, freed from this piece of flesh that could be used to give pain or scarred by a priestess.
He gave a laugh; he had gotten though this trial and was now a part of this Brotherhood. Drizzt knew now he had made the best decision.
Tsabrak slowly put the foreskin into the blue flame, the heat and fire charring it and rendering it ashes within seconds. The shaman then put his hand down. Drizzt grabbed it while giving him a pat on the back and allowing himself to be pulled off the cot. His feet met the ground, legs unsteady with the ache through the lower part of his body.
"Welcome your new Brother," Tsabrak said to the crowd.
Drizzt stood before his people as they cheered; now bearing their Mark. He put his arms up once more, knowing he had truly found his family.
Two months later
Drizzt recognized the subtle vibration of slender footfalls over the stony banking as a drow's step, practically hearing it through the mossy boulder that had been his pillow for the past half hour. He gradually lifted his head and looked behind him, stretching his submerged body to look further in that direction though it would have rather remained blissfully soaking in the shallow edge of the River Surbrin.
Tos'un Armgo gave him a friendly nod in greeting, his weapon belt and his sleeveless white tunic already in his hand as sweat caked his body from the day's high heat. Drizzt could see Hralien following close behind, removing his own tunic and putting it on a nearby rock.
Drizzt returned to his reclining position, feeling the water shift and looking up to see Tos'un, trousers already off, practically plunge into the water with a light splash and an expression of immense relief. Drizzt looked back up at Hralien, who carefully examined the edge of the river while removing his own trousers.
A few other elves had also found their own places on the banking several feet away from them and Drizzt saw a few humans watering their horses on the opposite side of the river. One glanced over and did a double-take at the sight of the two drow, but merely shrugged and paid more attention to his horse's reins.
Drizzt was perfectly relaxed at the moment. Brigands or any other troublemakers typically left this one area alone and there were plenty of friendly parties around, so he allowed himself to lower his guard yet remain ever alert.
"Satisfy my curiosity about one thing, Drizzt," Tos'un said, briefly ducking his head under the water and coming up spitting out a stream of water. "You are formally initiated into that band of drow waywards in the north part of the forest, yet you seem to reside mostly around here. Can I take it you're not cloistered?"
Drizzt gave a light chuckle at the question, seeing Hralien gradually step into the water.
"Membership in the Brotherhood does not require remaining with the band all the time," Drizzt said. "In fact there are several members who only find a group of their brethren during the holidays or once every few years. There are trappers who visit the village occasionally, I know of at least one trader who lives in Waterdeep, or more appropriately Skullport, and visits when he gets time."
"Though I can imagine that village is the safest home for many of these drow," Hralien said. "Not to speak for any of you of course."
Drizzt gave a grim nod in agreement and saw Tos'un subtly give the same.
"It's ever been a safe haven, from those escaping the Underdark to those simply wishing to spend time with fellows," Drizzt said, giving a casual glance to Tos'un's reaction.
Tos'un knew about the Brotherhood, though didn't seem entirely comfortable with the topic. A look of scared curiosity was on his face in the few times the subject did come up for whatever reason. Drizzt had no interest in recruiting, but would be willing to ease any reluctance and answer whatever questions.
He was still in the midst of his own exuberance. Two months had passed since his marking and he still felt cleansed from the experience. He did not live in the village, though made a point of returning whenever he could. Listening to Gabe's grand plans for a Harvestide feast or helping the Surface-born Tsabrak identify edible mushrooms had just occured yesterday.
"Though from what understand this isn't merely a social circle," Tos'un said, splashing water over his arms. "Didn't I hear you and Hralien talking about an initiation?"
"He mentioned it about a month ago actually," Hralien said, his slender form lightly dropping into the water until only his head and shoulders were visible. Hralien gave Drizzt a curious smile to match Tos'un's own expression.
"And are you two ganging up on me for the fun of it or do you want me to spill a little more details," Drizzt said with a laugh, stretching his arms out on the rock and slightly lifting his head.
"It's for the good of Moonwood," Tos'un said, exchanging smirks with Hralien.
"Though only if you are willing," the moon elf said.
Drizzt nodded. Basic information about the Brotherhood was not a secret; discretion was encouraged though these two were trusted friends.
"There is a rather involved initiation and it does carry some pain," he said.
"As in a physical trial, or perhaps receiving a ritual marking," Hralien said, looking truly curious now.
Drizzt chuckled and nodded. Speaking directly about the Mark was seen as inappropriate, though it was clearly visible after all.
He removed his arms from the rock and gradually came to a stand, casually motioning a hand toward his nether area.
Tos'un's jaw dropped and a look of near horror came over his face. Hralien's eyebrows rose as he gained a look of curious interest.
"I assume circumcision is not commonly practiced by drow," Hralien said.
"Unless the drow in question has been declared an undesirable," Tos'un said, pulling his gaze away form Drizzt with a disturbed look. "It's meant as complete humiliation and torture for a male."
"Such was the case with the group's founders," Drizzt said. "They used their shame as a rallying cry and now it's a sign of liberation from drow society."
"And a few troupes of wild elves in the southern section of Cormanthor will perform it on their infants for hygienic reasons," Hralien said in a calmer, more matter-of-fact tone. "And there is at least one barbarian tribe in Rasheman that will do it on young men about to train as elite warriors."
"On infants," Tos'un said with a subtle shudder. He briefly looked back at Drizzt's mark, partially in disgust he was trying to bend into indifference.
Drizzt sat back down in the water and leaned against the rock.
"I will say I was scared as the Hells to get it," Drizzt said, "though I am grateful for the experience."
Tos'un and Hralien nodded in response, a grimace still on Tos'un's face.
Drizzt chuckled, giving a grand stretch back into his reclining position.
THE END
Author's Note: The seeds for "The Mark" were planted about a year ago from a conversation I had with a friend, who said something about one area on a drow male that must be easy to inflict pain by a female is his foreskin. This kind of planted the small curiosity about drow and circumcision; is it ever done on drow, why and why not and under what circumstances. This idea kind of grew in the past few months for whatever reason and it morphed into some kind of sick plot bunny involving Drizzt, especially Drizzt after the Spellplague. The idea grew more and I looked up information on the Jewish practice of circumcising infants and it was regarded as a commitment to God in one's flesh.
I knew the subject would likely cause a lot of discomfort among readers, especially male readers and I thought of ways how I could get around this. The huge idea that came about was keeping the Mark a complete mystery until the very end. The final result is this story. I also wanted to find some peace in the fact Vhaeraun, my absolute favorite Realms deity, might actually be dead and wanted to explore the option of drow, like Drizzt, who do not follow a drow god. Given the information I've read on the Surface drow, it's not such a stretch to think there are other drow in Drizzt's position.
I have several more ideas for this particular setting and will likely continue the story of Drizzt, Gab'vrith, and the rest of the Brotherhood. Huge thanks to all my readers and I'm glad I kept you guessing.